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gwendolyn alley
Denise Calvetti
antoinette nora claypoole
Liz Collins
Linda Crosfield
Danika Dinsmore
Eli Galla
Erica Gehrke
Christopher Jarmick
Amalio Madueno
Tod McCoy
Kevin Mooneyham
Paul Nelson
Andrew Noble
Lincoln Simoni



Welcome to the 3:15 homepage for Liz Collins

Read from the following days:

0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 16 17 18 19 20 21 21 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 30 31


This year was my third year taking part in the Experiment, my first year officially.

I live in Santa Barbara County and when I first moved here two years ago, I was listening to a radio show on the local university station called 'Rocket Garden Holiday'. On that particular day, July 31, 2003, there was a local female poet/professor who was reading some of her work. She began to describe the 3:15 Experiment in detail and to share readings of her poetry from previous experiments. I went immediately to my bedroom to set the alarm for the next morning, year one. That fall, I attended a party down in Los Angeles where I met a beautiful pregnant woman named Gwendolyn who began to describe a 'poetry thing' she did during the month of August.

'Oh, the 3:15 Experiment, I did that this year as well' I chimed in. I told her about the radio show and she looks at me and says

'That was me!'

Well, since then I've been to several readings down in Ventura where Gwendolyn puts on a monthly series as well as been involved with her in other performance collectives since then. I thank her for introducing me to this wonderful remote community.

This year, for the first time, I chose themes for each week. Week one was 'Everything Changes', week two 'Everything Returns', week three was 'The Mother', week four was 'Joy and Bliss', week five, a short week, was a free for all. In a ddition to the themes, I chose a mantra, or prayer, that I recited every morning before I began writing and which shows up prominently throughout the month.

Enjoy, and may you go deep, deep down to find the seeds of darkness and throw themn to the light.


P.S. The second '0'is really day six but somehow I forgot to enter the date and the program won't let me override it. Some of the days there were mutiple entries, which is reflected here.


By way of  introduction;

turned vulvic
filled with light
a tunnel
a dark, dark voice
scared me
they told me I'd been dreamin
everything was okay
go back to sleep
I still feel
like a little girl
stop looking so hard
shi nay
a cleavage
of a woman's breasts
of two mountain ranges
of two huts
yellow straw roofs
side by side
the eye is bigger now
(I still feel)
it's a different eye
(like a little girl)
now it's large
and green
it seems           like it never happened


my poems this year began with death and ended with birth, the birth of my son, rowan malcolm brownlee, namesake of the wizard's tree & favorite tree of brigid, a goddess of poetry.

a nest of swallows on our back patio appeared often in the poems, and led me to entitle a chapbook i made for friends 'the swallows tale'. the chapbook has a beautiful image of the lunar eclipse on the 28th, my son's birthday, a full moon, and the final day of my 315 month this year.

on the 28th i was awoken by birth rushes 15 minutes before the alarm at the apex of the lunar eclipse, visible through our bedroom window, looking down mule creek canyon over the big sur pacific ocean. i wrote a poem and continued to open to recieve my child into the light. he was born at 8am that same day.

i can be contacted by email at iinhale@hotmail.com


this year the experiment followed quick on the heels of the big sur fires of 08, the 'basin complex fire'. it was my fifth year and my fourth 'official' year. poignantly, at the end of the month, at almost the exact same time that my birth pains began a year earlier with my son, a local daughter, not yet 18, was killed in a tragic car crash that involved a number of other individuals. i dedicate this years poems to her, rachel love.

i didn't participate officially with paul nelson and his group, but i did really like the idea of the postcards, so, i went to the phoenix shop next door to my house and bought an edward gorey book of postcards (i love edward gorey!), exactly 30 in the book. i figured i would miss at least one day! so, i addressed and stamped all the postcards ahead of time and wrote a postcard, then a journal entry each morning. i didn't sign any of the postcards, and didn't record the poems i sent out. it was like setting little boats of light out on the water, come to what end they may. i loved dropping one into the big blue box each morning of the month. on the days i missed the morning write, i wrote the postcard later and sent it that day, no matter what. what fun. thanks for hte idea paul.

viva la revolucion!


Copyright 2005 by the individual poets