Author Archives: jillbpearlman

The Poet who mistook a Sunflower for Eve

As the poet must give up control of meaning to the reader, so the abstract painter must let go – rejoice! – in happy (mis)interpretations of her viewers.   After seeing Joan Mitchell’s large canvases (seen here in detail), I … Continue reading

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Genesis, Moonstone Beach

Thanks, Crosswinds Poetry Journal, for publishing this poem in Volume IV !

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What is Mother’s Day without the kids?

Primavera, Senior Yearto Eve As the languorous calm of winter ends,enter gardeners, whirling bees–riotous breakawaySpring. And all the things I wanted to hold onto–a child’s hand, cool as an oboe;lamplight; readingby the window lying in bed with extra pillows,talking to … Continue reading

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Passover, Notre-Dame and the Book Thing

The idea that Notre-Dame might be reduced to a hole in the ground, a collection of rubble terrified me.  When I lived in Paris, or before that, or after, the Cathedral lodged itself deeply in my being. A friend mentioned … Continue reading

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Headiness of Spring Cleaning

I had a highly complicated scaffolded reaction to a spring cleaning talk that I’m attempting to unravel.  It led to a revelation, and that I’ll try to unravel too.  It took place in a series of metaphors – which made … Continue reading

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One Big Tented L.A. Thing

The extremes of capitalism require a lot of forgetting, the erasing of suffering experience.  Satisfaction is calling, it is immediate, exists in the present and demands our full attention.  We can pull along conflict for only so long, for it … Continue reading

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Staying Power of Poets Resist

Last week we endured the Cohen hearings and two blanketing snow storms, along with our local Poets Resist.  My conditioned instinct is to laugh – poor poetry! — only to be replaced by a memory of our reading’s bright presence.  … Continue reading

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Love, Our Inalienable Right

Home, for Syrians exiled by war, is gone, irretrievable, a lost paradise just as it is, at the same time, a place forever unattainable and mythic.  Listening to concerts this week by Kinan Azmeh, the Syrian clarinetist and composer, I … Continue reading

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How do you know when you’re ready?

Last week I presented a project that seemed unlikely to exist and equally unlikely to succeed, but it managed to do both.  It was a live poetry performance called Mirrors.  In spite of the simple title, every time I tried … Continue reading

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What is Home? Kinan Azmeh talks (plays, blows, travels).

Kinan Azmeh is an existential wanderer and a supreme musician who finds homes around the world. He was riding the New York subway, just back from a musical tour in China, when he described the genesis of a piece he’ll … Continue reading

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