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Poet du Jour: Patricia Fargnoli

2009-11-08T08:54:00.001-05:00

(Click Cover for Amazon)

Here's good news: Patricia Fargnoli's third poetry book, Then, Something, is now available from Tupelo Press which published her last book, Duties of the Spirit. This new collection moves naturally and gracefully beyond the earlier one; it is both a continuation and an expansion.

We find some of the same motifs that Fargnoli has explored before—aging, nature, family. But this collection is intriguingly united by other motifs as well. It opens with the poem, "Wherever you are going," our introduction to the idea of departure. This anticipation of leaving is then revisited in other poems staggered throughout the collection. In poems such as "Approaching Seventy" and "After the Dream of My Death," the speaker stands at the very threshold of old age and is keenly aware of moving closer to death. Appropriately, these themes are underscored by a walking motif that weaves in and out of the collection. We sense the speaker heading towards a destination or trying to find one.

Nature is very much a part of this journey. Interlaced throughout the poems are numerous references to water—the ocean, lakes, snow, rain, fog. We also find numerous references to coldness and darkness, to alternating "flashes of light and shadow." We feel that the speaker is at odds with Nature, yet finds it a source of comfort. Such contrasts and conflicts provide a richly satisfying texture.

While the sense of impending death is ever-present, the poems also convey a great hunger for life, for more of it. They are reflective, meditative, questioning. Not surprising then that Fargnoli uses questions as a rhetorical strategy. How fitting this is since the speaker is indeed questioning both her past and her future. This poet skillfully balances idea and technique and makes them work to support each other.

In the handful of family poems, the speaker confronts her past; where knowledge and memory fail, the speaker imagines what she can't recall or never knew. We find poems about a sick mother, a drunken father, an imaginary sister, and a drunken husband. Notice how poignantly loss is handled in this family poem:

The Losing

The mother who left in my childhood
is leaving again in my dream.

She is leaving the ghost of a town
and has gone on to the next.

She has left the cottage door open,
the chair still rocking.

My mother is leaving again from the memory
of a white double bed,

her hands pale on the sheets, her face
pale as she leans against the headboard.

The child leans against the doorjamb,
crying because her mother is crying.

Something unbidden has entered the room,
something terribly wrong in the room's raw light.

There are two brown suitcases on the floor.
In the other room, two aunts wait on the sofa.

My mother left all my days and nights
and went into the illness for which

there was, in those days, no cure
and no slowing it down.

My mother escaped from my drunken father,
she escaped from the last days of the war,

she escaped from the snow that, in that last winter,
fell endlessly and everywhere.

In the field of my mother's absence,
two blackbirds are flying through the wind-driven snow.

Technically, in this collection Fargnoli reaches beyond what she has done before. For example, the entire second section is comprised of one long poem in 15 parts. Fargnoli also invents a new form in Lullaby for the Woman Who Walks into the Sea, a stunning poem recently featured on Poetry Daily. Here we find a good example of how effectively repetition can be used in the hands of a master poet. The repetitions capture the relentless, endless motion of the sea and create a chant-like, pounding music.

We also find a greater freedom and flexibility in line lengths, in the use of indentations, and in the shaping of poems. We find less reliance on the left margin, a greater willingness to spread out and use the full page. (In order to accommodate the poems with long lines, Tupelo used a wider format for the book.) These technical flourishes underscore the sense of motion. Form and meaning come together as they should. The poem, The Parents, illustrates how Fargnoli uses indentations to support the poem's meaning. (When you have the book in your hands, read the poem again and compare it to the online journal's format. You'll see that the book's indentations are more extreme. You'll also find just a few minor revisions. Interesting and instructive to speculate on why those changes were made for the book.)

Take a look at one more poem. Here Fargnoli undertakes the audacious task of defining what cannot be defined—and succeeds brilliantly via the use of negatives, images, and metaphors. She tells us what the soul is not, how our senses perceive it, and what it is like. Thus we come to know it.

On the Question of the Soul

It is not iron, nor does it have anything to do
with the fleshy heart. It does not shiver

like feathers, nor the arrow shot from the hunter’s bow,
is not the deer that runs or falls in the snow.

It hunkers down in the invisible recesses
of the body—its closets, scrolled bureaus,
the ivory hardness of the chest,

or disperses through every cell. And also it flies
out beyond the body.

Someday watch smoke travel through the air.
Someday watch a stain spread out to no stain
in the ocean. The soul does that.

It doesn’t care whether or not you believe in it.
It is unassailable and contradictory: the dog
that comes barking and wagging its tail.

It is not, I am certain, biology.
Not a cardinal or a heron, not even a thrush or wren,
but it might be a praying mantis.

It is the no color of rain
as it sweeps a field on an August morning
full of fences and wildflowers.

It is the shifting of light across the surface
of any lake, the shadows that move like muskrats
across a mountain whose shape mimics the clouds above it.

Weighed down by the vested interests
of the body, it nevertheless bears us forward.

The poems in this collection are tinged by sorrow. There's much to regret, much that's missing in the speaker's life. And yet, for the reader there is cause for celebration, even rejoicing, in finding a life so relentlessly confronted and so deeply felt. And there is joy in the sheer beauty of the poems.

**The poems reprinted here appear in Patricia Fargnoli's book, Then, Something (Tupelo Press, 2009). Reprinted with permission.

Poetry Reading at Tulipwood

2009-11-06T06:00:00.002-05:00

I'm reading this Saturday, November 7, at Tulipwood, 1165 Hamilton St., Somerset, NJ, at 2:00 PM. My co-reader will be Charles H. Johnson. I'm very much looking forward to the reading as it's in the restored Victorian house you see above. What a beautiful venue!

Above is the side view of the house which was built in 1892 and purchased by the Township of Franklin in 2003 for Historic Preservation. The Meadowlands Foundation, which is sponsoring the reading, then did the restoration. Admission is $10—and I'd like to think worth every penny!

Please join us if you're in NJ.

Information and Directions

The Poet's Cookbook

2009-11-01T09:03:00.006-05:00

What goes great with poetry? Food! If you like both, this is the book for you. Co-edited by Grace Cavalieri and Sabine Pascarelli, The Poet's Cookbook: Recipes from Tuscany contains poems by 28 poets and a generous number of recipes from the editors' own kitchens. The recipes are for dishes that will satisfy the most discriminating palate but also fit into the busy schedule of today's cook. Even the cover of this collection is delicious. (Click cover to go to Amazon.)

Everything about this collection says Love. Says Care. A quick look at the table of contents reveals that the book is organized the same way a menu might be organized in a fine Italian restaurant. The editors move us through Appetizers, Soups, First Course, Second Course, Vegetables, and Salads, and then to Desserts. Each section begins with 10 recipes. Those recipes are then followed by 3-10 poems, each about food and each appearing side by side with the Italian translation of the poem. All translations were done by Pascarelli.

Here's a sampling of some of the recipes: Italian Mushroom Relish, Vegetable and Bread Soup, Sauteed Porcini Mushrooms with Polenta, Pork Roast in Chianti, Asparagus alla Farnesina, Sweet Corn and Radicchio Salad, and Chocolate Wine Cake.

My poem, Linguini, is happy to be joined by poems from Karren Alenier, Cecily Angelton, David Budbill, Andrea Hollander Budy, Anne Caston, Jenny D'Angelo, Tina Daub, Moira Egan, Jean Emerson, Emily Ferrara, Nan Fry, Maria Mazziotti Gillan, Michael S. Glaser, Barbara Goldberg, Patricia Gray, Carole Wagner Greenwood, Rod Jellema, Calder Lowe, Judy Neri, Linda Pastan, Alexis Rotella, Carly Sachs, Vivian Shipley, Rose Solari, Christine Sostarich, Katherine Williams, and Ernie Wormwood.

I've already sent out one copy as a thank-you gift. I think this book also makes a perfect holiday gift. Put it on your list.

Tribute to Lincoln

2009-10-28T14:00:00.000-04:00

Chuck and Lisa

This past Sunday I participated in a tribute to Abraham Lincoln in honor of his bicentennial. The event was held at my local library with the support of a grant from the NJ Council for the Humanities. It was a surprisingly wonderful program. It began with a brief lecture about Lincoln's life and presidency. This was delivered by Dr. Larry Greene, history professor at Seton Hall University. Then various dignitaries—a congressman, assemblymen, local mayor, school superintendent—read Lincoln's speeches. Other people read poems about Lincoln. I was asked to read Edwin Markham's "Lincoln, The Man of the People" and an excerpt from Bayard Taylor's "The Gettysburg Ode."

Also included were two musicians, Chuck Winch and Lisa Godino, known as Plum Run. They were dressed in authentic clothing from the period and sang a number of Civil War songs. My favorite song was "The Vacant Chair," about a boy killed in the war. His family anticipates the first Thanksgiving dinner without him: "We will meet, / but we shall miss him. / There will be one vacant chair." I found a wonderful video of the song:

After a local councilman read the poem, "Three Hundred Thousand More," Lisa addressed him and told him how touched she'd been by the poem. Boys and young men going off to war is a topic she often writes about. As she spoke, she began to cry. I think she did not know that the man to whom she was speaking had lost his son this year, in the war against cancer. For those of us who did know, her tears were all the more poignant.

Lisa got herself together and was able to sing her song, "Chaplain," about a boy going to war and wondering what will happen to him and what he will have to do to others and where will he go if he dies. I could not stop thinking about how relevant the speeches, the poems, and the songs are to our lives today as young men continue to go off to battle. Here's Lisa singing the song which she wrote:

Poetry at Cayuga Community College

2009-10-26T15:15:00.000-04:00

This past week I had the pleasure of spending three days at Cayuga Community College in Auburn, NY. The invitation came about as a result of Garrison Keillor's reading of my poem, "Linguini," back in February. The professor who brings in the poets heard the poem, looked me up online, and contacted me. We then agreed on dates. The picture you see above is the banner that was displayed at the college's website.

I drove up last Sunday and checked into my hotel. My host then invited me to his house for dinner that night. We were joined by another couple and their son. All great company. Prior to dinner, my hostess said that she'd prepared linguini with clam sauce. Unfortunately and much to my chagrin, I had to tell her that I can't eat clams. She looked a bit crestfallen and said, "But the poem . . . ," meaning that in the poem I specifically mention clams as something delectable. Well, they are delectable—to other people, but not to me! (I plan to use that story from now on whenever someone asks to what extent my poems are autobiographical.) So I had peppers and mushrooms on my linguini and was very happy. An excellent salad and homemade apple pie for dessert.

The next morning my host picked me up and we drove five minutes to the campus where I gave a reading to approximately 30 people. Then another English professor took me to lunch. Later that afternoon my host took me to Seneca Falls where we visited the Women's Hall of Fame. I read the "Declaration of Sentiments" and walked through the museum. I was filled with admiration for our foremothers who so courageously cleared a path for the rest of us.

That night my host and his department took me out for dinner. These people really know how to treat a visiting poet! Every detail was attended to, every courtesy extended.

The next morning I visited a creative writing class. The professor had asked each student to write a poem based on one of mine. It was a really cool assignment and yielded wonderful results. Students read their poems to me and we talked a bit about the next level of revision. They asked lots of good questions. Later I met with the Poetry Club. Oddly, only one student showed up, but we had a good time. He read me several of his poems and I gave him some tips on getting them published which he said was his current goal. On the way back to the hotel, my host and I paid a brief visit to the grave of Harriet Tubman, located in one of the prettiest cemeteries I've ever visited.

Dinner again that night, this time with the professor who would be leading me up to the extension campus the next morning. That drive was along pretty country roads, about 45 minutes. At the Fulton campus I gave a second reading, this time to around 40 people. Then I headed home, happy to have had such a wonderful time and wishing for more college visits.

Starring As Sonnet 71

2009-10-23T18:34:00.000-04:00

Shakepeare is watching you. Be careful.

On Wednesday of this week I read Shakespeare's Sonnet 71 as part of the Our Daily Sonnet project. I saw this project highlighted a few months ago at Line Break. I checked it out and thought it would fit right in with my current project of becoming more audio/video savvy. I contacted Adam Tessier, the creator of the project, and offered to record Sonnet 29. Of all 154 sonnets, that was the only one that had been spoken for. Not to be discouraged, I then proposed sonnet 30. I got the green light on that one and proceeded to make my movie.

On the day of my debut, I discovered that someone named Bob had also sent in a video of the same sonnet. And he'd sent not one but two versions of the sonnet. When I pouted a bit—already a prima donna—Adam invited me to do another movie. I proposed yet another sonnet, but it turned out that someone else had already spoken for that one and planned to swallow a sword during his reading. I then proposed Sonnet 71.

Adam's project is to get a video of all 154 sonnets and to post them at the website. Three cheers for Adam for making Shakespeare cool and fun. Some of the videos have been recorded in coffee shops, some on street corners, some in beds, some in office chairs. One gets the feeling that some of the readers were simply accosted with a book of sonnets and told to read! These are casual efforts minus costumes, at least for the most part. People have been caught during cigarette breaks, while awakening, while walking down the street.

I love the idea of Shakespeare popping up in all these random places. And as a former high school English teacher, I thought immediately of the possibilities for incorporating a similar project into a course of study.

I made my video with my new computer. As you can see, I was assisted by the Bard himself. How about some of you offering to make a video of another sonnet? There are plenty left. The contact information is at the site on the About page.

Good News

2009-10-20T06:00:00.000-04:00

I'm happy to report that Garrison Keillor is featuring my poem, The First Artichoke, today, Tuesday, October 20, at The Writer's Almanac. The poem is from my book, What Feeds Us.

The timing of this feature doubles the pleasure. Right now I'm at the campus of Cayuga Community College for a three-day visit. The invitation for this visit came about as a result of Mr. Keillor reading my poem, "Linguini," back in February. So this feels like one of those nice circles with everything in its proper, comfortable spot.

If you like stuffed artichokes, check out my poem. Or even if you don't like them. Here's a photo of the blooms mentioned in the poem. Did you know that artichokes flower if they're not picked?

New Valparaiso Poetry Review

2009-10-17T13:02:00.001-04:00

Happy 10th Anniversary to Valparaiso Poetry Review! And kudos to its founder and editor, Ed Byrne. VPR has long been one of my favorite online journals; in fact, it was one of the first online ones I ever submitted to. And back then submissions were sent by snail mail. This special issue is absolutely fabulous. I'm so pleased to be part of it.

The issue begins with an essay by Byrne in which he thanks his readers and contributors and also explores the evolution of online journals. Speaking of his original intention, he says, "I felt a responsibility to produce an online literary journal that would attain a certain amount of respect and would contribute to the overall stature of electronic magazines . . ." That's exactly what he's done. Mission accomplished.

Byrne also says, "Moreover, when I glance at the 'acknowledgments' pages of new books of poetry or volumes of literary commentary, I find myself noting how many titles of online journals, including Valparaiso Poetry Review, are represented side by side with those titles of traditional print periodicals, all of which seem to have adopted at least some degree of online presence as well in recent years." I recall that until recently such Acknowledgments pages often distinguished between which journals were print and which were online. I no longer see that. And I'll add that my next book will contain 5 poems that first appeared in VPR.

Charles Wright is the featured poet in this issue. Here's the entire lineup of poets: Sherman Alexie, Mary Biddinger, Jared Carter, Katharine Coles, Alfred Corn, Kwame Dawes, Susan Donnelly, Cornelius Eady, Claudia Emerson, Patricia Fargnoli, Annie Finch, Daisy Fried, Reginald Gibbons, H. Palmer Hall, T.R. Hummer, Allison Joseph, David Kirby, Dorianne Laux, Frannie Lindsay, Diane Lockward, Sebastian Matthews, Eric Nelson, Joel Peckham, Greg Rappleye, Margot Schilpp, Jeffrey Skinner, Floyd Skloot, Martha Silano, Dave Smith, Alison Stine, Virgil Suarez, Elizabeth Swados, Daniel Tobin, Catherine Tufariello, Brian Turner. There are also five book reviews.

I have two poems in this issue, Hunger in the Garden and The Temptation of Mirage. The first one is a kind of form poem. (I challenge you to figure out the form). Check out the entire issue. You will find much to enjoy and admire there.

Good News

2009-10-14T13:29:00.000-04:00

I'm happy to report that my publisher has accepted my third full-length poetry collection, Temptation by Water. The book is scheduled for release next summer, 2010. Needless to say, I'm delighted. These are the poems that I've been working on for the past three years.

The process for this collection was a bit different from that for the first two books. With those two, I just wrote poems. Then when I had 50-60 that I thought were book-worthy, I gathered them together and read and reread them, looking for common threads, looking for a single unifying concept. Once I had the backbone for the collection, I selected the poems that I thought fit and moved on to finding a structural plan.

With this new collection, I had my main idea fairly early on. I wonder if that signals some kind of development? It did, I think, result in fewer false starts and fewer poems that, while I might have liked them, just wouldn't fit into the collection thematically. The negative to this approach is that I'm now confronted with a pretty barren folder.

I'll be using the same cover artist. I love his work. I just sent him a handful of representative poems and a few thoughts about what I have in mind. But I trust his creativity. I've done my job; now I'll let him do his.

Details will follow as they develop.

New Poemeleon

2009-10-11T09:00:00.000-04:00

No, I'm not switching to porn or a discussion of anatomy. The above image is the cover of the latest issue of Poemeleon, one of my favorite online journals. Edited by Cati Porter, the journal appears twice a year. Why do I like it? Let me count the ways: 1) it's easy to navigate, 2) it's visually attractive, 3) it contains only poetry and poetry-related features, 4) each issue runs a handful of reviews and interviews, 5) there's an ample number of poems but not an overwhelming number, 6) it considers previously published poems, and 7) it has found its own niche by devoting each issue to a theme or type of poem.

The latest issue is the "gender issue." As soon as I saw the call for submissions several months ago, I immediately thought of my poem entitled Gender Issue. Seemed like that might be a good fit. The editor agreed. One more feature I like about this journal: each poem is accompanied by a brief author statement in which the author says something about his or her connection to the theme.

This issue contains work by a number of poets whose work I already admire, e.g., Michelle Bitting (I'm in the middle of her collection, Good Friday Kiss), Deborah Bogen, Kathryn Stripling Byer, Robin Chapman, Patricia Fargnoli (just finished her new book, Then, Something), Ann Fisher-Wirth (recently read her Carta Marina), Alex Grant (see my last blog post for a review of his book, Fear of Moving Water), Paul Hostovsky, Wendy Vardaman, and Charles Harper Webb. There are others whose work I'm looking forward to getting acquainted with.

So check out this issue. You'll find much to make you happy there.

Poet du Jour: Alex Grant

2009-10-07T18:50:00.000-04:00

I'm sure I would praise this collection even if it hadn't been published by my own publisher, Wind Publications. But I'm glad that it was published by my publisher as I'm enormously proud to share shelf space with this poet. This is a sophisticated collection, all the more impressively so when we consider that this is Grant's first full-length collection. Perhaps, though, the level of sophistication and the beauty of Fear of Moving Water should come as no surprise as Grant is well-published and has had two award-winning chapbooks as well as numerous other awards.

The collection consists of 39 poems divided into four sections, each preceded by a prose poem which serves as a prologue. There's not an ounce of fat in the collection, not one poem that I wish had been removed, not one space where something seems to be missing. This quality of tightness is also found in the poems.

There is much to admire here. First, there's an appealing range of subject matter. Clearly, Grant is attracted to the animal world. We find the poems populated with turtles, beavers, a mouse, an old dog, a cuckoo. Even the small ugly things of this earth merit his attention—the cockroach, the garden midge, the spider. Grant is also drawn to other forms of art. There are poems based on photos and paintings as well as poems about artists such as Van Gogh, actress Lillian Gish, haiku master Issa. The collection is subtly sprinkled with literary allusions to such people as Neruda, Sartre, and Simone de Beauvoir. Several poems reveal a fondness for the culinary arts, for example, "Hamish Samey's Turnip Soup."

Then there's the pure poetry of these poems. Here's a poet who luxuriates in language, who has a talent for the odd word, the just-right word, and an ear for the music of the words. Listen to the lovely ell-sounds in "Black Moon": ". . . the dry doggerel / of mackerel scales and filament // of a season ended, to the water. / The sand flays the last flakes / of paint from the boat's hull . . ." Note, too, the a-sounds. Here's another example of Grant's diction and musicality, this one from "Fuel": "We spend the morning burning / oleander brush. Shards of sunlight / slash the canopy, cleave pathways // through pungent smoke-shrouds, // fuel clumps of emerald sphagnum."

Grant's mastery of craft is also seen in his use of imagery and figurative language. Note the sensory appeal in this triple simile from "Neruda's Suicide Note": ". . . you cover / your face with your hand, / and it sticks to your skin / like confetti, like phosphorus / launched from a Greek warship, / like the skin of a plum / peeled by a broken nail." While most of the poems are, like this one, written in free verse, there is a formal elegance to them. And Grant makes a nod to formalism in the collection's five sonnets, a villanelle, and a solo renga.

Here are two poems from the collection which represent it nicely and which should whet your appetite for the entire collection.

INTERPRETING THE SILENCE

'Behind every jewel stand three hundred sweating horses'
—Zen Buddhist aphorism
Believers in invisibility, we describe the sound
that nothing makes. At night, we hear the stars
move across the sky, listen to the moon-vine

grow, wait for the engines of the sun to crack
the morning. The clacking wheels of desire
lead us to this - this endless fascination, this

capturing of fog in a bottle. We need to inhale
it, to learn its given name, to feel it compress
under the skin and emerge through the pores,

an invisible diamond inside a painted nutshell,
held tight in the breath of our hands. We pry
the shell apart, clamp the empty geodes to our

ears, like seashore children straining to hear
the wedding of the oceans in a paper cup,
and listen to the sound that nothing makes.
And here's one that's as frightening as it is lovely.

THREAD

In the beginning, they were insignificant—like black
spider mites, or immature fruit flies. We were blind
to their subtle swelling, their shifting shapes

and colors, suddenly lurid green, slick and shiny
as obscene bottles. The years turned like a mill wheel,
and we retreated deeper into the belly of the house,

and few could recall a time when the steady hum
of their wings didn't thicken the air. One of us will
sometimes foray into their part of the house—always,

the reports are worse than the time before—they have
become cannibals: they devise new methods of torture:
their young subsist on the bodies of spiders.

And they grow—always—stronger, more ruthless,
We have lived so long in this part of the house,
where no light penetrates, that our young have begun

to be born blind—sightless, parchment skin stretched
over useless orbs, like unfinished paintings. Some
who remember when we lived outside of the house,

in the trees, in the fields and hedgerows, say that
our time will come again. They say that one day,
we will look up at the moon again, from high

in the wet branches of Sycamore trees,
and see the earth, so far below, and swing,
once again, on lengths of radiant silk.

Dodge Poetry Festival Heading to Newark

2009-10-04T09:27:00.006-04:00

The Star-Ledger, New Jersey's largest newspaper, announced this week that the Dodge Foundation has selected Newark as the location for the 2010 Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival. It had been previously announced that the 2010 festival would not take place due to serious funding issues with the Foundation. Also, Waterloo Village, the site of past festivals, was no longer available. Of course, the loss of the festival was met with great dismay. People wanted it back. People began to think of alternatives, other ways of funding, other locations.

Montclair suggested forming a partnership with Dodge. They offered funding and their town with its close proximity to NY and transportation and hotels, with its cultural history, its museum, its university campus. The idea appealed and Dodge began to consider the possibility. Then they invited other towns and cities to offer themselves as possible locations. Several did.

Recently the contenders were narrowed down to Montclair, Newark, and Trenton. Now Montclair has been thanked for providing the original idea, but the prize goes to Newark. Mayor Cory Booker is happy. The Star-Ledger quotes him as saying, "Newark is the state’s center of arts and culture and entertainment and having the festival in Newark is a testament to its spirit."

Newark once was a great city. I used to go there all the time when I was a kid. All the big department stores were there. I loved Newark and felt safe there. But in recent years Newark has been known as the car theft capital of NJ. And don't I know it. A few years ago, when I was poet-in-residence at a charter school, my car was stolen in broad daylight right off a main street. It was located later that day, abaondoned and left still running in Irvington. It had extensive damage, thanks to the thief having driven from Newark to Irvington in first gear. I was without that car for six weeks and out many dollars for the repair and car rental.

But I like Cory Booker and I hope he can restore Newark to what it once was. And why not? There's a fabulous library system, several museums, remarkable architecture. Just clean up the crime. I know the Mayor is trying to do that. Let's hope that poetry can help. I believe it has the power to work miracles.

This past week Newark has also received some attention from late-night talk show host, Conan O'Brien, who mocked the city! Booker immediately took to the airways and posted a video to YouTube. It only made me like him more. Take a look:

Just too bad he didn't add something about Newark also now having the Dodge Poetry Festival.

Here's Conan's subsequent response:

At the end of his video, Conan mentions that part of Newark Airport, from which Booker bans him, is actually in Elizabeth. Oh dear. I once had a car stolen in Elizabeth.

But I remain undaunted and will definitely be in Newark for the 2010 Dodge Poetry Festival. I will miss Waterloo with its bucolic setting, but it will be interesting to see how the festival works in a city setting.

How Sweet It Is

2009-09-30T14:17:00.011-04:00

Several months ago I wrote a post entitled Online Journals I Admire. One of the journals I included was Sweet: A Literary Confection. Recently, I decided to try the journal with a submission. I'm happy to say that they took one of my poems for the current issue.

My poem, Learning to Live Alone, is one of eleven poems in the issue. One of the things I like about this journal is that they limit the number of poems and poets in each issue. I find that I'm more likely to read when the journal is on the small side. I feel sort of overwhelmed when an online journal includes dozens and dozens of poets and poems. This issue also includes four pieces of creative non-fiction.

Sweet publishes only poetry and non-fiction. I like that limited focus. The journal comes out three times a year, and each issue can be devoured in one or two visits. Another thing I like about the journal is the humor of the editors. They make me laugh. Check out their Masthead to see what I mean. And how could you not love a journal whose home page ends with this piece of good advice: Please remember to eat chocolate every day.

My poem was initially entitled "Still-Life," a total loser of a title and I knew it. That was a perfectly appropriate title with a juicy dual meaning. But how many poems have had that title? I'll bet dozens. So I just sat on the poem for weeks until I came up with something better. The new title, "Learning to Live Alone," adds, I think, something new to the poem. I love titles.

Here's a picture of something else I love. The editors ask each contributor to reveal his or her favorite dessert and that information is included in the bio note. Thus mine ends: Her favorite dessert is Bocconi Dolci.

We're talking three layers of meringue, each lightly covered with melted chocolate, each slathered with homemade whipped cream and sliced strawberries. The name means "sweet little mouthful" and is it ever.

Literary Jeopardy

2009-09-24T19:07:00.010-04:00

A few weeks ago I was invited to participate as a contestant in my local library's first-ever Literary Jeopardy. This event took place this past Tuesday.

The above is what I saw when I entered the room. When I saw a total of only eight contestants, I became hopeful that I might win one of the three prizes. The odds seemed good.

Then this came onto the screen. No, that's not blood splatters. There would be no blood shed that night though the competitive spirit was lively.

Our game host reviewed the rules. Note that we did not have to respond with the answer as a question. I was glad as it has been quite a few years since I watched that show and I'm out of practice. We played in two rounds, four contestants each. Two contestants failed to show so the audience was called upon. Two people volunteered to substitute. Then each contestant was given some kind of noise-maker in lieu of a buzzer. And the first round began. The two winners would return for round 3.

Then we moved onto round 2. I did not thoroughly disgrace myself. In fact, while I stupidly missed the Jane Austen question—had it in my head but was too slow ringing my bells—I redeemed myself by getting the Truman Capote question. I'm pleased to brag that I was one of the two winners of that round. Then onto round 3, the final round.

I messed up. Here's the question I should certainly have had. It asked for the star of The Princess Diaries. I knew it was Anne Hathaway, but again was just a second behind my more nimble bell-ringing opponent. But missing that one hurt as Anne Hathaway went to Millburn High School when I was teaching there! Shame on me.

Then poor listening skills cost me another question. That one mentioned Blanche DuBois, so I rang my bells and answered, "Streetcar Named Desire." Wrong! The question wanted the author's name, Tennessee Williams, which I knew, but I was trying too hard to make up for my lack of speed.

Nevertheless, I won third place and received a very nice prize.

Six brand new books: 1) Rules of Contact, by Kristen Heitzmann, 2) Nothing But a Smile, by Steve Amick, 3) The School of Essential Ingredients, by Erica Bauermeister, 4) The Housekeeper and the Professor, by Yoko Ogawa, 5) The Miracles of Prato, and 6) Servant of a Dark God, by John Brown.

Worst Question of the Night: What were the names of the original Three Little Pigs?

Rehash of Poetry Party

2009-09-21T15:09:00.007-04:00

The Poetry Party went really well. I was sort of nervous about the turnout as it was day 2 of Rosh Hashanah and there were two other readings going on not too far away, both with popular poets.

But we had 25 poets and a handful of people who were there just to listen. The theme, "When Arts Collide," worked very nicely. A few people even wrote and read poems just for the occasion. Others had a good time finding something that would fit. So we had poems about music and one that included some singing. Several poems based on paintings. A handful about the fine art of cooking. A few about dancing. All in all, a very interesting mixture.

One poet, Ray Brown, sent me a note prior to the reading saying that he'd written a poem that had been inspired by my poem, "Organic Fruit," and a poem by Anthony Buccino. So we read those three poems, one after the other, with Ray last. How's that for a collision among poems?

We went in two rounds with each poet reading one poem in each round. This method kept things moving right along. This also meant that all poets had the full room for at least one of their poems. Most poets stayed the entire time. In fact, I noticed only one leaving after she read her second poem. I kept the poets to a one-page maximum poem length. And I was strict! One poem each round, no more than one page each. And don't argue with me!

Our poets ranged in age from 10-80! Some had been at the May Poetry Party. Others were first-timers. One was so anxious to read that he arrived a full day ahead of time. Fortunately, he returned a day later. Many of our poets were well-acquainted with the podium. One read for the very first time in public.

Several stayed for dinner after the reading which was a fun way to end the day.

I'm going to admit here that I often want to pull out my hair at an open reading. If I'm not the featured poet, I usually leave before they begin. If I am the featured poet, I almost always stay, but sometimes to my regret. If the host fails to enforce the time limits. If someone blabs on and on before, during, and after the poem. If readers are permitted to read more than two poems, regardless of how many readers have signed up. And especially if I see open readers in the audience working on their own poems while I'm at the front of the room reading! More especially when open readers arrive just as I'm finishing, just in time to be an open reader.

But I know that poets want and need places to read. I've got a place. So I invented the Poetry Party and must say I've enjoyed both and plan to do another.

Anthony Buccino

Jessica de Koninck

Christine Waldeyer

Vera Gelvin

Poetry Party: An Invitation

2009-09-18T06:00:00.000-04:00

Poetry Party: An Open Mic

"When Arts Collide"

Sunday, September 20

3:00 PM – 5:00 PM

Huddle Inn Restaurant

Downstairs Cafe

31 Passaic Ave.

Fairfield, NJ

973-575-3423

No Cover Charge

Bring a few poems to read, ideally one which has some connection to another art form.

Ars Poetica Anthology

2009-09-16T14:41:00.011-04:00

poem, home: An Anthology of Ars Poetica is about to be published by Paper Kite Press. The publishers, Dan Waber and Jennifer Hill, are now seeking pre-publication orders. The cover price will be $20 for this 230 page book which includes the work of 115 poets. My poem, "My Husband Discovers Poetry," is one of those poems.

This anthology has a rather unique birthing story. Several years ago Dan created a blog called Logolalia. He invited five poets to submit an ars poetica poem. He also invited each of those poets to invite five poets to submit. A poetic pyramid scheme. Submissions were thus by invitation only. Each of the poems was posted, one per day, at the blog. The plan was to eventually publish an anthology of those poems. If you go to the blog, you'll find links to each of the poems. The project grew to enormous proportions. I think it was about two years before my poem was posted. By then I'd pretty much forgotten about it.

But just coincidentally, I met Dan and Jennifer before my poem was posted at the blog. They run a reading series at their gallery, Paper Kite Press Studio & Gallery, in Kingston, Pennsylvania. A friend recommended me for a reading in the series. The night of the reading, Dan and Jenn took me out for dinner. We never mentioned my poem or the anthology. What I remember best is a conversation we had about smoking, Dan and I both being recovering smokers. As ex-smokers always do, we talked about what had made us quit. Dan said that he'd decided he'd rather keep the 10-15 years smoking would take from his life and spend those years with Jennifer. I liked that story.

About a year later, I was notified that my poem would appear on the blog. And quite a while after that I was notified that my poem would appear in the anthology. I think this should be a wonderful collection. Some familiar names: Kelli Russell Agodon, Mairead Byrne, Nick Carbó, James Cervantes, Denise Duhamel, Lynnell Edwards, Annie Finch, Lola Haskins, Paul Hoover, and Susan Rich. You can see the entire list of poets at the pre-ordering site.

The book is scheduled for release in November. You can pre-order here.

Two Nice Tidbits

2009-09-12T07:02:00.000-04:00

Avocado, by Peggy McGivern

I've had two nice surprises this week. Today my poem, Organic Fruit, is featured at Your Daily Poem, an online site started several months ago by Jayne Jaudon Ferrer, a writer who lives in South Carolina. Similar in concept to Poetry Daily and Verse Daily, its intention is to enhance appreciation of poetry. Each feature includes one poem, an author photo, and purchase links. This site differs from the other two as poems are both old and new. Looking through the Archives, I found poems by Robert Frost, William Wordsworth, and Walt Whitman. Contemporary poets include Dorianne Laux, Ellen Bass, and Louis Jenkins. Good company. I applaud Ferrer's effort to promote poems, poets, and poetry. If you go to the website, you'll see a window where you can sign on to receive the daily poems via email.

An Undivided Heart, by Gillian Ross

Yesterday my poem, Heart on the Unemployment Line, was featured at Alphabet Soup, a blog kept by children's author, Jama Rattigan. This blog reflects Rattigan's two loves—food and poetry. There are mouth-watering images of food as well as recipes. Then each Friday is a feast of words when a poem is featured. Two weeks ago my poem Eve's Confession was also featured at this site. Featured poems receive a substantial amount of commentary from Rattigan's readers.

New Poems Online

2009-09-06T09:21:00.003-04:00

I'm happy to have work in the ninth issue of The Innisfree Poetry Journal, edited by Greg McBride. This issue includes the work of thirty poets, including Kristen Berkey-Abbott, Martin Galvin, Julie L. Moore, and Karen Weyant. One thing I like about this online journal is that the number of poets and poems included is reasonable, not overwhelming as I've sometimes seen at other online journals.

In addition, this issue features fourteen poems from the books of Alice Friman in the "Closer Look" series. You'll also find Nancy Naomi Carlson's translations of five poems by René Char.

Among other highlights are Nancy Fitz-Hugh Meneely's review of Pointing at the Moon, a terrific book of poems by Bill Wunder arising from his experiences in the Vietnam War. Just coincidentally, I've met Bill Wunder and will be reading with him in December. I've also read the book and concur with all the praise the reviewer gives it.

I have three poems in the issue. One of them, "Pleasure," is a particular kind of form poem. See if you can figure out what the form is. (Thus I entice you to go visit the poem!) The poem, "Spying on My New Neighbors," really did begin with some spying, but not intentional spying. I was out taking a walk. As I passed the neighbors' house, through the trees I could see the young couple making out. It was a sweet and tender scene. A young couple in their first house, beginning a backyard garden, and spontaneously taking some time out for kissing. It also made me jealous! And then I wrote the poem. Put it away for a long time. Sort of forgot it. Rediscovered it and sent it to Innisfree where the editor quickly took it. I say "quickly" because this is one journal whose editor gets back to you nice and fast. I always appreciate that.

So pay the journal a visit. And if you can figure out the form of "Pleasure," then I challenge you to attempt one of those yourself. Greg McBride is right now taking up the challenge.

The Beginning of My Movie Career

2009-08-31T08:00:00.001-04:00

I've been practicing what Todd Boss preaches (see my previous post), i.e., sitting at the computer and making a video with audio of me reading my poem, "The Fruitful Woman," from my book, Eve's Red Dress. I decided to begin with a short poem so I'd get less frustrated when things bombed and I had to begin over. But really, the whole thing was pretty easy.

I also decided that for this one I'd make a video from photos that fit my poem. So first I had to round up a boatload of photos. In the end I ended up with many more than I needed and had to do some strategic cutting. I'd previously used an external microphone to record myself reading some poems, but with my new iMac I now have a good quality internal mic so thought I should learn how to use that.

I first put the photos in what seemed like a sensible order. Then I did a voice over which could not have been easier. I wasn't satisfied with my first several efforts—frog in throat, AC kicking on in the background, too fast, etc. But that was no problem. Just delete the voice over and make a new one. Once I had one that I thought was decent, I fiddled around with the order of the photos and the length of time each would be displayed. Again, very easy. Added a credit page at the beginning and end. Sent the whole thing off to YouTube.

After I was well into this project, the new Snow Leopard arrived at my front door. This upgrade for the Mac includes a new Quick Time which enhances your ability to make videos and audios. I wanted to see how that worked even though I was already set with my finished project. Again, easy to make an audio. One problem I had, though, was saving the recording to iTunes as an audio so that it could be dragged and dropped into a movie project. I eventually figured it out, but I think that's one unexpected glitch in the new program.

Now my next project is to make a movie of me reading one of Shakepeare's sonnets. I want to send that to the Our Daily Sonnet project.

Using Audio to Spread the Word

2009-08-27T15:11:00.011-04:00

I've recently become increasingly interested in the various ways that poets might use audio and video production to put their poetry out into the world. If you can't get to California to give a reading, how about bringing California to your website or blog where you've posted some podcasts and videos? After all, historically, poetry is an oral art form. How hard do we work to get music into our lines? And yet, most often we encounter poetry only on the page.

So I was really pleased to get the new Poets & Writers and find an article, "The Audio Revolution," by poet Todd Boss, whose first collection, Yellowrocket, was published by Norton in 2008. Todd's thesis is that while we have at our disposal many ways to quite easily make our poems available in audio forms we continue to rely almost exclusively on print forms, a practice that Todd sees as outdated and not in our best interests. With the internet and its limitless audio opportunities, we could reach a much wider "listening" audience. He suggests that we follow the model used by musicians. By the way, although this article focuses on audio, I think the same points apply equally well to video presentations. In fact, many of the examples Todd points us to combine audio and video.

Todd has a cousin who is a musician, so he used him and his studio to get started. If you visit Todd's website, you'll find examples of his audio and video recordings. When Todd's manuscript was published by Norton, review copies were sent out with CDs featuring some of the poems. What a great way to get people interested in your book!

Todd has since worked with other musicians and has given several readings accompanied by musicians. I've long been wishing that more venues would combine poetry with music. One reading I especially enjoyed giving was at Northampton Community College in Pennsylvania where I was booked along with jazz musicians, Nancy and Spencer Reed. I'd like more of those! Todd also points out that musicians tend to get paid more often and just plain more than poets get paid. True again—Northampton remains one of the best-paying readings I've had.

The article also provides a number of online sites for readers to visit. One is Motion Poems where audio files have been combined with animated videos. Although the article suggests that you might have the same thing done with your poems, the site has only 6 videos posted—5 of them by Todd and one with a poem by Major Jackson. And there's a note that poems are taken by solicitation only. Nevertheless, the site is worth a visit to see what can be done.

Todd also provides some of the technical information you might need. Most new computers now come with the capacity to make audio and video. If you're not satisfied with your computer's audio, Todd suggests a few inexpensive microphones. He also recommends a call-in site, drop.io, where you can phone in or upload audio files that will be hosted at the site. I know that gcast.com provides the same service but no longer offers the phone-in option for free. This site appears easier to use, but drop.io also appears to offer storage space for video and web pages as well. If you have a poem in an online journal and that poem is about to disappear, you can preserve it at this site.

Finally, Todd does not suggest that audio options will replace the printed page, but suggests that they can be used to supplement the printed page. Makes sense to me. So now I'm working on a few practice videos with audio.

Do You Recycle?

2009-08-23T06:00:00.000-04:00

I'm talking about recycling your writing. I love it when I get a piece published and then later reprinted somewhere else. Getting that extra mileage is especially gratifying if the first publication source had a limited circulation or hit a distant part of the country. I also like to go from print to online and the other way around. Of course, opportunities to republish poems in journals are very limited, and I find that the number of journals that do republish tend to be, well, not so hot.

My favorite way to get a piece back into circulation is anthologies, maybe because I really like anthologies. I'm fussy, though, about which proposed anthologies I send to. I've had several experiences where I've submitted, had the poem or poems accepted, then waited and waited, only to learn that the project wasn't going to fly. Not much lost since the work had already been published. Still, it's annoying. So for the most part, I submit only to anthologies that already have a publication agreement or ones whose editors solicit my work.

My earlier blog post on obsession was originally written a few years ago in response to a call for brief essays on that topic. Each essay was to be accompanied by a poem that illustrated the obsession. Cool idea for an anthology! I wrote the piece, added the poem "Organic Fruit" which had previously been published in the Seattle Review, and sent in my submission. It was accepted. Then I waited. And waited. Queried and was told things were moving slowly, but moving. Many months later it became apparent that the two editors had never even gotten as far as completing their proposal. The project died. One dead essay. But the poem was reprinted in the 2009 Alhambra Poetry Calendar.

Then back in April another blogger invited other bloggers to guest blog at her site. I dug out the essay and the poem and sent them to her. She posted them but could not get the poem formatted correctly. Obviously, that's a poem where format is critical. We went back and forth a few times, but she just couldn't get it right, so I eventually asked her to just delete the post. Essay died again.

Then a few weeks ago Red Room invited their blogging members to post on the topic of obsession. They would then select a handful to feature. So I again dug out the essay and posted it there, but without the poem as I didn't think the poem would format correctly there. My piece was one of ten featured. Nice. Then I thought, hey, why not get a bit more mileage out of this piece and repost at this site. So that's the history of that bit of recycling.

Another kind of recycling that I like is when a poem of mine appears somewhere and some bloggers find it and post it at their sites. I know that not all poets like that. Some are offended if they are not first asked for permission. I don't mind at all as long as the reposter doesn't butcher the poem or mangle my name. Really, I think recycling is cool. What do you think?

Poetry, Tomatoes, and Coffee

2009-08-19T06:00:00.000-04:00

On Saturday, August 15, I had a signing for my book, What Feeds Us, at The Fine Grind, a lovely coffee shop in a nearby town. I didn't know it was lovely as I hadn't been there before, but I did know that it had been voted #1 Coffeehouse in northern New Jersey by NJ Monthly Magazine. I also knew that the shop had recently begun a book signing series called "The Fine Print," so when I heard they were looking for authors, I contacted their events coordinator, Jessica Maarek, and we picked a date.

I went with little expectation of much happening. Middle of August, peak vacation time, temperature in the mid-90's, book close to its third birthday, venue close to home where I figured that anyone who wanted my book already had it. Wrong! We had a nice turnout and I sold a goodly number of books. Met some nice people. The time zipped right along, unlike the last signing I did where I sat and watched the clock.

Two unexpected perks: 1) An invitation to give a reading in the spring at a fairly nearby venue where I haven't read before, and 2) An interview with Diane Lilli, founder of and editor and main reporter for The Jersey Tomato, a new online newspaper. Diane, it turned out, loves poetry and graduated from Emerson where she just missed Tom Lux. She came to the signing and we had a nice conversation. She hopes to begin featuring a poem a week in the newspaper. I love that idea!

The article, A Poetic Feast, was posted in the newspaper on Monday, August 17. It includes my poem "Linguini." (By the way, I wasn't as drunk as I appear to be in that photo. If I was under the influence, it was the influence of poetry.)

This experience once again proves that we writers must take advantage of opportunities that come our way. We never know what other doors might open when we pass through one door.

I was the first poet hosted by The Fine Grind. The owners, Rhonda and Jon Mallek, hope to have more. I applaud the efforts of anyone who is helping to bring more literature into our lives, especially more poetry. To encourage more support for their authors, Rhonda and Jon and Jessica have put up bookcases in a cozy back corner. There they stock books by their visiting authors.

This experience also whet my appetite for a nice Jersey beefsteak tomato, so I went to the farm this morning and bought one that's almost as pretty as the one in the painting above. Also picked up some nice white corn.

Writing about Obsessions

2009-08-15T12:00:00.000-04:00

I'm a bit obsessive about fruit. I keep coming back for more. I’m often asked why I write poems about fruit—the strawberry, blueberry, apricot, apple, and others. This obsession with fruit is part of a larger obsession with food in general. Of course, it goes back to my childhood. I was a fussy eater whose father insisted that every plate be cleaned. I became adept at surreptitiously getting rid of what I could not bear to swallow. I made unnecessary trips to the bathroom to flush away wads of liver. I coughed asparagus into napkins. I stuffed my pockets with filet of sole. I plastered cottage ham under the dining room table. I risked danger. Food could get me in trouble.

In early adolescence I was a bit pudgy. The foods I loved—cake, cookies, candy, ice cream sundaes—were prohibited by my father who wanted me slender. My cravings only increased. I longed for something sweet and sticky. On the sly I consumed entire jars of Marshmallow Fluff.

I went to Sunday school, racking up eleven years of perfect attendance. That’s where I first met Eve and learned about the garden, the snake, and the apple. I must have filed all of that away for future use. Fruit, temptation, capitulation.

And then I saw the 1963 film, Tom Jones. I was mesmerized by that famous eating scene in which Tom and a buxom woman he meets at an inn sit at opposite ends of a long table and proceed to rip apart chicken legs and stuff their faces with juicy grapes, all the while gazing at each other with—yes!—seduction in their eyes. Food and sex. Of course! An extension of the apple.

I have been punished for my transgressions. Several years ago I developed a cranky stomach. Right at the top of the list of foods I could no longer eat—most of my favorite fruits. I only want them more. I am tantalized by their colors and aromas, their suggestive shapes, their various textures, the seeds, the skin. They are dangerous. They will make me suffer. I only want them more.

Writing about fruit is my way of getting what I want.

Organic Fruit

I want to sing
a song worthy of
the avocado, renegade
fruit, strict individualist, pear
gone crazy. Praise to its skin

like an armadillo’s, the refusal
to adulate beauty. Schmoo-shaped
and always face forward, it is what it
is. Kudos to its courage, its inherent love
of democracy. Hosannas for its motley coat,
neither black, brown, nor green, but purple-hued,
like a bruise. Unlike the obstreperous coconut, the

avocado yields to the knife, surrenders its hide of leather,
blade sliding under the skin and stripping the fruit. Praise
to its nakedness posed before me, homely, yellow-green,
and slippery, bottom-heavy like a woman in a Renoir, her
flesh soft velvet. I cup the fruit in my palm, slice and hold,
slice and hold, down to the stone at the core, firm fist at the
center. Pale peridot crescents slip out, like slivers of moon.
Exquisite moment of ripeness! a dash of salt, the first bite
squishes between tongue and palate, eases down my

throat, oozes vitamins and oil. Could anything be more
delicious, more digestible? Plaudits to its versatility,
yummy in Cobb salad, saucy in guacamole, boldly
stuffed with crabmeat. My avocado dangles from
a tree, lifts its puckered face to the sun, pulls
all that light inside. Praise it for being small,
misshapen, and durable. Praise it for
the largeness of its heart.

You're Invited to a Book Signing

2009-08-12T06:00:00.000-04:00

Saturday, August 15
I'll be doing a book signing for What Feeds Us
The Fine Grind
Plaza Farnese
101 rt. 23 / Pompton Ave.
Little Falls, NJ
Come for some poetry
Come for some coffee and goodies
10:00 AM - 12:00 noon

THE FINE GRIND WAS VOTED #1 COFFEEHOUSE IN NORTHERN NEW JERSEY BY NJ MONTHLY