Why the name? Pintail Poetry

listen to this post here

For those interested, the name struck me as a metaphor for the process

of constructing poetry. There is an object I am moving toward

blindfolded, I’m spun, holding a thought but not too tight,

some thread emerges from the spinning, I walk toward the child’s Pin the Tail on

the Donkey posterboard, the finished poem is where I pin it—sometimes far from

the tail or off the donkey all together. This game can go on for a day, week or

years, the whole process for each poem.

Plus! I love donkeys, their braying, for me, seems like a

lament that must be voiced, healthy full bodied laughter, or a frustrated cry.

Either way, watching the visible intake of air, their course haired bellies expand

and audible bray released is, what I perceive to be, a pure response through sound

using their whole body to expel it!

I took the photo of the lively carved donkeys in San Miguel de Allende in Colonia Guadalupe’. 2020

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Why I use my whole name.

It’s my given name and contains traces of my ancestry, connected to story.

A few of my poems come from these stories. Maybe their lived experiences

circulate in my subconscious, provide some invisible support.

My Swedish grandmother offered the name Lenea; a tiny white flower

which grows on the hillsides of Sweden. Kristen is used for either sex in

Scandanavia and comes from Christian or follower of Christ or anointed

one, none of which I claim to be, although I believe we all

carry a seed of basic goodness and deeply anointed toward love.

Ryberg was a surname given to a male ancestor in Norway who worked and lived

on a farm near the river Rye for the “lord” who owned the farm called Ryberg.

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Now, a poem! in narrative structure

Kristen Lenea Ryberg
Exhibit #2-6 Improvised Life Series

In the center, a hand-carved wood 12”working compass, passed down by her grandmother Ingrid, made by her father, a pacifist from the Oland Islands off the coast of Sweden.  Ingrid swam in the cold island waters, arrived in the US at 17, sewed/designed wardrobes for wealthy women in Boston, wore Chanel #5 and silk scarves, made swedish meatballs and pancakes, drank Christian Brother’s sherry in the closet and said “we came from the sea, eat fish for your brain"
  
To the right chunky 10.5 Birkenstocks. Popular comfortable footwear in the late 1960’s-70’s hippies, revived by earth-lovers and fashion runways in the 21st century.  Worn most days in mid-life on, when comfort becomes the foremost consideration in footwear.    

On the left, three 2” animal mascote’ figures handmade in porcelain chosen as informers.

An alert rabbit rests on long feet, ready to spring from danger. A capable forager, hops quickly to shelter.

A grey whale, mouth open, Akashic-record keeper of her watery world. Invites
dives to mystery and depth.    
    
A sea turtle (worn the day all things changed) a shell to hide in and rest, waits, then walks slowly, each deliberate claw footed step.
             
A feather, as a reminder of the lightness of soaring, wind-found support.
a stack of notebooks, journals, loose papers of writing fragments—poetry.  Most never published.  Among the stack are pieces that became the work of her Scar-Clan project.  A multi-media installation currently on view in Gallery 2: