Bio: Jeanne Powell loves the word, and has created three spoken word series in San Francisco: "Celebration of the Word" now at Perry*s Joint Cafe, "Poetry at the Cosmo" at the Hotel Cosmo, and "Word Dancing Project," an annual event held at different venues. Her collection of poetry, CELEBRATION OF THE WORD, was published in 2003. Jeanne's latest manuscript was a finalist in national competition in 2002, and will be published in 2005. Her micropress has published eight California poets and writers: drea brown, Chandra Garsson, Kimi Julian, Phillip T. Nails, Craig Easley, Anne Bacon Soule, Tony Sanchez and Christopher Bernard. Meridien Writers, founded by Jeanne in 1992, meets monthly in San Francisco. Jeanne's poetry is filled with snapshots, sometimes light-hearted and sometimes painful, of the life and world around her. I always enjoy hearing her read and occasionally, I find myself stunned with the strong emotion provoked by the snapshot image of her poem like when she read with other well-known women poets at Pro Arts last year. Her sense of community is as strong as her poetry which is why she was one of the featured poets at Insomnia Awakening, a powerful reading series matched up with strong art on the subject of abuse of women and children. Jeanne is not always comfortable to hear which is one of the things I enjoy the most, poetry shouldn't just be comfortable, it should also be disturbing, provoking and heartfelt all of which describes some of what you will find in Jeanne's poetry. http://www.jeanne-powell.com
(excerpt from KEEPING WATCH in her chapbook Tangerine Dance)
. . . .
The fugitive slave, breast milk leaking,
bare fists striking at the bounty hunters
fell to Earth's sweet scented grass bereft
of sound while badges of her courage
flowed everywhere that summer's day
remember her
Fannie Lou Hamer whose body grew thick
from backroom blows delivered under color of
authority why couldn't she stay in her place
she sobbed from the punishing challenge of not
recalling her place they beat her because
she remembered to stand
. . . .
