Bronwyn Carver is an artist with a wide range of talents: She’s a journalist, a short story writer, a poet, a jewelry maker, a collage artist and an editor.
This is the second year Bronwyn has worked as an editor on the Street Roots Holiday Zine committee and her first as the lead. The Holiday Zine celebrates vendors’ writing and art. The theme of this year’s zine is survival. Bronwyn loves being a part of the creative process with others, “the coming together of great minds, sharing the different perspectives about creative works,” and the opportunity to help each creative gem shine.
When Bronwyn talks about her poetry, she becomes introspective. She draws inspiration from the world around her, but for her poetry, these events trigger something inside of her. Her poetry is personal and emotional. For example, the first poem she published with Street Roots, “A Tale From the Ramp,” is about “spare changing, about having to fly a sign and beg,” about the way it feels “having your pride stuck in your throat,” she said.
“There’s so much out here that you can draw inspiration from,” Bronwyn said about her houseless community. Another poem published in Street Roots titled “Shhhh” is about “the lack of quiet out here. It’s never quiet. There’s a constant din. After a while, if you don’t learn to block it out, it’ll make you crazy.”
Bronwyn has been writing for as long as she can remember. In second grade, she won a contest for a short story she wrote, “Revenge of the Giant Purple Eaters,” based on a song her cousin used to sing to her. That praise and support, so early in life, “let me know that I was on to something with what I was doing. I grew up in a volatile household where I needed those ‘atta girls,’” she said.
Talking about the importance of poetry in her life now, Bronwyn is animated: “I have to write. Because if I don’t, I’ll explode. People say it’s inside you,” she said. But once she is able to express those feelings and thoughts that might otherwise haunt her, she experiences a kind of freedom that creating poetry provides.
Trying to keep her writing “safe” is a particular challenge in her houseless community. Bronwyn has an entire plastic tub of her poetry and short stories, all written by hand. “Keeping everything dry from Portland rain includes your words,” she said. But a less obvious danger is theft. “I’ve lost my poems and short stories through theft. It’s never by a homeless person,” she explained, “but by the upstanding person. The tow yard that raided my van. The landlord who keeps everything when he throws you out.”
But there’s so much to be thankful for, Bronwyn said.
“I’ve been very fortunate. I’ve met a quality of people that I call family. Most of the houseless people in my community once had jobs and families. Something happened that changed that. I have so much respect for them. We form alliances and friendships and family. I feel honored.”
Reflecting on the past eight months of COVID-19, Bronwyn said: “I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve been trying to make myself a better person, trying to be more positive. That doom and gloom is alive and well inside of me,” she said, “but I’m choosing to see the optimistic side so that that positive way of seeing will become natural.”
You can buy papers from Bronwyn at the American Red Cross Donation Center, North Gantenbein Avenue and Cook Street, between 3:30 and 5 p.m.