Danusha Laméris
Subscribe to my Newsletter
Get news about upcoming events and offerings
Why Fleeting Temples?
“What if these are the true dwelling of the holy, these fleeting temples we make when we say, “Here, have my seat,” “Go ahead––you first,” “I like your hat.”
Because it’s so easy to miss the magic on the ordinary. Because I wanted to have a way to share more of the thoughts and experiences behind the writing, and to connect more directly with my community of readers, outside of the unstable and sometimes (let’s face it), unpleasant platforms of social media...
Hope you can join me for the ride and hear about stories, meditations and reflections on living, being a writer, and poems, both my own and poems I love.
Join My Substack
Join us at Litfield Writers this summer for a craft class series with Danusha Laméris: "All worlds come to an end. The worlds of childhood, the brand-new love affair, the world of once-was. Who we used to be. Where we used to live. The dream that never came to be. Poems are one of the ways we capture what is (or was/ or could be), press it to the page for safe-keeping.".
More Information
All of My Offerings
I hope you join me....
Workshops, courses and retreats
Low-residency MFA at Pacifica University
Appearances & Readings
“How lightly we learn to hold hope, as if it were an animal that could turn around and bite your hand. And still we carry it the way a mother would carefully, from one day to the next.”
“Remember? How the dirt glinted and shimmered, how the blind earth once writhed, alive in your hands.”
“How faithful the tide that has carried us–that carries us now–out to sea and back.”
“I want to leave something here in the rough dirt. A twig, a small stone––perhaps this poem––a reminder to begin, again, by listening carefully with the body’s rapt attention––remember? To this, to this.”
Blade by Blade
Forthcoming September 2024
Danusha Laméris’s third book, Blade by Blade, is a book of hungers: Hunger for the bright glare of poppies, for the hidden name of the beloved, for the cracked continental edge, for all we keep in “the heart’s farthest chambers.” Seeking a way back to joy following the deaths of her son and brother, the poet finds wonder in the furred legs of a caterpillar, in egrets, elephants, and elk, solace in the seagull’s speckled egg. Here we taste a longing to kiss in the dark corner of the gym, to leap into a volcano’s molten fire, to be unraveled, undone thread by thread, made one with all things. Microscopic and tidal, earthquake and fire-prone, Blade by Blade thrives in the underbrush of human emotion. These poems are luminous missives tossed on the wind asking us to re-enter the world we’ve forsaken, to set foot, as if for the first time, on the green earth and begin again.
