Rigoberto Gonzalez gave a lovely reading last night at Open Books. He read poems from future third and fourth books(!), as well as several poems from his new Other Fugitives and Other Strangers, and a couple from So Often the Pitcher . . ., and he told great funny stories, including one about the mortician character who appears in many of his poems. He read "Papi Love" as a request (thank you!) and even signed my copy with a little butterfly drawing. I only wish more of the local poetry community had turned out, they missed a good reading!
*
While I was there I picked up Eric McHenry's Potscrubber Lullabies, which looks terrific. Also Bruce Beasley's The Corpse Flower (I have a poem of the same title in What's Written on the Body) and Henri Cole's Blackbird and Wolf. Why is it interesting to me that the Cole and the McHenry both have a picture of waves on the cover?
Friday, March 30, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Blue Helper Joke
From a group email that's been going around (thanks Amy W.):
"An elderly gentleman went to the local drug store and asked the pharmacist for the little blue "Viagra" pills.
The pharmacist asked, "How many?"
The old man replied, "Just a few, maybe a half dozen. I cut each one into four pieces."
The pharmacist said, "Oh my. That's too small a dose. That won't get you through intimacy."
The old fellow said, "Look. I'm past eighty years old and I don't even think about intimacy much anymore . . . I just want it to stick out far enough so I don't pee on my new shoes."
*
We now return you to your regular programming.
"An elderly gentleman went to the local drug store and asked the pharmacist for the little blue "Viagra" pills.
The pharmacist asked, "How many?"
The old man replied, "Just a few, maybe a half dozen. I cut each one into four pieces."
The pharmacist said, "Oh my. That's too small a dose. That won't get you through intimacy."
The old fellow said, "Look. I'm past eighty years old and I don't even think about intimacy much anymore . . . I just want it to stick out far enough so I don't pee on my new shoes."
*
We now return you to your regular programming.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
The Forche reading was wonderful. Dean decided to go with me at the last minute, and really enjoyed it. Intiman was packed.
Her abecedarian "On Earth" (she called it something else . . . "the Bardo in alphabetical order"?) is not 24 pages long, but 48 pages long! She read parts of all of it, somewhat at random, a line or two or more from each page. It was memsmerizing.
*
Our baby Star Magnolia is standing straight and talking to the tall one in the park across the street.
*
A fascinating post over at Harriet about difficulty and the "hard poem." I love this anecdote:
"Kwame, I'm fascinated by this post. When I was at Iowa Jorie Graham was teaching a class called "Difficulty" or maybe it was called "Thinking"? It was supposed to be about difficult poems and how thinking works in poems. Sounded great to me. As I've said to my students: I have a pretty high tolerance for "difficulty" and obscurity in poems (although I'm not so keen on allusions). Anyway, after the first 2 weeks Jorie scrapped the whole syllabus and said we couldn't possible learn about difficulty or thinking when we knew so little about feeling. And for the next few months she only let us read and write haiku. I'd like to try to better articulate the kind of "hard" poetry that I like. Maybe in a future post... Thanks for bringing this up! RZ"
Her abecedarian "On Earth" (she called it something else . . . "the Bardo in alphabetical order"?) is not 24 pages long, but 48 pages long! She read parts of all of it, somewhat at random, a line or two or more from each page. It was memsmerizing.
*
Our baby Star Magnolia is standing straight and talking to the tall one in the park across the street.
*
A fascinating post over at Harriet about difficulty and the "hard poem." I love this anecdote:
"Kwame, I'm fascinated by this post. When I was at Iowa Jorie Graham was teaching a class called "Difficulty" or maybe it was called "Thinking"? It was supposed to be about difficult poems and how thinking works in poems. Sounded great to me. As I've said to my students: I have a pretty high tolerance for "difficulty" and obscurity in poems (although I'm not so keen on allusions). Anyway, after the first 2 weeks Jorie scrapped the whole syllabus and said we couldn't possible learn about difficulty or thinking when we knew so little about feeling. And for the next few months she only let us read and write haiku. I'd like to try to better articulate the kind of "hard" poetry that I like. Maybe in a future post... Thanks for bringing this up! RZ"
Monday, March 26, 2007
Carolyn Forche reads tonight at Seattle Arts & Lectures. I work late, so will have to scoot on over as soon as I get out of clinic. Maybe stop at Ten Mercer for a bite beforehand. Rebecca: are you going? I just know CF is going to read from some of that 24 page abecedarian from Blue Hour.
*
Yay Georgetown! Little John, Little Pat, it was like a Waltons episode, wasn't it? And MJ wouldn't take Father Pat's cell call to rub it in. Ahhh.
I am pulling for UCLA to represent.
*
After several weeks, months, years of hinting that I wanted one, Dean and I finally went out to City People's Garden and got a Star Magnolia. It's only about three feet tall right now, with just a few blossoms, but I am hoping it fills out nicely. I love Star Magnolias. They are often one of the first things to bloom around here. And the white flowers are just breathtaking. Especially amid a dusting of spring snow or frost.
*
Yay Georgetown! Little John, Little Pat, it was like a Waltons episode, wasn't it? And MJ wouldn't take Father Pat's cell call to rub it in. Ahhh.
I am pulling for UCLA to represent.
*
After several weeks, months, years of hinting that I wanted one, Dean and I finally went out to City People's Garden and got a Star Magnolia. It's only about three feet tall right now, with just a few blossoms, but I am hoping it fills out nicely. I love Star Magnolias. They are often one of the first things to bloom around here. And the white flowers are just breathtaking. Especially amid a dusting of spring snow or frost.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Saturday, March 24, 2007
William Carlos Williams poem re-emerges
from USA Today:
"Williams wrote "About a Little Girl" in 1921 after diagnosing Michael and Carl Lund's mother with leukemia when she was 11. Along with his literary career, Williams had a medical practice in Rutherford, N.J.
Lund said Williams was a friend of his mother's family, and thought after reviewing medical tests that she was likely to die. The poem contrasts a happy, outgoing "angel" of a child with the death he believed would overtake her.
As it turned out, Williams' diagnosis was wrong and the child, Marian Macy, lived until 2002 — two weeks short of 92. The poem, which Williams signed with his initials, WCW, was passed from Marian's mother to Marian, then to her two sons."
"The poem, which has a misspelling in the word "balloon," will be published for the first time by the Southeast Missouri State University. Its contents are not being released until then."
full story here.
"Williams wrote "About a Little Girl" in 1921 after diagnosing Michael and Carl Lund's mother with leukemia when she was 11. Along with his literary career, Williams had a medical practice in Rutherford, N.J.
Lund said Williams was a friend of his mother's family, and thought after reviewing medical tests that she was likely to die. The poem contrasts a happy, outgoing "angel" of a child with the death he believed would overtake her.
As it turned out, Williams' diagnosis was wrong and the child, Marian Macy, lived until 2002 — two weeks short of 92. The poem, which Williams signed with his initials, WCW, was passed from Marian's mother to Marian, then to her two sons."
"The poem, which has a misspelling in the word "balloon," will be published for the first time by the Southeast Missouri State University. Its contents are not being released until then."
full story here.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Dine Out for Darfur
"You must be the change you wish to see in the world" -Gandhi
Seattle's neighborhood restaurants let you make a choice to make a difference.
Each day you make decisions which affect your life — where you buy your coffee, your lunch, your dinner, your glass of wine. On April 3rd, 2007, we offer you the opportunity to make these same choices and have them make a difference in the world. Purchase your food and drink at a 'Dine for Darfur' establishment and 25% of that money will be generously donated to aid relief efforts in Darfur. By choosing to eat at participating restaurants on April 3rd, you are choosing to support Seattle's neighborhood restaurants in their effort to make a difference in the world. More info here.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Her Name is Rose
There is a new audio podcast of Albert Goldbarth and I reading, (I read one poem, AG reads 14 pages. Whew!) on the Poetry Foundation website here.
It's interesting how they splice things together. I think it all turned out well.
Hopefully, there will be more to come.
Enjoy . . .
*
Emily Warn reviews five new books in Bookforum here.
It's interesting how they splice things together. I think it all turned out well.
Hopefully, there will be more to come.
Enjoy . . .
*
Emily Warn reviews five new books in Bookforum here.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
War Protest in Seattle
The quagmire in Iraq just makes me sick. But I really feel the tide is beginning to turn. It is things like this that give me hope. I just hope it is not too late.You can view a photo gallery here.
Or watch a lovely little video called "Peace Train" here.
Barbara Jane Reyes has some terrific "War Sonnets" here.
Monday, March 19, 2007
"retired" from today's Poetry Daily
THE EVENING STAR
Tonight, for the first time in many years,
there appeared to me again
a vision of the earth's splendor:
in the evening sky
the first star seemed
to increase in brilliance
as the earth darkened
until at last it could grow no darker.
And the light, which was the light of death,
seemed to restore to earth
its power to console. There were
no other stars. Only the one
whose name I knew
as in my other life I did her
injury: Venus,
star of the early evening,
to you I dedicate
my vision, since on this blank surface
you have cast enough light
to make my thought
visible again.
Louise Glück
Averno
Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Copyright © 2006 by Louise Glück.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.
Tonight, for the first time in many years,
there appeared to me again
a vision of the earth's splendor:
in the evening sky
the first star seemed
to increase in brilliance
as the earth darkened
until at last it could grow no darker.
And the light, which was the light of death,
seemed to restore to earth
its power to console. There were
no other stars. Only the one
whose name I knew
as in my other life I did her
injury: Venus,
star of the early evening,
to you I dedicate
my vision, since on this blank surface
you have cast enough light
to make my thought
visible again.
Louise Glück
Averno
Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Copyright © 2006 by Louise Glück.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Village Idioms
I had a lovely trip out to Wedgewood in the north end of Seattle today, to participate in a little literary salon with the Village Idioms poetry group. What great people: all very friendly and welcoming and easy-going. They have been meeting off and on for about ten years. We had a yummy lunch of stroganoff and salad and pear slices and cheeses, sipped wine and champagne. And then I presented about poetry & medicine, read a few poems from What's Written on the Body and Saying the World, and led a discussion on whatever questions arose. We had a break for dessert, followed by a workshop of poems from the group (love letter from Albert Einstien to Marilyn Monroe, a family of locked doors, love & spell poems, Vishnu in the bathroom, a river turnscrew, an ode to the human hand). They were all such good writers that the critique was fairly easy to do. I think I had a few good points to share about lines breaks, ellipsis/disjunction, diction shifts, beginnings & endings. It was sunnny and bright out, and the magnolia trees in the neighborhood were bursting full of pink and white and purple blooms. And it really felt like spring was here. *
When I got home, an old dear friend had stopped by, and was waiting with Dean in the dining room to surprise me. Oh Mary! You looked terrific, and it was so nice to see you after ever so long, and to sign the new book for you, and wander the garden, and have our picture together. Come back again soon. xop
*
Seattle Poetry Festival, April 20-22, 2007
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Goldbarth and Goodman
What a fascinating new and selected. Ever the iconoclast, instead of the usual regurgitation of a handful of poems from each of his previous books chronologically, Goldbarth has chosen to mix and match poems according to themes: "The Gods," "American Days," "This Thing Larger Than Itself," etc. He also has a section for those of us with short attention spans: "The Rising Place for the Dough," which is selected poems of under a page in length (which brevity, for those of you who read Goldbarth know, is not his usual mode). The Kitchen Sink is a wild roller-coaster ride of a read. Goldbarth's mind sees far and wide, and he tends to build poems by accretion (rather than by deletion). So they really do pile in everything, including the title's alluded to porcelain drain-bowl (Don't you just love the cover image?).
In his bio at the end of the book, the last line reads: "He could have gone to med school — what was he thinking?" Hahaha.
PS: there is a nifty interview with Goldbarth, by our own Richard Siken, about Goldbarth's collection of early 20th Century space and robot ephemera. It's on the Poetry Foundation site.
*
Also reading Brent Goodman's two chapbooks, Trees Are the Slowest Rivers and Wrong Horoscope, which won the 1999 Frank O'Hara Chapbook Competition. Brent is a damn good poet. I especially have liked "Retinal" "Fire at Psychic Camp . . ." "A Voice Caught in a Tree" "Garlic" "Duck and Cover" "Wrong Horoscope" "The Museum of Famous Outerwear." Strong images, philosophizing, and humor to boot. I hear there are only a few copies of each left.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Wow. What an amazing spring-like day today. I worked a half-day in clinic (nothing major: diabetes, hypertension, hyperlipidemia, a sebacious cyst, asthma attack, a baby with pneumonia, a newborn circ that no-showed). Then I came home and worked in the yard with Dean. We divided the coreopsis and veronica and crocosmia lucifer, then dug out a dead witch hazel and replaced it with an osmanthus. Relayed hoses. Divided and moved the artichoke. We have several starts from the above sitting in pots and bags for our friend Jeff C., who just moved into a new house and wants some plants for his garden. It was so warm outside I was wearing only a tee-shirt most of the afternoon (with pants and boots of course, you silly). Ahh . . . the light right now is amazing. I'm really looking forward to a good spring and a good summer.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Dean and I watched VCU beat Duke. Nothing could have made me happier tonight (well, almost nothing). Especially after Duke's Gerald Henderson's cheap shot last week to break the nose of North Carolina's Tyler Hansbrough, with only a few seconds left in a game Duke was losing by a mile. Duke players are over-rated whiners, bad losers, and underhanded dirty whimps, and deserved to get beat in the first round. GO VCU!
March Madness
The WSU Cougars won fairly easily. A game starting at 9am, no less. That is cruel and unusual.
The Zags will have a tough matchup tonight. Too bad that psychedelic mushroom-loving Josh Heytvelt won't be playing.
I am still so bummed the UW Huskies sucked so bad on the road and so and aren't dancing this year. Ah well. Ya gotta love basketball in March even so.
The Zags will have a tough matchup tonight. Too bad that psychedelic mushroom-loving Josh Heytvelt won't be playing.
I am still so bummed the UW Huskies sucked so bad on the road and so and aren't dancing this year. Ah well. Ya gotta love basketball in March even so.
Pi Day
I didn't realize until this morning that yesterday was pi day (also ALbert Einstein's birthday). And what is really strange is that I woke up yesterday dreaming a poem about pi and jotted the lines down in my notebook:
"like the mathemetician who spends his life
in pursuit of imaginary and transcendental numbers
his giant computer humming night and day
solving for pi out to the trillionth digit
and somewhere out there it begins to repeat
5 . . . 5 . . . 5 . . . 5 . . . 5 . . .
and he wonders is it a bug
in the program, a slight hiccup
in the microprocessor's silicon chip
or a message from the universe
the circle finally squared
the closing notes of music of a symphony
a flower bud slowly opening
the world coming to a close
and then it returns
back to random integers"
. . .
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
From Poetry Daily. This is too funny:
Thank You for Saying Thank You
—Charles Bernstein
This is a totally
accessible poem.
There is nothing
in this poem
that is in any
way difficult
to understand.
All the words
are simple &
to the point.
There are no new
concepts, no
theories, no
ideas to confuse
you. This poem
has no intellectual
pretensions. It is
purely emotional.
It fully expresses
the feelings of the
author: my feelings,
the person speaking
to you now.
It is all about
communication.
Heart to heart.
This poem appreciates
& values you as
a reader. It
celebrates the
triumph of the
human imagination
amidst pitfalls &
calamities. This poem
has 90 lines,
269 words, and
more syllables than
I have time to
count. Each line,
word, & syllable
have been chosen
to convey only the
intended meaning
& nothing more.
This poem abjures
obscurity & enigma.
There is nothing
hidden. A hundred
readers would each
read the poem
in an identical
manner & derive
the same message
from it. This
poem, like all
good poems, tells
a story in a direct
style that never
leaves the reader
guessing. While
at times expressing
bitterness, anger,
resentment, xenophobia,
& hints of racism, its
ultimate mood is
affirmative. It finds
joy even in
those spiteful moments
of life that
it shares with
you. This poem
represents the hope
for a poetry
that doesn't turn
its back on
the audience, that
doesn't think it's
better than the reader,
that is committed
to poetry as a
popular form, like kite
flying and fly
fishing. This poem
belongs to no
school, has no
dogma. It follows
no fashion. It
says just what
it says. It's
real.
*
Charles Bernstein
Girly Man
The University of Chicago Press
Thank You for Saying Thank You
—Charles Bernstein
This is a totally
accessible poem.
There is nothing
in this poem
that is in any
way difficult
to understand.
All the words
are simple &
to the point.
There are no new
concepts, no
theories, no
ideas to confuse
you. This poem
has no intellectual
pretensions. It is
purely emotional.
It fully expresses
the feelings of the
author: my feelings,
the person speaking
to you now.
It is all about
communication.
Heart to heart.
This poem appreciates
& values you as
a reader. It
celebrates the
triumph of the
human imagination
amidst pitfalls &
calamities. This poem
has 90 lines,
269 words, and
more syllables than
I have time to
count. Each line,
word, & syllable
have been chosen
to convey only the
intended meaning
& nothing more.
This poem abjures
obscurity & enigma.
There is nothing
hidden. A hundred
readers would each
read the poem
in an identical
manner & derive
the same message
from it. This
poem, like all
good poems, tells
a story in a direct
style that never
leaves the reader
guessing. While
at times expressing
bitterness, anger,
resentment, xenophobia,
& hints of racism, its
ultimate mood is
affirmative. It finds
joy even in
those spiteful moments
of life that
it shares with
you. This poem
represents the hope
for a poetry
that doesn't turn
its back on
the audience, that
doesn't think it's
better than the reader,
that is committed
to poetry as a
popular form, like kite
flying and fly
fishing. This poem
belongs to no
school, has no
dogma. It follows
no fashion. It
says just what
it says. It's
real.
*
Charles Bernstein
Girly Man
The University of Chicago Press
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Thank You
I had a great time reading at Open Books this afternoon, and at the reception at Kathleen Flenniken's after. What a great turnout! Thank you everybody for coming. It was totally SRO wasn't it? Wow. I am so amazed and humbled and thankful. Thank you. And thank you John & Christine for having this wonderful magical place for poets! (Christine's intro, about reading What's Written on the Body in the tub, while drinking a glass of proseco, was priceless).
It was so good to see old friends and new friends, as well as to meet new people (some who saw the ad about the reading in the paper today and decided to come). Two sisters and their husbands, as well as a sister-in-law, and even my mother, came. Dear old Mom seemed to take the ex-Catholic poems pretty well ("Holy Shit" and "Reconsidering the Seven [Deadly Sins])."
The party after is just a blur. Thank you Dean and Kathleen for helping make it all happen. And to Elizabeth Austen for recording the reading for KUOW/The Beat (where an excerpt will be archived later). Seattle is such a great poetry town!
*
from some friends' emails:
"Wow, Peter! Forget standing-room-only: there wasn't even any room to stand, so since I couldn't figure out how to hang from the ceiling, I left -- which means you have to let me know when you're doing the next reading, and I have to get there early.
*
Congrats! Am totally delighted you had such a great turnout for WWB's debut. Enjoy it all -- Love, L"
*
You were brilliant, funny and relaxed and tender and your choice of poems was perfect. I was mesmerized by your reading, and such a crowd and such applause at the end. I think it was a true moment of greatness for you, your honey-voice filling the entire room. Congratulations. I am so proud to have been there. I can't wait to hear it on the Beat, which I listen to every day. Please let me know when it's going to air.
love,
R
*
What a wonderful reading you gave -- full of grace, wit, and perfect pitch.
I loved being part of your ever growing public. A true pleasure.
I hope you are high from the afternoon - all beautiful and good.
-S.
*
It was so good to see old friends and new friends, as well as to meet new people (some who saw the ad about the reading in the paper today and decided to come). Two sisters and their husbands, as well as a sister-in-law, and even my mother, came. Dear old Mom seemed to take the ex-Catholic poems pretty well ("Holy Shit" and "Reconsidering the Seven [Deadly Sins])."
The party after is just a blur. Thank you Dean and Kathleen for helping make it all happen. And to Elizabeth Austen for recording the reading for KUOW/The Beat (where an excerpt will be archived later). Seattle is such a great poetry town!
*
from some friends' emails:
"Wow, Peter! Forget standing-room-only: there wasn't even any room to stand, so since I couldn't figure out how to hang from the ceiling, I left -- which means you have to let me know when you're doing the next reading, and I have to get there early.
*
Congrats! Am totally delighted you had such a great turnout for WWB's debut. Enjoy it all -- Love, L"
*
You were brilliant, funny and relaxed and tender and your choice of poems was perfect. I was mesmerized by your reading, and such a crowd and such applause at the end. I think it was a true moment of greatness for you, your honey-voice filling the entire room. Congratulations. I am so proud to have been there. I can't wait to hear it on the Beat, which I listen to every day. Please let me know when it's going to air.
love,
R
*
What a wonderful reading you gave -- full of grace, wit, and perfect pitch.
I loved being part of your ever growing public. A true pleasure.
I hope you are high from the afternoon - all beautiful and good.
-S.
*
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Watcha Doin' Sunday?
The official book release reading/reception for What's Written on the Body is tomorrow, at Open Books in Seattle. I can hardly wait to read in my hometown. The "Pineapple Express," a Hawaiian weather system that is expected to dump up to ten inches of rain in the mountains, is expected to hit about the same time. So, put on your rubbers, and come to the reading! There is a reception after at Kathleen's house (directions at the reading), so make sure to come by & wet your whistle & have a bite, and help me celebrate the new book. See you there . . .
From Open Books website:
PETER PEREIRA
Sunday, March 11, 2007 at 03:00 PM
2414 N 45th St Seattle, WA 98103-6908
Peter Pereira draws on his life as physician, son, partner, gardener, and lover of language to create What's Written on the Body ($15 Copper Canyon Press), a richly textured collection that both moves and delights. At times the poems bubble with wordplay -- "I'm interested in the space between / detonation and denotation.. / How we know / whether to flee / or feel." At other times they unfold with a quiet grace -- "The patient was talking and I was not / hearing a sound. But I was listening and // I was there. I was standing beside and I was / listening with my hands." Though the work does not turn from life's darker moments of illness, death, cruelty, at its core this is a book of praise, pleasure, and love, generous in tone and spirit.
From Northwest Bookshelf:
WHAT'S WRITTEN ON THE BODY: Peter Pereira, Copper Canyon Press, 99 pages, $15. A Seattle poet, who is a family physician at the High Point Community Clinic in West Seattle, pens an accomplished second collection that ranges adroitly over a wide selection of subject matter, from the body and medicine to glimpses of various Northwest locales and his own life.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Some of the Stack of Books
from my recent journeys to ASU, AWP-land, and elsewhere (I never could walk by a bookstore/bookfair without a little indulging)
Mommy Knows Worst: Highlights from the Golden Age of Bad Parenting Advice, James Lileks (this is too funny)
Devious Derivations: Popular Misconceptions and More Than 1000 True Origins of Common Words and Phrases, Hugh Rawson (I love word stuff like this)
My One Night Stand With Cancer, Tania Katan
What Becomes You, Aaron Raz & Hilda Raz (a mother and son co-write the story of his FTM transition)
The Body Incognito, Cynthia Hogue (the title poem is the heart of the book, exploring illness and language)
Salt Water Amnesia, Jeffery Skinner (new from Ausable)
I Love Everybody (and other atrocious lies), Laurie Notaro (the bad girl of contemporary personal nonfiction)
Against Forgetting: 20th Cent Poetry of Witness (now I have a specially signed copy, yay!)
The End of the Alphabet, and Don't Let Me Be Lonely, Claudia Rankine
The Apparitioners, George Witte
Java Monkey Speaks, ed Collin Kelly and Kodac Harrison
Bloom 5
The Morning of Red Admirals, Robert Dana (I'd been looking for a book of his ever since I read a terrific poem in a recent Georgia Review issue)
Rift, Forrest Hamer (I really like the "Goldsboro Narrative" poems)
Annus Mirabilis, Sally Ball (terrific blendings of science and art)
Other Fugitives & Other Strangers, Rigoberto Gonzalez (I missed getting Rigo to sign for me at AWP. I *heart* "Papi Love." For daddy lovers everywhere.)
The Second Person, C Dale Young (many lovely manly love poems here)
Prairie Fever, Mary Biddinger (came in the mail today, yay!)
Happy reading
*
Mommy Knows Worst: Highlights from the Golden Age of Bad Parenting Advice, James Lileks (this is too funny)
Devious Derivations: Popular Misconceptions and More Than 1000 True Origins of Common Words and Phrases, Hugh Rawson (I love word stuff like this)
My One Night Stand With Cancer, Tania Katan
What Becomes You, Aaron Raz & Hilda Raz (a mother and son co-write the story of his FTM transition)
The Body Incognito, Cynthia Hogue (the title poem is the heart of the book, exploring illness and language)
Salt Water Amnesia, Jeffery Skinner (new from Ausable)
I Love Everybody (and other atrocious lies), Laurie Notaro (the bad girl of contemporary personal nonfiction)
Against Forgetting: 20th Cent Poetry of Witness (now I have a specially signed copy, yay!)
The End of the Alphabet, and Don't Let Me Be Lonely, Claudia Rankine
The Apparitioners, George Witte
Java Monkey Speaks, ed Collin Kelly and Kodac Harrison
Bloom 5
The Morning of Red Admirals, Robert Dana (I'd been looking for a book of his ever since I read a terrific poem in a recent Georgia Review issue)
Rift, Forrest Hamer (I really like the "Goldsboro Narrative" poems)
Annus Mirabilis, Sally Ball (terrific blendings of science and art)
Other Fugitives & Other Strangers, Rigoberto Gonzalez (I missed getting Rigo to sign for me at AWP. I *heart* "Papi Love." For daddy lovers everywhere.)
The Second Person, C Dale Young (many lovely manly love poems here)
Prairie Fever, Mary Biddinger (came in the mail today, yay!)
Happy reading
*
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Riding in the Rain
Mar. 8, 2007
Who knew? Ride in the Rain bikers are poets, too
By Peter Kelley, University Week
Maybe it's the long hours alone on the bike that provide the inspiration, or maybe it's all that dreary rain. Whatever the cause, participants in the UW's Ride in the Rain program have shown that they are poets, too.
Like this: Morning downpour ride / Fix first flat of the new year / Smooth roads now -- onward.
Or this calmly philosophical verse: It is a circle / Pleasure, pain, gain and again / Ride hard, ride often.
Or this glimpse of roadway misadventure: Morning sky is blue / Black is ice upon the street / bicycle slides, body hurts.
But wait -- what's the connection, again, between winter bike commuting and haiku? Full article here. It's kinda dumb, but may make you smile.
Who knew? Ride in the Rain bikers are poets, too
By Peter Kelley, University Week
Maybe it's the long hours alone on the bike that provide the inspiration, or maybe it's all that dreary rain. Whatever the cause, participants in the UW's Ride in the Rain program have shown that they are poets, too.
Like this: Morning downpour ride / Fix first flat of the new year / Smooth roads now -- onward.
Or this calmly philosophical verse: It is a circle / Pleasure, pain, gain and again / Ride hard, ride often.
Or this glimpse of roadway misadventure: Morning sky is blue / Black is ice upon the street / bicycle slides, body hurts.
But wait -- what's the connection, again, between winter bike commuting and haiku? Full article here. It's kinda dumb, but may make you smile.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Monday, March 05, 2007
Back to work today. I am actually looking forward to it. Similar to what C Dale said on his blog, after being with writers for a couple weeks, and having a good time, I am ready to switch gears, and be a doctor again for a while. Physician-poet, Poet-physician, doctor-who-writes-poems, poet-who-is-a-doctor-for-his-day-job, I dunno what to call myself. I am just pretty happy to be going back to my practice today.
*
Sunday I worked on sending out submission responses for the special In Posse Review issue "Poetry & the Body" I am editing. It's all electronic/online, so I am already hearing back from some poets, many of whom who are just so pleased to have poems chosen. It's always nice to give good news.
*
Sunday I worked on sending out submission responses for the special In Posse Review issue "Poetry & the Body" I am editing. It's all electronic/online, so I am already hearing back from some poets, many of whom who are just so pleased to have poems chosen. It's always nice to give good news.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Baggage Claim
I got in about midnight last night, and seemed to wait forever at baggage claim. A black high-heeled shoe (a very expensive-looking Manolo Blahnik?) somehow fell out of a woman's bag and the heel got wedged between the conveyer belt and the rotating luggage carousel. A man tried to swat it out with his cane, but it was stuck. Each bag that came out ran it over and squished it a little more, and seemed to jam it in tighter. And then the friction from the conveyer belt made the heel start to smoke. Just a little. Like a lit cigarette. I was too sleepy to stay and watch what would happen next. My bag came and I high-tailed it outta there.
I hope you all have safe journeys today.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Poetry in the Buff/Bluff
Got up early Friday morning and went to two terrific panels: one was “Can You Clarify That?: Experimental Poetry and the Workshop System." It explored the idea that experimental and non-linear poems may not be well-served in the usual workshop format, where poems are asked to be clarified, understood, or “fixed.” Great comments all around, but especially from Joshua Maria Wilkinson (who was published by Floating Bridge a few years ago now is getting his PHD at Denver), Suzanne Paola, and Timothy Liu (love the new hair). Great stuff.
Then went to a very different panel on "Narrative Poetry: Past, Present, and Future," which really focused on the quality of narrative continuity, and how essential it is to being human, to brain function. So, in a sense, one panel that was for rupture and disjunction, and Not Making Sense; and another trying to salvage what is left of our ability to Make Sense, in a world that is already fragmented and elliptical. A great pairing.
Had a lovely lunch with Sharon Bryan. Great discussion of the above, and writing, and teaching, and etc. She had a crab salad, I had a pulled pork sandwich. What is this "sweet tea" (pronounced "swate tay") that the wait-people are always offering?
Then I was off to the recording studio for the Poetry Foundation. They were all very warm and welcoming, and had asked me to bring 5 poems to read, plus one by another writer. After I read the first poem, Scott, the sound engineer, who was just a couple feet away on the other side of the booth's glass wall, asked if I would take off my shirt. I thought, oh my, was it that hot?(hehehe) But no, unfortunately, the shirt I was wearing was making a lot of noise as the fabric rustled, and messing up the recording. Could I please remove it? Was I wearing anything under it? Did I read bare-chested? I'll never tell.
Got back to AWP and went to the book fair. Had C Dale sign his lovely new book for me, and signed one of mine for Charles Flowers of Lambda/Bloom. It was the last one left: Copper Canyon had sold out their stock of What’s Written on the Body! (I think they only had a dozen or so, but still). So, I had only my one copy left (the one I was reading from) and none to sell at the Portfolio Reading that night. Ah well.
The Portfolio Reading was fun. A small but attentive audience. The Open Mic had everything from personal lyric to performance poetry to rap to political poetry. I loved Mary Fisher-Wirth's poems, very mature and evocative. Her new book is Five Terraces. On the way back from the reading a group of us chatted a bit about the similarities and differences between list-serves (like Wompo) and blogging. I have several good friends who do one or the other, or both. I think blogging is, perhaps, more interactive, less static. And I think my friends who do both would agree. But where do we all find the time!
Last day . . . home soon.
*
Then went to a very different panel on "Narrative Poetry: Past, Present, and Future," which really focused on the quality of narrative continuity, and how essential it is to being human, to brain function. So, in a sense, one panel that was for rupture and disjunction, and Not Making Sense; and another trying to salvage what is left of our ability to Make Sense, in a world that is already fragmented and elliptical. A great pairing.
Had a lovely lunch with Sharon Bryan. Great discussion of the above, and writing, and teaching, and etc. She had a crab salad, I had a pulled pork sandwich. What is this "sweet tea" (pronounced "swate tay") that the wait-people are always offering?
Then I was off to the recording studio for the Poetry Foundation. They were all very warm and welcoming, and had asked me to bring 5 poems to read, plus one by another writer. After I read the first poem, Scott, the sound engineer, who was just a couple feet away on the other side of the booth's glass wall, asked if I would take off my shirt. I thought, oh my, was it that hot?(hehehe) But no, unfortunately, the shirt I was wearing was making a lot of noise as the fabric rustled, and messing up the recording. Could I please remove it? Was I wearing anything under it? Did I read bare-chested? I'll never tell.
Got back to AWP and went to the book fair. Had C Dale sign his lovely new book for me, and signed one of mine for Charles Flowers of Lambda/Bloom. It was the last one left: Copper Canyon had sold out their stock of What’s Written on the Body! (I think they only had a dozen or so, but still). So, I had only my one copy left (the one I was reading from) and none to sell at the Portfolio Reading that night. Ah well.
The Portfolio Reading was fun. A small but attentive audience. The Open Mic had everything from personal lyric to performance poetry to rap to political poetry. I loved Mary Fisher-Wirth's poems, very mature and evocative. Her new book is Five Terraces. On the way back from the reading a group of us chatted a bit about the similarities and differences between list-serves (like Wompo) and blogging. I have several good friends who do one or the other, or both. I think blogging is, perhaps, more interactive, less static. And I think my friends who do both would agree. But where do we all find the time!
Last day . . . home soon.
*
Friday, March 02, 2007
A Rainy Night in Georgia
AWP has been fun, but way too crowded. It is just a mass of humanity. There are so many panels, it's hard to decide what to go to, a feast in that sense, but overwhelming.
I went to the Robert Dana panel Thursday AM, and then to hear my friend Kathleen Flenniken give a great reading from Famous. It was fun to see all the nice people from Prairie Schooner again.
The book fair does not seem to be quite as well organized this year as other years, it is really hard to find the tables you want to visit. Still I have bought way too many books, and there are still 2 days to go! ~grin~
Met up with Michael and Joseph from Copper Canyon. It was great to see my new book sitting next to CD Wright's new One Big Self (which is terrific BTW, a long poem arising from her time interviewing prisoners in Louisiana with the photographer Deborah Luster).
Saw Charles Flowers at the Bloom/Lambda Lit table (my friend Jeff Crandall has a beautiful sonnet using some of the "over 100 false rhymes for 'love'" in the new issue: check it out!), and briefly said hi to C Dale (his new book is at Four Way: sweet). Saw Paul and Reb and Charles and Dana and others. It blows me away how many people are squeezed in to the conference area.
Went out with Collin Kelly and a dear friend of his named Geri to the fabulous Abigail & Muriel's (a funky 50's-retro restaurant in an old house just outside of downtown). A very hunky valet with a beautiful lanky southern voice parked Geri's van for us. A HUGE rainstorm and thunderstorm came as we were eating. The valet guy got soaked and had to take his shirt off (oh my). When he brought back our car, he said his pants were so soaked he thought they were going to fall off, and Geri shot back "I think I know a couple people who wouldn't mind seeing that" (or something to that effect). Hehehehe.
It has continued to be rainy and stormy here. I was hoping for some sun. Ah well. Perhaps I am guilty of bringing Seattle's rain with me.
Not sure what panels I am going to today. I've been invited to record some poems for the Poetry Foundation this afternoon. And tonight is my reading at the Portfolio Center. (Thank you to Collin for setting it up).
more later .
I went to the Robert Dana panel Thursday AM, and then to hear my friend Kathleen Flenniken give a great reading from Famous. It was fun to see all the nice people from Prairie Schooner again.
The book fair does not seem to be quite as well organized this year as other years, it is really hard to find the tables you want to visit. Still I have bought way too many books, and there are still 2 days to go! ~grin~
Met up with Michael and Joseph from Copper Canyon. It was great to see my new book sitting next to CD Wright's new One Big Self (which is terrific BTW, a long poem arising from her time interviewing prisoners in Louisiana with the photographer Deborah Luster).
Saw Charles Flowers at the Bloom/Lambda Lit table (my friend Jeff Crandall has a beautiful sonnet using some of the "over 100 false rhymes for 'love'" in the new issue: check it out!), and briefly said hi to C Dale (his new book is at Four Way: sweet). Saw Paul and Reb and Charles and Dana and others. It blows me away how many people are squeezed in to the conference area.
Went out with Collin Kelly and a dear friend of his named Geri to the fabulous Abigail & Muriel's (a funky 50's-retro restaurant in an old house just outside of downtown). A very hunky valet with a beautiful lanky southern voice parked Geri's van for us. A HUGE rainstorm and thunderstorm came as we were eating. The valet guy got soaked and had to take his shirt off (oh my). When he brought back our car, he said his pants were so soaked he thought they were going to fall off, and Geri shot back "I think I know a couple people who wouldn't mind seeing that" (or something to that effect). Hehehehe.
It has continued to be rainy and stormy here. I was hoping for some sun. Ah well. Perhaps I am guilty of bringing Seattle's rain with me.
Not sure what panels I am going to today. I've been invited to record some poems for the Poetry Foundation this afternoon. And tonight is my reading at the Portfolio Center. (Thank you to Collin for setting it up).
more later .
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