Good news for DA Powell. I think his book is so deserving of this. And I enjoyed the Beth Bachman book as well. Kudos to both.

An established San Francisco-area poet and an emerging colleague in Nashville have been named the latest winners of the lucrative Kingsley and Kate Tufts Poetry Awards.

D.A. Powell has won the $100,000 Kingsley Tufts Award for his latest collection, Chronic.

Multiple National Book Critics Circle nominee Powell, whose past works include the collections Cocktails, Lunch and Tea, also teaches at the University of San Francisco.

The Kate Tufts Discovery Award, worth $10,000, goes to Beth Bachmann for her debut book, Temper.

Bachmann, an assistant professor of English at Nashville's Vanderbilt University, said she felt "deeply honoured" by her selection.

"The award is unbelievably encouraging and extremely motivating," she said in a statement.

The two annual honours — one to recognize an outstanding collection of poetry and the other for a promising poet's first collection — are designed not only to celebrate the winners, but to "enable a poet to work on his or her craft for awhile without paying pills," according to Kate Tufts.

She created the prizes in the mid-1990s to honour the memory of her late husband, poet and fiction writer Kingsley Tufts.

The awards are based out of California's Claremont Graduate University.

Powell and Bachmann will receive their awards at a ceremony at the Pasadena

Read more: http://www.cbc.ca/arts/books/story/2010/02/04/tufts-poetry-winners.html#ixzz0ecIHS72w

San Miguel day four: it has rained rained rained all day. We took our umbrella (from the hotel) and went on a little bus ride out to La Placita, an open air market that the locals all go to: a mix of Pike Market, a Thrift Store, Goodwill, and Farmer’s Market. Piles of clothes on tables, some new, some used, some just gathered together in bundles and tied together. All sorts of fruit and veggies for sale. Also tables and tables of bootleg DVDs, CDs, electronic devices, remotes, etc. And numerous little cocinas, with old ladies making torillas, and grilling pork or chicken, and steaming corn, and etc, with bowls of salsa and guacamole sitting out on the counters. The local families were all sitting together and eating like it was a day at the fair. Because of the rain there will little tarps put up everywhere, strung over the booths. And every now and then a build up of water would spill over and make a huge splash, which nobody seemed to notice or mind.

We came back and napped at our room, then went out for a Starbucks (yes there is a Starbucks here, and it is very nice and large, and full of gringos on their laptops or talking on their cellphones, or staring cross-eyed into their ipods, just like in Seattle! Or anywhere else). Then Dean bought a San Miguel tee-shirt, and I bought a scarf (a new men's fashion accessory?). And we scoped out a new place to have dinner tonight. Maybe El Ochenta?

If it were not raining so hard, we would probably have done a daytrip to the Botanical Gardens today. But alas, it has been pouring non-stop. We leave for Puerto Vallarta tomorrow. And we should get a good week of sunny weather and the beach before we have to go home. One can only hope.

Not getting a lot of new writing done, but I have done a lot of reading, and a fair amount of revisions. And also ordering of the new manuscript. It feels good. It feels good so far.

*

San Miguel de Allende

Dean and I are on the next leg of our trip, in San Miguel de Allende. What a gorgeous little city. Narrow cobblestone streets, low 1-2 storey buildings, all sorts of galleries and restaurants and little shops, wonderful homes with inner courtyards and gardens and fountains.

Unfortunately, we *hated* our first hotel room (Hotel Del Portal). I had reserved it online at Expedia, and it looked nothing like the ads. A narrow steep stairway to climb up with all our luggage to the tiny reception desk. Our room was cramped and weirdly laid out, and smelled of Lysol. The bathroom had an awful shower head that came right out of the ceiling and was rotting the wallboard. And there was NO WINDOW. Is it legal to have a room with no window? We were not pleased. We asked for another room, but they said there were none, so we spent most of our first day shopping for a new hotel. Unfortunately, we arrived on some special feast day weekend of sorts (Baby Jesus is presented to the temple?) and we were told by several of the places that all the city was booked.

We were about to give up when we stumbled upon the Casa Rosada, not far the the Jardin Principal and the Parroquia. They had a "master suite" available. A little spendy, but it was so worth it to move out of the other awful place. We have a separate entry, lovely gardens, a sitting room, a huge bedroom and bath, and our own large deck looking over the city. And no Lysol smell! We are in heaven.

Spent much of our second day wandering the town and windowshopping. Had a great dinner at Woolis. We were going to go to a play that was showing in the local theater, but decided against it. And then, walking home there was the most incredible storm: wind, rain, hail, thunder, lightening. It seemed to just roll in over the mountains and across the valley. The roof drains were pouring into the streets, the streets were flowing with water like little rivers. It was amazing! We ducked into the entryway of a little restaurant-bar to try to wait it out, but it would not let up. So we dashed to our hotel all soaked. But it was fun!

Today, we took a lovely walk to Jaurez Park, then had lunch at this old hacienda that now houses the Hotel Nevada. The place was gorgeous, but practically deserted, so we had it to ourselves. The sun finally coming out after a cloudy morning. Ahhh . . .

Dean and I are in Guanajuato now. What an amazing city! It's like an old Italian hill town, located in a valley, high up in the hills north of Mexico city. We have the good fortune of staying in the home of some friends (who are now at our place in Seattle). It's a gorgeous home built inside the ruins of a 400 year old hacienda.

Yesterday was our first full day on our own here. We spent it exploring the old town, taking the funicular up to the monument to El Pipila (the young miner who helped storm the Granary and win the first battle of Mexican independence), and then visiting the Alhondiga museum (gawd those Spanish colonist-silver miners and Jesuits were cruel to the native people here).

Last night we had a wonderful dinner at Frascati off the Jardin Union. We had a table with our own little balcony above the street, where we could watch all the activity going on below: university students in medieval garb doing minstrel shows, mariachi bands, street mimes, vendors selling corn on the cob and other treats. It was quite a bustle of activity. Afterwards we were able to stroll the grounds for a while and mix with the crowds. So fun!

A few more pics:

El Pipila monument.
Such troubadors!
The steps outside the University of Guanajuato
One of H & A's wonderful folk art mariposa and sirena figures at the hacienda.

This should be an amazing reading! I hear the new Ben Lerner book may be available as well. I wish I were in Seattle: I would so be there.

W.S. Merwin & Friends is a benefit reading in support of the nonprofit poetry publisher, Copper Canyon Press. The event features W.S. Merwin, who won the 2009 Pulitzer Prize for THE SHADOW OF SIRIUS, as well as readings by a younger generation of Copper Canyon Press poets -- Erin Belieu, Ben Lerner, Valzhyna Mort, and Matthew Zapruder.

The Anthologist

Having a great time in PV. I've been reading, among other things, Nicholson Baker's wonderful new novel, The Anthologist. What a delight. Funny, charming, witty, scholarly, sophisticated. He really truly understands poetry, the lives of poets, the often contradictory motivations, desires and sensitivities of poets, like an expert. Spot on. Nailed it. I was laughing so hard at some parts I nearly died. Other parts, more of pleasant smile of recognition.

For those who don't know the story, the narrator, Paul Chowder, has been tasked to write a 40-page introduction to an anthology of poetry that rhymes. But his life is a mess, his girl-friend has just left him, and he keeps procrastinating getting the essay started, all the while telling us the most fascinating tidbits and theories and manifestos about poetry.

And did I say it was a smart and subtle book, too? For instance, he has a part where he is talking about Elizabeth Bishop, and her poem "The Fish" and her love-hate relationship with the poem, and how it is really all about writing (catching) the big poem, and how she wanted to cast it all over as a sonnet late in life, how she drank "like a fish" and etc. And then in the next chapter, he quotes as an example a forgotten (but "very big a century ago") poem by Alice Carey:

One cannot make bargains with blisses
Or catch them like fishes in nets
And sometimes the things that life misses
Help more than the things that it gets.

I thought the resonance to the Bishop story was well-done. Bravo. Highly recommended.

Dean and I are "on retreat" at a lovely B & B in a rustic little fishing village about 12 miles south of Puerto Vallarta. Roosters crowing in the morning to wake us up, chickens and puppies running loose on the street, kids playing soccer on the beach, little tiendas and restaurants -- you get the picture. We did a hike through the jungle yesterday, to see a secluded beach to the south. What a workout! Hoping to get some reading and writing done: we'll see what happens.

A few more pics:

Long MLK weekend. There was a moving story on NPR this morning, a man who recalled a comment King made as he was watching someone light the gas lamps on a street one night; how he said he was watching him "bust holes in the darkness." Which is what King did with his life.

*

Had a lovely poetry lunch at Vios with K, hearing about Spain, and looking at the potential new poetry manuscript. I think I have a title now, and a vague outline of what poems go where. It's so exciting!

*

Dinner last night with L & S. I made a mushroom bisque finished with truffle oil, that I have to say was to die for! We had pan seared chicken breasts and roasted potatoes and vegetables. A yummy salad from L with a peanut oil and garlic vinaigrette. Scintillating conversation and laughter and carrying on. Lot's of talk about Haiti, and how helpless we are to do anything, or even know what is the best thing to do (give money, at this point, but long term???).

*

There are snowdrops and hyacinths and trillium starting to come up in the garden. Spring is in the wings!

*

In case you missed it: Lady Gaga (looking more than a little like the Statue of Liberty) interviewed on Oprah. She is donating procedes from her website and concerts to Haiti, and more . . . . don't you just *love* her?

Rescue in Haiti

So sad about what is happening in Haiti. It really is a disaster. I admire how on top of it Bill Clinton seems to be. I agree with him, that the most important thing we can do now is give money. Dean and I donated today to the American Red Cross. If you are reading this, please consider doing the same. The website is very simple to navigate.

Poetry joke . . . .

Only a poetry reader would get this:

Q: What do you get when you cross a Whitman with a Dickinson?

A: A Dickman

or two . . .

:)

I'm Speechless . . .

That Boy is a MONSTER

"He ate my heart." The song of the moment . . .

Metrophobia = Fear of Poetry?

Then what does Metrosexual mean? Sex during poetry? A sexy poet? Poetry about sex? Hmmmmm . . .

Read all about it here:

For the last few generations, our nation has managed to marginalize poetry, an art that is and always has been central to the species. Since the earliest hominids sounded their pre-literate, poetic musilanguage to one another, since ancient Greek orators recited poems at the Olympic Games, since the first Griot in Mali turned the history of his tribe into poetry, igniting a tradition carried on by his descendants today, since Sappho's lyrics, Basho's haikus and Rumi's ghazals, poetry has been known to be a necessary nutrient in the human diet, as essential as breath or music.

Happy Palindrome Day

01/02/2010 = 0102/20/10

Meaningless, of course. But interesting to some. See full article here.