SABRINA SEELIG

Sabrina     you must have been made          of meringue 

all that sugar   lightness    & white   everyone wanting

you to whisk them      into your afternoon   oh to know

the silt                  on you windowsill       the ash

you’re dreaming   still                  where is your window

this evenings     torn silk         tossed to the floor   

all your lovers        fall like lace   

at the mention of your name     Sabrina
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Anna sang this song at Tree last year. Jenner and I shot Anna playing and I added some footage from a film I made in college starring Sabrina.

Many of us, who love and miss Sabrina will gather on Monday, June 16th at Judson Memorial Church, to celebrate her 24th birthday, with a reading of her stories, excerpts from her novel and poetry. This is an early attempt to bring the complexity, passion and stylistic splendor of her letters to life.

On that evening we will read and listen to Sabrina’s words, so that her brilliant voice can resonate beyond the pain and void we feel.

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And still I dream of a bargain.
You ask for a cup of tea.
Here you are
dressed so smartly.
Your hair-
pure yellow
like a doll-
and your eyes-
still
blue,

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I think of You

All glowing, All beauty

Thriving, All things rejoined
Repaired, Healed and Alive.

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Natasha sent these images to us recently. They were taken by Sabrina. See the gallery HERE

She woke me up on the train. I was sitting on the top. We shared grape juice.
The wind was blowing strong. I was reminded of Woody Guthrie, playing guitar in the rain. Ducking underneath tunnels, our hair blew around our ears, knotting each strand. The western sky was filled with clouds that should have been our pillows. I told her it was too late to be doing this. We could not be here. It’s impossible! She said to me, it’s not in the head, it’s in the heart.

On October 21, 2005 Sabrina read a passage from her novel; Romans at the OUTRAGEOUS LOOK gallery in Williamsburg. Paula Court took this picture.

Sabrina. When I think of Sabrina I see her in some fabulous 30’s dress, belted with ankle socks and the perfectly imperfect factory -worker girls shoes. Shins bruised into adulthood, hair unkempt, in need of a scrub, a true bohemian plucked from time and given as a gift for those who could only dream of being such. How is it that at the age of 22 she was able to live a bigger and fuller life than those who get a full term to try?

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It is December 5th, 2007, only six months since our beloved Sabrina passed away. Words continue to fail us in our attempt to comprehend this catastrophe. It is impossible to convey how much we miss her.

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It is called POEM, (click on the name to listen)

This is a short excerpt from Sabrina’s novel “The Romans” that I would like to share with you:

“To sort out what is out until she is able to live… agreeably. It is a question of tolerance of the world in order to love it, serve it, integrate herself into it with meditative and reflective ability. To give to it as simply and well as rain from the sky.”

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This is what I said to Sabrina at the celebrations of Her spirit in Hope, Maine;

Dearest Bean,

I have been struggling all week with that to say today. I wanted so badly to write something epic, perfect, and gorgeous to you. I wanted to build you a candle shrine of words, something that would serve to tell how much you mean to me, how unparalleled I think you are.

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Trish took these photos later in the evening.

I wish I could have come to Maine for Sabrina’s memorial. Sabrina was such an extraordinary person that going to Maine should be nothing. The Antarctic or the Sahara should be crossed in her honor, in festive caravans, flags flying. Unfortunately, my newborn son is still just too small. So I’ve written this instead.

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