three of my poems published

 "Showing My Husband what I Learned in Elementary Ballet during a Whiteout in Omaha, Nebraska", "Memorial Day Weekend, Omaha Boarding House " and "Rapture" are included in the spring 2017 issue of the After Happy Hour Review. The selection is definitely influenced by relocating to the Midwest.

Reading at The Slowdown a few weeks ago, on 30 January

poetry reading last Wednesday

upcoming reading on Petrarch's birthday

Pop Up Ekphrastic Reading:

Who:  Writers and Painters

What: Writers sharing ekphrastic poems developed from specific works of art currently featured at the Connect Gallery

Where: Connect Gallery and Studios Omaha

               3901 Leavenworth St, Omaha, Nebraska 68105

When: Saturday, 23 April 2016 from 3-5p

 

I am excited to participate in this reading; I found a really beautiful piece by J.K Thorsen, called "Lotus Grove and Root Cellar." 

reading next Thursday

Thursday, March 24, 2016 @ 7p    ///   UNO’s Barbara Weitz Community Engagement Center

Please join us for the fourth reading in the series INTRODUCING, and the first reading featuring alumni from the UNO Low-Residency MFA in Writing: Natasha Kessler and Kristen Clanton. Send us your students, prospective MFA students, and all writers interested in networking with their fellows! Bring your questions. You'll hear emerging voices from student-writers in the Youth Emergency Services (YES) community writing program, and hear some words about the non-profit's mission. Q&A and book signing to follow. Event is free and open to the public. Parking is also FREE, so bring all your friends! YES is a local non-profit serving homeless and at-risk youth, and staff will be on hand to answer questions. This reading series is sponsored by the University of Nebraska at Omaha's low-residency Master's of Fine Arts in Writing Program.

Natasha Kessler-Rains is the author of Dismantling the Rabbit Altar and the collaborative chapbook SDVIG, co-written with Joshua Ware. Her writing has appeared in many journals, such as iO Poetry, Blue Mesa Review, and South Dakota Review. She received her MFA from the University of Nebraska-Omaha and now teaches composition, literature, and creative writing at several area universities.

           

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Kristen Clanton was born and raised in Tampa, Florida, where she worked as an instructor of English and writing, while also serving as an advocate to promote childhood literacy. She graduated from the University of Nebraska, earning an MFA in poetry, and currently teaches English at the University of Nebraska at Omaha and mentors for the nonprofit organization, The Seven Doctors Project. Her poetry and short fiction have been published by Bicycle Review, The Birds We Piled Loosely, BlazeVOX, Burlesque Press, MadHat Drive-By Book Reviews, MadHat Lit, The Mangrove Review, Midnight Circus, Otto Magazine, The Outrider Review, Ragazine, Quilt, Sugar House Review, and The Sound of Sugar. She has work forthcoming at Furious Gazelle and Leopardskin & Limes.

updates: days and publication

I guess it may be strange that the moment I move five thousand miles away from where I was born and raised, I decided that photos are kind of dumb, and chronicles are kind of dumb. I read a few months ago that kids make up half their memories. There is this miraculous little space in our minds where we (hopefully) nurture our imaginations and ingenuity so we'll have it later-- when the world gets real rough, and we're expected wield a battle ax-- the place where our imagination can save us-- and there is a mark against the make believe, a mark against our memories.

So I decided that it is my place to create a world for my son.

                            it is my place to chronicle some things,

but not everything. Not even close. I keep thinking about Dostoyevsky's idea that ONE GOOD MEMORY CAN SAVE YOU SOMEDAY. And how true that it is, and if I'm going to give my son anything, I'm going to let him create his memories.

After all, the greatest parts of my own childhood are the moments I remember; it's the memories that have turned into stories. Those moments I've fleshed out the more and more I've thought about them. 

That's real beauty.

Along with this, I closed most of my social media accounts, and I turned the lock and key on everything. It's kind of funny. It's kind of funny the way life can become this secret thing all over again when you're not your shadow anymore.

What else?

My book is coming along.

All six of the stories I've completed have been picked up for publication. Most recently (this means two days ago), BlazeVOX picked up the title story: "Who are the Fantasy Girls?"

This is pretty amazing.

I finished the seventh story last week and sent it out.

The eighth story, which I'm finally beginning the draft on, is something I've been mapping and charting, changing and seriously avoiding, for at least 7 months. I don't know why.

Yes I do. It's funny and warped. It's desperate and draining, and it reminds me of probably too many things I don't like to think about. But honestly, ugh

It's just going to get more difficult. I know where I'm going.
                                                         I know everything that's happening,
                                                         who it's happening to
                                                         because it's already happened.


I've been going to church since September.
When I was small, we went to church consistently until I was seven.

Then everything kind of fell apart for a while.

I mean, you know, thank God for those memories that save us.
and kindness. Thanks God for that too.

I guess, at the end of all of this, I'll say I feel more alive than I've ever felt.
I feel confused, sensory, all that world Whitman was talking about.

The one I didn't really know.
The one I'm beginning to walk through now.

Henry Doorly Zoo

going to yoga at 5a

this is about a murder, ballet, and Wes Anderson

I start ballet again in three weeks, which means that right now I am training everyday because I haven't really danced in five years. All this includes leaving the house at 5:30a three days a week to make a 1.5 hour yoga class at the YMCA. Even though it's summertime, and yesterday was the longest day of the year, it's hardly dusk when I leave. 

And there was a murder, a shooting, two nights ago, less than a block from the Y. 

So I think about that. 

I think about the whistle Tim gave me that Creighton security passed out during their presentation during Tim's law school orientation. It's so windy though. I don't think anyone could hear the whistle, or anyone would be around to hear the whistle. I don't worry that much. Aren't all girls just trained to be aware of these dangers, those homeless men murdered right outside of soup kitchens (this one particularly called "Taking it to the Streets")?

This must be a punchline. It's too much, too well played.

And what about that homeless man's homeless friend, who was interviewed on the local news, but refused to be on camera because he didn't want to be murdered too? Why wasn't he there? Where did he go home to? He said his friend would never, ever go inside. Not even in winter.

And I remember there are two things to be afraid of: the locked room and the open field. I can never decide which is worse. 

Last week I read that the spring and summer months see a significant increase in local crime because, you know, it's not too cold to get into trouble. I wonder if it's that way in Alaska. I always thought those frozen, black months would be worse, that time for monsters and all. But not even the monsters want out. Like bears, you know, in bear country. All those cow bells and whistles that bring out our clumsiness. Announcing ourselves in order to dictate at least a little of the power, at least to get a semblance of the feeling.

Since I've been in Omaha, especially at the downtown Y, I feel like I'm in a Wes Anderson film, specifically, I feel like I'm in The Royal Tenenbaums. But I'm not Margot anymore. No one can be Margot forever. I mean, she couldn't either. So now, I'm Etheline. I like being Etheline. My knees and hands hurt sometimes, especially from all the stretching, the shifting of gravity. From time, probably. There's always time. 

All this thinking goes on, you know, during that whole two minute trek to that big glass door, that "safe place" sign. When I get into the yoga studio, it's dim-dark; we're all facing this large window watching downtown unfold it's shadows and change to day. The sun rises right through that window. It's kind of beautiful and a little lonely, that dusty small room. It all feels so sincere. During the session, the instructor throws these tissues all over the ground. It was very confusing. Then, at the end, when we meditate, she covers our faces with these bean bags that she's covered in lavender oil, and the tissues are to make it all very sanitary. And man, is that ever peaceful. All those faces under all those weights. What a beautiful thing. A whole room of people closing their eyes when the sun is just up and rising. 

in a train at the Omaha Children's Museum

while exploring our new city, my fellow journeyman fell asleep

I am no stranger to working out; I've been a gymnast and a dancer since I was three. After Langston was born, I got back to my shape pretty soon by eating healthy and working out a few times a week. But last year, I worked about 70 hours a week, and with a newborn baby and a husband I love to be with, I wasn't as healthy as I would've liked to be.

Since moving to downtown Omaha, and less than a mile away from the ymca, I've had the opportunity to develop a lifestyle I love (which definitely includes walking most everywhere and pushing my gigantic child up gigantic hills).

But on June 1st, I started seriously training again as a dancer, which isn't something I've done for 7 years now. It's been 12 days, and my strength and flexibility are growing, and my endurance is better (I can run 5 miles consistently, which is three times a week). I am hoping to begin classes at the ballet academy in September. 

So here's to the start of something new: a new journey, in a new place, and the first in a lifetime opportunity to focus on the things I love, which is kind of wild.

Tim always makes Lang and I the most amazing food, so we are trying to do the same. We're making a vegan soup with lots of organic veggies, including sweet potatoes, kale, carrots, and zucchini.

downtown family YMCA omaha

the locker room is the exact same color as my childhood bedroom (you know, when my mom quit painting it pink).

rainy days and Fridays

two blocks from home

Lang loves our fishbowl bedroom

adventure time

treehouse bedroom