Cindy Rinnne’s, spider with wings, extends a tender myriad of verse “which sing a siren’(s) coaxing.” In this intimate mosaic, Rinne declares “I cannot promise to be consistent with your soul.” The poems gently navigate the reader through heartfelt insights; a sagacious study enriched with “maplines,.. Galilean moons, a house of antlers.” Moment by moment these unique, precise lyrics leave us asking: “how did it happen…” as we witness the birth of a harmonious language, "another kind of human” empathy. –Maureen Alsop, Ph.D. NCSP School Psychologist The Natural World locked antlers with Human Intervention, and they really went at it. And before the dust settled and a winner was announced, Rinne scrambled into the fray, collected the images, and collaged taut, spare poems from them. -Amy Pickworth author of Bigfoot for Women Cindy’s poetry is both lyrical and imaginative, and recalls the rhythmic cadences of nomadic cultures. -K. Andrew Turner, Author, Editor, Creative Mentor

Spider With Wings

Literature & Fiction

Rinne, Cindy

Poetry

Jamii Publishing

Poetry. This dynamic collaboration between Michael Cooper and Cindy Rinne hurtles through the male/female binary into the polyphonic, as the voices prism and ricochet past one another, multiplying in possibility. The trickster spider-god, Anansi, is spirit guide for this collection, at once postmodern and preverbal, as if the world rituals have been rent into fragments that ache toward the formation of a new web-text and textile, one which gathers all the lost, all rejected, orphaned and damaged, the repulsive and the lovely, to "reweave the world" to have "stacked the bodies looking for wholes where their souls peeked out." This is a poetry that invades all planes, from bureaucracy to myth, interrogating poetry's limits, even as it bears witness, unflinchingly, to what we have become.

Speaking Through Sediment

COOPER, MICHAEL

ELJ Editions

BREATHE IN DAISY, BREATHE OUT STONES is Cindy Rinne's third full collection of surreal poems. The poet-artist invites us into an introspective space, calling us to look outward through the lens of beauty and suffering. She explores the fragility of our words, our bodies, our lives, and our death. Whether unearthing a carved oracle bone, listening to a night messenger, or walking on stilts, the experience of this poetry is fluid and raw. Through the emotions of loss, acceptance, forgiveness, relationships, courage, destiny, and love the identities of many cultures and seasons of life are portrayed.

Breathe In Daisy, Breathe Out Stones

FutureCycle Press

"Words Become Ashes - An Offering" takes you on a pilgrimage in tunnels, on the ground, and above with mole, Changing Woman, polar bear, whale, and moon. Join an outsider on a journey, but not alone under Waning Quarter Moon with the protection of wolf. Tear out dead leaves and listens to the vibrations of the river. When the door seems closed of loss, letting go, and finding wisdom, "ashen trauma transmutes into music" in these ritual songs. Much for you to discover in the elements, layers, and textures of fiber art and poetry collaged together.

Words Become Ashes: An Offering

Crafts, Hobbies & Home

Crafts & Hobbies

Bamboo Dart Press

Ancient Arts That day my father, Takumi, painted deer and plum design with ink on kimono silk. His hand steady, he was determined to practice the Yuzen dyeing method in America while my mother, Mio, embroidered in gold. Moon of Many Petals is a full-color novel in verse. There’s a tapestry on the book cover, made of abstract patterns of blue—also embedding a bird and a dark figurine. This last must be female by the contour of her hairdo, by the shape of the dress she wears under a cape. She bends slightly, in a pose we might decode as pensive. She has things in her mind, therefore things to say. 
 She comes back on the title page. She begins the five chapters composing Cindy Rinne’s new novel in verse. Each appearance is different, and a different patchwork surrounds the shadow-girl. Once, her body is all made of butterflies. Then she grows golden wings parsed with turquoise stones. Later, enrobed in tender lilac, she looks the other way. Sometimes she haunts the foreground, sometimes she disappears in the distance. Her shape always overlaps a list of names, like those found on memorial walls. These are printed on a screen inside the Manzanar Visitor Center. As they part the chapters—forming the backdrop of Natsumi’s metamorphoses—they shift in size. They come close, wishing to be individually spelled, learned, recalled. They recede exposing their vertiginous quantity, their frightening infinity. 
 Manzanar? If you just flip the pages, jewel tones, soft textures, dancing shapes of the images constellating the text—the author’s own fiber art—suggests whimsicality, maybe a children story. True, as this narrative of evacuation, exile, confinement, prison, is re-told by the lightest of testimonies—an embryo, then fetus. An un-born baby. The tale is related ab utero, a womb its vantage point. 
 When Mio is forced on a bus together with her husband, Takumi, she is a few weeks pregnant. We have already met the presence tugged inside her. “She” has told us about her parents’ home in Morro Bay, surrounded by the liveliness of the sea. She has spoken of many other things, travelling back in time and as far as Japan, visiting the grandmother whose namesake she’ll be, once borne—another Natsumi, still in Sendai, yet so close to the cluster of cells busy making themselves, they are one. Just as this bundle of tireless growth is one with Mio. The un-born girl experiences her mother’s distress, fear, disorientation, and loneliness. 
 Ash, wind, dust, make life in the Manzanar barracks harsh, even more for a pregnant body. Only a thin curtain splits the miniature room where two families coexist. Intimacy is erased and so is the language. The internees are prohibited of speaking Japanese. But the fetus witnesses Mother’s revolt, as Mio can’t resist lullabying the fruit of her womb with traditional songs, or reciting an ancient play Grandma loved. 
 Paper shades at the window can’t hide the barbed wire surrounding the flats—the wide, barren plain containing the camp. The sight loads Mio with anguish, with a sense of suffocation Natsumi can feel, though she is still entirely free. Actually she is freedom itself, as the microcosm of the womb coincides with the macrocosm. She is swallow, butterfly, flower, sakura petal. She is simultaneously past, present, future, whispering in her ancestors’ ears, carrying messages back and forth, sewing what has been with what will be, annihilating distances. Body/souls in the making have such awesome flexibility.
 The complete review by Toti O'Brien appears in the April issue of Gravel Magazine. You can read the rest of this thoughtful review at https://www.gravelmag.com/toti-obrien.html

Moon Of Many Petals

CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

TODAY ON TWO PLANETS: Rewilding

Independently published

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