5:30pm, RECEPTION & PROGRAM: $80 INDIVIDUAL | $150 COUPLE; PROGRAM ONLY: $25 ADVANCE | $30 DOOR
Join us to celebrate two new poetry collections - Sylvia Cavanaugh’s Staring Through My Eyes (Finishing Line Press, 2016) & Ed Block’s Anno Domini (Wipf & Stock Publishers, 2016).
Ed Block, Emeritus Professor of English at Marquette University, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, retired from teaching in 2012. He and his family have lived in Greendale, Wisconsin for twenty-six years. There he tends a garden, does water colors, leads book discussions at the local library, and continues to read and write about literature and compose poems. His interviews and essays on literary topics, and on the spirituality of everyday life, have appeared in AMERICA, IMAGE, LOGOS, HOMILETIC AND PASTORAL REVIEW, U.S. CATHOLIC, and a variety of other journals. He is currently at work on another book of poems, tentatively titled Seasons of Change.
Originally from Pennsylvania, Sylvia Cavanaugh has an M.S. in Urban Planning from the University of Wisconsin. She teaches high school African and Asian cultural studies and advises break dancers and poets. She and her students are actively involved in the Sheboygan chapter of 100,000 Poets for Change. A Pushcart Prize nominee, her poems have appeared in An Arial Anthology, Gyroscope Review, The Journal of Creative Geography, Midwaest Review, Stoneboat Literary Journal, Verse-Wisconsin, and elsewhere. She is a contributing editor for Verse-Virtual: An Online Community Journal of Poetry. Her chapbook, Staring Through My Eyes, was published by Finishing Line Press in 2016.
Mermaid Tattoo Becomes Enmeshed in Her Relationship
I was crafted carefully and with cunning
to link my ink to this relentless red flow
nailed down to the pulse
like a seashell ocean’s echo my
two dimensions bend and arch
they ache to the rhythm of his three as
I’m plastered flat to a twining twitch
of muscle and deeper down
I sense the bone I cannot grasp it makes
my stomach turn and yet my
tiny nipples burn I yearn for him
trapped beneath the death of him
as his outer layer flakes away
and I’m the only witness
we hover over women with
their open legs like rowboat oars
the wretched separation
distantly they beg for us and
gnash their teeth
we heave and sweat
the salty sea and thrash
a flash of scale on
“til his eyes roll back
and stare through mine"
—Sylvia Cavanaugh, from Staring Through My Eyes
first published in Peninsula Poets
No lark at dawn
ascends from sullen ground;
my prayers, a nest
of broken shells.
By day my stubble fields
are whipped by winds of guilt;
my prayers are chaff.
At night my prayers,
like empty bowls,
rattle in the cupboard
of my heart,
as trains of sadness
rumble through the crossings
of my life.
—Ed Block, from Anno Domini