I want to make note of a video my daughter Meghan passed along to me and some of you may well have seen it, but for those who haven't it's an uplifting story, the kind that toughs at the heart.
I want to make note of a video my daughter Meghan passed along to me and some of you may well have seen it, but for those who haven't it's an uplifting story, the kind that toughs at the heart.
I've not really had any experience with collaborative poetry in the context of shared writing. I always consider poetry to generally be a collaborative between the poet and the reader, but that's another whole matter.
I suppose it requires a special temperament for two artists, both poets, to work together to produce something that is a joint creation. C.D. Wright in a symposium I attended earlier this month, spoke of collaborating with photographers on work. That seems to me to be a particularly beneficial arrangement given the tenets under which both art forms develop.
Mutating the Signature (great name by the way) is a relatively new blog of two poets who have been actually collaborating for a while now. The poets Dana Guthrie Martin and Nathan Moore have certainly put an interesting light upon such work.
Nathan for example has explained a part of the benefit of this shared creative process this way,'"Collaborative poetry offers a respite from the struggles of solitary work. My poor, overworked ego is given a break as process and product are shared, voices are melded. It’s a fantastic feeling to be partner to the creation of a voice that’s greater than your own.'" I think any of us who've written for a while are certainly aware just how solitary the work can become.
Dana seems to derive an energy from seeing the twists and turns that can develop when two are working to meld their voices. She is quoted on their site as explaining it like this... '"The surprise of the poems we’ve written. Oh, the unforeseen turns the writing takes. Going in and not knowing where you’ll come out, or when or how. The way we each respond to the words and phrases the other person contributes. How a piece that in one moment seems like it’s headed nowhere fast can, in a word or two, find its way somewhere startling, strange and gorgeous.'"
As I've stated, I've not really worked except in the simplest terms, like at a workshop of people joining to create a poem, and that was more for fun and hardly a serious collaborative venture. I'm curious about the experiences of others, be they positive or negative. Any takers is this discussion? What's it like and perhaps you can share a bit about any rules or secrets of making it work that you'd like to share?
I made a Quick Trip run this morning for a diet coke. I noticed all over the walk and even on top of the car all these little fragments that fall off the tree when the new growth begins each spring. On the lawn too I could see new blades of grass rising up from the ground and giving a shout out in praise of spring.
For those who live in areas that do not experience the changes in season I believe you miss something monumental. If there were not a demarcation between winter and spring, between fall and winter, even the changes that are perhaps more subtle between spring and summer I feel my year would seem endlessly depressing.
Spring is such a period of rejuvenation to me. A rebirth, a second chance, a new beginning. I apologize to those who do not appreciate the sports metaphor but it's like opening day in baseball. Everything seems fresh and it makes no difference where your team finished last, everything is stars over.
March 12 - [noted part of a line from a Boston Legal episode that I have a feeling will find its way into a poem at some later date] "its always orange for breakfast and apple for lunch"
March 12 - comfort is is an approximation/which has not arrived
March 13 - you have weathered the streets/know the names of its inhabitants/and carry a Godlike name
March 13 - The word is/side effects/are rare/and musical/most of the time /hardly irritable
March 16 - It's uncomfortably warm in the house tonight. For the longest time I was here alone tonight and the house felt closed in....
March 18 - From across the hall comes an airborne thought/I shall pocket it in hopes of making it my own
March 19- Two tea bags/bold is not exactly/a distinguishing landmark
On another note, I have a blog to recommend. Brian Brodeur's How a Poem Happens is an engrossing look into the creative process various poets subscribed to in the creation of specific poems. The most recent being Sandra Beasley author of Theories of Falling. Other poets featured Dorianne Laux, Stephen Dunn, Daisy Fried, and Dan Albergotti to name a few. If you haven't been there, check it out!
I'm on a roll, sent out two batches of poems this past week to venues that I've not submitted to before. Fingers crossed!
I'm excitedly awaiting the KC visit of Aimee who will read from her book At the Drive-In Volcano. She's part of a ethnic poetry series that earlier brought Victoria Chang to KC. These are two poets that I've followed via the Internet (good Lord, sounds like I'm a stalker) for a while now so getting to see them both read in person is a treat.
Park University and the Missouri Arts Council have made this series possible so they deserve some credit for promoting these poets here locally.
Poets are soldiers that liberate words from the steadfast possession of definition. ~ Eli Khamaroy
Someone asked me if this was a good thing.... liberating words from rigid definition. What do you think? Any words out there you think need to be liberated?
I feel there is a poem here. Oh, I forgot Shakespeare already did.
May your day safe and joyous!
So Saturday has arrived. Big sigh. Even though is was a short work week for me it seemed long.
Since I've been back, I've received a rejection letter. I've completed a journal and started yet another. I'm filling them up at a rate of about 1 every three months. I've received my copy of Mortal from Ivy, which I have enjoyed and will have more to say about in a later blog post. And this morning I've been sending out more work.
I'm trying to decide if I want to the the Annual Poetry Month broad side I've done for the past two years. I've got a couple poems in mind and I've had positive response from people the past two years, but these are different economic conditions and I'm awaiting a price figure from a different printer. If I'm going to do it, I really need to decide in the next 48 hours.
The picture above is to top of a beaded vase my wife did with a bouquet of clown noses in it. It was pretty cute.Below is another view if the lower part of the vase.
It's not the sharpest picture (from camera phone with poor lighting) but you get the idea. Just thinking of the concept was creatively genius much less the execution of the idea itself. I'm not sure how she can do these things with no pattern to guide her.
Anyway, I'll tie this into my post today by saying that this year there will be no clowning around. I submissions last year were down from the previous year. I'm writing more, I just need to work harder on rewriting material and keep sending the stuff out that is publishable but has come back. Some of it just needs to find the right home.
This is a great resource for creating a file management system for your working drafts. Not only is it an excellent organizational tool, but a way to simplify working on rewrites and keeping track of drafts.
Joannie Stangeland takes us through the process in this short video. All you need is Microsoft OneNote.
I had toyed with it a little before viewing this video. Now I have an even better appreciation for what it can do. Click here to view video.
It's been a quiet evening and we stayed in, ate fried ravioli and played baseball on Playstation. Three games. I took the first two and Meghan beat me the last one. She played a really good first game and I came back in the bottom of the ninth to beat her by a run. The second came was a blowout and the third she won by a single run. I'm a tough competitor so while I won two of the three, she is getting better because two of those games were really competitive.
Things I have marveled at during this visit:
We'll take in another Giants game tomorrow at Scottsdale. Sadly it will be the last time I see the team in person for a while.
Also planning to go to the Melting Pot after the game for dinner.
I've been able to get some writing in this week, and this morning did some sketching.
Some Journal bits from this week:
March 1
March 2
March 5
March 8
My pillow is a bed for tender thoughts. Speaking of which, it's way past my bed time.
Theory
He’s a maniacal man of means
with no notion for nurturing.
Neither can he be summed up so easily
as to say that he fits into any fast track
prefabrication that is so often assigned
to many of his peers.
He cheers for one person
only, it is not clear who that person is.
There are factions that spend their spare time
in hasty debate over whom.
One theory is a brother
no one can recall ever meeting.
Some point to a woman of mystery
who has been woven in and out of his life
at various points.
There are good arguments made for each
in their own time. I however hold on
to my own theory—
He is his own best cheerleader.
Spent some time yesterday at the Virginia Piper Writer House on the ASU Campus. What a tranquil setting.
The evening we were back on campus for the ASU / Holy Cross baseball game.
ASU struck first with a run in the third and broke it open in the 5th with 4 more runs to make it 5-0.
ASU pitcher Mike Leach pitched 7 innings giving up only one hit and no runs. Brule Klye came in to relieve him in the 8th and gave up two hits but no runs and the ASU offense rolled on to a 15-0 win.
Besides the pitching, outstanding performances were turned in at 2B by Zack MacPhee who shined with his glove and Jordan Swagerty who homered in the 8th.
Today, Meghan and I catch the San Francisco Giants against the Angels in Tempe. Go Giants!
After an uneventful flight last night (the best kind) I arrived in Phoenix and was met by my daughter Meghan, with dog in tow. Said dog has grown into a Moose since I last saw him.
We stopped at Jack-In-The-Box on the way in and had tacos. A treat since I love their tacos and only am able to get them when out here or St. Louis or in the Bay area.
This morning I was on ASU campus in the library working for a while. we came home for lunch and it was like I hit a brick wall. The only things I can attribute it to are the fact that I worked my ass off the past week to 10 days in the office, and just crashed from that this morning, and or, lack of diet coke. Probably both.
On campus there were two things amusing to me, (remember it takes little to amuse me) the home made chalk sign on the sidewalk with arrow point the way to the Vagina Monologues and the other was where my daughter took to this place encircled by some administrative offices were there was this "secret garden". Back tracing our steps to the entrance, someone had painted on the sidewalk, Secret Garden but then had painted arrows pointing away from it. Hum, maybe the directions for the Vagina Monologues were wrong also.
Anyway, I scrapped plans to go back to the library to work this afternoon and crashed on the oh so comfortable bed. I'm up and feeling better now, but I still need that diet coke!
On the ground at KCI - not long till take off. The day has been a busy one in spite of being away from the office.
I'm told our flight is maybe a third empty for seating options should be many.
I saw on the screen here that it's like 83 in Phoenix this afternoon, It's in the 40's here.
Received a text message from Meghan asking of Jack-In-The- Box was ok for dinner. I love their monster tacos and we haven't had any location in the KC area for man years now. They have one or two in St Louis, so I always make a pit stop there as well as when I'm in San Francisco where they are prolific. At least last time I was there.
We'll likely be boarding soon so I'm out of here for now...
The last minute collection of the various necessitates for my trip are underway and then I'm off. Excited about seeing my two daughters, taking in the Giants Spring Training, watching the ASU Sun Devils play baseball, etc.
And writing. I do expect to get some writing done. I don't mean just blogging, though this blog will not be silent while I'm gone. Perhaps it will be even more active then it has been the past couple of weeks. I actually been busy and not posting as much as I would normally do.
It's getting close to noon and I need to go through my final list of TTD.
David Orr writing in the Feb 22 N.Y. Times piece titled "The Great(ness) Game" asks what we do when John Ashbery and his generation are gone?
The assumption made in the article is that there are no great poets living, outside of that generation and I don't know myself if there are or there aren't. This is precisely because I'm not privy to what constitutes greatness in a poet. Orr himself acknowledges the illusiveness of such a definitive yardstick. What is a great ice cream flavor? We all have opinions but can I sell Black Walnut to the public at large a the great ice cream Flavor?
We can look at an Emily Dickinson and perhaps agree on a designation of greatness, but how long did it take for that to become common knowledge. She was dead before it was ever widely accepted, and by quite a few years I believe. So really, we could have great poets among us and not yet be aware of the fact.
Orr asks if great poets are one and the same as "major" poets? What do you think on that point? I'm inclined to think you have to be a major poet to be a great one, but the reverse. Still that isn't releasing the secret ingredient in the recipe.
Digging deeper still, Orr looks at a 1983 essay by Donald Hall in which Hall said it seemed to him that contemporary American poetry was afflicted by modesty of ambition. Going further, the test according to Hall is to write words that live on. To aspire to be as good as Dante.
Donald Hall is among the living poets whose work I respect and with whom I connect with more often then not. Is he a great poet? I don't think all his work would meet the Dante test. So can a poet be great if hits that high mark on occasion or must he have to be consistent? Was Dante himself consistent?
Then I'm hung up on the lament that there isn't enough ambition going on. Are we really wanting hungry ambition from our poets. I know the monetary climate for poets certainly supports the hungry aspect, but ambition is such a sleazy word when it snuggles up next to an art. Maybe dedicated, focused, serious. Perhaps we are really splitting hairs.
David Orr's article is a critical look; not quite so much at the state of contemporary poetry as it is what we internally expect from poetry. What we are willing to settle for. No art is static an neither are its consumers.
[I've missed several weeks of this, sigh. So spank me!]
You say.... I think:
a few random items from my journal this week...
Feb 14 - At times like this Alice will sit at a small table/pouring Earl Grey as we sip from miniatures/and talk about what, I never recall.
Feb 15th -In talking with Meghan yesterday I can tell she is getting excited about my upcoming visit.
Feb 16 - Yesterdays rewrite of An American Whim came after receiving critical comments (that I sought) from PB and AD. AD gave me the most critical (technical) view while PB spoke to things she liked about it.
Books are scissor stacked/in piles, on end tables,/desktop, the thick of carpet/on the floor next to the easy chair
Feb 17- Where has this month gone to? Already a shortened month it appears to work against the benchmarks I've arbitrarily set...
Feb 18 - MR emails me, "you of all people have new stuff and old stuff." Feel like I've been busted.
The pretext for the afternoon / was as one sided as the face /of Mount Rushmore but not near/as stark....
It was not with the exchange/of currency or anything so mercantile/
Feb 19 - was so totally whipped out from work today...
A poet friend the other day was giving me feedback on one of my poetry drafts and in response to something I had written said, "You should read Wallace Stevens if you haven't lately. The crazy things that guy does with repetition and refrains." So, I went looking for a Wallace Stevens poem and read The Emperor of Ice-Cream which I found enjoyable. I then moved away from the poem and began to type. Keep in mind I often begin drafts in longhand. There were just two words that came to my mind and they were, "The pretext" and nothing more. Where they came from I couldn't say, but after typing them from the keyboard with just a momentary pause I began to type again and in relatively short order, maybe 20 minutes at the most I had a draft that I stopped working on. After moving away from the draft for some time, I went back and quite frankly felt that I could do nothing more to it. Not by addition or subtraction other than a change of title.
The number of times I've written something on the spot like this and could not improve on it are like never. There is one occasion in which I came close to this, but still made some editing changes. It's not an occurrence that one has happen very often, if ever.
I may well wake in the morning and find room for improvement, but I don't expect it will likely change much. That's how good I feel about it. Better than some pieces I've worked on over a span of more than a year. It's moments like this that makes all the other eternal rewrites seem worth enduring through.
Thanks Amy for the advise. How the Emperor of Ice-Cream led me to the pretext and all that followed to write what I now call The Face of Mount Rushmore, I'll never figure out. They are nothing alike, but I'm sure that one lead to the other.
Instead of writing tonight I watched three rerun episodes of Boston Legal. Does that make me a bad poet? I'm being rhetorical here, a response is not required.
Annie Finch has authored four books of poetry, Eve, Calendars, The Encyclopedia of Scotland, and the forthcoming Among the Goddesses. She is a Professor of English at the University of Southern Maine and Director of the Stonecoast MFA Program in Creative Writing.
I've been spending a lot of time writing this weekend and as words have flown in and out of my my head I've been naming them good words and bad words. Of course the good and bad designations are nothing more then reflections of my personal likes and dislikes.So tonight I thought I'd list a few words that tickle my fancy and some that I simply do not care for. In some instances it's that sound of the words that I like or dislike. In other, I'm fascinated by some aspect of the word, its meaning, etymology, etc. So without further ado, I give you some of my likes and dislikes from our language.
Likes | Dislikes |
elliptical | stutter |
exude | heir |
puce | vomit |
ubiquitous | mayonnaise |
pathogen | infomercial |
explicit | Raspberry |
irascible | irksome |
prevaricate | bile |
coetaneous | foil |
awe | sideburn |
toasty | lash |
vulnerable | dwarf |
arbitrary | mumble |
immune | pungent |
crumpet | snub |
oscillate | squeal |
Formica | liquefy |
capsulate | winch |
I got an early start on Valentines day by taking my wife to the Melting Pot on Thursday evening. She hates to fight the crowds so we beat them.
It was a lovely dinner and I especially enjoyed the Traditional Fondue. Swiss is among my favorite cheese.
Of course the dessert we had the Yen and Yang Fondue which was a blend of dark chocolate and white chocolate for dipping the various dessert and fruit items. While this was very good, it was quite rich and really a bit much. I enjoyed the dinner fondue the most.
The atmosphere was low lighting and we were seated nicely with a minimum of distraction. I'd do it again anytime!
Oh, as if we were chocolate deprived, last night on the way home from work Cathy stopped at the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory for gourmet Chocolate Apples. Mine was Tigers Butter... yum!
My new monitor for work has arrived. This is good because I was starting to feel a little gothic working in the dark so I could faintly see the screen.
Monday night is one of my TV nights. House & The Closer. Sill, I'll try and siphon off a little time this evening to write. Ah... just remembered Obama has a press conference tonight so the networks will likely be off time wise.
Last night I came across a D.H. Lawrence quote that struck me curiously. It goes like this... "Never trust the artist. Trust the Tale. The proper function of a critic is to save the tale from the artist who created it."
So I thought about this for a while and I pictured some of my poems having to be rescued from me. So I'm thinking about some critic smugly determining the story line - assuming there is one, from a particular poem and then fending off the poet's ownership stake in the poem. The critic arguing, this isn't all about what you saw, it's about what I see. Then the two go round and round. Well I say phooey! It's about whatever the fuck you find in it. There. I'm through rolling in the gravel over it. Don't get me wrong, critics a a place in this world and I'm willing to listen to them just as much as the next guy.
C.D. Wright Reading March 10 7:00 PM UMKC Person Auditorium - be there!
C.D. Wright Symposium March 11 7:00PM KC Public Library / Central Branch - Helzberg Auditorium. Don't Miss!
Listening to: Bruce Springsteen - Last to Die
Mood: dragging
Feb 2 - My computer monitor at work came on completely today at your. Yeah! [it takes so little to amuse me]
"a mixture of fashions brighten/the party crown that lingered/to graze on finger food and spontaneity"
Feb 3- I heard the most interesting story today on NPR about the Mendelssohn Project...
Feb 4 - It was after midnight when I turned in last night but thankfully the taxes have been done [a tax hangover followed]
"I went to that place in my head/with my pen, that place you occupy"
Feb 6 - Right this moment I feel especially small...
Feb 7- "...you always think there is time/to do the prime numbers/but hope is faded denim/and its value of questionable character"
Quote by Henry Miller - "I believe everything you tell me, but I know it will all turn out differently."
Congratulations are in order for Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg of Lawrence, Kansas. Caryn was selected to serve as the new Kansas State Poet Laureate beginning July 1st. She has master’s and doctoral degrees from The University of Kansas. Already she has selected a poet laureate project which she calls Writing Across Kansas: Reading and Writing Our Way Home. Through this Caryn hopes to strengthen the presence of poetry in Kansas, build literary communities statewide and enhance Kansans’ sense of place through poetry. She already sounds extremely organized.
This was produced on Wordie. I found it via Christine Klocek-Lim's site. I put four of my poems selected at random and dropped them into the gadget for generating “word clouds” from text. The clouds give greater prominence to words that appear more frequently in the source text.
Pretty cool.
If you were planning to attend the Azar Nafisi event at the Plaza Library tomorrow night, it has been postponed. There should be information forthcoming soon about when it will be rescheduled.
Listening to Beethoven - Symphony No. 3 E Major
Mood: Awake
I'm up and ready for the day. I've made an unsuccessful trip to Target to see if their shipment of Skinny Cow Fudge Cones have come it. They haven't. This is like crack to my wife. Evidently to many others as well because they don't seem to ever run out of the other Skinny Cow items except this. When momma don't got no Skinny Cow Fudge, no one is happy.
Super Bowl Sunday is not quite as special to me as it may be many guys. I'll likely watch the game but with less enthusiasm than many. The biggest significance to me is that once it is over it clears the way for Spring Training and the real poetic sport.... Baseball.
There are a hand full of football teams I have some interest in, but not a lot for the sport in general. There have been past times that I've rooted for Pittsburgh, but I'm probably pulling for the Cardinals today. Regardless of how it turns out I won't lose any sleep over it.
Listening to: Chiquitia by ABBA
I was thinking today about how much time I spend in reaction rather than action. In some respects I think such an assessment could provide a good benchmark for how much one is in control of their life. Am I in control of my day or do I allow my day to control me?
My job is has a largely crisis driven aspect to it that I'm not able to really control. I can plan, and I do, but in the end my plans are often reshaped by and taken over by events in spite of my best efforts otherwise. This is highly frustrating, stressful and I imagine gives cause to my reluctance to even attempt to impose any meaningful discipline upon myself after work hours. My evenings and weekends often are thus allowed to unfold upon their own as opposed to attempting to decide what and when and stake out a plan.
There are of course in the post work hours where I will recognize a deadline is upon me for something and will step in out of a combination of the pressure associated with the deadline and some degree of guilt causing me to roll into action. Not a very smart or fulfilling way to approach life.
This approach is often applied to my writing and the more mundane clerical matters like submitting material to journals. I can honestly say that last year the reduction in submissions I made to journals was at least in part due to such a reactionary work ethic. It's one think to accept the fact that my 9-5 job is going to be impacted in such a way that reaction will always be a factor. Writing on the other hand should not be impacted in the same way. Sure there will be interruptions that come about when an emergency arises, but this should be the exception rather than the rule.
Anyone else experience this kind of problem? What drive you forward in your writing and what road blocks do you build for yourself?
Just a thought- Why in the course of modern warfare with precision bombs and rockets are there still many innocents severed from the arteries that make us whole? 1-13-09
Wings, which in my view are the best part of the chicken are evidently not in short supply for the weekend.
The Kansas City Public Library welcomes international bestselling author Azar Nafisi for a presentation based on her new book Things I've Been Silent About - the follow up to the acclaimed Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books - on Tuesday, February 3, at 7 p.m. in the Truman Forum at the Plaza Branch, 4801 Main St.
A master of the modern memoir, Nafisi describes her formative years as part of a prominent family in Things I've Been Silent About. Her disappointed and frustrated mother created mesmerizing fictions about herself, her family, and her past - which hid as much as they revealed. Her father offered narratives of another kind, enchanting his children with classic tales like the Shahnamah, the Persian Book of Kings. This unforgettable portrait of a woman, a family, and a troubled homeland is a deeply personal reflection on how Nafisi found inspiration to lead a different kind of life.
Nafisi is a visiting professor and project director at JohnsHopkinsUniversity's School of Advanced International Studies in Washington, D.C., where she teaches courses on culture and politics.
The event is co-sponsored by Rainy Day Books. Nafisi's books will be available for sale, and she will sign copies purchased during the event.
Admission to the event is free. Call 816.701.3407 to indicate your interest in attending or you may RSVP online.
Listening to: Under Attack by ABBA
Lots of writing this weekend. Also just finished up some work I brought home from the office.
I'm booking a flight tonight to visit my two daughters in Phoenix. Will be able to catch the Giants in Spring Training too!
God I've been missing Giants baseball.
We had geese wonder across the street from the ball field this morning to our front yard. They are way cool.
On Tuesday I joined a host of others from my office and a couple of individuals from other departments in our conference room where all eyes and the TV set were tuned into the Inauguration of our 44th President of the United States. There was a keen respect by all for what was happening before our eyes.
When the President had finished his address and the podium was handed to Elizabeth Alexander, the poet chosen by the President to offer a poem written specifically for the occasion, a significant portion of those in the conference room rose and left amid groans at the mention of the word poem. I suppose I should not be at all surprised by this reaction, but what was more disturbing was the fact that those who remained largely talked over the reading. At one point I sensed that only myself and one other individual were actually listening. But at some point, the party of the second part (I being the first) said aloud, "What? Oh wow, this is bad." I was difficult for me to even attempt to enjoy the remainder of the reading.
When the room had cleared, I had to admit, the talking over the poem had made it difficult to potentially enjoy or at least appreciate the poem. What I recalled hearing of it actually impressed me more that I thought it might, but sadly I felt I needed to see the poem in print for myself and re-read it to really conclude anything about it.
Later in the afternoon, I approached the individual who expressed the feeling that the poem was bad and asked her what she heard. I was not surprised to learn she could not recall much of what was actually said. She did tell me that she though Ms. Alexander had jotted it down that very morning before the event.
I have wondered if others have had feedback from non-poets that they have talked with. Please share your stories in the comments.
And for the sake of everyone who has not seen/heard it, or like myself needed to see it again, here it is....
Praise Song for the Day
A Poem for Barack Obama’s Presidential Inauguration
Elizabeth Alexander
Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each other’s
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.
All about us is noise. All about us is
noise and bramble, thorn and din, each
one of our ancestors on our tongues.
Someone is stitching up a hem, darning
a hole in a uniform, patching a tire,
repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere,
with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum,
with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.
A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky.
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.
We encounter each other in words, words
spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed,
words to consider, reconsider.
We cross dirt roads and highways that mark
the will of some one and then others, who said
I need to see what’s on the other side.
I know there’s something better down the road.
We need to find a place where we are safe.
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.
Say it plain: that many have died for this day.
Sing the names of the dead who brought us here,
who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,
picked the cotton and the lettuce, built
brick by brick the glittering edifices
they would then keep clean and work inside of.
Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day.
Praise song for every hand-lettered sign,
the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables.
Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself,
others by first do no harm or take no more
than you need. What if the mightiest word is love?
Love beyond marital, filial, national,
love that casts a widening pool of light,
love with no need to pre-empt grievance.
In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air,
any thing can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp,
praise song for walking forward in that light.
Copyright © 2009 by Elizabeth Alexander. All rights reserved. Reprinted with the permission of Graywolf Press, Saint Paul, Minnesota. A chapbook edition of Praise Song for the Day will be published on February 6, 2009
I've taken the time off of work today to work on poetry submissions. Yeah! (I'm pretending there are cheers in the background).
It probably should not have to come to using a work holiday to crank out submissions, but whatever it takes. I did get some out on the 5th of January so I guess I'm not exactly procrastinating. I did fall off in my submissions in 2008, so I am determined to keep up with new submissions monthly this year. I guess a way to look at it is I only have 11 more months to go this year.
As difficult as it is for me to think ahead to 2010 I suppose when planning for an event with a $1.3 million price tag it's not all that early. For 12 times dating back to 1986, the Geraldine R. Dodge Foundation has funded a biannual Dodge Poetry Festival in New Jersey but sadly the event which drew 19,000 people last year has been scrapped for 2010.
This is not my first blogging on hard economic times for poetry/arts, and I'm relatively certain it won't be my last. Still, I am honestly a little surprised by it, even though It probably didn't require a crystal ball or tarot cards to see it coming.
The Dodge Festival has been sort of the Woodstock of poetry and regularly draws from the ranks of the well established poets. Names like Stephen Dunn, Sharon Olds, Gwendolyn Brooks, Ruth Stone, Mary Oliver, Theodore Weiss, Stanley Kunitz, Allen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, Amira Baraka, and Kenneth Koch to name a few. And that is only some from the first event. Since that time, there have been many more including:
Those are just a few of the names, the list of participating poets is enormous and covers a broad spectrum of poetic voice. Perhaps the only name I think missing from the list that surprises me is that of John Ashbery.
My point in listing the names is simply to underscore the magnitude of what was been lost by the cancellation of the Festival.
It's hard to argue with the decision by the foundation. David Grant the CEO for the foundation lists a decline of 30% in the assets of the endowment from a year ago.
For the short term this is a blow to public support for poetry. The good news is that Grant says the foundation will continue to work to bring poetry to schools. He did not rule out a return of the festival in some form if not the same after taking a two year cycle off. Keep your fingers crossed.
The Main Street Rag Poetry Showcase, Sun. 1/18, 7p, The Writers Place - 3607 Pennsylvania Kansas City, MO View Map
Join Main Street Rag co-founder, Shawn Pavey, as he welcomes Iris Appelquist and Jason Ryberg as featured poets for this month's event! Iris and Jason will read from their upcoming book, Blunt Trauma.
This month will be BYO beverages and snacks. The tailspinning economy is hitting us in the pants, especially in the parts of the pants that hold the cash. As a result, there is no budget for refreshments anymore. C'est la vie. Bring what you need, bring extra to share, and we'll take a "stone soup" approach to the good times.
As always, an open mic follows our featured poets. No sign up sheet, but please limit poems to 1 at a time and less than 5 minutes.
I look forward to seeing you all there! Please feel free to repost this. Any questions, call Shawn at 816-868-2707
Time: 7:00pm - 10:00pm
Poetry Reading Series@ The Johnson County Library
Patricia Miller and Robert Stewart
January 20, 7PM - 9875 West 87th Street | Overland Park, KS 66212
Patricia Cleary Miller is the author of the non-fiction book, Westport: Missouri's Port of Many Returns, and the poetry books Starting a Swan Dive and Dresden. She holds the Ph.D. in English from the University of Kansas and taught there and at the University of Missouri-Kansas City before coming to Rockhurst University, where she has now taught writing and literature for twenty-five years. A past chair of the Department of English, she is currently chair of the Humanities Division. A former Bunting Fellow in poetry at Harvard/Radcliffe, she was granted the Harvard Alumni Association Award and the Hiram Hunn Award. In 1987, with the help of her students, she founded the Rockhurst Review, which she continues to edit.
Robert Stewart's books include Outside Language: Essays (Helicon Nine Editions, a finalist in the PEN Center USA Literary Awards for 2004, and winner of the 2004 Thorpe Menn Award), Plumbers (poems), and others. He has the particular joy of being married to a better poet than he is, Lisa Stewart. However, some of his poems have weaseled their way into Denver Quarterly, Poetry Northwest, The Iowa Review, Prairie Schooner, Stand, The Literary Review and other magazines. Anthology editorships include Spud Songs: An Anthology of Potato Poems (with Gloria Vando, a benefit for hunger relief), Voices From the Interior, and Decade: Modern American Poets, co-edited with Trish Reeves). In 2008, the magazine he edits, New Letters, won a National Magazine Award for the Essay.
The procrastination is over. I've readied my submission to an annual review that I am especially fond of. This will be my third year of submission. The first year - zing I was accepted. Last year nada. So I'm trying to remain hopeful that this years material has something that will stick. Everything all done up and stamped. Just need to drop it in the mail in the morning.
For some reason I always feel good when I submit to this review. I don't know why, I just do. Anyone feel that way about any place in particular that you send your work?
Word List:
A new year calls for a new word list. I decided this on the way home from the office tonight. I sometimes get away from my list and it really is sad, because having a list of uniquely interesting words at my finder tips often will spark something. That's just a side benefit. What I rely on the list for is to get me away from using the same words often when I'm writing. If I use it, I cross it off my list. The idea is to keep adding words even as I subtract them.
Feeling kind of yuckie tonight. Almost like I'm trying to come down with something. Headache and mussels ache. I think I'll try and read a while, if my eyes and my head will cooperate.
Listening to Savage Garden / Crash and Burn.....
It was cruel and unusual punishment working yesterday but this too has past. I need to go to the store this morning. Old Mother Hubbard is starting to look like she's among the privileged. I don't think procrastination as a plan is working. Time for the backup plan.
The sky is overcast and it's dreary out. Don't appear to be changing anytime soon.
I need to mull over some submissions I want in the mail by Monday.
Have a picture I want to work on too to submit to a journal. This would be the first time submitting photos.
Clock is ticking in my head. I hate that.
“Listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force. When we really listen to people there is an alternating current, and this recharges us so that we never get tired of each other. We are constantly being re-created.” ~ Brenda Ueland
Besides getting up this morning and writing, I went this afternoon to the Writers Place for the 4th Annual Writers Place - New Years Day Celebration Reading. It's a 12 hour Poetry Reading Marathon that Sharon Eiker organized based on the annual Bowery Poetry Club event in New York. So from a creativity standpoint I feel like the year has gotten off to a good start.
I thought now might be a good time to roll out some resources for those writers looking for good start to the year.
There's a few things to get you thinking if your having trouble getting the new year started.
Best wishes to everyone in 2009!