Preliminary Visions now in bookstores (sigh)

Prelminary Visions‘s publication date was April Fools Day. My first full-length poetry collection was published and in bookstores!–that were locked down.

But there’s a way out. Support a small press (Homebound Publications) and a small bookstore by ordering the book through your favorite local bookstore. Get it delivered or pick it up, depending on how your bookstore’s operating under the pandemic, and you’ll have something to while a way an hour or two, or more, depending on how you savor poetry. Or buy it directly from the publisher here.

 

From the cover:

“In the deep woods, hikers say, if you feel you are being watched by an animal, you probably are. Preliminary Visions creates moments of being, moments of relation, moments of meaning-making—frequently with that sense of being observed by a silent witness and a light source outside the frame. The poems’ impressionistic relationality begins to blur the imaginary outlines of the separate self and provokes instead a sense of the ‘ecological self,’ a worldview that offers a way out of the world-class delusions we’ve created and reclaims a healthy way to be—with/in Earth.”

I’m so honored that two amazing writers and thinkers, Major Jackson and Molly (Young) Brown, were willing to blurb the book. Here’s what they have to say:

“This is true poetry, combining a haiku-like perception of a pregnant moment or scene with a fine attunement to the sound and flow of words. Karina’s poems offer images of moments that speak to both heart and mind, moving from her own life experiences and challenges to the crises humanity faces today, with all the confusion, grief, rage, and insight that arise in response.” –Molly Brown, author of Growing Whole: Self-realization for the Great Turning

“If memory and poetic craft orient us—in Karina Lutz’s Preliminary Visions—to the natural spaces and events that define our lives, then an abiding commitment to recording in radiant forms and language make a useful wisdom of her protean efforts; which means this fine collection of poetry, questing toward immanence and illumination, is a necessary read for those of us who value wonder.” –Major Jackson, poetry editor, Harvard Review, author of Roll Deep

 

FringePVD virtual performances on video

One advantage of the Fringe Fest having to go virtual this year is that all the performances were recorded. You can watch any and all for a $20 “All Access Pass” through the Wilbury Theatre. After you purchase your pass on http://fringepvd.org/all-access-viewing.html, you’ll  get a link and password via email. Scroll through the delicious offerings or search for “Preliminary Visions.”

Ash Wednesday

Heart of Flesh Literary Journal published my (quite Buddhist) take on “Ash Wednesday;” the binding of Issac; and Noah’s sea level rise and modern scientists’ prophesies, in poems called, respectively, “Ash Wednesday;” “Anticipating the Akedah Moment;” and “What a Fragile Earth it is without a God./What a Violent One it is with One.”

All three poems are from the chapbook Post-Catholic Midrashim.

Call for Submissions

The Youth Guest Editorial Board of Deep Times: A Journal of the Work that Reconnects invites you to submit for the upcoming Aug/Sep 2020 issue crafted by young people.

We welcome submissions of proposals or final content that aligns with this issue’s theme, which orients around the Seven Generations Exercise of the Work That Reconnects.

Please read this call for submissions for more information and feel free to reach out to us at deeptimesyouth@gmail.com. Submissions are due by July 1. If you have an idea that requires feedback please submit it by June 15. Whenever you are ready to submit an idea or full submission, we will be collecting those using this form.

We look forward to hearing from you!

Cacophony of the Spheres

“God, who is everywhere and nowhere,
is [the universe’s] circumference and center.”
-Nicolas of Cusa

After all these years,
the Copernican revolution never really made it
down to earth:
here we still say,
“the sun comes up,
the sun goes down.”

Our naked eyes persist to
resist reality—
perspective rules!

After all,
if the universe is infinite,
its center is everywhere.
And wherever we are,
here we are—
each with our little mind at
the center of the universe.

The first global pandemic

Okay, so technically, #COVID19 not the first global pandemic, but maybe the first of this magnitude. Maybe there will be more that make the 1918 flu look well contained. So we’ll look back at this as the first. Sobering thought in a time of many sobering thoughts. But here’s a spin: collapsing economic systems offer a chance for radical reorganization based on the true, essential human and nonhuman needs.

Here’s the video of the poem, the text of which is posted here under Mar. 19: https://photos.app.goo.gl/HfBUxdxjm2aUT9Lu7

 

An Artist’s Statement

“She has something to say,” used to be a thing people said to say worth listening to. A high recommendation coming from my favorite English professor, the poet and critic Cal Bedient. But at the time, in my mid-twenties, I didn’t know what I had to say yet. So the compliment was also a challenge.

I hadn’t even remembered key parts of my childhood yet. I had been a libertarian the semester after reading JS Mills and Peace & Freedom party member the next semester, after a brush up with Marx; clearly my politics were still a bit uncertain, too. Downright break-neck.

By grad school, I was a little more clear. I offended my Objective Journalism-ist friend by saying I was “a pacifist, environmentalist, and feminist.” He scoffed: “at least you know who you are.” I didn’t scoff back, but I always wondered about people who think they don’t have opinions. Where are they in there?

Years later, I’m finally getting around to pursuing true mindfulness: to be able to have a thought and not have an opinion about it, to not judge unless truly called for. “Breathing in, I know I am breathing in.”

So many sayings later, what is there left to say about what I have to say?

My daughters’ dad, composer and multimedia artist Todd Winkler used to say, “talking about music is like dancing about architecture.” Maybe it’s also true about talking about words.

Still, I have been known to dance about architecture.