Sarah Webb's Poetry

My poetry collection, Black, from Virtual Artists Collective was published in 2013.  It can be ordered through this website (best for me—Paypal) or at independent bookstores (the vacpoetry.org site can direct you to these), Powell's, or Amazon.

It is in stock in Austin, TX at BookWoman and Malvern Books. In Oklahoma City it is carried by Full Circle Bookstore.

The best for me is if you will order from this website or buy at a reading.

The poems in Black come in large or small ways from the peoples of all the major religions and shamanism. Poems call on the traditions of every continent as well as from ancients living before times in memory. I made up modern myths too and told stories from science and everyday life.

My aim in all of it was to find the root beneath the hints and stories. What is it that we all share, that we sense beneath the surface?


Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Black Finalist for Writers' League of Texas 2013/2014 Book Awards

I just heard Black was selected as a Finalist in Poetry in the Writers' League of Texas 2013/2014 awards.  That feels great!  Submissions were accepted from current and former Texas writers.

I recognized the name of one of the other finalists, Sarah Cortez, who writes poems about her life as a police officer in Houston (maybe another South Texas town by now, not sure).  I love her poetry, so I feel I'm in good company.

Monday, September 29, 2014

My Friend Ingrid

Note:  This entry is also on my other blog, 55 mph.

I had reached Oklahoma and was staying with my daughter.  I had things to attend to--a reading, friends to get together with, the sudden funeral of a poet friend, and--something I had been thinking about all summer--the memorial for my good friend Ingrid Schafer, who died this spring.  The family  asked the college to host her remembrance ceremony since USAO had been Ingrid's community for most of her adult life.

Ingrid was my editor for our college's interdisciplinary journal, Crosstimbers.  I handled the poetry and fiction and helped with whatever she asked me to do, but Ingrid was its heartbeat, as once Cecil Lee had been.  She loved the magazine, the way it brought people together from all over the world, the way it wove disciplines together, the process of creating it--content and sequence and making it into a beautiful object.  It was good to share that ongoing project with her, and we had become much deeper friends as we worked on it together.

I wrote something about her but found myself saying only part of it and other things coming out.  I'll put what I planned to say here, but I think the basic thing about Ingrid was that she saw the world as one. Very few people do that.  For most people the world is divided into you and me or I and it or we and they.  We are separate, atoms that do not join.  Ingrid saw us joined.  I loved her for that and honor her for it.  

From the memorial:

 You may hear people today praising Ingrid Shafer's scholarship, her intelligence—and, yes, she was a brilliant scholar. What I remember most about Ingrid, however, is not her intelligence but her heart.  
When Ingrid moved to California to be with her son's family, she took over a little house by the pool and filled it with her books and her bed and her desk and many objects full of memory. It was a little space but mysterious, rich and dark, like her homes in Chickasha. Outside her door under the overhang she set up some plates with food for the birds and for her cat. I had to laugh when she sent me photos of what happened at the feeder—it was the Peaceable Kingdom—skunks ate alongside raccoons and possums and the cat—often at the same time. That was Ingrid. She set up a table and invited everyone in.

When I think about Ingrid, it is hard to find words. She was a person, of course, with her own quirks and interests—her fat dog Shiva and her cats, her delight in the Internet, her love of languages and ideas, the way she'd go without sleep carried on by her enthusiam for a project, her fractals, websites, and poetry. But she was something else too, a force, I'd like to say, though words may play me false here. That force was Oneness. Some might call it love. More than almost anyone I know Ingrid knew we were one—that all people, in different cultures, religions, skin colors, circumstances, are one people. She knew all the world, even past people, was one. And that understanding played out in so many ways.

We saw it in the students who lived in her house, in her patient counseling of anyone who came with a problem, in her faith in students who wanted to change their lives for the better. Given a chance to create courses, what did she create? World Thought, multi-cultural, interdisciplinary. Her childhood horror at the Holocaust—an evil diametrically opposed to oneness—led to work to reduce anti-Semitism. She advocated for interreligious and intercultural dialogue. She worked for a Christianity that is more loving, more flexible, that sees God as  unconditional all-embracing universal love .”

Ingrid was a loyal and deeply feeling friend, from her childhood friend, Bernadean, to Andrew Greely with whom she shared a vision of a loving church, to Larry Magrath here at USAO. She and Larry team taught in World Thought together, and students mentioned how their disputes enlivened the class. They discussed ideas out of class too, and wrote together. She organized Larry's memorial after his death, and even in the last year of her life she told me how much she missed him.

I always wanted to be friends with Ingrid too, and we were in a minor way while I was here, but our friendship did not really deepen until we worked together to put out Crosstimbers, which we did for seven years or so. There is nothing like an ongoing project to show you another person. You make decisions, you deal with problems, you communicate with a host of people, you create—all of it together. What I saw working with Ingrid was her respect for other people—how she listened to writers, how she helped them patiently—far more than most editors would, how she went past the formalities and established relationships. What she calls “seeds of loving-kindness”--small actions of acknowledging other people, giving to them--were clearly present in the way she went about her work as an editor. I believe Ingrid followed what she called the “Prime Directive,” of being “gentle and generous and caring.”

Ingrid shared a poem about an experience she had as a child. Here is part of it:


In 1944 when I was five
I had a friend,
a girl from the Ukraine, about
nine years older than I, doing
forced labor on a farm
where I used to play.

When the sirens stopped screaming
and we sat huddled
in the thick-walled kitchen
with the smoke-blackened vaulted
ceiling, waiting for the
hiss of the bombs, she
would hug me close
and talk softly of her home
and family
mixing German with words
I did not know,
and yet I understood.

I felt her thin frame shiver
beneath the flower print dress
and apron
as she told me of her father,
crippled with arthritis,
a gentle, scholarly man
a school teacher
who needed her to be his
hands and fingers.
"Who is tying his shoe laces now?"
she asked, and her hot tears
washed my face and mingled
with mine,
there
in that thick-walled kitchen
with the smoke-darkened ceiling
at Gerersdorf 1.

Ingrid has always been a force for love in this world.  She still is.

Monday, July 28, 2014

Fall Readings

Readings Coming Up Soon

September 12-13 Reading and Workshop, Chickasha, OK (Chickasha Arts Council)

September 21 Malvern Book Store, Austin, TX (with Carol Hamilton, date firming)

October 3-4  Reading and Workshop, Georgetown Poetry Festival, Georgetown, TX

October 26  Full Circle Bookstore, Oklahoma City

November 20, Benedict Street, Shawnee, OK

Saturday, May 17, 2014

Black finalist for Oklahoma Book Award

Black was a finalist for the Oklahoma Book Award.  I saw some good friends at the banquet  (thank you, Jim and Arlene Spurr, Carl Sennhenn, Carol Koss, Phil and Katie Morgan).  I was able to sit with some of them, which was a good thing because that was a big, glittery crowd.  Who knew there was so much literature in Oklahoma!

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Black book launch--the instigators

Jean Alread and sister Jill Mahan with their decorations, horsing around (and Gray too)

Wendy Covey--co-planner and conspirator--with her kids Gray and Lauren
Sarah hugging sister Susan, whose idea it all was and who did a ton of work A great sister!

Plotter Lisa Smith with husband Ladd and Jean and Jill's poster
Leonard Smith (who had to put up with a lot) and brother Raymond who drove in from Tyler

Thank you to all of you! (or as you would have it,  all y'all)

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Black book launch at Longhorn Cavern State Park, Jan. 25th

Open mic at Black book launch with Cindy Huyser, Mike Gullickson, Joyce Gullickson

 Sarah Webb, Joyce Gullickson, Mike Gullickson reading "A Round"

 Leonard Smith and Raymond Smith horsing around

Ladd and Lisa Smith at the Black launch 

 Ladd cawing at the Black poster

 Co-host Wendy Covey with Gray and Lauren expressing dismay and fear

Guest Ken Tolliver at Black Book launch, Longhorn Cavern State Park