If interested in having me for a reading, class visit, or conference/festival, please contact me at lorcaloca AT aol DOT com

Tuesday, February 28, 2006


I had a great time in Chicago. I should tell you all about it. I might. Too tired now. Must sleep. Must dream.

Sunday, February 26, 2006


I’m obsessed with the Soup Nazi whose new franchise is located dangerously close to my Apt.

My favorites are: Broccoli & Cheese & Mulligatawny. However, the soup has become an expensive habit (9 bucks a pop—I get the large).

So I decided to Google the recipe and attempt my own batch of Mulligatawny. To give you an idea of what the soup is like: curry powder, raisins, chicken, carrots, eggplant, roasted cashews and pistachios, crushed tomatoes. The soup is then simmered for 5 hours!

That is my project for today. Along with writing exercises and constant watching of the Food Network. I’ve emailed one of my girlfriends to see if she wants to pull an all-nighter in Butler Library with me.

Watched Satyricon yesterday. Total high-class raunchiness at its best. Own the DVD, I guess I want to be disturbed, again & again.

It’s been very cold in NYC. I’m looking forward to heading to Austin for the AWP and feeling some western light on my skin. As of now I feel like a pale alligator—my heater is making my skin crumble. It's probably a sign I should leave my house.

Friday, February 24, 2006


I'm off to Chicago to celebrate my birthday. And no, I'm not going to tell you my age. Let me just say: One more sequin has fallen off my ball gown. I've leaving today around noon and coming back Monday or Tuesday of next week.

Any good independent bookstores I should visit? Any cool poetry readings happening this weekend?

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Boo Zoo

Open Letter from David Baker of The Kenyon Review


I just found out that the poet, Barbara Guest, passed away on February 15th, 2006.


I really love her poem "Belgravia." I love it for the leaps it makes near the end of the poem--the poem's personality keeps changing. Who else could write "The brokenhearted bears who tumble in the leaves" and get away with it?

Barbara, I will always be jealous of that line.


I am in love with a man
Who is more fond of his own house
Than many interiors which are, of course, less unique,
But more constructed to the usual sensibility,
Yet unlike those rooms in which he lives
Cannot be filled with crystal objects.

There are embroidered chairs
Made in Berlin to look like cane, very round
And light which do not break, but bend
Ever so slightly, and rock at twilight as the cradle
Rocks itself if given a slight push and a small
Tune can be heard when several of the branches creak.

Many rooms are in his house
And they can all be used for exercise.
There are mileposts cut into the marble,
A block, ten blocks, a mile
For the one who walks here always thinking,
Who finds a meaning at the end of a mile.
And wishes to entomb his discoveries.

I am in love with a man
Who knows himself better than my youth,
My experience or my ability
Trained now to reflect his face
As rims reflect their glasses,
Or as mirrors, filigreed as several European
Capitals have regarded their past
Or which he is the living representative,
Who alone is nervous with history.

I am in love with a man
In this open house of windows,
Locks and balconies,
This man who reflects and considers
The brokenhearted bears who tumble in the leaves.

In the garden which thus has escaped all intruders
There when benches are placed
Side by side, watching separate entrances,
As one might plan an audience
That cannot refrain from turning ever so little
In other directions and witnessing
The completion of itself as seen from all sides,

I am in love with him
Who only among the invited hastens my speech.

--Barbara Guest, from The Location of Things (1960)


Can anyone recommend any poetry exercises or websites they've used to prompt poems? I'm having serious writing troubles. *

*Anonymous, please don't recommend a 40, Mary J, or a one night stand--been there & maybe I've done that!

The Movie

Just to inform everyone: The movie was re-donkulus...

To Dorothy

You are not beautiful, exactly.
You are beautiful, inexactly.
You let a weed grow by the mulberry
And a mulberry grow by the house.
So close, in the personal quiet
Of a windy night, it brushes the wall
And sweeps away the day till we sleep.

A child said it, and it seemed true:
"Things that are lost are all equal."
But it isn't true. If I lost you,
The air wouldn't move, nor the tree grow.
Someone would pull the weed, my flower.
The quiet wouldn't be yours. If I lost you,
I'd have to ask the grass to let me sleep.

Marvin Bell

Separated at Birth????

Cholojoto (remember him?) phoned R to tell him a guy on American Idol looked just like me. Correction: He said a queeny guy on the show looked just like me.

He's right. This is the contestant. This is me. We're twins.

I'm proud and mortified.

UPDATE: Tony also made the connection!

Two Kool Websites

Tyehimba Jess
Susan B. Anthony Somers-Willett

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

How To Kill The King, Night Watch, & The Internet

Last things first: My internet is working again.

Tonight I’m headed to see the largest grossing movie of all time in Russia (as of 2004). Yup. It’s this horror/fantasy/thriller movie that I’m sure is going to give me nightmares in my next life—if it scared the Russians—who knows how it’s going to affect me!

The movie is “Night Watch.” If you want to see a baby crawling out of someone’s eye, go HERE. Sorry to anyone that weakens at things like this. I tend to find these things hilarious.

First things almost last: My good friend and fellow poet, Adam L. Dressler, began teaching me chess last night. I retained about 10 % of my lessons from last night.

What I remember: The Queen has the ultimate power. One of the pieces moves in an “L”. The king has a cross on top of it. Actually, that might be more like 1%...

The picture at the top of this posting is Rembrandt's "Night Watch." The most famous painting in the Rijksmuseum--Amsterdam. (I got to see it last summer...)

Tupelo Press Must Be Stopped!

I fear opening my AOL email account. I fear seeing email from Tupelo Press in new mail. I'm tired of their emails that shout ANNOUNCEMENTS! ACCOLADES! Tupelo Press is spamming me. Am I the only one? Every other day, it seems, the press sends out mass emails. And it's not like they're sending new information. The emails keep recycling the same information over and over. I get it, I get it: Ilya Kaminsky is our new god. It's my fault for signing up for Tupelo Press news. But really! Send me an email once a month and I will love you. Send me an email every other day and I will unsubscribe.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Bear Terminology

Where have I been? I've heard of the bear subculture in the gay world but I had no idea they had their own terminology. I'm such a ditzy queen! What's a bear? A hairy, not-so-thin gay man. Still confused? This poet is a bear. And so is this poet. But not this poet. Got it? Good. Some might say I'm a bear. I'm not hairy but I'm not-so-thin. Growl!!

UPDATE: This poet is also a bear.

Bear Terminology

bear - a man with a beard or van Dyke, typically with a hairy chest and body and a stocky or heavyset build; often older (or older looking) and displaying a masculine appearance and mannerisms.

chaser - a term that refers to someone who is not a bear, cub, or otter, but is sexually or romantically attracted to them (this term is often used in various communities to describe an outsider who has sexual attraction to people within that community).

cub - a younger (or younger looking) version of a bear, typically but not always with a smaller frame. The term is sometimes used to imply the passive partner in a relationship.

daddybear - is an older more husky guy sometimes looking for a daddy/son relationship or a Bearcub.

panda bear - an Asian bear.

muscle bear - a muscular bear.

muscle cub - a muscular cub.

otter - a man who is hairy, but is not large or stocky - typically thinner, or with lean muscle.

papa bear - see daddybear.

polar bear - is an older guy with white or grey fur/beard.
pocket bear - shorter bear.

pocket protector - taller bear.

manatee - heavyset, hairless bear (usually derogatory)

sugar bear - a "sugar daddy" bear; a bear who wants the company of a younger or more traditionally attractive male or "chaser" in exchange for favors/gifts

woof! - A greeting sometimes used when a bear spots another bear in public and wants to express physical attraction. He will make a growling noise ("Grrrr!") or say "Woof!"

fluffy - A camp or effeminate bear (also sometimes used as a derogatory name for bears)

Kundiman Asian American Poetry Retreat

June 21 – 25, 2006
Deadline: Postmark March 1, 2006

In order to help mentor the next generation of Asian-American poets, Kundiman is sponsoring an annual Poetry Retreat at The University of Virginia. During the Retreat, nationally renowned Asian American poets will conduct workshops and provide one-on-one mentorship sessions with participants. Readings and informal social gatherings will also be scheduled. Through this Retreat, Kundiman hopes to provide a safe and instructive environment that identifies and addresses the unique challenges faced by emerging Asian American poets. This 5-day Retreat will take place from Wednesday to Sunday. Workshops will be conducted from Thursday to Saturday. Workshops will not exceed six students.

More info here.

Ruth Ellen Kocher

You can catch Ruth Ellen Kocher on a local radio show doing an interview tomorrow morning at 11AM (Midwest time). Follow the link to listen.

Monday, February 20, 2006

A Mnemonic for Desire

Steve Mueske's first book, A Mnemonic for Desire, will be released this week. If you would like a signed copy click here.

What I Learned This Weekend

A nerd in the streets... A nerd in the sheets...

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Poetry Chapbook Contest: Plan B Press

Deadline: March 15, 2006
24 poems (apprx. 40 pages), Fee: $15
Winner gets: 50 copies of winning chapbook, $200 and one sponsored reading.

Judge Daniel Nester, author of God Save My Queen and God Save My Queen II, and the forthcoming The History of My World Tonight. And major hottie!

More info here.

The New Hampshire Review #2

The latest installment of The New Hampshire Review is now up.

Featuring poems by Adam Benforado, Jehanne Dubrow, Ira Joe Fisher, Maureen Tolman Flannery, Rich Furman,Charles Jensen, Daniel Khalastchi, Robert Nazarene, Emily Pérez, Frederick Pollack, Dan Rosenberg, Christopher Salerno, Jeneva Stone, Todd Swift, Barry Wallenstein, Mark P. Bowen, Patrick Carrington, Hildred Crill, Phil Crippen, Ruth Danon, Melissa Jones Fiori, Jennifer S. Flescher, Patricia Giragosian, Rebecca Givens, Simon Perchik, Jay Surdukowski, and Fredrick Zydek.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Blogs I've Recently Enjoyed

Joshua Robbins
Cracked Chancla
Clayton Banes
Laura Heidy
Garyl McDowell
P. J. Clark
Marcus Slease

Life Without Internet

Well folks it has been a record 2 weeks that my Wireless-Time-Warner- Internet-Connection has not worked in my apartment. Which explains my lack of postings & off the charts anxiety over email and web surfing. Who knew the internet revolutionized my heart—I feel lost without it.

The cable guy is supposed to come on Monday. Hopefully he’ll fix the problem (whatever it is) and I can get on with my normal life of sending emails, back and forth, fast as an IM chat session.

On a positive note I find myself waking at 7 AM and in Columbia’s computer lab at 8 am to check my email (Is this normal?). I also have to admit that a few times, while walking down Broadway, I could have sworn I heard the sound my computer makes when a new email is received. Imagine a very clear: ding.

On a negative note what this early waking hour means to my stomach is more hours in the day to eat. And without the internet, I'm once again impressed by the television. Last night I watched the Food Network (Tony Danza was guest starring on Emeril) (Rumor has it that Tony's show is going down the drain-yup, they're pulling the plug) for 4 hours straight--something I have not done for a long time (watch the boob).

BTW, I have about 2 weeks to create, edit, and finish 10 brilliant new poems to finalize my thesis for a May graduation. They require 35 pages to graduate. I have 25…

Can someone contact Lorca and tell him to send me some duende?

Thursday, February 16, 2006

I know what I would be doing tomorrow night if I lived in the bay area

FRI., FEB. 17 @ 8:00 PM
Pegasus Books, 2349 Shattuck Ave., Berkeley, CA

Zone 3 Press: New First Book Prize for Poetry

*The winner will be awarded $1000.
*The winning manuscript will be published in an edition of 1000 copies.
*Winner will receive 10 copies.
*Winner will be awarded an honorarium to read at Austin Peay State University as part of the Center for the Creative Arts’ Visiting Writers Series.

More info here.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Paul Martinez Pompa Reading in Chicago

Paul Martínez Pompa and Jorge Frisancho will be reading TONIGHT in Chicago as part of the Palabra Pura reading series at the Guild Complex.

More info here.

On My Desk


A small red stapler
Two tiny glitter boxes (so cute!)
A striped porcelain cup holding pens/Sharpies
A "Mandarin Orange Spice Herb Tea" tin box
A thai mango candle
A Frieda Kahlo postcard
An Iowa Hawkeyes mouse pad
Sticky notes

Pepper Spray, a chapbook by Paul Martinez Pompa
A Poet's Truth: Conversations with Latino/a Poets
Four Way Stop, a chapbook by Justin Evans
Asian American Poetry, edited by Victoria Chang


The Life Pursuit: Belle and Sebastian (I'm SO loving these songs!)
Analogue: a-ha
Playing the Angel: Depeche Mode (not great, not bad)
Illinois: Sufjan Stevens
Lifelines: a-ha
Give Up: Postal Service
Plans: Death Cab for Cutie (the first track is my fave)
Extraordinary Machine: Fiona Apple (I don't like this CD at all)
Greetings from Michigan: Sufjan Stevens
Seven Swans: Sufjan Stevens (the last track moves me to tears)
Out of Time: REM

The Theater of Night

Yeah! I just found out Alberto Rios has a new book of poems out. I can't wait to get my hands on it.

from "The Chair She Sits In"

I've heard this thing where, when someone dies,
People close up all the holes around the house-
The keyholes, the chimney, the windows,
Even the mouths of the animals, the dogs and the pigs.
It's so the soul won't be confused, or tempted.
It's so when the soul comes out of the body it's been in,
But which doesn't work anymore,
It won't simply go into another one
And try to make itself at home,
Pretending as if nothing happened...

Alberto Rios teaches at Arizona State University and is the author of eight books of poetry, three collections of short stories, and a memoir. His book The Smallest Muscle in the Human Body was nominated for the National Book Award in Poetry.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

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Two Sparrows Making Love

Thanks for everyone’s well wishes. I’m feeling better and even woke with an urge for a Magic Cookie Bar (coconut, graham cracker, chocolate, dairy, & raisins = incredible heaven). Thus, on my way to Oren’s Coffee this morning the below happened.

On 112th & Broadway two sparrows dived into a melting snowpile. The stronger of the two birds, using its beak, pushed the weaker sparrow’s face down and into the snow. The humming of wings. A 3rd sparrow—a voyeur—looked on. For sure the larger bird was trying to take something from the mouth of the other. I even thought: I’ve never seen sparrows fight so damn hard over bread!

Then I realized they were making love. Which didn’t cross my mind, at first, because aren’t birds supposed to mate in spring? Or maybe that’s when their babies hatch.

Either way, this morning I saw two sparrows making love in the snow. It looked like they were fighting. I think they were doing both.

Monday, February 13, 2006


RJ McCaffery is Scoplaw? Is this correct?

If so, then I have a new crush. RJ/Scoplaw once posted pics of himself shaving on his blog. I licked the screen. I sure did. I ain't ashamed to admit it. Okay, just a bit.

RJ McCaffery is Scoplaw? Is this correct?

If so, I hope his first book,Ice Sculpture of Mermaid With Cigar, comes with a big COLOR author photograph. You hear me, Steve?

RJ McCaffery is Scoplaw? Is this correct?

If so, then answer me this: why are all the handsome lawyer poets straight? Not fair. Where are all the gay lawyer poets?

RJ McCaffery is Scoplaw? Is this correct?

Oops! I just licked the screen again.


Corn Shake's second book (with the kick-ass title Corpse Flower) will be published in Spring 2007 by Tupelo Press.

To celebrate I'm going to heat up a can of creamed corn!

Sunday, February 12, 2006

Poetry Snark Revealed!

I listened to this podcast and recognized the voice of Poetry Snark.

My lips are sealed.

Jim has outed Poetry Snark.

Things to Read



Friday, February 10, 2006

Still Here

This is Eduardo. I'm still in Urbana. I don't leave for MacDowell until mid-March. I asked Diana Marie Delgado to start blogging a month early. Got a problem with that? That's what I thought.
I'm in a funk.

I'm looking forward to AWP. I can't wait to meet a lot of you. Well, not all of you. Should I name names?
You should listen to the My Vocabulary show featuring poets Lara Glenum and Aase Berg.
Gay penguins rule.

This year at AWP I will:

point at poets
refuse to make eye contact with people manning the tables of obscure journals
lick Tony Tost's belt buckle
pout in a bar
walk up to Bob Hicok and ask, "Aren't you SpongeBob?"
shout out brown-nosing is evil!
ask Nick Carbo for a hug
reveal that I'm carrying Christian Wiman's baby
not buy books out of pity for the author
ignore Sabrina Orah Mark
proclaim the death of poetry
pass myself off as Virgil Suárez
slip rejection slips into the pockets of editors
growl at Cole Swenson
kiss a fool
praise Reb Livingston's unibrow
walk up to Ben Lerner and ask, "Are you gay?"
pass myself off as "Latino"

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Weather Woes

Last night I started feeling sick. I thought I might have acquired typhus, or a library bird-flu from touching 50 yr old clippings at the NYC Performing Arts Library, but I don’t think I’m that special and have concluded it is just a stupid flu bug. Which bums me out because I was supposed to go to Boston, and possibly Martha’s Vineyard this weekend (I know it’s the off-off season, but I’ve got to go sometime). On top of that, there is a storm brewing in Maine that will soon push Boston’s temps into the teens (as in 10’s not teenagers). Hmm. Maine. Apparently there’s so much snow there they have sled races.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

José Juan Tablada

from Haiku of a Day

Tender willow,
almost gold, almost amber,
almost light...

The geese on their
clay trumpets sound
false alarms.

Although he never stirs from home
the tortoise, like a load of furniture,
jolts down the path.

Restore to the bare bough,
nocturnal butterfly,
the dry leaves of your wings!

The brilliant moon
working through its web
keeps the spider awake.

Translated by Samuel Beckett

Pity The Drowned Horses

Everyone, Sheryl Luna has recently started a blog! Welcome Sheryl.

Visit her at Chicana Poetics. Sheryl was the winner of the 2005 Andres Montoya Prize for her collection of poems, Pity The Drowned Horses (Sheryl, I love your title & enjoyed your book).

What she has to say about blogging made much sense to me. As for myself, I was afraid of blogging too. It's a hard decision. And I must say, (for me) at times it does feel a lil unnatural. I keep wondering what the Surrealists would think about blogging... Would they condone it or consider me a hack?

Either way, Congrats Sheryl on your blog! I'm looking forward to reading more about your thoughts and adventures. When are you coming to NYC to read?

And to everyone who already has Ada Limon's Lucky Wreck, I am jealous. Amazon is taking its sweet arse time delivering that book to me. Amazon, stop delivering Philip Roth books and send me my poems!

Tuesday, February 07, 2006


three candles

Tony Robinson
Jure Kaštelan: Translated by Ana Bozicevic-Bowling
Matthew Shindell

Different Phases of My Face

Someone, whose name will go unknown, mentioned my previous posted photo is a lil too Morticia so I'm posting another photo of me in my off hours. To be honest, I don't like pictures (of myself). Most smiles are staged. That's why I like this pic. I did things I didn't mean to do--my eyes are closed & I accidently smiled.

Penguin's Dictionary of Symbols has this to say about the FACE: Incomplete and fleeting though it may be, the face is an unveiling, like the unveiling of the Mystic in Pompeian wall-paintings. Nobody has ever had direct sight of his or her own face, it can only be seen with the help of a MIRROR. Faces are not for thier owners, but for others and for God. Faces are silent words. Whether we like it or not, it is the part of oneself which one reveals to the world at large. It is the ego laid bare in part and far more revealing than the rest of the body.

This is but the beginning of Penguin's entry about the face. I agree.

Great News

Please go over to Peter's blog and give him a handshake. His second book has found a home with Copper Canyon Press.


Poetry Northwest

The new website for Poetry Northwest is now up and running.

The first issue comes out in March with poems by Talvikki Ansel, Henri Cole, Stanley Plumly, and Christian Wiman. And me! Hmm, I wonder why they left my name out...


C.K. Williams reads the sports pages
Robert Bly visits Chaco Canyon
Marilyn Hacker on disease
Richard Kenney interviews the muses

I can't wait to read the issue. If you want to subscribe click here. But it will be cheaper if you subscribe by mail:

Special introductory offer until February 28th for mail-in subscriptions only.

Save 20% off a two-year subscription. Subscribe now and get Volume 1, Number 1 of the New Series this March. Send your check for $20 to Poetry Northwest, 4232 SE Hawthorne Boulevard, Portland, Oregon 97215.

La Delgado

I'm not sure how to add my photo to my profile so I'll post it here.
This picture was taken by one of my best boy frenz in all of NYC, Robert Ostrom, who happens to be a very talented poet.

Currently, the weather outside my window is California beautiful. A surreal event for NYC.

This photo was taken almost a year ago.

Sunday, February 05, 2006

Subway Drama

Well as everyone knows I'm assisting Eduardo with his blog management while he's at McDowell (Congrats, by the way).

A few notes about me. Diana Marie Delgado. 5 feet with a 1. Chicana poet who lives & loves NYC.

But one thing I don't love is Subway Drama.

Yesterday, my loyal 1 train was late by 30 minutes. It was gross outside. The rain was frilling around, messing up everything, including my hair. So it takes what feels like 5 hours (NY time) for the train to come. By then, people are milling around the platform like roaches: lots of them & skittish.

So I get on the train, lugging my backpack and sit down, when this random woman taps me on the shoulder (hard) to tell me:

"Excuse me but your backpack (a very cute black Gravis bag) bumped me really hard"

Dude. What part of the subway is crowded don't New Yorkers or Visitors understand? I mean sometimes it's so crowded, the train will lurch and you'll have someone's boob in your mouth (I'm short) or if you're lucky the thigh of some hot guy leaning into you. If I had a cherry popsicle for every time someone crunched my toe or hung their armpit in my face I wouldn't have to wear red lipstick. Not ever.

So I guess this first post of mine is a complaint. If you live in NYC the subway is crowded. Deal with it.

Friday, February 03, 2006

Pismo, 1959

The day ends with the blur
you wanted, full of watery hours,
the light weathered like aluminum,
gulls twining the air—summer’s
floating script in the sky
refusing to pull together. The sun

breaks down each body
to silver, each bar of flesh
waist-deep in foam and brine.
The day flares out: wreckage

of orange on blue. Sea stars
wheel into place; like you,
they witness the tide, the whitecaps
tipped with distance, the distance
large with blown sails and spray.
And the whole beachway goes cold
while strands of ocean light
sink like heavy netting.

So this is the sun’s passage
through dark doors of water....
So this is the scrolled shell
on fire, magnified. There is no one—
no lifeguard—to call out all
the bathers from calling water,

though you sense the dark
roll in, grain by toe-felt grain,
its curl slick and seamless
like a wing or a wave. Home’s
still a hundred miles inland. You say
the globe is three-fifths blue
and rocks forever toward us, you say
we will never die, and I believe.
I’ll sleep the whole drive back
beside you, leaning close and small
like a shadow reeled in, your face
precise with fine sand and shining.

by Robert Vasquez

I *heart*

Rachel Maddow

Always Danger

The cover of David Hernandez's second book is hot.


Does Pitt announce the judge of the Agnes Lynch Starrett Poetry Prize? Or does the press refuse to name the judge until the winner is announced?

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Cowboy Bits

Brokeback Mountain is finally playing in a theatre near me. It's been playing since last Friday but I still haven't seen it. Why?
Wasn't I cute?
Am I the only one who adores NPR's Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me? The show cracks me up.
"Un Beso Is Not a Kiss" is one of my favorite poems by Francisco X. Alarcón .
Goodbye, AD.
I wonder if Rebecca Loudon knows of this blog that showcases some stunning illustrations and drawings?
The cover of Karla Kelsey's first book is gorgeous.
Thank G-d for Homos
un beso
is not just
a kiss--
un beso is
more dangerous
even fatal

Worst Author Photo Ever!

Ben, my darling, is that nautical rope around your neck? Is your chin mooning us? The cleft of your chin is SO deep someone could ride it bareback. You know what I mean?
Un Cowboy Is Not a Vaquero.