Aimee Herman is a Pushcart Prize nominated performance poet currently living in Brooklyn, hates labels, though occasionally wears one to rip off and count the hairs pulled. She has performed at various bars, cafes, and reading series including In the Flesh erotic salon, Sideshow Queer Lit Carnival, The Red Umbrella Diaries, Hyper Gender, The Inspired Word and SMUT.

Aimee’s erotica can be read in Best Lesbian Love Stories 2010 (Alyson Books), Best Women’s Erotica 2010 (Cleis Press), Nice Girls, Naughty Sex (Seal Press), Women in Lust (Cleis), and The Harder She Comes: Butch/Femme Erotica (Cleis, Spring 2O12}.

Her poetry can be read in Uphook Press’s anthologies: you say. say., hell strung and crooked and various lit journals such as and/or journal, Pregnant Moon Review, Clean Sheets, Caketrain, Sous Le Pave, Lavender Review, InStereo Press, Audio Zine, and Cliterature Journal. She works as an erotica editor for Oysters & Chocolate, has taught various writing workshops dealing with the body and erotic language and has a severe fondness for gender deconstructors, curly haired humans, and Canadians. Aimee’s full length book of poetry, to go without blinking was published by BlazeVox Books in 2012.

Aimee is the current host of The Inspired Word’s Titillating Tongues, a fantastic erotica open mic that occurs every third Friday of the month at le poisson rouge in NYC.

Aimee can be found writing poems on her body in Brooklyn and the subway stops in between…….

In search of her voice? Check out Aimee on itunes and

Contact her for appearances, talks, hosting, or just to say hello:

an ode to the best protein……peanut butter

7 responses to “Bio

  1. Pingback: Potpourri Redux | The Art & Business of Making Erotic Films

  2. Hey Aimee,
    this is Scott from Boulder. You may or may not remember me, I was in Family Ties with your Quetzo (sp?) Chris, Noah, Allison. Anyway, I was very pleasantly surprised to see your face on the 27 year old yenta page. Just wanted to say congrats on your success, working hard (or not working hard, whatever your process demands), and being all cool and stuff.

  3. What could I say without remembering your hands on my microphone ?
    Why would i ever forget your soft voice burning inside me day and night ?
    When did the carnage of your eyes disappear ? Love you now as ever.

  4. Stalking a Poet
    (For Aimee Herman)

    Stealthily I get inside her skull-
    a tedious process, she leaves no maps
    legends disintegrate upon touch
    I track her scent-
    In the raw free verses she sheds-
    scrapping samples
    bagging tagging – her verbs and iambs;
    cells arranged assonance-wise-
    I test, taste, navigate-
    her dark alleys, dead-ends.

    Through unclimbable fences, I peer,
    piecing together jigsawed sights
    thirsting for one glimpse of the whole
    (not the tail, not the trunk
    the whole darn elephant!)

    Scars on her shoulder blades, flight dissolved-
    breathes swollen with fireflies
    she breaks open her body-
    bi-polar ends of her axis
    cloning herself over and over-
    a composition of mountains
    a haemorrhaging story.

    I wept over her autopsied corpses,
    labyrinths losing into each other.
    studied her dissociations,
    heavier than secrets and dying stars;
    bedless lakes,
    I swum in her until my eyes wrinkled
    the language of her shut doors and open wounds,
    the enjambment of her silence
    each a thorn, a tear – untrammelled.

    – Jeena <3

    • I read your words aloud, Poet. Here the length of your exhales knit into syllables. Woven, too. And knotted like campfires clinging to evening stars. Your language moves me all the way here….

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s