Dr. Death, Em dashes, and International Literacy Day

Happy International Literacy Day!

Visit literacyworldwide.org and check out their Literacy Today and Literacy Daily articles. There are some really heartwarming stories about teachers empowering students by encouraging creativity.

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In 2017 I became fascinated by the inner workings of the medical field. Not just because I made a MASSIVE career change but because the human body and how society moves around and interacts with the human body has always been extremely interesting.

I am also fascinated by true crime stories. So the Dr. Death Podcast by Wondery is an absolutely amazing and chilling listen. I won’t spoil anything for you and I strongly encourage you to give it a try but be sure to steel yourself; the subject matter is very heavy and not family friendly.

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For those of you who are interested in grammar drama, this article was published in the New York Times a few months ago and it made me shake my head in dismay. I had no idea there were so many people casing shade on the Em-dash.

Read The Em Dash Divides by Kate Mooney here.

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One of my grad school mentors, Bhanu Kapil, keeps a blog. This is an interview between Bhanu and her grandmother, who was a child in 1947 during the Partition of India in which 14 million people were displaced and between 200,000 and 2 million were killed (so says Wikipedia). This year is the 72nd anniversary.

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A poem about how hard girlhood is: The mother finds her own wild, lost beginnings deep within the body of her daughter by Mary Jean Chan

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Photo Credit: The New York Times, Leigh Wells

In the Voice of My Poetry

My poetry is about finding lost things.

If drinking makes you sick, don’t drink.

Find a clean puddle and dip your cup in that; drink the moon on the water.

My grandmother never wanted my grandfather to leave (he was an alcoholic). She had one sister who thought she was prettier than everyone else. Her grave has dead plants on it. And pink marble.

My poetry is about falling across the road as a bloody smear and making a new boundary, a new border.

My poetry is about an imaginary map.

I was born alone.

Wild roses are my favorite.

My poetry is about rotting and returning to the earth.

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This post is inspired by Bhanu Kapil’s Blog

Photo by Felipe Santana on Unsplash