an excerpt from my book “meant to wake up feeling”

Books are meant to be read! So, read this short excerpt from my book, “meant to wake up feeling“ and then, buy the book to read the rest!       (feel free to leave a review!!!)

 

from “zoned body”:

 

those are not freckles

but dust

from convulsing stars

(how are YOU) meant to wake up feeling?

Experiment #362: Go to your book shelf. If you have a designated poetry section, go there. If not, well, quickly make one, alphabetize according to author and pause. Perhaps it is time to introduce a new book to your shelves. Go to your “H” section. Can you make some room?

Now, (bare with me), purchase a copy of my newest poetry collection, meant to wake up feeling. You can find it HERE. Or HERE. Or HERE. Or even HERE.

Take a deep breath. (I always do when I purchase something on the Internet).

Next, I want you to email me. Nothing fancy. Just something like: Hey, I bought it. OR: Did what you said, now what?

In your email, give me your address and I will send you a personalized letter. I know what you’re thinking: I’m going to put you on some mailing list. Nope. Or I’m hoarding addresses to publish in well-trafficked bathrooms. Ummm…..nope.

I think there is nothing more intimate than giving away one’s handwriting. (OK…..maybe there are a few other more intimate things….) Taking the time to use ink or lead to write words on paper, stuff into envelope, with a stamp! and then mail it??!?!?!

After you purchase a copy of my book, I will write you a REAL letter. A good one. With lots of words on a handmade card. And a stamp, of course.

So…here’s my email: aimeeherman@gmail.com

Looking forward to hearing from you!

Proud to announce……

I am filled to the brim with gratitude as I announce the publication of my second full-length book of poetry: meant to wake up feeling, put out by great weather for MEDIA. Due out in October of 2014, this is a collection of experiments. It is a series of disturbances on the page, deconstructing the body’s moans and costume changes. It wraps its syllables around gender, love, travel of skin and memory, masculinity, a mix tape of how to remain, measurements of stretchmarks, letters to the ones who haunt…..
Keep an eye out for upcoming readings and celebrations…………..

A poem by the great NYC poet, Puma Perl

“Epilogue on Broken Benches” is one of my favorite poems by Puma Perl, found in her chapbook, Belinda and Friends. I was deeply honored to read a few poems last week to celebrate Puma Perl’s new collection of poetry, Retrograde, put out by Great Weather for MEDIA.

Purchase a copy of Retrograde now!

celebration of (new) poetry

I first saw Puma Perl perform in a tea lounge on the lower east side. I was mesmerized by the poetics in her authentic new york accent, the illustration of her skin in tattoo form, the rebel in her words. Tonight, she celebrates her brand new book, Retrograde, put out by the great NYC press, great weather for MEDIA.

I’m deeply excited to be reading a few poems tonight to celebrate this new collection as well, also joined by Joff Wilson, Danny Ray, Walter Steding, Ollivieri, Verless Doran, and The Bowery Boys.

Join Puma Perl and friends at The Parkside Lounge 317 E. Houston St. NYC at 8pm.  (21+)

birth day.

It is difficult to say when a poem is born. Thinking is a part of the writing process and I am always thinking and stewing and marinating in jumbles of words.

One year ago today I gave birth to the biggest puddle of words, pushing them out into a carefully constructed, bound and ISBN’d book.

to go without blinking was published by BlazeVOX books in March 2012. After collecting forms, stories, voices, echoes and various translations from numerous bodies, I created a narrative out of the webs of disjointed stanzas.

Over a decade ago, I started sending out my work. Mostly poems, but some stories too. In those days, you sent out pages in an envelope with a SASE (self addressed stamped envelope) inside. I began filling a lime green folder with rejection letters, which traveled in the envelopes I addressed. Most were form rejections: an insertion of my name cut and pasted to memorized NO, THANK YOUs. Sometimes, they came back a little more personalized.

These days, most submissions are through the computer. And you wait. And you wait. That green folder busted loose, ripping at the folds. But it needed to grow fat in order to reach the moment of YES’s.

As writers, we let go the moment we hand our work to someone else: reader or editor or publisher or mother. With this book, I have enjoyed hearing from readers– their interpretations and questions. What it meant to them and how other people’s poetry can impregnate a reader’s body with swarms of more poems.

As a young writer, many many years ago, I dreamt of this moment. I used to go to bookstores and visit the section of poetry where my book would be alphabetized in. Perhaps beside Marilyn Hacker or Langston Hughes.

Calling myself writer is the one label I will proudly own for the rest of my life. Self-inflicted and permanently inked on body.