Biography of Joan Woodbridge
Iteration I: Blessed by the Great Mother, I was dropped into this life, a member of the several generations destined to negotiate the erotic boundaries between cultural prohibition, the whipped up frenzy of rock and roll, and mind expanding drugs- a short but intense period that lay magically between the availability of birth control pills and antibiotics, and the fateful appearance of AIDS.
Iteration II: I come from a long line of barbarians, land thieves, and genocidal murderers. My English forbearers arrived in America on the Mayflower. I have been taught to be proud of my ancestors. And, indeed, I am proud that my Puritan ancestors would not abide the oppression of anyone-not themselves, not others. I am proud that they took a stand against slavery. On my mother’s side I come from French Canadian and barely acknowledged Native American roots- the hunter and the hunted are alive in my genetic code.
Joan Woodbridge Poems
The deciduous year attenuates draws thin my insubstantial resolve.
Kiswar Q'Inti*, The Royal Hummingbird of the North has entered this body penetrating at the solar center insinuating herself into each cell.
The Artist's Model Contemplates Negative...
quite suddenly the leaves are gone
Only now may it be spoken that the Divine had placed her numinous imprint upon the earth of those several young summers
An Uneasy Measure
Time the uneasy measure we lay upon unfettered infinity
Why I Left The Roman Church
What is it that I ask of religion? I ask that you serve
Stone's Slow Words
adamantine density inner halls so steeply narrow how much substance must I shed
After Shikujo's Pillow Book
Things one does when one's lover is away: - stand in the freezing wind waiting for a bus
I am She-Bear denned in sweet earth I dream snow-covered leaves and frozen fields I dream fish asleep in icy rivers I dream leafless trees and waning light
Winter Solstice: The Return Of The Light...
Light follows darkness as darkness light: the stunned sun halts mid-dance Shiva Nataraj motionless
how it began is unclear innocence and earnestness the impossible 'Why? '
wind me down easy
Is it anyway of moment that the lateral wind may never brush again in turn our sided faces?
arching magnificently into air I swim my being between bliss and necessity calling
An Uneasy Measure
the uneasy measure
we lay upon unfettered infinity
we run innocently
through lily beds and grape arbors
to the ashes of the ruined mill
across the millstream