Beth Ann Fennelly Rocks

With the sky spitting and threatening another snow, those who showed up for the Mid-West Poets Series reading last night at Rockhurst University were treated to the no-nonsense humor of Beth Ann Fennelly. Beth acknowledged this is her first foray into Kansas City but felt quite at home, as she was accustomed to reading to her children from a Calef Brown children’s book, Kansas City Octopus which she went on to recite to everyone’s delight.

Kansas City Octopus
is wearing fancy slacks.
Bell-bottom,
just got 'em,
fifty bucks including tax.


Red corduroy,
and boy-oh-boy,
they fit like apple-pie.
Multi-pocket snazzy trousers
custom made for octopi.


fantastic plastic stretch elastic
keeps 'em nice and tight.
Kansas City Octopus
is looking good tonight!

It seemed quite evident that Fennelly places great emphasis on the oral qualities of poetry. Her presentation was recitation as opposed to reading. Still, she was quite at ease shared a number of personal stories related to her writing. The best was about her writing a poem sort of block spaced at random on a page of little notes. This after the horror of learning her mother had sent a copy of her first book to an aunt with little post-it-notes on various poems. Then when that poem was published and her mother saw it she called to thank her for the tribute poem.

Beth read from her books, Open House, Unmentionables, Tender Hooks, and Great with Child: Letters to a Young Mother.

A few of the poems she read that I particularly recall, Souvenir, When Did You Know You Wanted To Be A Writer, Cow Tipping and my personal favorite - First Warm Day in a College Town. I like this one because she captures that feeling we get when we want to be able to hang on to something that identifies us with our youth. The poem is warm, sweet, humorous and most of all real.

When the reading was over, I chatted with Beth briefly as she signed my copy of Unmentionables. I had mentioned that Kelli Agodon had asked that if I go to “please let us how the reading was” and that I would be blogging about it, would she mind if I shot a picture for the blog. Some friends of mine, Pat and Brenda in line behind me suggested a shot of us together and Beth kindly agreed.

Looking at the inscription inside my book as I walked away,

“For Michael, with pleasure in signing this for you – pal of Kelli’s is a pal of mine – Thanks for taking her advise and coming out! Beth Ann”

The Mid-West Poets Series has a long history here in Kansas City and has hosted many top name poets. I've attended most of them over the last three or four years and this was among the most impressive to me.

After I’ve finished and reread Unmentionables a couple more times, you’ll find my review of the book here. I suspect I’ll have to add Open House to my wish list.

Any Peeps in the Seattle Area.... WS MERWIN Thursday Night

Would love to see this tomorrow night - If I were in Seatle I'd be there.  But wait, I have a reading to attend locally anyway.



W.S. Merwin will be joined by Copper Canyon poets of a younger generation at Town Hall Seattle on February 4 at 7:00 p.m. Tickets are available at •Town Hall Event Tickets
 

More Books

Two new books arrived in yesterday's mail... remaining birthday remnents (still awaiting the last one).
Nathalie Handal's Neverfield and Beth Ann Fennelly's Unmentionables.  I've finished Neverfield between last night and my lunch hour.  It's a poem itself, as opposed to a book of poems. I always like to read poetry at least three times before reviewing, and this book truly is complex even though it is a smooth flowing read. It's highly lyrical. I will talk about it more in depth soon, but I will say for now that it's an impressive first read.

I've cracked the coven on Unmentionables. but only to read half a dozen poems. I'm attending a reading by Fennelly on Thursday.


                                                                  

February

February belongs to nothing.
It lacks the splendor of winter;
more gray than anything.
It’s a tag-a-long month
with nothing in common
with the others. Yes,
it has evolved—

a hard shell
for emotional survival;
and seldom affords anyone
sympathy.

It’s hard to say anything good
about a month that cannot control
the number of days it lives.

Monday

In route to work this morning the sky is gray, the road is gray, the gaurd rails gray even the air seems gray.

This Thursday – Beth Ann Fennelly Mid-West Poets Series

Author of Open House, Tender Hooks and her latest Unmentionables, Fennelly will appear at Rockhurst University’s Mabee Theater at 7:00 PM to read.  A 6:00 PM reception will precede the event.

A sample of Beth’s work can be heard here  where she reads her poem:  Because People Ask What My Daughter Will Think of My Poems When She’s 16

Technorati Tags: Beth Ann Fennelly




What others are saying about Unmentionables:

“Dramatic, complex . . . and enthralled with language . . . genuinely outstanding.” — Verse Daily

“This collection is stunning in its technical range and in its emotional complexity.” — The Southern Register


“A feast of light and sound.” — Paste

Unconscious Mutterings Week 366

You Say..... I think:


1.Furniture :: upholstry
2.Beauty :: shop
3.Sip :: coffee
4.Block :: street
5.Forehead :: bindi
6.Championship :: series
7.Hurl :: insults
8.Whip :: cool
9.Destruction :: quake
10.Leather :: jacket
 
 
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Haiti At Two Weeks

The dead unknown
at least a hundred-fifty thousand
buried in mass graves
or remaining under rubble



that shifts like sand
beneath our feat
the sickening sweet stench
of ripened death
and uncertainty

Public Service Announcement

Up and about early for a Saturday, in part because the night wasn’t particularly restful anyway and I figured I might as well get a start on things.


I’ve got a growing list of things to do today. Numerous among them are what I typically refer to as administratively writer duties and those are not among my favorite.


We had a light snow overnight and the temperatures are cold again, but not in the deep freeze range. I made coffee, in the coffee pot and I distinguish this only because I generally make espresso but my espresso pot was broken.  I don’t often make regular coffee and since the coffee at the office is way to watered down for my liking I piled in the scoops of fresh grind and Walla! I have coffee that even puts espresso to shame. Yes, I may have overdone it a bit, but don’t spread it around. I don’t want to be known to have complained of my coffee being to strong. My reputation is that I first have to walk across it to be able to drink it.


Around the poetry/writer blog world there were some good reads this week and you may have missed them. Consider this a PSA in case any of these got past you.

• Dorla’s erotica mishap
• Victoria Chang’s Harrison Ford, Matthew Broderick  & Art
• Kelly Russell Agodon  DIY Writing Retreat
• Victoria Chang’s  The Poetry Foundation and Audience
• Kirstin Berkey-Abbott  Blogging and My paper Journal

Yes, I’m picking on Chang twice, but the Poetry Foundation piece I especially liked because while on one hand I don’t want to give up on others finding in poetry the same sense of discovery I have, deep down I know that so much of what she says in this is reality. Plus she has some very thoughtful ideas about what the Foundation might better do with the windfall gift they received.


Image: Darren Robertson / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Technorati Tags: Poetry Foundation,poetry,writing

What Was Apple Thinking?

Sorry, I couldn’t resist. 
Now I will go do my penance.

Technorati Tags: ipad joke

The Moment

My writing last night was not exactly what I wanted it to be. So you must be thinking in astonishment, wow, and he expects it to always turn out right? The answer is of course no. But last nights writing may simply remain comatose in my journal. It may never see completion; or even the revival attempt of multiple rewrites. Sometimes I feel it is so far off that I walk away from it. Lose interest.

Surely I am not alone in this abandonment of work. Still, I was thinking this morning about a statement about Sylvia Plath’s poetry writing that is attributed to Ted Hughes in which he says he is not aware of Sylvia ever abandoning a poem. There are (and I’m paraphrasing here) times when she decided should could not make a table out of something and was perfectly happy settling for a chair but he never recalled her abandoning one.

I’ve had tables that have turned into chairs or foot stools, but still, sometimes I allow the bad to stand and walk away from it. This morning it is bothering me for some reason.

Maybe it’s because some of these are in my journal along with everything else. Perhaps if I tore the pages out I would feel better. Perhaps not. It’s just where I am at this moment and I’m taking ownership of this feeling, but not necessarily comforted by it.




Image: Darren Robertson / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Aimee Nezhukumatathil Interview - New Letters On The Air

Aimee was in Kansas City last year to read at an ethnic poetry series. While here she taped an interview with New Letters on the Air.  It's a great interview - I heard it Sunday on our local NPR station.  It has been posted today on the New Letters site and will be available only till February 10.

The Bio for this interview is as follows:

A first generation American poet and 2009 NEA fellow, Aimee Nezhukumatathil discusses her two books of poetry: the multi-award winning Miracle Fruit and At the Drive-in Volcano. She talks about writing poetry with a comic eye, and the poetic form for which she named her dog, Villanelle. She also discusses how her unique ethnic heritage--her father is from India and her mother from the Philippines--and her interest in environmental writing serve as creative influences in her work.

Click here to access the podcast!




At the Drive-In Volcano      Miracle Fruit         Fishbone

Unconscious Mutterings Week 365

You Say... I Think:

1.Food :: Baby
2.Death :: March
3.Cafeteria :: Plan
4.Need :: Basic
5.Born :: First
6.Stitch :: Sew
7.Badly :: Worn
8.Blocks :: Cender
9.Chuck :: Steak
10.Spiral :: Notebook
 
 
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I need this on a T-shirt

If I appear distracted, disengaged, unfocused today, it is only because I am hyper-vigilant in search of poetic moments. *

*my facebook status from Dec. 2, 2009  

Quote for the week

Art, in itself, is an attempt to bring order out of chaos.  ~    Stephen Sondheim

Checking in with the world

The weekend has felt like such a waste. I basically spent Saturday and a good part of today on bed.  I have not felt good for three or four days now but have been in denial of being sick.  I'm feeling better this evening. Not sneezing any longer. My sinuses better and my head doesn't feel like it has the weight of cinder blocks in it. I still feel achy and a cross between tired and being tired of being tired.


Of course this sort of conditions leads to the mind going off in left field and conjuring up the strangest things. For example, I was thinking about what if we could construct a transcript of our thoughts without interruption for a whole day. What would it look like?  How would we segway from say uncomfortable thoughts into something else?
 
On a positive note, I woke up this morning in time to listen to New Letters on the Air.  Angelia Elam was interviewing Aimee Nezhukumatathil during her trip into Kansas City last spring to read as part of an ethnic poetry series by Park University and the Kansas City Public Library. This must be Aimee week or something because she was also featured on How A Poem Happens. Love in the interview her thoughts on the Villanelle.

Aimee Nezhukumatathil - How A Poem Happens

Aimee Nezhukumatathil is featured on How A Poem Happens today. Check it out here!

Aimee is the author of Miracle Fruit and At the Drive-In Volcano.  I've read Miracle Fruit and I’ve witnessed one of her readings in person. Aimee is brilliantly funny and her work commands attention when read aloud or to yourself from a page. What she does with food in words could challenge an Iron Chef.


At the Drive-In Volcano

Miracle Fruit

Fishbone

Birthday Book

 Arriving in the mail today.... Edgar Allen Poe and the Juke-Box - Uncollected Poems, Drafts, Fragments. I've been interested in this book for some time. It's a collection of previously unpublished works of Elizabeth Bishop. I've never read a lot of Bishop but I was interested in this when it first came out. Elizabeth Bishop had a reputation for being a real stickler about her work. Many have theorized that she would not have been happy to see this material in print, but I'm a sucker for things about poets that shed more insight into who they are and what impacts their work. Hence I've taken an interest in to books like Plath's Letters Home, Plath's Journals, Ted Hughes's letters, Anne Sexton's letters, to name a few. Anyway, this was a birthday present that arrived today and I'm anxious to start reading it.


On another note, tonight I saw Gretchen Rubin at the Plaza Library where she talked about The Happiness Project. An overflow crowd. Fascinating woman and story. More on this in the near future.


The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun

Poetic Vacuum

I’m in London, or so it would seem. The fog here has settled in this past week like an occupying army. It was cool at first, but the bullet gray is growing old and is quite depressing.

Yesterday I was certain I was coming down with something. Motivation was gone after work last night. Felt better this morning but not exactly great.

It was also yesterday that I felt there was no poetic dialogue going on. I don’t just mean that I felt a lack of connection with any other poets – but I felt there was no internal poetry dialogue with myself. I don’t especially like it when I feel there is a poetic vacuum. Do you know what I mean? Anyone else ever feel this way?

Where's the humanity?

I feel a deafening poetic silence about me this morning.