Resurrection (tentative title)

Work on the book about my father resumes, all true, even my son, my fahter’s only grandson; the only son mine from conception through birth –I won’t go into the details of that, except to express my thanks to a Bangladshi sperm donor. and the man in my life, Thomas Robert Higginson, that wonderful and complex man.  I introdcuce my father and his father to the most important men in my life, my son Ansted:

a photo of Ansted , and of Ansted with me:

 

 

 

 

Some pictures of Thomas:

 

 

 

I will never reveal his legal name, although I know it; that just wouldn’t be fair?  If his identity is ever revealed, he will have to reveal it, not me.  I could even post some photos of this man and myself, but not at this time; he must remain enigmatic, incognito

Just know that he is real, and it is perfectly fine if you bcome jealous of him, after all, he is the man appointed to this honor of  well, being the world’s greatest lover –not sayng he is perfect, as he does tend to misunderstand things, even when I am prasing him, but he deserves every  word of praise I give him,  and he has taken a lot from me, but all in the spirit of how much I love him, but the realiy of him is a bit too private to share, some images of my father:

 

 

My father!

my father smoking a Pall Mall

 is introduced to nsted my son, and to Thomas Robert  who never got to meet him while he lived,  One of the great tragedies of the world.  Even those who saw him, did not know him, glimpses only, but no real sense of the complexity and loving nature of his character; I am doing the best that I can

 

as well as my paternal grandfather:

 

 

that’s about it for now.  I will probably write all through the night. There is so much good that I must say, (not that I don’t want Thomas Robert Higginson himself to say more good about me, and about the book 

 

Thomas Robert persists in Calling me “a great writer” –-maybe I am, but I have a great someone to write about, but only I (and Thomas Robert of course) are privy  to the details.  

 

I can post no more details without giving away his identity,   but I advise all of you to search for a man like him, and maybe, although unlikely, for there is only one Thomas Robert Higginson, but search anyway, and perhaps you will come close.  

 

The point is not to identify my son or Thomas Robert himself; the point is to introduce this exceptional man to the small world (that reads my stuff) and is interested in a different model of a man, of a human being, of the outcome  (me)

 

CELEBRATING NATURL LONG HAIR

from such a man  who married my mother and is still exceptional although he died in 1980, and would love all the science and technology, things he missed during his life from 1923 – 1980; above all he would have adoresd computers, and he would have had one.  No doubt several of them.

 

If I miss anything, it is the sound of his voice.  Think of all the ways he could be captured, and he used to sing –such capture with just a phone.  

 

I am sure I will dream about all of this tonight.

 

 

 

my father and I: precious photos.  My mother also in the first one.

Raggedness

I continue work on the book about my father, that wonderful man, and in the process, I stumbled upon an interview of me about “Raggedness” 

 

Ths ineterview, full title: “The Raggedness of Interacting Boundaries…”: An Interview with Poet Thylias Moss  is proving quite useful for my essentail little porject.  

 

I am learning quite a bit about mysef, and this is proving very useful.  There are some photos in the library of this blog, that I would love to post, but I had better not at this time, maybe I will once this  book, that still needs a title,  is published, but now is just too soon.  

 

My father was a semi truck tire recapper, so I will post a couple of YouTube videos about that process:

 

 

And now, some photos of my father, semi truck tire recapper until he was no longer able to work (Lung problems):

 

 

my father smoking a Pall Mall

 

 

 

 

 

Stamp of Approval

The featured image is of my paternal grandfather, Frizzell (never sure how to spell his name, one “z”,or two, one “l” or ‘two”?)   a most interesting and confusing background, Caucasian, and Indian from India —

My joy at the moment is because a real man who meets my father in the book, informed me that he has received it and he calls it “a good one”; shouldn’t make me as happy as it does.    Let’s just say as things fall apart as they do, he and I have something, and I do not always know exactly what it is, but if he says it’s a good one, then I can’t help but glow.  

It is a good one but for more than he may think… if I didn’t already care about him, this would be reason to.  Now I will just lean back in the joy of this accomplishment.  

I am so glad that these men meet, and that they like each other.  He has no way of knowing what this means to me.  

I have been thinking about that arrow of time a little bit, and well, wondering if I can cause that arrow to move differently, and if I had that opportunity, what would I do?  

Wondering how I would make that arrow move?  These men would indeed meet, and I believe that my son would be joyous… Well the first (and only, I say sadly) time my son saw me with this man, he said, “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you happy with a man.” I had been married for forty years when he said that, not the son of my ex-husband, but with a Bangladeshi sperm donor father of necessity.  

Ansted wwith iPod in Toronto

Well I will not post his picture, st this time; perhaps that goes much too far, but at least I know he likes it, and knowing that is everything right now.

ME:

My Father:

my father smoking a Pall Mall

I will rest with this interlude of joy.  

Dolphins and my father

Here I am, I hate to say it, Sea World, interacting with dolphins, veatures and cousins I love , rememberng that my fathe was willing to build a dolphin tank  for me in what is now m mother’s back yard.

Perhaps the presence of dolphins swiming and leaping would comfort her troubled heart a bit.  For me, just my father’s willingness to rearrange and restructure a bit of grography, no mater how riduculous my original request was, to break yp these animal families, thse mammal families.  And yes, I did enjoy the TV show, “FLipper” how coul dI not?

 

and of course, the Flipper theme:

My father, only a memory now, but one of the strongest and most persistent memories I’ve ever had.  I was lucky enough to have him in my life until 1980.

 

The man who would have built a dolphin tank in my back yard in Cleveland , Ohio in place of the garage:

 

my father smoking a Pall Mall

the lawn that should be cut

Relocation

The time has come.  Goodbye Ypsilanti, hello again Ann Arbor.

Tomorrow is the official day!  Dream Baby is coming back to town! 

Moved to Ann Arbor, Michigan from Massachusetts, became very ill, rupture of a cranial aneurysm , 2011, survived, against all expectations, and my life was forver changed for the better, improved I mean,  divorced after 40 years of marrage, a change I really needed, having married as a teenager who knew nothing, not really; I thought I knew a few thngs, but I really didn’t.  

Mostly, although I was married for such a long time, wedding in 1973, turns out that I knew nothing about love,  not really.   But a friend of mine (Thomas Robert Higgginson)  did, and we got together for the best weekend of my life, became the basis of a romance novel, I was finally able to write, my favorite book of all my thirteen books: 

New Kiss Horizon

details on acquisition of this book:

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” on Smashwords:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/683373

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” paperback on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Kiss-Horizon-Thylias-Moss/dp/1540584496

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” Kindle book on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Kiss-Horizon-Thylias-Moss-ebook/dp/B01N1K0PLC

Link to Thylias Moss Amazon writer page:

https://www.amazon.com/Thylias-Moss/e/B001JSBOQQ

Vashtis Blog (narrator of NKH, maintaining a blog so that readers may keep in touch with developments in the character’s life beyond the book:

Vashti’s blog URL:

https://vashtisblog.wordpress.com/

Presently working on a book about my father; a book I have needed to write for many years. He and my son (I was finally able to have) are the people most like me in the world.  My father was the most soft-hearted man –and I am soft-hearted too. My     son may be soft-hearted also, but life itself and the world not fully hospitable to such nature has tried to crush this, has tried to hammer it out of us, but my heart, agaist all reason, defiant in its softness had not curled up and died, the ventricles useless, chambers unvisited and exploited.

This too is legacy.  

A softer legacy to be sure.  I wish he had lived to know any of this for himself. 

This Heart will survive. 

Of course I like memories, but I prefer things of substance, the physics of what  can held in my hands, hot or cold, even if it burns, I want the marks of  living well, of knowing these feelings; there is a cost of knowledge, and for those who maintain the story of origins involving Adam and Eve,  the cost of knowledge was the loss of paradise, but I suggest  that the knowledge gained perhaps was worth that loss; for they gained a physicality that is very much enjoyed around the world, among all species the propagate –he way it’s  done: interaction and connection of bodies:

the actual paradise of pleasure.

THE Glory Prelude (to a Widow Shrine System) and the print poam

Coming in September 2016, is my new book of new and selected poetry:

“Wannabe Hoochie Mama Gallery of Realities RED DRESS Code” from Persea –I couldn’t be happier about that!! Definitely time for book 11

In this book will be a print poam,  “The Glory Prelude” just published online in The Offing –very happy about that also, of course!

and the print poam (Product of Act[s] of Making –a limited fork expression) has a companion video poam, that will be in an exhibit,

“You, Here, Now” at the Pulitzer Arts Foundation

3716 Washington, Boulevard, St. Louis, MO 63108

“” is many things, but primarily a connection to my mother; yes, she’s in it, of course, a link to direct ancestry.  She would want me to credit God, to credit Jesus for everything, and as much as I love her, I just can’t do that. 

A couple of photos of my mother:

and since they should not be separated, a photo of my parents together, for my wedding for a marriage that lasted from 06 July 1973 until 18 September 2013:

My parents; married until his death in 1980, the year before I graduated from Oberlin College, first in my class, and Phi Beta Kappa.

My first book was published in 1983, “Hosiery seams on a Bowlegged Woman” (a finalist for Best of the Great Lakes Prize

a list of  my book  publications:

Tokyo Butter, collection of Limited fork theory poams, Persea Books, 2006

Slave Moth, a novel in verse, Persea Books, 2004.

Tale of a Sky-blue Dress, a memoir, Bard Division of Avon Books, August 1998.

Last Chance for the Tarzan Holler, a volume of poetry, Persea Books, March 1998, a finalist for the 1999 National Book Critics Circle Award and a best book of 1998 by The Village Voice.

I Want to Be, Dial Books for Young Readers, September, 1993, a Literary Guild Selection, recipient of a starred review in Publisher’s Weekly, School Library Journal, and Kirkus Reviews; recommended by Reading Teacher, an American Bookseller’s Pick of the List for 1993, named a best children’s book of 1993 by USA Today and The Detroit Free Pres.

Small Congregations, a volume of new and selected poems, Ecco Press, June 1993.

Rainbow Remnants in Rock Bottom Ghetto Sky, Persea Books, June 1991, winner of the National Poetry Series 1990 Open Competition, and winner of the 1992 Ohioana Book Award.

At Redbones, Cleveland State University Poetry Center, June 1990.

Pyramid of Bone, University of Virginia Press, March 1989, nominated in 1990 for the National Book Critics Circle Award in Poetry.

Hosiery Seams on a Bowlegged Woman, Cleveland State University Poetry Center,
1983; finalist for the Best of the Great Lakes first book prize.

Covers of these books: