Karen Sands-O'ConnorBio: Karen Sands-O'Connor's poetry career began in fourth grade, when she wrote a now-buried book of poetry for her school's Young Authors program (on pink paper, no less!). Her first publication, however, came decades later with a birthday poem she wrote for a Bob Dylan fan and dear friend. She has been published in the British journal, Orbis, and in the Journal of Caribbean Literature, and has had poetry readings at the Burchfield-Penney in Buffalo and the Liverpool Poetry Cafe in the UK. Poems: Motor City I tried to find a map of Poletown maps never show the things that matter buttercups in her backyard the five dollars she handed out at Christmas and Easter with coke and cashews maps are for driving and she came here to find her way brand new and all-American like Ford’s assembly line making a home was her mistake you can’t stand still in the Motor City you can’t stop industry on the move she willed her own death rather than sell up and out she knew another kind of Supreme Court she knew another law of Eminent Domain the church where all her children baptized, married, buried their dead refused alliance with Mammon but suffered the same fate there’s nothing left of her now back of Automation Alley is a brick wall and two committed socialists speaking Cantonese but you keep driving along St. Aubin, Chene Street, Joe Campau because maps don’t mention the next to get lost Intimations we met at the movies I wore a yellow ribbon so you could recognize my disease yellow was your color too I wasn’t sure you’d come we stayed all day watching Gable ride out the last roundup watching Monroe fade into light of common day star searching you said that film never was called "The Immortals" but in dark days I dreamed of our day in the dark believing that misfit time-forgot love Bidwell Parkway Gwen Bidwell Parkway jazzing bit of a Cuban sound kind of a Latin beat this one for the children now all the little girls hands around the trumpet plays this one for the honeys crazy-haired woman, organic shift rubber band arms here we go Gwen STOPS drummer fascination that girl is growing up right right right (rock on love) Gwen up moving with it now one foot, there she goes one knee bebop dead cool school swing low those hips buffalobuffalobuffaloooo swing up shoulders come on now don’t stop |
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