Join us on Saturday, July 21, 2:00pm at the Tranquilbuzz Coffee House (112 W Yankie St.) for Just Words! Elise Stuart and Lisa Fields will reading from their work.
When Elise Stuart moved to New Mexico in 2005, her heart quietly opened to the desert. She found beauty in the river, the rocks, and in the way small, yellow flowers grow in arroyos. Her writing was revived, changed, from living not far from the Gila, in the southwest corner of the state.
She was named Poet Laureate of Silver City, NM in 2014-2017 and gave over one hundred poetry workshops to young people in Grant County schools. Students designed poem flags, expressing their own work, and the flags were hung in coffee shops, libraries and in old folks’ homes.
In the spring of 2017 her first collection of poems was published, Another Door Calls, which tells of her intimate relationship with the natural world. In the summer she wrote about the most arduous and meaningful relationship of her life, and published My Mother and I, We Talk Cat. She continues to write poetry and short stories, while waiting for rain.
This excerpt is from her poem “Beyond:”
The world is suddenly
alive with understanding.
Every action, sacred.
The veil lifts.
I see beyond . . .
The ordinary is meaningful.
Other worlds breathe.
Now I know there is more than this tired old place of birth and death.
Hear the secret whispered to me,
I nod my head. Yes, yes.
Lisa Fields lives in Southwestern New Mexico. Writing poetry expresses her desire to be immersed in a state of balance. Her inspiration comes from the joy of wild places and the challenge to live happily in the domesticated world. She is a contract writer for Quirine Ketterings, Professor of Nutrient Management in Agricultural Systems, Cornell University, Ithaca, NY. In her home state of NY, Lisa served the farming community as an Extension educator for 10 years, and then worked for 10 years as a self-employed advisor.
Here is her poem “Desert Brides:”
high desert matriarchs
stand tall and proud
their sharp leaves warn the browsing deer,
“Don’t touch my skirt, you’ll cut your tongue!”
then flicker gentle shadows in the breeze
a gift of shade for smaller creatures.
Morphed from phallic stalks,
floral bodices gracefully sway.
Some will dip too low in their dance and break,
scattering satin petals.
There will be an open mic after the reading.