In several interviews, the advice Sharon Olds gives to all writers is to take care of their bodies. To me, part of this is ensuring my reproductive health and rights. I’m terrified that Roe V. Wade could be jeopardized if Kavanaugh or another anti-choice justice is confirmed to the Supreme Court. The best way to stop this is to vote in midterm elections this November. If we elect more pro-choice officials to the House or Senate, we have a much greater chance of stopping any bills or justices that would mean the end of Roe or access to emergency contraceptives.
While Plan B is the most convenient emergency contraception because it can be purchased over the counter or on Amazon, it has a huge issue: Plan B is only effective for those weighing 165lb or less and nearly INEFFECTIVE for anyone over 176lb. This information about weight restrictions is only available in super tiny print inside the box.
Ella is an emergency contraceptive that is effective for people of all weights, but it is typically only available with a prescription. PRJKT RUBY is an online service that allows people to access hormonal birth control and emergency contraceptives without a visiting a doctor. They offer FREE online health consultations. I highly suggest checking out their website for more information. I know this sounds like an advertisement, but I share this information in the hopes it can help poets with uteruses take and keep control of their reproductive health so they can continue to create beautiful and important art.
Showing posts with label Raina K. Puels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Raina K. Puels. Show all posts
Monday, 12 November 2018
Monday, 5 November 2018
Raina K. Puels : part five
What poets changed the way you thought about writing?
Under palm trees on a patio overlooking Tampa Bay, I sipped wine with a bunch of Literature PhD students. One said, “I love Maggie Nelson.” The next said, “No, I love Maggie Nelson.” And I said, “No, I really love Maggie Nelson.” It went around like that for a while until we agreed it’s become a cliché to say Maggie Nelson is your favorite writer.
In the same vein of kickass-female-scholar-writers, Jenny Boully is also fabulous and dreamy. As a fledgling undergrad I read The Body, her book-length essay composed in only in footnotes to an invisible text, and The Book of Beginnings and Endings, a book comprised solely of the beginnings and endings of essays. Boully is forever expanding and collapsing my notions of genre. I cannot recommend her most recent book Betwixt-and-Between: Essays on the Writing Life highly enough.
Under palm trees on a patio overlooking Tampa Bay, I sipped wine with a bunch of Literature PhD students. One said, “I love Maggie Nelson.” The next said, “No, I love Maggie Nelson.” And I said, “No, I really love Maggie Nelson.” It went around like that for a while until we agreed it’s become a cliché to say Maggie Nelson is your favorite writer.
In the same vein of kickass-female-scholar-writers, Jenny Boully is also fabulous and dreamy. As a fledgling undergrad I read The Body, her book-length essay composed in only in footnotes to an invisible text, and The Book of Beginnings and Endings, a book comprised solely of the beginnings and endings of essays. Boully is forever expanding and collapsing my notions of genre. I cannot recommend her most recent book Betwixt-and-Between: Essays on the Writing Life highly enough.
Monday, 29 October 2018
Raina K. Puels : part four
What are you working on?
I’m working on watching less Law and Order: SVU and being more kind to myself. I’m working on staying steady in tree pose with my eyes closed. I’m working on living and breathing a line from Maggie Nelson’s Jane: “Treating things lightly is indeed the answer to so much.” I’m working on perfecting my chocolate-chip scone recipe, unwrapping Starbursts with only my tongue, and not buying so many groceries. I’m working on a found poem about Corgis using the text from the Queen’s Best Stumpy Dog Rescue website.
I’m working on watching less Law and Order: SVU and being more kind to myself. I’m working on staying steady in tree pose with my eyes closed. I’m working on living and breathing a line from Maggie Nelson’s Jane: “Treating things lightly is indeed the answer to so much.” I’m working on perfecting my chocolate-chip scone recipe, unwrapping Starbursts with only my tongue, and not buying so many groceries. I’m working on a found poem about Corgis using the text from the Queen’s Best Stumpy Dog Rescue website.
Monday, 22 October 2018
Raina K. Puels : part three
How did you first engage with poetry?
My mother read to me while I was in utero. Her favorite was a book called Barnyard Dance! about dancing farm animals: “Bounce with the bunny. / Strut with the duck. / Spin with the chickens now— / CLUCK CLUCK CLUCK!” Perhaps this is why I’ve always carried a penchant for rhyme. I recently stumbled across a journal I kept in second grade. Nearly all the entries rhyme: “went to school / swam in dad’s pool / ate chicken and rice / today my step-sister was nice.” Just this morning a poem came to me in rhyming couplets: an orderly way to categorize messy experiences.
My mother read to me while I was in utero. Her favorite was a book called Barnyard Dance! about dancing farm animals: “Bounce with the bunny. / Strut with the duck. / Spin with the chickens now— / CLUCK CLUCK CLUCK!” Perhaps this is why I’ve always carried a penchant for rhyme. I recently stumbled across a journal I kept in second grade. Nearly all the entries rhyme: “went to school / swam in dad’s pool / ate chicken and rice / today my step-sister was nice.” Just this morning a poem came to me in rhyming couplets: an orderly way to categorize messy experiences.
Monday, 15 October 2018
Raina K. Puels : part two
What do you find most difficult about writing poetry?
Translating my brainchildren into wordchildren proves quite difficult. How can I possibly convey the lust I feel for my lover’s armpit that drives me to stick my nose into his sweet musk? I must first build a replica human suit of myself for you to slip into (complete with temperature controls so maybe you can feel more comfortable in my skin than I do). But even then, I can’t recreate his pheromones or create synapses from my nose to your brain. My mother once told me about this man she knew who wore a special cologne. Every time he walked by her head involuntarily turned his direction. Something about the pheremones in the spray connected to her on a corporeal level. I suppose that’s the most difficult thing about writing poetry—translating my intangible thoughts into something physical that has the power to sway a stranger’s body.
Translating my brainchildren into wordchildren proves quite difficult. How can I possibly convey the lust I feel for my lover’s armpit that drives me to stick my nose into his sweet musk? I must first build a replica human suit of myself for you to slip into (complete with temperature controls so maybe you can feel more comfortable in my skin than I do). But even then, I can’t recreate his pheromones or create synapses from my nose to your brain. My mother once told me about this man she knew who wore a special cologne. Every time he walked by her head involuntarily turned his direction. Something about the pheremones in the spray connected to her on a corporeal level. I suppose that’s the most difficult thing about writing poetry—translating my intangible thoughts into something physical that has the power to sway a stranger’s body.
Monday, 8 October 2018
Raina K. Puels : part one
How does a poem begin?
A poem begins with a breath. A wingbeat. A stone tossed into a murky puddle. Then begins the sinking, the flying, the breathing. But also the stillness. A sleeping swan, face tucked into her plume. The transfixed child first seeing two women kiss. Peanut butter threatening to spill off the spoon, but staying firm in her convictions. A poem begins as soon as I put my feet on the cold floor in the morning. Or as soon as sun beams slip through the blinds and rouse the cat who then rouses me, fish breath my favored alarm clock. Or does a poem begin on the pillow plush with dreams? You tell me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)