"This work is unlike any other, in its range of rich, conjuring imagery and its dexterity, its smart voice. Carroll-Hackett doesn’t spare us—but doesn’t save us—she draws a blueprint of power and class with her unflinching pivot: matter-of-fact and tender." —Jan Beatty

Posts tagged ‘Body’

Daily Prompt Love Catch-Up <3 Darkness, Illness, Body

21 June 2017

Make art about finding your way through the dark.

through darkness

22 June 2017

Make art about illness.


23 June 2017

Make art about what the body remembers.

body remembers

Daily Prompt Love <3 Your Song

28 April 2017

“Every particle in the physical universe takes its characteristics from the pitch and pattern and overtones of its particular frequencies, its singing.

Before we make music, music makes us.”~Joachim-Ernst Berendt

Make art about the song you recognize as yours, the song of the body.

heart song



Daily Prompt Love <3 Through the Body

24 April 2017

A prompt I do with my students, an effort to reconnect them with their bodies, and to use that beautiful sensory work in their writing. 

Home smells like….

Fear tastes like…..

Beauty feels like…..

Sorrow looks like….

Love sounds like….

Make art intersecting and grounding a large concept through the body, through an unexpected sense. 

home smells like

Daily Prompt Love <3 What Holds Us Up

3 April 2017

I dreamt of bones last night 🙂 Not surprising. Anyone who knows me know I have an ongoing fascination–obsession–with bones, the white and click of them, the stories they tell (that anthropology background asserting itself). I recently recovered from a broken bone, a double hairline fracture inside that taken-for-granted hinge joint in my elbow.

Reinforced my appreciation for their bony utility, about how dependent we are on something that, in the right turn, is so fragile.  

Make art about what holds us up.

bone pic 2


Daily Prompt Love <3 One Body, Many Parts

12 There is one body, but it has many parts. But all its many parts make up one body…13 We were all baptized by one Holy Spirit. And so we are formed into one body. It didn’t matter whether we were Jews or Gentiles, slaves or free people. We were all given the same Spirit to drink. 14 So the body is not made up of just one part. It has many parts.

15 Suppose the foot says, “I am not a hand. So I don’t belong to the body.” By saying this, it cannot stop being part of the body. 16 And suppose the ear says, “I am not an eye. So I don’t belong to the body.” By saying this, it cannot stop being part of the body. 17 If the whole body were an eye, how could it hear? If the whole body were an ear, how could it smell? 18 God has placed each part in the body just as he wanted it to be. 19 If all the parts were the same, how could there be a body?20 As it is, there are many parts. But there is only one body.

21 The eye can’t say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” The head can’t say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” 22 In fact, it is just the opposite. The parts of the body that seem to be weaker are the ones we can’t do without. 23 The parts that we think are less important we treat with special honor.–1 Corinthians 12:12-23 New International Reader’s Version (NIRV)

Make art about Connectedness, the inescapability of how we are all connected.




Daily Prompt <3 What the Body Has To Say

23 July 2016

Reading one of my favorite writers this morning, Linda Hogan. If only we all could listen in the miraculous way she does. 

“When the body wishes to speak, she will”~Linda Hogan

Make art about what the body has to say. 



Solstice Prompt <3 Memories of Lovers and the Body as Grace

20 June 2016

Here’s a solstice poem I wrote a few years ago, memory of a solstice back when I was a girl of eighteen, enchanted with a beautiful boy 🙂

This poem appears in my book If We Could Know Our Bones, from A-Minor Press


Remembering the Body as Grace

We all live in a house on fire. Tennessee Williams


I dream back the hot slow sky your body was above me, goldleafed and dappled in early sun, in those running heated days of baggy shorts, thin shoulder straps, loosed barefoot in the woods, where the world wore the soft warm pelts we tumbled in, skins multicolored scarfs we slid out of, slid into, each other. We were hungering home.


I wore some long breezy skirt, thinking Stevie Nicks would approve; in those days music made our maps, At a party to honor the March stars, I sat in your lap on Alan’s floor, after too much tequila, naming fish, aquarium after aquarium lining old apartment walls. Outside, a vernal moon split the day in two perfect halves, calling the first point of my Aries into startling alignment with your laugh.


Thirty-one suns have crossed the celestial equator since then, science and memory rearranging, the Earth’s elliptical orbit, bending, changing, precession, axis tugged in another direction. Spring even now is being reduced by one minute per year, singing as it goes. Naked to the native acre, bone-clear, the body knows what it knows.


Age has freed us from any need to hide, that sweet surrender of knowing celestial objects near the celestial equator are visible worldwide.


Assuming the body as love, my body remembers—you sleepy-eyed and unshaven, hair long, lit by light breaking into that space, where we tangled like sweet-sweating animals. What we didn’t know then, spring sliding home into summer, we do now, having worn these faces, lived in these skins, long enough to comprehend gravity as grace.


Make art about a solstice memory, about the body as grace.

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