Collage by Robin Crane

I have been unable to come up with any poems or essay ideas the past few days, so this is a collage of some of my favorite videos, pictures, etc. Enjoy!

these are literal screenshots, of my TV screen, of Colleen Dewhurst in the 1979 film When a Stranger Calls. I loved her fashion, makeup, hair and face so much I wanted to take pictures from every angle, and I realized I was sort of passively stalking her the way the bad guy in the movie does!

Rhapsody on a Windy Night, from Preludes by T.S. Eliot

This was Mom's Emerald City display case that hung over the toilet in her favorite apartment. She knew how much I loved it and gave it to me one Christmas but it's when I lived in an orderly house and asked if she could keep it at her place for awhile and when she moved it got left behind.

I took this video in the spring of a crazy lightning and thunderstorm I thought might be the end of the world!

This is me and mom at a party i threw at my apartment in mount washington in my early twenties. I really was punk but I was dressing up especially punk. She looks pretty.

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Grand Rapids, Michigan by Robin Crane

I am at a mental hospital in Grand Rapids, Michigan. I had never been to this city before. My room is right next to the bay of telephones. I feel sad hearing so many patients start conversations with their friends or family and then so soon say, "Oh, you have to go? Well...goodbye."

Birthday Card Book

IN keeping with the more than usual focus on my mom, who passed away almost a year ago now, here is a book she made me for my 14th birthday.

Mermaid Sisters by Robin Crane

Mikayla knew that Diana tried to listen for actual words among the riotous din that drifted over from the elementary school whenever the kids were on the playground. More than once, she’d say something like, “I know they’re having conversations, but with all of them talking at once, it just sounds like they're all yelling at the top of their lungs at the same time.” Diana liked being able to faintly hear the morning announcements, but she didn’t like young children, and their playful noises sounded like seagulls aggressively squawking for the same pizza crust. Their family home growing up had been close to the beach, and they were currently sharing an apartment in a valley that was always hot and smoggy, with a sprawling building of U-Haul storage spaces, and the school of course, replacing the ocean as their view; hearing seabird noises out here felt like a taunt. No matter how many knots even a casual glance from Mom or ...

sweetheart redux

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