The Twelve Days of Poetry

Everybody sing along! . . . . (or, for a more serious version, see Carol Ann Duffy's 12 Days of Poetry here. Or, to read about the supposed "Secret Christian Symbols" said to be embedded in the original 12 Days of Xmas: read here).

The Twelve Days of Poetry

On the first day of Poetry
My true love gave to me
A Hand-Painted Poem by Li Po

On the second day of Poetry
My true love gave to me
Two Triolets,
And a Hand-Painted Poem by Li Po.

On the third day of Poetry
My true love gave to me
Three French Forms,
Two Triolets,
And a Hand-Painted Poem by Li Po

On the fourth day of Poetry
My true love gave to me
Four Quatrains,
Three French Forms,
Two Triolets,
And a Hand-Painted Poem by Li Po.

On the fifth day of Poetry
My true love gave to me
Five Sonnet Crowns,
Four Quatrains,
Three French Forms,
Two Triolets,
And a Hand-Painted Poem by Li Po.

On the sixth day of Poetry
My true love gave to me
Six Bawdy Limericks,
Five Sonnet Crowns,
Four Quatrains,
Three French Forms,
Two Triolets,
And a Hand-Painted Poem by Li Po.

On the seventh day of Poetry
My true love gave to me
Seven Keats Odes,
Six Bawdy Limericks,
Five Sonnet Crowns,
Four Quatrains,
Three French Forms,
Two Triolets,
And a Hand-Painted Poem by Li Po.

On the eighth day of Poetry
My true love gave to me
Eight Objective Correlatives,
Seven Keats Odes,
Six Bawdy Limericks,
Five Sonnet Crowns,
Four Quatrains,
Three French Forms,
Two Triolets,
And a Hand-Painted Poem by Li Po.

On the ninth day of Poetry
My true love gave to me
Nine Nuyoricans,
Eight Objective Correlatives,
Seven Keats Odes,
Six Bawdy Limericks,
Five Sonnet Crowns
Four Quatrains,
Three French Forms,
Two Triolets,
And a Hand-Painted Poem by Li Po.

On the tenth day of Poetry
My true love gave to me
Ten Wompo Anthologies,
Nine Nuyoricans,
Eight Objective Correlatives,
Seven Keats Odes,
Six Bawdy Limericks,
Five Sonnet Crowns,
Four Quatrains,
Three French Forms,
Two Triolets,
And a Hand-Painted Poem by Li Po.

On the eleventh day of Poetry
My true love gave to me
Eleven L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poets,
Ten Wompo Anthologies,
Nine Nuyoricans,
Eight Objective Correlatives,
Seven Keats Odes,
Six Bawdy Limericks,
Five Sonnet Crowns,
Four Quatrains,
Three French Forms,
Two Triolets,
And a Hand-Painted Poem by Li Po.

On the twelvth day of Poetry
My true love gave to me
Twelve Slammers Slamming,
Eleven L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poets,
Ten Wompo Anthologies,
Nine Nuyoricans,
Eight Objective Correlatives,
Seven Keats Odes,
Six Bawdy Limericks,
Five Sonnet Crowns,
Four Quatrains,
Three French Forms,
Two Triolets,
And a Hand-Painted Poem by Li Po.

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Health Insurance Reform: Makes a Great Xmas Gift!

. . . Perhaps because of the early hour, Harry Reid accidentally called out "no," but quickly clarified that he meant for vote "aye," to the laughter of the chamber.

The approved Senate bill would reform health insurance regulations, require individuals to purchase insurance, and create a subsidy from the federal government for those who cannot afford it to purchase it on a health exchange managed by the federal government. To pay for the expanded coverage, the bill raises payroll taxes for income over $250,000, imposes a 40 percent excise tax on high-dollar insurance policies, and creates new taxes and fees for medical suppliers.

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My hope is that this is just the beginning of a major shift in how we provide health care in the US. Eventually bringing us in line with the rest of the "civilized" world: universal access, low costs, great outcomes.

Yay Bernie Sanders. You Rock!

Check this out:

A $10 billion investment in community health centers, expected to go to $14 billion when Congress completes work on health care reform legislation, was included in a final series of changes to the Senate bill unveiled today.

The provision, which would provide primary care for 25 million more Americans, was requested by Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.).

He said the additional resources will help bring about a revolution in primary health care in America and create new or expanded health centers in an additional 10,000 communities. The provision would also provide loan repayments and scholarships through the National Health Service Corps to create an additional 20,000 primary care doctors, dentists, nurse practitioners, physician assistants and mental health professionals.

Very importantly, Sanders also said the provision would save Medicaid tens of billions of dollars by keeping patients out of emergency rooms and hospitals by providing primary care when then needed it.

I was so looking forward to reading Amy Gerstler's new book, Dearest Creature, and being able to report how wonderful it was. Unfortunately, it was a bit of a disappointment. It's not a bad book. I enjoyed the elegies for friends, the Q and A poem with her dog and the long poem "Mrs. Monster Pens Her Memoirs." But much of the book was sort of prosaic, and tame. Not the mind blowing Gerstler I admire. Ah well.

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On the other had, I have been totally enjoying Paul Nelson's A Time Before Slaughter. It's a book-length opus blending the history of Auburn, Washington (which used to be called, Slaughter), with his own personal musings about politics, power, sex, love, family. I especially enjoyed "Dominism," "Nine Sonnets for Pop," and "Tuscan Sonnet Ring." Kudos on the book, Paul.

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Busy weekend: Dean and I had friends E & B over for dinner Friday night (salmon bisque, salad, followed by pan-seared chicken breasts with winter veggies, wine and bread, and then a rousing game of Punto). So fun! Then Saturday night we went out for dinner at Dahlia Lounge with C. A delicious cauliflower soup with bits of apple in it, fennel salad, and pan-seared ahi done to perfection. It was Carol's yahrzeit, and we raised a glass to her. Eight years. Tonight we go to visit the home of our favorite poetry bookstore owners (looking forward to seeing what they have done with the new space).

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Despite all the piles of snow out east, it was warm and sunny enough in Seattle this afternoon to actually spend a few hours working in the yard. What a delight. To pull weeds, dig up the last carrots, trim back a few dead branches from the lilac and other shrubs. This may sound odd: but it even felt a little spring-like. Tomorrow is the first day of winter, so I know that is pre-mature, but it still felt like the tide was turning, and spring was coming.

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Dean and I rode light rail out to the airport today, just to see what it was like. The new station is about 400 yds from the airport, and you walk along a covered walkway to get to the terminal. There were probably 30 people on our train who were carting their rolling luggage. I think all the bad press about it being this Bataan-Death-March of a walk are way out of line. It is a pretty easy walk on a smooth level surface (that is if you are used to walking more than a few blocks without having to rest). We'll probably take light rail to the airport the next time we need to fly (which is coming soon. Ahhhh Mexico!).

This is such a heartwarming story. They sound like great kids. I'm betting the one with the afro and the perfect 800 verbal on the SAT goes into Law.

Yale admits whole set of quadruplets
For the first time in any one's memory, Yale has offered admission to quadruplets.

The only fly in this ointment: how to finance four college tuitions. My suggestion: a reality TV show. Snap!

John Ashbery’s new collection, dedicated to his partner, David Kermani, draws its exotic title — “Planisphere” — from Andrew Marvell’s poem “The Definition of Love,” in which two perfect lovers have been kept apart by the goddess Fate, since their perfection would be her ruin . . .

An interesting review from Helen Vendler.

Calder & Michelangelo at SAM

Sunday Dean and I went to see the Michelangelo & Calder exhibits at SAM. I really liked the Calder pieces: huge hanging (or standing) mobiles, made from metal, wire, wood, paint (the exhibits states that he "invented" the mobile as an art form. Really?). I had seen Calder's work in art books and photos, but was always left a little cold by them. Seeing them in person was a completely different experience. They were surprisingly fluid and alive and playful. You walk by one of them and just the change in air current might make part of the mobile shift ever so slightly, or you could just blow a breath at them and these large hanging mobiles would slowly begin to turn slightly, or sway, or a distant piece would slowly get the transmitted energy, and begin to move as well, as if the entire thing were alive, or had a nervous system and an articulate skeleton. It was so beautiful.

Much better than the Michelangelo pieces, which --I'm sorry-- just seemed so overly religious, and inexorable, and dark, and depressing. The figures all looked like they were feeling the tug of sin and/or gravity so heavily, and their faces and eyes looked like they needed a big dose of Prozac.

Decade from Hell?!? On some level I have to agree. But let's not throw out the baby with the bathwater. A lot of good things happened in the "two-thousand aughts." Give me a few minutes and I'll try to think of some of them . . . hmmmm. Ideas?


Bookended by 9/11 at the start and a financial wipeout at the end, the first 10 years of this century will very likely go down as the most dispiriting and disillusioning decade Americans have lived through in the post–World War II era. We're still weeks away from the end of '09, but it's not too early to pass judgment. Call it the Decade from Hell, or the Reckoning, or the Decade of Broken Dreams, or the Lost Decade. Call it whatever you want — just give thanks that it is nearly over.

Read more: http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1942834,00.html#ixzz0YHzdxhKx

End of an Era

Bailey Coy Books, Seattle's last gay bookstore has closed. Their last day of business was Friday November 20th. There will be a final good bye celebration, everything must go event December 3rd. They cite decreasing sales and the notion that so much has changed in the past 30 years (for the better) that we don't really need gay bookstores anymore. Details here.

I have a lot of great memories of Bailey Coy: shopping for each new Men on Men Anthology in the 80's and early 90's; buying the James White Review and each new Adrienne Rich or Mark Doty poetry book; Dean and I picking out our yearly calendars there; buying letterpress cards and fancy notebooks. But most of all I just loved to wander the tables of paperback and hardback books and check out the new titles, make a discovery or get a recommendation from the staff about a new book. My purchases filled many a book card there over the years.

Goodbye Bailey Coy. I'll miss you.

(Now, I hope Elliot Bay and Open Books don't follow you).

National Book Award Poetry

Winner: Keith Waldrop, Transcendental Studies: A Trilogy
(University of California Press)

Finalists: Rae Armantrout, Versed (Wesleyan University Press)
Ann Lauterbach, Or to Begin Again (Penguin Books)
Carl Phillips, Speak Low (Farrar, Straus and Giroux)
Lyrae Van Clief-Stefanon, Open Interval (University of Pittsburgh Press)


POETRY JUDGES: Mei-mei Berssenbrugge, A. Van Jordan,
Cole Swensen, Kevin Young


I am embarrassed to say I don't know Waldrop's work at all. I will have to check it out, though it seems, from the descriptions, that the nominees this year are probably not my cup of tea?

Brown professor wins national poetry award

In a telephone interview, Waldrop, 76, said he was happy to accept the award, but said the idea that “one book is better than another” is misleading, “since books are so dissimilar.”
. . .

“It was a bit tedious,” said Waldrop, who put his award, a statue, in a bag for the trip home to Providence later this week.

Welcome Susan Rich to the blogosphere. Her new blog: The Alchemists Kitchen, with her new book's cover for the header. Nice!

Admittedly, Susan is a little late to the blogging "party." But what the heck. There's still plenty of cake to go around.

I have been reading this fascinating new book of poems, And, by Michael Blumenthal. All of the poem titles are really long, and begin with the word "and." For example: "And the Manic Energy of the Planets Shall Beckon to the Stars," and "And the World Has Its Own Conviviality, and Each is Privy to His Own Singing." Each title is italicized, making me wonder if they are quotes from some existing text (Blake?), but there is no acknowledgement if that is the case.

The poems are very discursive, long-winded (meaning sometimes they seem like all one sentence, or several long sentences, all building on the word "and"), at turns funny, at turns philosophical, at turns almost raving/manic, Blakean. As I sat with the book, and became more in tune with the voice, I really found them to be quite delightful. Here is an example:

And the Angel of Ointments is Not a Salve

The pockmarked angel who visits you regularly
but failed to come to the party you so kindly gave for him
is now in the kitchen. He is waiting for some dark

escutcheon of beauty to manifest itself, perhaps while you
are out, perhaps even before the morning paper is delivered
and the day's news leaks out over the wires, purposeful

and beleaguered. He is waiting, but he waits patiently, pours
himself a cup of coffee, examines the art in the living room
and the false Persian carpets you have laid in the hallway,

admires himself in the bathroom mirror. This angel
has a rather bad complexion, but he is hardly
beyond beauty. He knows that a scarred thing

grows lovely as it heals, that the first cardinal
who comes to your feeder will depart before sunrise.
If there are monumental things to be done to your day,

he is prepared to do them: He's brought his tools.
But nothing, he knows, that ferments a life upwards
can be yours without a bit of exuberance. He's waiting,

hat in hand, a smile on his lips, and all he has
to offer up to you is a single prayer, a mystic thing
that dazzles in the dark and knows its way home.

(pg 46)


It's a good read. Check it out!

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Dean and I went with John & Lanita to see Complexions Dance Group perform at the UW World Dance Series last night. It was a good show. The first two acts were new pieces, "Mercy" and "Dirty Wire," and you could tell: they were a bit rough, up and down, and needed editing (needed to be shorter, mostly). But the third act more than made up for it: a 30 minute suite of dances done to U2 songs: "Where the Streets Have No Name," "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For," "With or Without You," "Vertigo," and more. It was terrific!

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Hoping to get some writing done today. We'll see how it goes.

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Take a look at this picture.

That's right. It's apple pie, with bacon.

Recipe here.

Happy Holidays!

Jeff Crandall discusses his poem "The Glassblower" on Beloit Poetry Journal's blog:

“The Glassblower” was written during my first summer working as an administrative staff person at Pilchuck Glass School. As a poet thrust into this creative furnace of artistry, I was struck by two things: how the fragility, clarity/opacity, and malleability of glass serve in so many ways as metaphors for the human condition; and how extremely sexual the language of glassblowing is: gloryhole, lip wrap, bench blow, etc. I was told by artist Pike Powers that this vernacular arose from carnival terms, “gloryhole” being the peephole through which one could see erotic acts.

Having a great time in Ellensburg. Sunny and clear for our drive over the pass, the aspens all golden and burnished. As you approach Ellensburg the land changes to these rolling stubble hills. Just gorgeous.

We got in early enough to wander around town for the afternoon. Got a great tip from the concierge at the hotel to go to The Starlight for an afternoon snack and libation. Great place, a definite spot to return to: excellent cocktails, and a delicious plate of tiger prawns in a Thai dipping sauce.

Met up with Katharine and Terry and the rest of the group from CWU for dinner at the Valley Cafe before the reading. Such a great group of faculty! The reading was packed. I was in awe, the whole theater filled: students, faculty, people from town.

I read a smorgasbord of stuff: some medical poems from Saying the World, some anagram and wordplay poems from What's Written on the Body, a few newer ekphrastic poems, and then 6 poems from the Expedition of the Vaccine series. I think the Expedition poems went over pretty well. At least from the feedback after the reading during the signing and the reception. It's always risky reading a long series, and one that is still in progress. But it also gave me a good feel for what is working, and what still needs a tweak.

I finished with a group of gay domestic love poems, in honor of Election night, and Ref 71 being on the ballot. Sort of charting the course of Dean's and my partnership: "Learning to Two Step," "Sweat Equity," "Perfect Pitch," and "Twenty Years After his Passing, My Father . . . ." I think they went over well.

And watching the news last night, it looked close, but it looked like Ref 71 was winning!! YAYAYAYAY!!

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