Slate Backlogged

"He Lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realize." ~ Oscar Wilde


I noticed yesterday that Slate is not accepting submissions till December of this year. There must be some prolific writing and submitting going on these days. While I've not sent anything to Slate since maybe middle of last year, as long as I have paid any attention, I don't recall them restricting submissions or even having a reading window as such. This has me curious to know if other venues are experiencing a significant increase in manuscript submissions.

I got a note the other day that Victoria Chang's new book Circle is out. Having enjoyed her insights when she was blogging, I of course would like to read the work.

B. H. Fairchild is in town next week, and I have an opportunity to hear him read and do a workshop.

Catherine Meng has a great read --- If the Laundromat Doesn't Work Out I Will Gladly Offer My Bed. You gotta love the Walt Whitman line.

Any poets in the Kansas City area - are invited to check out the local chapter of the Missouri Poetry Society. Our blog site is here. We meet twice a month.

To quarrel with yourself....

Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry. ~W.B. Yeats

Conceptualization

Feel the grass blades
Between the toes of your mind
And how the shade holds the darkness tight
Within a room that is running out of a concept
We call space. I have little time to explain
Concepts - because I'm not sure when my time
Is up... and when it ends- all those concepts
In my mind are going to vaporize.

Taking It Right To Their Front Door

That is what Ted Kooser has in mind. Ted who? Ted Kooser, the new U.S. Poet Laureate.

Ted is intent on broadening interest in poetry. After all, that is his function as the Poet Laureate. How one accomplishes this feat is up to the individual Laureate.

The Kooser plan is to offer a free six to eight-inch column to local newspapers each week with a poem by a living American and a brief introduction written by himself. This idea catches my fancy since I am often hearing people talk about how. "poetry is dead... or at least all the poets are." Of course neither is true and more power To Ted Kooser if he can carve that misconception into little pieces and bury it.

Kooser's idea was the result of reading a prestigious literary journal in which he was unable to find a single poem he could use to show an average reader to demonstrate what he was missing. His assessment was that all the poems in the journal were geared for a "really sophisticated audience."

In spite of Koosers assention to the lofty position of Poet Laureate, he is not a household word. In fact he is not like most poets who have aspired to this position. Not a part of the northeast academia crowd, and his own poetry strives for the simplicity that mirrors his humble mid-west life. He rises every day at 4:30 and writes though he says that he probably produces only 10 to 12 poems a year that he considers worthy of publication.

If Ted Kooser is successful in his endeavor to broaden the interest in poetry in this country, it will likely be because he himself is more like the average American than perhaps most Poet Laureates in the past. Good Luck Ted Kooser!

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Poetry

The Surprising Journey

A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep. - Salman Rushdie


I think one of the most fascinating acts of writing is to discover that you have arrived someplace that you didn't think that you could possibly get to from where you were. To do the impossible or at minimum the improbable. I'm not talking about achieving some status. Yes, I'd fall over clutching my heart if I got a call that I was the next poet laureate. That is not at all what I am talking about. What I am speaking of is to be writing and all of a sudden to realize that you have learned something. The very creation of your piece of work opened up your eyes. By your own creation, you arrived at a point or place that you were not trying to reach. That is such a incredible event to a poet. Such is what keeps me writing... even on bad days.

Finding Themeo

James over at Love During Wartime has me wondering if my life has a theme. From my initial blank stare, I'm thinking no. Surely there has to be at least a thread that runs through this fragile accumulation of years that I call a life, that exhibits some evidence of a theme. Still, I'm clueless.

I suppose I could look backwards (a talent that must be good for something) and see points in my life where I might have had something of a theme going on. Doing this little exercise could be important to something I have been toying with lately. The thought of trying to write an autobiographical poem. Not a four or five stanza poem that summarizes my life. Something a little more lengthily. I don't think I am talking as extravagant as Eileen Tabios's brick. Still, something that could allow me to compartmentalize my life into segments with metaphorical adaptation. Why, I'm not sure. Maybe it would make a more interesting read from that standpoint.

Anyway, James has put a thought in my head (scary as that may seem) and now it is going to bug me until I can work through this and come up with some answers. I'm wondering if this is one of those things you can think too much about. Like maybe the first thing that pops into your head is more significant than trying to think it through in deep thought. Forcing it, so to speak. Yes, I'm obsessing now. Thanks James, for the ensuing headache I feel coming on.

Break

Bright gold raged most of the weekend
Brassy in the crisp blue sky
Till nightfall when clouds pushed the envelope
Rain, hail and winds did calisthenics
Morning brought an overcast chill
And talk of snow tomorrow