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Poetry Reading


Featuring Laurie MacDiarmid & Emilie Lindemann

Laurie MacDiarmid

Laurie MacDiarmid

Laurie MacDiarmid is a Professor of English and Director of Faculty Development at St. Norbert College. She regularly participates in April's Poem a Day challenge.

Sample Poem

How to Knit Love from Air

Travel by bicycle to where
crones spin thread from air, leaving
behind your need to walk on

solid ground.
You will find them clustered
in the last tower of a castle

built from cloud bricks,
overlooking a bottomless chasm
of fog and mist.

Select five bundles of
the weightless thread: sunset orange,
dusk purple, dawn red,

nightshade, mid-day cream.
Find a spot to sit under a weeping
willow tree, preferably

next to a brook.
Use wood needles carved from
an ancient laurel.

Stockinette stitch will work best.
Cast on a thousand stitches
in cream; knit a row, purl a row

and change to orange
after a thousand rows.
Remember to breath deep,

bringing the air into your belly.
Imagine your beloved
as a warm glow in your chest.

Continue to work each color
a thousand rows,
changing from red to

purple to
night, until the garment
reaches the stars,

spreading out crisp
and light and cold
as the fire in your heart,

then bind off,
weaving the ends in
like figure eights.

-- Laurie MacDiarmid

Emilie Lindemann

Emilie Lindemann

Emilie Lindemann’s first collection of poetry is mother-mailbox (2016, Misty Publications). She is also the author of several chapbooks, including Small Adult Trees/Small Adulteries and Queen of the Milky Way, both from dancing girl press. Her Instagram account is all rural sunsets, her fluffy-haired son, and floral notebooks. Emilie is an Associate Professor of English at Silver Lake College in Manitowoc, Wisconsin.

Sample Poem


You imagine a navigation system for artists
           of the lightning bug variety.
Blue and purple pegs lined up on a Lite Brite screen,
Black paper punctured
with constellations.

You weave threads from trapeze bar wire hangers in dark closets.
           The baby is always crawling           towards technicolor
           When every peg falls out of the Lite Brite
You’re left with empty sockets, traces, residue.
Drool on the carpeting.
           The baby is teething again.

Outside, it’s firefly dark.

We look
           through frosted car windows.
We swim
in teal skies shot through with pink, yellow light.

Through pathways of the mind,
zipping indigo.
My midnight bluebird.
           At sunrise, through the blue curtain, patch of sky
Portal of cerulean light
beyond horizontal silo,

my little blue heart beating, blinking on the screen.

-- Emilie Lindemann

First published in Firefly Magazine VI. From mother-mailbox (Misty Publications, 2016)

Earlier Event: January 25
Poetry Reading
Later Event: March 22
Poetry Reading