Wordle - February

Wordle - February: ""

Unconscious Mutterings Week 369

You say.... I Think:

1.Teeth :: chatter
2.Sweeten :: deal
3.Demons :: little
4.Pizza :: lights
5.Protector :: procket
6.Smooth :: sailing
7.Coat :: wool
8.Pebbles :: Bam-Bam
9.Pregnant :: woman
10.Sing :: song
 
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Snowing again in River City

Yes, it’s snowing again. Right here in River City.

I’m reading Anne Sexton Teacher of Weird Abundance by Paula M. Salvio.  It’s not quite what I was expecting but I don’t mean that in a bad way. I’m wondering what other surprises are awaiting me as I get deeper into it.

Have a new poem from this week that I’m very happy with. Coming into the weekend and already one out of my way starts off things nicely. I’m working on some rewrites this weekend, trying to breath some life into older efforts.  



Olympics still capturing a lot of my time. Ski jumping on the big hill today- some terrific flying!

USA Women’s Curling Team has won back to back after a rough start. Yeah!  (Debbie McCormick Pictured left)

The women on the G downhill – another chance for Lindsay Vonn and Julia Moncusio to medal.





And on this Saturday evening, I’ll offer a few story teases:

Late one night we set out with ladders and lanterns (poetry should be subversive), looking for lamp-posts. 

~0~

So when next you are in a bookshop, ask for poems - if for no other reason than you never know what you will find there.
As Ferguson muses in Holding Pattern: A couple called Gladys and Rexwere suddenly keen to have sex(such urgency's slightly perverted),"But where can we do it?" cried she"The poetry section!" said he"I've noticed it's always deserted."

Technorati Tags: Poetry,Olympics,Curling,Downhill sking,Mancuso,Vonn,McCormick

Finalists for Best Translated Books

Poetry finalists have been announced for the 2010 Best Translated Book Awards by University of Rochester.  The ten works making the list are:


Nicole Brossard, Selections.
Translated from the French by Guy Bennett, David Dea, Barbara Godard, Pierre Joris, Robert Majzels,
Erin Moure, Jennifer Moxley, Lucille Nelson, LarryShouldice, Fred Wah, Lisa Weil, Anne-Marie Wheeler.
(Canada, University of California)

René Char, The Brittle Age and Returning Upland.
Translated from the French by Gustaf Sobin. (France, Counterpath)

Mahmoud Darwish, If I Were Another.
Translated from the Arabic by Fady Joudah. (Palestine, FSG)
Elena Fanailova, The Russian Version.
Translated from the Russian by Genya Turovskaya and Stephanie Sandler. (Russia, Ugly Duckling Presse)

Hiromi Ito, Killing Kanoko.
Translated from the Japanese by Jeffrey Angles. (Japan, Action Books)

Marcelijus Martinaitis, KB: The Suspect.
Translated from the Lithuanian by Laima Vince. (Lithuania, White Pine)

Heeduk Ra, Scale and Stairs.
Translated from the Korean by  Woo-Chung Kim and Christopher Merrill. (Korea, White Pine)

Novica Tadic, Dark Things.
Translated from the Serbian by Charles Simic. (Serbia, BOA Editions)


Liliana Ursu, Lightwall.
Translated from the Romanian by Sean Cotter. (Romania, Zephyr Press)

Wei Ying-wu, In Such Hard Times.
Translated from the Chinese by Red Pine. (China, Copper Canyon)

Confession Tuesday

A week already? Let's go to Confession...

It's an extended weekend for me which was good. I didn't shave during it. I confess that I've grown tired of shaving. What makes this even worse is that I believe my whiskers are growing faster these days. It's like they are on steroids. I don't know, maybe it's a rush of testosterone. At any rate today it's back to the office and the growth came off. It was just as annoying shaving this morning then it was last time I did it on Friday. I know this sounds silly but I'm tired of shaving and I'm tired of the whiskers.

I confess the past week has really been relatively uneventful. That may be obvious by being annoyed by whiskers. I mean there really should be bigger issues in life.

I was home alone much of the weekend. This includes part of Valentine’s Day which didn't really seem like Valentine’s Day. My wife and daughter were in St. Louis. I confess it was lonely and I was really glad to see Cathy when she arrived home. We've planned to celebrate on an alternative day.

I confess that I spent some time working on a sestina during the time I was alone. I confess I was not happy with my efforts. I will return to this project later this week.

I confess I was Olympic Crazy this weekend. I love the Winter Games. I confess the Summer Games don't move me the same way. I confess there are several things about the coverage that are annoying me. For one the way they are doing the points for the free style skating. They put the judges points up cumulatively all at once and it takes some of the drama out of it.

I confess I do not care for the snowboarding or the moguls competition. I also confess that Ski Jumping - the downhill, the Nordic combined, figure skating, Hockey, luge, bobsled, these all get my blood flowing.

I confess I'd like to take off the rest of the Olympics and watch it all. Alas, I confess that isn't happening.

Is there a mysterious personification of you in your life?

It would be curious to discover who it is to whom one writes in a diary. Possibly to some mysterious personification of one's own identity.  ~ Beatrice Webb

Struck By Lightening

I realize there are no doubt poets (even major ones) that I ought to read more of. Sometimes I will read a half dozen or so poems of one poet and they just are not clicking with me in a way I would hope for. Sadly it may be a while before I get around to trying them again, and sometimes I may never.



Even though it’s early for Confession Tuesday, I’ll admit that I was never really much into the poetry of Lucille Clifton. I’ve read only a little of her work and she is a prime example of what I was just talking about. She was not a Ruth Stone, whose work I took an instant liking to or Sharon Olds, or W.S. Merwin. But I do know well enough that she was a poet whose work was widely read (as poetry goes) and that many adored her poems. Perhaps I just selected the wrong ones.


This weekend, along with her passing, I had an opportunity for exposure to a few more of her poems. One of those poems not only stood out, but it grabbed me and shook me. If it is true, what Randall Jarrell says about poetry, that “A poet is a man [or woman] who manages, in a lifetime of standing out in thunderstorms, to be struck by lightning five or six times” then, Blessing the Boats had to have been one of them. These fifteen lines of poetry do what poetry should do. It names the un-namable. In simple words, without flash or flair, Crafton speaks to the heart of the human condition and says something powerful… undeniably so, and what that is will probably be something different to each of us, but it will be incontrovertible to ourselves.

Blessing the Boats