Sandra Doller’s most recent book is an open invitation. It is a request and also a set of instructions. It could be a poem, a collection of aphorisms, and a memoir. It could be a meticulous description of another life in another timeline. There’s a clear voice in Sandra Doller’s writing that compels us to tell the difference between waving hello and waving goodbye. The speaker is addressing us and telling us how to make this for form from scratch. A voice that is aware enough of its surroundings to state that Nothing moves. Except white SUVs. All over California. A voice that tries to seize an instant, the here and now, which is full of So many pastimes and also painstakingly mindful of its so little past. This voice invites us to say together with it now here now look here. There’s nothing sicker than a duck family on the dock. This voice is so proud of its genealogy that it states that Clarity is a distant cousin of mine. And that when they were kids they used to braid each other. The voice wants to make sure that we fully understand that America is the grandmother of all nations. The one with Alzheimer’s. And that Shortness of memory requires grandparents. And Shortness of history, breath. It is a voice that clearly knows the difference between a question mark and an exclamation point. That knows all too well that A dollar saved is a dollar. But that A Doller in the hand is worth two. And this voice is all about the body. About leaving the body behind. Your body. On behalf of the New Writing Series, hosted by the Literature Department and the Division of Arts and Humanities at UC San Diego, please welcome Sandra Doller.