First Wednesday at 1:00

Please join the First Wednesday at One Series as we welcome poet, fiction writer, and painter Dixie Salazar.

Reading and Writing Center from 1:00 -1:50 PM

Wednesday, November 29, 2023

Reading and Q&A

Book Sale and Signing

Punch and Cookies

ABOUT DIXIE:

Dixie Salazar was born in Chicago, Illinois. She holds a BA in Art from CSU Fresno, a BA in English from CSU Fresno, and a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from Columbia University. Dixie Salazar has published eight books of poetry, including HOTEL FRESNO from Blue Moon Press in 1988 and REINCARNATIONOFTHECOMMONPLACE, which was a National Poetry Book Award winner, published by Salmon Run Press in1999. BLOOD MYSTERIES was published in 2003, and FLAMENCO HIPS AND RED MUD FEET was published in 2010, both from the University of Arizona Press. ALTAR FOR ESCAPED VOICES was published by Tebot Bach in 2013, and VOICE OF THE WIND was released by Brandenburg Press in 2018. Her newest book of poetry, CROSSHAIRS OF THE ORDINARY WORLD, is from Stephen F. Austin State University Press in 2023.LIMBO, her novel, was published by White Pine Press in 1995.CARMEN AND CHIA MIX MAGIC, a young adult fantasy novel, was posted by Black Opal in May 2014. She was awarded a California Arts Council Individual Artist Fellowship in 2023. Her artwork has been featured in numerous galleries, including the Fresno Art Museum and Artes Americas. In addition, she has taught widely, including at the Corcoran State Prison and CSU Fresno. Currently, she shows oil paintings and collage work at the Silva/ Salazar studios at 654 Van Ness in Fresno, California. Website: dixiesalazar.com

“Seeds” By Dixie Salazar

—from How Much Earth: the Fresno Poets

Green and red onions

set into winter dirt

stand erect and tubular

now, stretching up

from their swollen bulbs

like serpents.

They surround the rows

of tender peppers, tomatoes,

and ruffled squash.

Barely able to bend,

I sink to the ground,

navigating my belly’s ripe

latitude,

where a dark meridian has appeared

with this past quarter moon.

For weeks the tips

of those stalks have gripped

tight balls of seed.

Since the rain stopped,

they’ll pop open,

giving up their hold

on the star cut blooms.

Tonight I’ll slice scallions,

tomatoes, garlic,

simmer in sweet basil

till the cloak of dusk

trails off with the stars.

I’ll wrap myself in the smoke

of dinner and twilight

and lie very still in the lawn,

knowing there are super novas

overhead, old fermentations

below. And I’ll listen between

for all the small

exquisite explosion