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Sunday, February 10, 2008

Review - Forms of Intercession


“Today I am medium rare. Don’t touch me.” So begins the first line if the poem Forms of Intercession, the title poem in Jayne Pupek’s book published by Mayapple Press. Throughout the book, Pupek pokes around at medium rare subject matter. It seems there are few things that inhibit her writing which can be both disturbing and refreshing.

Each new page seems to contain a poem that is scarcely able to clutch the edge of its page and as the reader, you find yourself hanging onto each line, each raw emotion in a desperate attempt to intercede and keep it from falling into the darkness of nowhere. I had to check my own hands for blood stains when finished.

For all the dispare, Forms of Intercession isn’t all that fatalistic. No it touches a core reality of life… that it is “full of broken combs and blisters. Still we go on, / because it is in us, the need for continuance, / that sliver of persistence inside every cell.” I found it a very artistically mature and straightforward read.

Friday, February 08, 2008

What the poem wants

"The poem is sad because it wants to be yours, and cannot be." - John Ashbery
Have you ever stopped for a moment to ask yourself what the poem wants? Ok, chuckle if you want, but people are always trying to force something out of a poem that they believe is secretly hidden by the poet. Something he or she hopes you'll look for, but never find. I know this because more than one person has suggested the same.

When I write a poem, I may well have something in mind, but I may not. For the most part what I have in mind is of lesser significance that what the reader finds in the poem. By that I don't mean what I've hidden and they have decoded, but rather what that poem speaks to them in their own voice.

When someone tries to discern what I am saying in poetry, they may well become befuddled. My advise to readers of poetry is to let the poem become yours. Once that has happened, you'll know what it is telling you.

Thursday, February 07, 2008

I've read with interest the posts of several poetry bloggers who have started a Confession Tuesday weekly post in which they fess up to little sins, misgivings, shortcomings, whatever that get in there way of their writing. Sometimes the posts are quite serious and others good for a few chuckles. Example: Kelli confesses she keeps bags of sunflower seeds on hand at her desk and wonders if she is part squirrel. She also admits that choosing between Hillary and Barack is like making Dessert choices. I suppose it is a really good exercise in self examination none the less.

I was intrigued by the link she posted this week to a story that The Church of England's recommending a Carbon Fast for Lent.

Well I will confess the period of frustration over nothing but crap flowing from my pen since last week seems to have passed last night. [Insert sight of relief here] When these come, they give me fits and this last one has been especially discouraging, so I am glad it seems to have passed.

I'm currently reading Forms of Intersession, by Jayne Pupek. Watch for my review of it here soon.

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Monday, February 04, 2008

Scalping Poetry Tickets

mood: upbeat
listening to: nothing


The Super Bowl is in the history books. So you went to bed last night with a smile on your face, or a frown depending on who you were rooting for and you have a dream. In the dream people were scalping tickets to a poetry reading. But wait, it isn't a dream!

The fastest sellout in the 20 year history of Seattle Arts & Literature has occurred for Poet Mary Oliver's appearance Monday at Benaroya Hall (2,500 seating capacity) in Seattle. People have been searching Craigslist for tickets - where Roland Crane of Tacoma, finally nabbed on for the price of $100.

If you think this is a fluke, Oliver's appearance in Portland on Tuesday is also sparking a ticket frenzy. And yes, the 2,700-seat Schnitzer Concert Hall for Portland Arts & Lectures has already sold out.

Someone evidently has forgotten to tell those North westerners that poetry is dead.

Sunday, February 03, 2008

Sucky writing - sigh

mood: depressed / headache
listening to: nothing

Writing this weekend seemed forced and pointless. This was frustrating. The weather is a downer. Did enjoy the Super Bowl and I'm not really a football fan.

On an upbeat note- I had a great idea for a poem come to me that I will start working on tomorrow.

Saturday, February 02, 2008

Post Peek

mood: relaxed
listening to: Question 67 and 68 / Chicago


For what it is worth, my one time assessment of my peek biorhythms on the 29th of January was somewhat disappointing. It did seem my productivity in the office was remarkably better, but as for any feeling that it manifested itself in a positive way in terms of quality or quantity of writing, it was unconvincing. I suppose I'll make note of my next optimum period where all the rhythms come together and assess it again.

More rejections yesterday.

Here's an interview with the current U.S. poet laureate: What are you doing to increase the public’s interest in poetry at a time when cultural alarmists insist that reading is on its way out?

Enough blogging - time to write!

Friday, February 01, 2008

Poetry for what it is

So often I’ve heard in the course of conversation, others questioning the relevancy of poetry in contemporary times. Without enlisting hours of diatribe countering such skeptical reasoning in an attempt to convince them they are wrong, I’d prefer to take just a few minutes to simply respond in terms of the relevance it holds to me as a poet. You see, I’m convinced that poetry is not for everyone. Just as I am convinced that while I believe baseball is far more interesting on so many levels than football, there are people who will never have the capacity to see, if you’ll pardon my metaphor, the sheer poetry of a 6-4-3 double play.

You first have to accept that poetry is an artistic expression. I find many unable or unwilling to allow themselves to think of language in that light. I for example have no gift for math whatsoever and so I find algebra equations simply math that is difficult to understand, much the same way some people cannot get past language that challenges any preconceived notions of logic to be a turn off and will not make the effort to find the art within.

Gustav Mahler, the German speaking composer from the late 1800’s and early 1900’s in what is today the Czech Republic, once said, “If a composer could say what he had to say in words he would not bother trying to say it in music.” In any art form, the expression that is trying to find an opening to the rest of the word needs a medium to act as a doorway. It is in Mahler’s words that I believe I can best defend the relevancy of poetry as a poet. If there were a way to express myself at those times when that interior doorway is open- in a simple straight forward way perhaps I would not be a poet.

Rita Dove describes poetry is distilled and powerful language. Paul Engle suggests it is language raised to the Nth power. Whatever way you wish to describe it, it is different than ordinary language. If I could paint, perhaps I would open my interior self on canvass. I don’t, but I do paint with words on white pages. My art is poetry. Poetry is my medium of expression; it is therefore very much relevant to me even in these times.