Marissa Bell Toffoli

Marissa Bell Toffoli lives in Berkeley, CA. After a few years of independently visiting classrooms to teach poetry writing, Marissa joined California Poets in the Schools as a poet teacher. She works part-time as the Editor for UC Berkeley's New Student Services department, and reads submissions for Zoetrope: All-Story. She attended UC Santa Barbara (UCSB) and earned a BA in English. During her undergraduate years she was Editor-in-Chief of Catalyst, the UCSB undergraduate literary journal. Moving back to the Bay Area, where she grew up, Marissa earned an MFA in Creative Writing from California College of the Arts (CCA, also known as California College of Arts & Crafts), where she focused her work on poetry. At CCA, Marissa was the Editor for Transmission, a website of student and alumni work, as well as Distribution Manager and Poetry Board Member for Eleven Eleven, a journal of literature and art. Her poems have been published in a number of print and online journals. For the national Poetry Out Loud recitation competition, Marissa has coached students and been a judge for school-wide competitions. Marissa has unwavering belief in the benefit of connecting students to writing, and other arts, at an early age. She has been invited back annually as a writing judge for student recognition projects in the San Ramon Valley Unified School District, and has also been a returning poetry judge for the Northern California Independent Booksellers Association (NCIBA) Book of the Year Awards. Email her.


Jangles and Drums

The train in its track jangles and drums.
I followed thought to be lost among
purpose and worth, such tired crooked thumbs.
Freckled California girl, so young.

I followed thought to be lost. Among
landscape it’s so easy to forget
freckled California girl, so young.
Fields of unmitigated regret.

Landscape, it’s so easy to forget,
draws night and day, one to another.
Fields of unmitigated regret
span history, expand, and smother.

Draws night and day, one to another,
so does memory to your body
span history, expand, and smother.
Optimistic, we’ve all been naughty.

So does memory to your body
opalesce a river of solace.
Optimistic, we’ve all been naughty.
Our bloodied lips kiss to coalesce,

opalesce. A river of solace
clambers in this clamor bereft of
our bloodied lips’ kiss. Coalesce,
weave more than seems to live. It’s enough.

Clamber in this clamor bereft of
purpose and worth. Such tired crooked thumbs
weave more than seams. To live — it’s enough.
The train in its track jangles and drums.

“Jangles and Drums.” Train Tracts, Utah (2008).