To each other, if nothing else-
Check out this blog post by Oscar Bermeo re: Charles Simic and the state of poetry.
I commented : (edited)
I agree with you completely! I facilitate and participate in readings in the Richmond, VA area and while we have an active poetry communiy, if twenty people attend a reading, it's a raving success.
Simic could easily use his position to promote, rather than assume since he gets a crowd poetry is healthy. His last visit here was packed because tickets were given away and poetry students at two local colleges were required to attend.
The responsibility is ours, too. There is nothing more annoying than the poet who reads and leaves with his or her entourage. Or the poet who refuses to go to open mikes because they might hear "bad" poetry. A well-run open mike gives everyone a chance but doesn't let anyone dominate, bad or good.
More from my perspective:
One of my pets peeves involves the various poets who do readings when they have books to promote but never attend any local events or support local poetry. I will excuse older folks, who do have trouble with night driving, but an occasional visit to open mikes would increase their local status and maybe sell a book or two. (Hint- those are the people who will follow your career and buy your next book).
Another peeve is the university community and their apparent disdain of non-academic poetry. If I hear one more time "well, they're so busy." I might go postal! We're all busy, some of us REALLY busy and our poetry is written in the tiny spaces we carve out of our quite busy lives.
(Hint- those are the busy people who will follow your career and buy your books).
Poetry is dead when it cannot connect with the world in which it is created (there may be rare exceptions, but we don't know those poets- yet). A reading or open mike may be painful occasionally, but it may also be painfully sublime.
Support Your Local Poets!
Monday, February 04, 2008
Sunday, February 03, 2008
NYC was amazing!
Saw friends Dave Anchel, Claudia Emerson, Carolyn Foronda, Sheri Reynolds, Ron Smith, David Wojahn, Thom Ward, Mary Flinn, Tim Suermondt, and a whole passle of VCU faculty and students.
Met in person (some for the first time though I know them on the internet, some at the terrain.org reading) C. Dale Young, Paul Guest, Dennis Loy Johnson, Denise Duchamel, Wyn Cooper, Simmons Buntin, Scott Calhoun, Susan Frickshorn, David Rothenberg, Deborah Fries, and many more that I'll have to dig out of my memory banks!!
I'll do a longer report later, but I saw and heard so very much! I don't think I'll go to Chicago, unless I hit the lottery, but DC in 2010 looks pretty likely.
In the meantime, I'm going to start saving money for the West Virginia Writer's Workshop in July and the Dodge Poetry Festival in the fall (we're trying to get a group from Richmond to go).
Poetry Lives!
Met in person (some for the first time though I know them on the internet, some at the terrain.org reading) C. Dale Young, Paul Guest, Dennis Loy Johnson, Denise Duchamel, Wyn Cooper, Simmons Buntin, Scott Calhoun, Susan Frickshorn, David Rothenberg, Deborah Fries, and many more that I'll have to dig out of my memory banks!!
I'll do a longer report later, but I saw and heard so very much! I don't think I'll go to Chicago, unless I hit the lottery, but DC in 2010 looks pretty likely.
In the meantime, I'm going to start saving money for the West Virginia Writer's Workshop in July and the Dodge Poetry Festival in the fall (we're trying to get a group from Richmond to go).
Poetry Lives!
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Suzanne Pleshette Dies in Los Angeles
wow- my life flashing before me
She was married to the late Tom Poston- I saw him in a small theater production back in the 70's- he was excellent.
Sad, sad, sad.
She was married to the late Tom Poston- I saw him in a small theater production back in the 70's- he was excellent.
Sad, sad, sad.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
why poetry? why not something useful?
yeah, that.
If you're lucky your friends like your stuff, or say they do (when they bother to pay attention), maybe you feel a little better spilling your brain squeezin's onto a nice clean sheet of paper, maybe it's even more active than playing the nine-thousandth of freecell, but what is it really all for??
Go to that reading, slam, workshop, take your golf claps, shout-outs, and thinly veiled you-sucks and keep drooling those word strings all over your bib, baby-
for all the good it'll do
If you're lucky your friends like your stuff, or say they do (when they bother to pay attention), maybe you feel a little better spilling your brain squeezin's onto a nice clean sheet of paper, maybe it's even more active than playing the nine-thousandth of freecell, but what is it really all for??
Go to that reading, slam, workshop, take your golf claps, shout-outs, and thinly veiled you-sucks and keep drooling those word strings all over your bib, baby-
for all the good it'll do
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Poetry and Poop
Composed by john updike, just before Valentine's Day 1989 (published in the Oxford American)
“The Beautiful Bowel Movement”
by John Updike
Though most of them aren’t much to write about—
mere squibs and nubs, like half-smoked pale cigars,
the tint and stink recalling Tuesday’s meal,
the texture loose and soon dissolved—this one,
struck off in solitude one afternoon
(that prairie stretch before the late light fails)
with no distinct sensation, sweet or pained,
of special inspiration or release,
was yet a masterpiece: a flawless coil,
unbroken, in the bowl, as if a potter
who worked in this most frail, least grateful clay
had set himself to shape a topaz vase.
O spiral perfection, not seashell nor
stardust, how can I keep you? With this poem.
(and i thought the South Park boys did it first)
“The Beautiful Bowel Movement”
by John Updike
Though most of them aren’t much to write about—
mere squibs and nubs, like half-smoked pale cigars,
the tint and stink recalling Tuesday’s meal,
the texture loose and soon dissolved—this one,
struck off in solitude one afternoon
(that prairie stretch before the late light fails)
with no distinct sensation, sweet or pained,
of special inspiration or release,
was yet a masterpiece: a flawless coil,
unbroken, in the bowl, as if a potter
who worked in this most frail, least grateful clay
had set himself to shape a topaz vase.
O spiral perfection, not seashell nor
stardust, how can I keep you? With this poem.
(and i thought the South Park boys did it first)
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Poets and calendar conflicts
As usual, no one thinks to check what's going on where before they set up readings, so-
tonight: (I have to be at the museum, but would love to hear Ron and Buffy read)
Poets BUFFY MORGAN & RON SMITH
will read from their new books Moon Road and Without a Philosophy,
both published recently by LSU Press at the
PAGE BOND GALLERY
1625 W. MAIN
Richmond, VA(middle of the block west of Lombardy)
THURSDAY, JAN 17 at 7pm
No charge for admission
AND
at the VMFA Art After Hours program
ART OF POETRY: Steven Kovach, VCU MFA candidate at 6:30 and 7:30
MUSIC: Adrian Duke Projek- New Orleans Style Blues
WINE, BEER AND SPECIALTY COCKTAILS: Grüner Veltliners are featured, plus specialty cocktails from our expert mixologists6:30 & 7 pm
TOPIC TOUR: Art a la carte 8 pm
ART MOMENT: Jeffrey Allison- Paul Mellon Collection Educator
FRIENDS OF ART SILENT AUCTION: View & bid on works of art by local & regional artists
tonight: (I have to be at the museum, but would love to hear Ron and Buffy read)
Poets BUFFY MORGAN & RON SMITH
will read from their new books Moon Road and Without a Philosophy,
both published recently by LSU Press at the
PAGE BOND GALLERY
1625 W. MAIN
Richmond, VA(middle of the block west of Lombardy)
THURSDAY, JAN 17 at 7pm
No charge for admission
AND
at the VMFA Art After Hours program
ART OF POETRY: Steven Kovach, VCU MFA candidate at 6:30 and 7:30
MUSIC: Adrian Duke Projek- New Orleans Style Blues
WINE, BEER AND SPECIALTY COCKTAILS: Grüner Veltliners are featured, plus specialty cocktails from our expert mixologists6:30 & 7 pm
TOPIC TOUR: Art a la carte 8 pm
ART MOMENT: Jeffrey Allison- Paul Mellon Collection Educator
FRIENDS OF ART SILENT AUCTION: View & bid on works of art by local & regional artists
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
poetry contests and creativity
The Poetry Society of Virginia's annual contest deadline is January 19th (Edgar Allan Poe's birthday). Once again I will be throwing together a batch of entries to see what kind of luck I have with the PSV.
I was a member for years but recently let my membership expire, more because of lack of funds than anything, though I do have a few beefs and annoyance at some certain folks who hold the group back.
It's a very gray, very white organization- is that not being very politic? At (now 58) I had been one of the younger members. Until this year, most of the judges for contests have been members (thus guaranteeing the 'quality' of the winners- or you could argue that 'blandness' would be a better word). The poems were good- but BORING.
(That being said, except for last year I have consistently won and placed in the categories, though I got big nothing last year- I seriously question whether or not my entries got there- some were prize winners for other national contests)
A big effort was made to have 'outside' (non-member) judges this year, though some of those picked are still the School of Quietude folks that will make no appreciable difference in the results, I have great reservations about what will really happen.
I want to be a member- and will be when I enter the contest and pay the fee- I want to support the PSV and see it as a viable voice for poetry in Virginia, but I don't really know if that's possible.
Three years ago, I helped get money to start the Slam Richmond effort- PSV sponsor prizes through the various writing programs for universities in Virginia (sometimes a continuation of the SQ poets), they carry on the tradition of poets and poetry, but I can't say there's much else going on that gives me hope for the future
and before you tell me to put my time and effort where my complaints are- I was a member, vice-president, poetry in the schools chair, and exec comm member for years-
I was a member for years but recently let my membership expire, more because of lack of funds than anything, though I do have a few beefs and annoyance at some certain folks who hold the group back.
It's a very gray, very white organization- is that not being very politic? At (now 58) I had been one of the younger members. Until this year, most of the judges for contests have been members (thus guaranteeing the 'quality' of the winners- or you could argue that 'blandness' would be a better word). The poems were good- but BORING.
(That being said, except for last year I have consistently won and placed in the categories, though I got big nothing last year- I seriously question whether or not my entries got there- some were prize winners for other national contests)
A big effort was made to have 'outside' (non-member) judges this year, though some of those picked are still the School of Quietude folks that will make no appreciable difference in the results, I have great reservations about what will really happen.
I want to be a member- and will be when I enter the contest and pay the fee- I want to support the PSV and see it as a viable voice for poetry in Virginia, but I don't really know if that's possible.
Three years ago, I helped get money to start the Slam Richmond effort- PSV sponsor prizes through the various writing programs for universities in Virginia (sometimes a continuation of the SQ poets), they carry on the tradition of poets and poetry, but I can't say there's much else going on that gives me hope for the future
and before you tell me to put my time and effort where my complaints are- I was a member, vice-president, poetry in the schools chair, and exec comm member for years-
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
This really is the last chance to
see "The Fat Lady Sings"!
art 6, 6 east broad, 8pm, Saturday January 12th- $10
I'll sing Sondheim and more, Doris Day hits, Judy Garland, and a little bit of Wilco and Todd Rundgren- and tell barely believable tales about my wild Texas childhood-
Friday Night I'll be playing piano at ComedySportz for the ten pm I-Prov show- it's actually a three-part showcase of all the late night treats you'll encounter there, so c'mon call266-YESS and reserve a seat.
Sunday we have poetry at Shockoe Espresso in the slip 2-4pm
and the Henley Street Theater Company opens "The Spanish Tragedy" this weekend (preview Jan 10th) I'm not in that, though I helped with costumes- my daughter is the costumer.
So much to do this weekend!!
art 6, 6 east broad, 8pm, Saturday January 12th- $10
I'll sing Sondheim and more, Doris Day hits, Judy Garland, and a little bit of Wilco and Todd Rundgren- and tell barely believable tales about my wild Texas childhood-
Friday Night I'll be playing piano at ComedySportz for the ten pm I-Prov show- it's actually a three-part showcase of all the late night treats you'll encounter there, so c'mon call266-YESS and reserve a seat.
Sunday we have poetry at Shockoe Espresso in the slip 2-4pm
and the Henley Street Theater Company opens "The Spanish Tragedy" this weekend (preview Jan 10th) I'm not in that, though I helped with costumes- my daughter is the costumer.
So much to do this weekend!!
Friday, January 04, 2008
Birthday poem 1-4-50
Everything is easier in water
I can almost remember when
to bend meant nothing, its arc
jubilant, when a kiss was easy,
limbs in fluid motion, tended
to precise geometries, noses,
mouths put right immediately.
Fitting the bow of another's body
takes no thought, born aware, we
sense how to maneuver skin to skin.
The warm shower encourages
recollection, we are never closer
to birth than when we are wet,
some part engaged in gentle dance,
enough to create the longing ache,
then fill it, the earth's curve a bed.
I can almost remember when
to bend meant nothing, its arc
jubilant, when a kiss was easy,
limbs in fluid motion, tended
to precise geometries, noses,
mouths put right immediately.
Fitting the bow of another's body
takes no thought, born aware, we
sense how to maneuver skin to skin.
The warm shower encourages
recollection, we are never closer
to birth than when we are wet,
some part engaged in gentle dance,
enough to create the longing ache,
then fill it, the earth's curve a bed.
Monday, December 31, 2007
New Year's Poem
Before the ball falls, I will
finish the last poem, clear clutter,
fold pigs into blankets, roll cheese logs,
find the sheet music to Auld Lang Syne
bite my lip, chop almonds, hang clothes,
empty hampers, trash cans, superstitions
clamoring to be met with everything new,
though all I can think of is you, and then,
not this bleak year to come, my birthday.
I’ll never get the house clean by five pm
much less midnight, I should have started
after Christmas, should’ve said yes, left
that night when plowed snow blocked
all the parking spaces, black sky
quilted with lights, you against the angled car
to apologize, we'd wait for some sort of magic
on nights like that, tonight, here’s another
year gone and to come making do, holding
memories like a chalice to my bloody lip,
I am dizzy with awareness, with regret,
a child who doesn’t gets what she wants
because she never asks, chopping onions,
for help, chopping, chopping, rolling, humming,
I will close my eye to better remember, wish
away the kiss at midnight, that sad song.
finish the last poem, clear clutter,
fold pigs into blankets, roll cheese logs,
find the sheet music to Auld Lang Syne
bite my lip, chop almonds, hang clothes,
empty hampers, trash cans, superstitions
clamoring to be met with everything new,
though all I can think of is you, and then,
not this bleak year to come, my birthday.
I’ll never get the house clean by five pm
much less midnight, I should have started
after Christmas, should’ve said yes, left
that night when plowed snow blocked
all the parking spaces, black sky
quilted with lights, you against the angled car
to apologize, we'd wait for some sort of magic
on nights like that, tonight, here’s another
year gone and to come making do, holding
memories like a chalice to my bloody lip,
I am dizzy with awareness, with regret,
a child who doesn’t gets what she wants
because she never asks, chopping onions,
for help, chopping, chopping, rolling, humming,
I will close my eye to better remember, wish
away the kiss at midnight, that sad song.
Plans for next year
Write more, talk less, get a book manuscript together!
I'm pretty impressed with Lulu.com, the books from Reb Livingstom uses it for her books (Here's the The Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel - Second Floor- in which I have a poem. thank you)
And go to New York City January 31st to read poetry at the Cornelia Street Cafe!
And remember, The Fat Lady Sings one more time at art6, 6 east broad, January 12th at 8pm. $10 a person.
Friday, December 28, 2007
poems from other places
here's some interesting poems by John Ashbery.
Here's mine:
Proof
Finger tip to mosquito bite, rub
the itch away, now there, rub,
now there, now there, a flash
of something else not right, not
bound by strange secrets that hide
behind chairs, sit very very still,
mouse-like, sibilance skitters
up the door jam while shadows mark
the wall between photographs of us
as we once were. Would you lie
to make the story more believable?
Of course you would, you always have.
Here's mine:
Proof
Finger tip to mosquito bite, rub
the itch away, now there, rub,
now there, now there, a flash
of something else not right, not
bound by strange secrets that hide
behind chairs, sit very very still,
mouse-like, sibilance skitters
up the door jam while shadows mark
the wall between photographs of us
as we once were. Would you lie
to make the story more believable?
Of course you would, you always have.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
2008- coming soon with poetry
I have this weird and sudden feeling of well-being- as if I am somehow assured all will be taken care of, as if next year will prosperous and wonderful.
As if all my poems will be simply BRILLIANT!!!
Yours, too!
As if all my poems will be simply BRILLIANT!!!
Yours, too!
Thursday, December 13, 2007
The I Prov Holiday Special and The Fat Lady Sings (again)
Friday night at 10pm- An old-fashioned Holiday Special in the style of Perry Como, Andy Williams, and all those other guys in sweaters-
All- Music, All Parody, All Improv!
Richmond's (heck, Virginia's, no-the East Coast's, yeah, that's it!) only all music- all the time Comedy Improv group I Prov is performing for your pleasure!
Call ComedySportz for reservations- 266-YESS- do it NOW!
and on Sunday December 16th at Grace Church Episcopal in Goochland-
The Fat Lady Sings (again)
2955 River Road West (Goochland)
Potluck at 5:15, program begins at 6:00
followed by a festive sing-along!
All are welcome!
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Wait til you hear the song!!
You'll love it!!
A true Richmond Christmas Carol! (with a nod to Meredith Willson)
jack and jen in the morning 8am 103.7
Everybody will be talking about it!
Then come to ComedySportz at 10pm Friday December 14th and see the I Prov Christmas Special- I've heard Al Gore is coming to sing a green song for us! Reservations HERE
Seats are going fast- this is a hot show for a cold night!!
A true Richmond Christmas Carol! (with a nod to Meredith Willson)
jack and jen in the morning 8am 103.7
Everybody will be talking about it!
Then come to ComedySportz at 10pm Friday December 14th and see the I Prov Christmas Special- I've heard Al Gore is coming to sing a green song for us! Reservations HERE
Seats are going fast- this is a hot show for a cold night!!
I-Prov on the Radio!!
Be the first on your block to hear "The Richmond Christmas Song" tomorrow morning on the radio!!
It starts at 8:10 on The Mix 103.7 with Jack and Jen in the morning, the main song will play about 8:30- we'll be interviewed and make up songs on the spot!
Some of the members of I-Prov, the musical improv players from ComedySportz, went over today to make a recording. All the suggestions came from regular listeners from email and phonecalls- we didn't use them all- but we got a lot into a short parody.
It's poetry and music!
It starts at 8:10 on The Mix 103.7 with Jack and Jen in the morning, the main song will play about 8:30- we'll be interviewed and make up songs on the spot!
Some of the members of I-Prov, the musical improv players from ComedySportz, went over today to make a recording. All the suggestions came from regular listeners from email and phonecalls- we didn't use them all- but we got a lot into a short parody.
It's poetry and music!
Monday, December 10, 2007
The perfect gift- tickets to art after hours at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts
VMFA Ticket Desk or by phone at 340.1405
Tickets to all seven events are $60 (members $54) Single tickets are $10.
poetry readings at 6:30 and 7:00pm
January 10th Patrick Vickers
January 17th Stephen Kovach
January 24 Tarifa Faizullah
January 31 Angela Vogel
February 7 Catherine MacDonald
February 14 Michael Keller
February 21 Darren Morris
VMFA Ticket Desk or by phone at 340.1405
Tickets to all seven events are $60 (members $54) Single tickets are $10.
poetry readings at 6:30 and 7:00pm
January 10th Patrick Vickers
January 17th Stephen Kovach
January 24 Tarifa Faizullah
January 31 Angela Vogel
February 7 Catherine MacDonald
February 14 Michael Keller
February 21 Darren Morris
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Bend Your Ear poetry reading at art6 3-5 pm Sunday November 16th
Come read, come listen, come see the THINKSMALL 4 show on the walls.
It's not me
who's the crazy one
I'm only talking silence
solitude and silence
for a few hours, not forever
no clacking nuisance
at my ear, no whispered
requests, dinner, wine,
then disregard, needs met
earlier this afternoon when
you went out for brake fluid
I sat on the couch flipping
channels I wasn't watching
claiming the space that long
solitaire is not solitude is not
silence is not crazy
is not forever is not
me I'm not
the crazy one.
or you can go hear Ron Smith read from his new book, Moon Road, just out
Book People, 536 Granite Ave, 2-4 pm
Come read, come listen, come see the THINKSMALL 4 show on the walls.
It's not me
who's the crazy one
I'm only talking silence
solitude and silence
for a few hours, not forever
no clacking nuisance
at my ear, no whispered
requests, dinner, wine,
then disregard, needs met
earlier this afternoon when
you went out for brake fluid
I sat on the couch flipping
channels I wasn't watching
claiming the space that long
solitaire is not solitude is not
silence is not crazy
is not forever is not
me I'm not
the crazy one.
or you can go hear Ron Smith read from his new book, Moon Road, just out
Book People, 536 Granite Ave, 2-4 pm
Monday, November 05, 2007
Famous poet in town THIS WEEK!!!
NEWS-
November 8th- CK Williams reading from Collected poems,Thursday, Nov. 8, 2007, 8 p.m. It will be held at the VCU Business Auditorium.
DO NOT MISS THIS!!
Read the poem "Tar" here
NEWS-
November 8th- CK Williams reading from Collected poems,Thursday, Nov. 8, 2007, 8 p.m. It will be held at the VCU Business Auditorium.
DO NOT MISS THIS!!
Read the poem "Tar" here
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
The best way to prepare for a big show is to alienate and annoy your family.
Works for me anyway- I'm very self-centered right now getting ready for my "FAT LADY SINGS" Sunday night at ComedySportz at 7pm. I'm trying to get the words memorized, work on chords for "Dust in the Wind" - NO NOT THE KANSAS SONG! The one by Todd Rundgren!
It would be so nice to have peace and quiet, maybe meditation time, a hot bath, a cup of tea- instead I have to negotiate (fight) with my son about not having a friend over tomorrow night.
I can only hope it gives me that edge I need to really sing my heart out.
What was that old David Letterman tag line? Something like "I give and I give and I give, and this it thanks I get??"
yeah, that's it.
Come to the show- it'll be great, you'll have a good time- I promise.
Works for me anyway- I'm very self-centered right now getting ready for my "FAT LADY SINGS" Sunday night at ComedySportz at 7pm. I'm trying to get the words memorized, work on chords for "Dust in the Wind" - NO NOT THE KANSAS SONG! The one by Todd Rundgren!
It would be so nice to have peace and quiet, maybe meditation time, a hot bath, a cup of tea- instead I have to negotiate (fight) with my son about not having a friend over tomorrow night.
I can only hope it gives me that edge I need to really sing my heart out.
What was that old David Letterman tag line? Something like "I give and I give and I give, and this it thanks I get??"
yeah, that's it.
Come to the show- it'll be great, you'll have a good time- I promise.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Repent
I have ruffled petticoats older
than you, my otiose offspring,
with no one to left inculpate
but your maternal grandparents.
My, they were a pair of japes,
short-lived and filled with fluff.
There is a balm, of course
there is, a way to rise above
this square dance do-si-do
out of a turn about's fair-play
excursion into indulging you:
too much love, too long time.
It was not for me, a spindle
turned smooth by the chase
for the safer road, a grind
toward some vanishing point,
wrought wonky at their hands,
I was young and disinclined
to hear Timewise, it was jangle-
as all the addled ducks scattered,
their late parliamentary laws askew,
consistent order devalued
as this year's model driven off
the lot, new car scent gone too soon.
I have ruffled petticoats older
than you, my otiose offspring,
with no one to left inculpate
but your maternal grandparents.
My, they were a pair of japes,
short-lived and filled with fluff.
There is a balm, of course
there is, a way to rise above
this square dance do-si-do
out of a turn about's fair-play
excursion into indulging you:
too much love, too long time.
It was not for me, a spindle
turned smooth by the chase
for the safer road, a grind
toward some vanishing point,
wrought wonky at their hands,
I was young and disinclined
to hear Timewise, it was jangle-
as all the addled ducks scattered,
their late parliamentary laws askew,
consistent order devalued
as this year's model driven off
the lot, new car scent gone too soon.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Please come!
THE FAT LADY SINGS!
Shann Palmer sings Broadway hits and more,
the great old songs, the ones you seldom hear!
She may throw in a poem or two!
Oct 21st at
ComedySportz Improv Theatre
Shann Palmer sings Broadway hits and more,
the great old songs, the ones you seldom hear!
She may throw in a poem or two!
Oct 21st at
ComedySportz Improv Theatre
7115-a Staples Mill Road
for reservations call: 266-9377
7pm (doors open at 6:15)
tickets $10
light supper menu available
You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll sing along!
(All ticket proceeds will go to sending Shann to NYC in January to read poetry at the Cornelia Street Cafe during the AWP conference- well, that and the piano player, the waitresses, maybe a fancy dress for the show and a nice pair of shoes)
7pm (doors open at 6:15)
tickets $10
light supper menu available
You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll sing along!
(All ticket proceeds will go to sending Shann to NYC in January to read poetry at the Cornelia Street Cafe during the AWP conference- well, that and the piano player, the waitresses, maybe a fancy dress for the show and a nice pair of shoes)
Saturday, October 13, 2007
The man who wrote the screenplay to the original "Little Shop of Horrors" has died. If you've never see the original Roger Corman film (it contains a very brief appearance by a then-unknown Jack Nicholson) go rent it NOW!
It's excellent Halloween fare.
It seems to me there are more Halloween displays this year- at least here in the Lakeside area.
I wonder if I've ever written an October poem?
It's excellent Halloween fare.
It seems to me there are more Halloween displays this year- at least here in the Lakeside area.
I wonder if I've ever written an October poem?
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Friday, October 05, 2007
That Kind of Girl
Yes, I am,
in my mother’s silk slip
rubbing all the right places
before I was sure
which places were
right
and which places were
very right
who
was allowed
and when
it was wrong
and when
it was very wrong
becoming
that kind of girl
behind closed doors
while
on the other side
I become something
very different.
Yes, I am,
in my mother’s silk slip
rubbing all the right places
before I was sure
which places were
right
and which places were
very right
who
was allowed
and when
it was wrong
and when
it was very wrong
becoming
that kind of girl
behind closed doors
while
on the other side
I become something
very different.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
My poem "Bread n' Butter Pickles" is up over at Moondance!
Published ten years ago in the now defunct Conspire, it has always been one of my favorite poems. I particularly like the painting they have up to accompany it!
Published ten years ago in the now defunct Conspire, it has always been one of my favorite poems. I particularly like the painting they have up to accompany it!
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
A Tuesday poem-
One Last Chance
In ten years, loyal glue
will have stuck me here
in spite of your wall,
indifferent convenience,
more than half my life.
I smell like bad cheese,
the furious stink of bitter
held in, every pedagogy
says, no- the writer is not
the story, somewhere else
the truth curls smoke
around implications,
summer porches where
nice people sit, drinking
up their creative alibis.
Is everyone half-blind?
Or is it just me, only
the lonely can make it
real, time catches flies,
waves traffic around
a stalled heart, shouts
"clear" then leaves
the room backwards
as if eye to eye combat
takes prisoners. Can I
go now? mouth set
for adventure, new
possibilities popping
in my ears, nothings
whispered at my neck.
One Last Chance
In ten years, loyal glue
will have stuck me here
in spite of your wall,
indifferent convenience,
more than half my life.
I smell like bad cheese,
the furious stink of bitter
held in, every pedagogy
says, no- the writer is not
the story, somewhere else
the truth curls smoke
around implications,
summer porches where
nice people sit, drinking
up their creative alibis.
Is everyone half-blind?
Or is it just me, only
the lonely can make it
real, time catches flies,
waves traffic around
a stalled heart, shouts
"clear" then leaves
the room backwards
as if eye to eye combat
takes prisoners. Can I
go now? mouth set
for adventure, new
possibilities popping
in my ears, nothings
whispered at my neck.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Here it is!! The official poster for "The Fat Lady Sings!"
Designed by the wonderful local artists Phillip Bowles, it's all about me and raising funds to get to New York City in February to read poetry for the Tenth Anniversary of Terrain.org zine and attend the AWP.
I'm going to sing songs you don't hear much any more- and a poem here and there, a story or two- like when Joy E. and I took off for NYC to 'make it in the big time' and woke up in Alamogordo, NM - well, maybe 'sobered up' is closer to the truth-
among other crazy tales......
Call for reservations 266-YESS
Friday, September 21, 2007
Friday, September 14, 2007
You know you're curious...
so call 266-YESS right now and reserve to see the I-Prov all music musical improv show tonight at 10pm at ComedySportz at Staples Mill and Hilliard (behind the Shoney's in the Ukrops strip mall, close to the Amtrak station).
The beer is cold, the players are hot and the piano lady is incredible!!!
Well, she's pretty good, anyway.
so call 266-YESS right now and reserve to see the I-Prov all music musical improv show tonight at 10pm at ComedySportz at Staples Mill and Hilliard (behind the Shoney's in the Ukrops strip mall, close to the Amtrak station).
The beer is cold, the players are hot and the piano lady is incredible!!!
Well, she's pretty good, anyway.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
COMEDYSPORTZ I-Prov
All music, all improv! Friday night at 10pm
Call 266-YESS for reservations-
Seriously, you will love this show- come see it this Friday!
and be sure and say Hey! to the piano player...
All music, all improv! Friday night at 10pm
Call 266-YESS for reservations-
Seriously, you will love this show- come see it this Friday!
and be sure and say Hey! to the piano player...
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
P O E T I C P R I N C I P L E S- Virginia Museum of Fine Arts
Series Tickets: $36 (VMFA members, students $28); single tickets $9 (VMFA members, students $7); Ticket Desk, 804.340.1405
This is an excellent grouping this year- I am particularly excited about them rescheduling David Baker, who led my poetry workshop at West Virginia University in 2005.
Series Tickets: $36 (VMFA members, students $28); single tickets $9 (VMFA members, students $7); Ticket Desk, 804.340.1405
DAVID BAKER Wed, Nov 28, Pauley Center, 6 pm Author of eight collections of poetry, Baker is a professor of English at Denison University and poetry editor of the Kenyon Review.
COMING POETIC PRINCIPLES EVENTS
BRIAN HENRY, Dec 5
TOMAZ SALAMUN, Feb 13, 2008
MEGHAN O’ROURKE, Feb 27, 2008
PETER ORNER, April 9, 2008
This continuing series is co-sponsored by the New Virginia Review, a leading literary and artistic organization of the Commonwealth.This is an excellent grouping this year- I am particularly excited about them rescheduling David Baker, who led my poetry workshop at West Virginia University in 2005.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Tonight!!!
at ArtSpace Gallery, Zero E. 4th St., Richmond, the Hypothetically Speaking Tour makes a stop, featuring spoken word artist Corey Houlihan and singer-songwriter Julia Carroll. Stop through and check out some art in motion (as in, up and down the East coast).
Georgia-based performers Julia Carroll and Corey Houlihan have teamed up for tour through the southeast. Beginning in Savannah, Georgia and concluding in south Florida, the two will travel the region making nine stops in eight different cities. Carroll is an acoustic singer-songwriter and Atlanta native who describes her music as "hardfolk," while Houlihan is a spoken word artist who hails from Long Island now residing in Georgia.
The two openly queer performers consider themselves activist artists and, through their work, frequently touch on political and social issues. Poet and author Michelle Tea on Houlihan: "I think we just found the missing link between Eminem and Gloria Steinem." Carroll, who recently released her sophomore recording, Migrating South is described by The Beltane Papers as "one of the tough and passionate young singer-songwriter musicians that will make you stop, think, and wonder what in the hell you are doing floating along in the mainstream music scene."
The Hypothetically Speaking Tour is a force to be reckoned with, literally.
at ArtSpace Gallery, Zero E. 4th St., Richmond, the Hypothetically Speaking Tour makes a stop, featuring spoken word artist Corey Houlihan and singer-songwriter Julia Carroll. Stop through and check out some art in motion (as in, up and down the East coast).
Georgia-based performers Julia Carroll and Corey Houlihan have teamed up for tour through the southeast. Beginning in Savannah, Georgia and concluding in south Florida, the two will travel the region making nine stops in eight different cities. Carroll is an acoustic singer-songwriter and Atlanta native who describes her music as "hardfolk," while Houlihan is a spoken word artist who hails from Long Island now residing in Georgia.
The two openly queer performers consider themselves activist artists and, through their work, frequently touch on political and social issues. Poet and author Michelle Tea on Houlihan: "I think we just found the missing link between Eminem and Gloria Steinem." Carroll, who recently released her sophomore recording, Migrating South is described by The Beltane Papers as "one of the tough and passionate young singer-songwriter musicians that will make you stop, think, and wonder what in the hell you are doing floating along in the mainstream music scene."
The Hypothetically Speaking Tour is a force to be reckoned with, literally.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
See what browsing the web looking for the date of the Levis Prize reading can get you? Oh yeah, it's September 27th and the winner is Joshua Weiner- more info to follow.
anyway, I found this on Steve Scafidi- a previous Levis winner.
Lots of poets and writers in West Virginia.
Wet and Wild- yeah!
anyway, I found this on Steve Scafidi- a previous Levis winner.
Lots of poets and writers in West Virginia.
Wet and Wild- yeah!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
I-Prov!!
All-music, all improv! the new 10pm show at ComedySportz Richmond-
This Friday, thereafter every 2nd and 4th Friday at 10pm
Reserve your seat now! Call 266-YESS or you might end up sitting with the piano player (that would be me).
Here's a taste ooo- here's another!
All-music, all improv! the new 10pm show at ComedySportz Richmond-
This Friday, thereafter every 2nd and 4th Friday at 10pm
Reserve your seat now! Call 266-YESS or you might end up sitting with the piano player (that would be me).
Here's a taste ooo- here's another!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Poetry in Motion- vidpo
Here are some video clips of Ashbery work- they take pithy places and make poster riffs- you can click on the whole poem, or simply be happy with what's there.
makes me wish I was still teaching high school creative writing-
almost.
Here are some video clips of Ashbery work- they take pithy places and make poster riffs- you can click on the whole poem, or simply be happy with what's there.
makes me wish I was still teaching high school creative writing-
almost.
Someone at MTV reads poetry, imagine that!!
They appointed a poet laureate and will have a contest (for college students)
I think it's great, if a little strange. Does anyone else remember the poetry contest that introduced the perfume Poeme? All flurry and no big finish. The winners were a few famous poets (no doubt handpicked) and some others that were barely passable as poetry.
follow the money.....
They appointed a poet laureate and will have a contest (for college students)
I think it's great, if a little strange. Does anyone else remember the poetry contest that introduced the perfume Poeme? All flurry and no big finish. The winners were a few famous poets (no doubt handpicked) and some others that were barely passable as poetry.
follow the money.....
Monday, August 27, 2007
poem removed for revision and submission...
You can always come hear it read at the next Shockoe Poets Open Mike
So many journals refuse to publish anything that has been seen anywhere, even on a personal blog, it has to be like this. I guess the ten to thirty of you who read my blog on a given day might not buy an issue of Seattle Esoteric Poetica (not a real zine) if it's full of poems seen in Richmond. Thanks you to the occasional strangers who comment, and the many friends, I appreciate your suggestions and time.
You can always come hear it read at the next Shockoe Poets Open Mike
The longest running open mike in Richmond, includes regulars, virgins, new residents, and features. Every 2nd and 4th Sunday from 2:00 to 4:00 pm at Shockoe Espresso, 104 Shockoe Slip.
So many journals refuse to publish anything that has been seen anywhere, even on a personal blog, it has to be like this. I guess the ten to thirty of you who read my blog on a given day might not buy an issue of Seattle Esoteric Poetica (not a real zine) if it's full of poems seen in Richmond. Thanks you to the occasional strangers who comment, and the many friends, I appreciate your suggestions and time.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Sunday Poetry at Shockoe Espresso
104 Shockoe Slip
2pm to 4pm
Open mike, all voices welcome!
The longest running open mike in Richmond, no doubt about it-
The poets are gearing up for fall, some new venues, workshops, a renewed emphasis on taking your writing to the next level. As the Supertramp song asks- Where do we go from here?
Keep checking here and at FlashPaperPoetry for details...
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Which wine with a bacon-lettuce-tomato sandwich?
I'm tempted to say Ripple, but I'm not even sure they make that anymore. So I look on Google and found this great blog- Bacon Unwrapped. What great site! And thanks to the Atkins diet, I can eat bacon-
The wine will just be my cheat today- I had just bought a sweet little thing from the Little Penguin an Australian winery. This is a summer white- a chardonnay-riesling blend.
s'okay with a BLT. A nice unoffensive thing (the wine, not the sandwich).
guess I'll write a poem now.
I'm tempted to say Ripple, but I'm not even sure they make that anymore. So I look on Google and found this great blog- Bacon Unwrapped. What great site! And thanks to the Atkins diet, I can eat bacon-
The wine will just be my cheat today- I had just bought a sweet little thing from the Little Penguin an Australian winery. This is a summer white- a chardonnay-riesling blend.
s'okay with a BLT. A nice unoffensive thing (the wine, not the sandwich).
guess I'll write a poem now.
The Write Church-
"On Friday, September 14, The Diocese of Virginia will join with the Library of Virginia and James River Writers in co-sponsoring a viewing of Philip Groning's film, "Into Great Silence." This critically acclaimed documentary, first released in 2005, charts the lives of the Carthusian monks, one of the world's most severe and ascetic monastic orders. Mr. Groning lived with the monks in their abbey in the French Alps for six months, filming their daily activities.
Also joining the viewing will be author Nancy Klein Maguire. In her book, An Infinity of Little Hours, Ms. Maguire explores the life choices of five men as they contemplate joining the order. Ms. Maguire will open the evening with a presentation on the rigors and rewards of the contemplative Carthusian life.
The viewing will take place at The Library of Virginia, 800 East Broad Street, in Richmond. Tickets will be on sale for $15, $10 for students, and include complimentary cocktails and hors d'oeuvres. For more information, visit www.jamesriverwriters.com or call 804-230-4575. "
"On Friday, September 14, The Diocese of Virginia will join with the Library of Virginia and James River Writers in co-sponsoring a viewing of Philip Groning's film, "Into Great Silence." This critically acclaimed documentary, first released in 2005, charts the lives of the Carthusian monks, one of the world's most severe and ascetic monastic orders. Mr. Groning lived with the monks in their abbey in the French Alps for six months, filming their daily activities.
Also joining the viewing will be author Nancy Klein Maguire. In her book, An Infinity of Little Hours, Ms. Maguire explores the life choices of five men as they contemplate joining the order. Ms. Maguire will open the evening with a presentation on the rigors and rewards of the contemplative Carthusian life.
The viewing will take place at The Library of Virginia, 800 East Broad Street, in Richmond. Tickets will be on sale for $15, $10 for students, and include complimentary cocktails and hors d'oeuvres. For more information, visit www.jamesriverwriters.com or call 804-230-4575. "
Monday, August 20, 2007
Saturday, August 18, 2007
SLAM RICHMOND TONIGHT!
From Tom Prunier...
Come one, come all to the final event of SlamRichmond's "Season Too," featuring a farewell performance by Team Richmond 2007 and a poetry slam judged by the team, open to the first 10 poets to sign up.
It all goes down tomorrow night (8/18) at ArtSpace Gallery , Zero E. 4th St., Richmond, VA 23224, at 8PM. Hosted by Team Richmond member Transition, this promises to be the blowout of all blowouts.
This is also the farewell to outgoing slam master Tom Sanchez Prunier, who will relinquish his post to a slam master to be named later.
The raffle will be in full effect, as will the Madmonkie Beer & Wine Bar, so come, bring a measly $5 to get in, and be inspired, be very inspired one final time...
From Tom Prunier...
Come one, come all to the final event of SlamRichmond's "Season Too," featuring a farewell performance by Team Richmond 2007 and a poetry slam judged by the team, open to the first 10 poets to sign up.
It all goes down tomorrow night (8/18) at ArtSpace Gallery , Zero E. 4th St., Richmond, VA 23224, at 8PM. Hosted by Team Richmond member Transition, this promises to be the blowout of all blowouts.
This is also the farewell to outgoing slam master Tom Sanchez Prunier, who will relinquish his post to a slam master to be named later.
The raffle will be in full effect, as will the Madmonkie Beer & Wine Bar, so come, bring a measly $5 to get in, and be inspired, be very inspired one final time...
Friday, August 17, 2007
bringing home the bacon, yeah, the bacon...
Poetry, poetry- here's a really funny post on Poetic Orientation
Thanks, C Dale
Do you love Dick?? That is Philip K.
What in the world did you think I meant????
A Simic poem
In the New Yorker, of course.
Poetry, poetry- here's a really funny post on Poetic Orientation
Thanks, C Dale
Do you love Dick?? That is Philip K.
What in the world did you think I meant????
A Simic poem
In the New Yorker, of course.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
I just found out the daughter of my friend CE Chaffin has died- a young and beautiful woman with a five year old son.
CE was the editor of the well-respected webzine The Melic Review, which is still archived online. Started in 1998, it continued for a little over seven years publishing some of the best writing on the internet and a paperback 'best of' at the five year mark. I had the great pleasure of being an assistant poetry editor for awhile- it was quite a job!
The staff was not permitted to submit or publish poems to the zine, unless they had already been published elsewhere. I had nine poems in the zine over the years, one I was told was nominated for a Pushcart (though at the time that meant nothing to me).
His essays in the various issues are well worth your time, look for Logopoetry and his work on the Eliot Quartets.
God be with you, friend.
CE was the editor of the well-respected webzine The Melic Review, which is still archived online. Started in 1998, it continued for a little over seven years publishing some of the best writing on the internet and a paperback 'best of' at the five year mark. I had the great pleasure of being an assistant poetry editor for awhile- it was quite a job!
The staff was not permitted to submit or publish poems to the zine, unless they had already been published elsewhere. I had nine poems in the zine over the years, one I was told was nominated for a Pushcart (though at the time that meant nothing to me).
His essays in the various issues are well worth your time, look for Logopoetry and his work on the Eliot Quartets.
God be with you, friend.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Shockoe Poets- the longest running open mike in Richmond (maybe Virginia)
Today at 2pm, Shockoe Espresso in the heart of Shockoe Slip!
C'mon down!
Today at 2pm, Shockoe Espresso in the heart of Shockoe Slip!
C'mon down!
Saturday, August 11, 2007
since it's been in the news- here's a (rant) poem from ten years ago- it's full of factual info but I won't say what's not- (and I later found out it was Lake Squam in the movie, I was misinformed)
Lake Winnepesauke
It’s where they filmed that movie On Golden Pond
you know, the picture people rented Scott's Chris Craft
for the long shots across the lake's cold blue clear water
I had to look up, it made me dizzy trying to get that deep.
Looking down the bayou was never like staring at granite,
you could swim and never get a crab nibble or snake bite
but that was the iciest water this Gulf Coast baby
knew stuck a toe in, even Steve and Steve ( best friends
with the same name, imagine that!) slalomed in wet suits.
One night he said Put it on, I want to make love to someone
in rubber but I couldn't get into it in any case and he pouted off
telling me his girlfriend in Laconia would do anything for him
why couldn't I do this simple thing? somehow making it all
my fault that my abundant curves wouldn't conform to black kink,
but the real kick in the head was the long-distance call from his folks
in Boston saying they'd seen a woman in a tiny bikini on their dock
and maybe he'd just better keep his low-class trashy Texas wife
inside, Well, he decided it was nobody’s business, private property
so the next morning I went out stark naked. No one ever mentioned it,
not even crazy old man Shrimpton across the way, who was
having breakfast with the ducks around the dock.
Come to think of it, I never heard a loon that whole summer
at least not so anybody pointed out.
Lake Winnepesauke
It’s where they filmed that movie On Golden Pond
you know, the picture people rented Scott's Chris Craft
for the long shots across the lake's cold blue clear water
I had to look up, it made me dizzy trying to get that deep.
Looking down the bayou was never like staring at granite,
you could swim and never get a crab nibble or snake bite
but that was the iciest water this Gulf Coast baby
knew stuck a toe in, even Steve and Steve ( best friends
with the same name, imagine that!) slalomed in wet suits.
One night he said Put it on, I want to make love to someone
in rubber but I couldn't get into it in any case and he pouted off
telling me his girlfriend in Laconia would do anything for him
why couldn't I do this simple thing? somehow making it all
my fault that my abundant curves wouldn't conform to black kink,
but the real kick in the head was the long-distance call from his folks
in Boston saying they'd seen a woman in a tiny bikini on their dock
and maybe he'd just better keep his low-class trashy Texas wife
inside, Well, he decided it was nobody’s business, private property
so the next morning I went out stark naked. No one ever mentioned it,
not even crazy old man Shrimpton across the way, who was
having breakfast with the ducks around the dock.
Come to think of it, I never heard a loon that whole summer
at least not so anybody pointed out.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Now THIS would be fun...
but I haven't raised enough funds to do THIS yet...
and I have to go then so I can read for Terrain.org journal 10th anniversary
at this "swinging hot spot" in NYC!!
I'm picking up change wherever I see it and I think I'll put a tip jar on the keyboard at ComedySportz tonight!
but I haven't raised enough funds to do THIS yet...
and I have to go then so I can read for Terrain.org journal 10th anniversary
at this "swinging hot spot" in NYC!!
I'm picking up change wherever I see it and I think I'll put a tip jar on the keyboard at ComedySportz tonight!
Tonight at 10pm!!!
ComedySportz I-Prov!! The all musical improv show!
Featuring the musical stylings of MOI! Shann Palmer on the keyboard!
Call 266-YESS (It's cheaper if you reserve!!)
You won't believe it's made up on the spot- we're THAT good!
ComedySportz I-Prov!! The all musical improv show!
Featuring the musical stylings of MOI! Shann Palmer on the keyboard!
Call 266-YESS (It's cheaper if you reserve!!)
You won't believe it's made up on the spot- we're THAT good!
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Letter to the anonymous clowns at the Richmond Times Dispatch:
editorial piece
response:
Dear Sirs:
Since the RTD is print media, I expect more in depth coverage of the research you cite in your brief 'humor' piece "Chewing the Fat" in the Tuesday Aug.7 editorial column.
Here, you present a 'blog' entry. Short, silly, and uninformative. Never mind, I was able to find out more information in better newspapers online.
And no one at those other papers insulted fans of modern poetry! We DO have diverse friends and interests - you might be surprised to know we attract even non-poets to our gatherings.
As I type this (fuming from your veiled insult and not mollified at all by the apologetic "Just kidding- maybe") the second SlamRichmond Team we've ever sent to the National Slam Competition in Austin, Texas is practicing to compete tonight in the first round. The team was able to attend through fund raising and help from poets and writers in the Poetry Society of Virginia, James River Writers, Artspace and art6 Gallery, Tuesday Verses, Mad Monkey Productions and many individuals (obviously NOT like you, penning your anonymous little bon mot to unsuspecting readers).
Why in the world do they do this? I don't even subscribe anymore except for the Sunday (my husband insists). Thanks. Ron Smith (well-known local poet and winner of the 2005 $10,000 Weinstein Poetry Prize) for bringing this to my attention.
editorial piece
response:
Dear Sirs:
Since the RTD is print media, I expect more in depth coverage of the research you cite in your brief 'humor' piece "Chewing the Fat" in the Tuesday Aug.7 editorial column.
Here, you present a 'blog' entry. Short, silly, and uninformative. Never mind, I was able to find out more information in better newspapers online.
And no one at those other papers insulted fans of modern poetry! We DO have diverse friends and interests - you might be surprised to know we attract even non-poets to our gatherings.
As I type this (fuming from your veiled insult and not mollified at all by the apologetic "Just kidding- maybe") the second SlamRichmond Team we've ever sent to the National Slam Competition in Austin, Texas is practicing to compete tonight in the first round. The team was able to attend through fund raising and help from poets and writers in the Poetry Society of Virginia, James River Writers, Artspace and art6 Gallery, Tuesday Verses, Mad Monkey Productions and many individuals (obviously NOT like you, penning your anonymous little bon mot to unsuspecting readers).
Why in the world do they do this? I don't even subscribe anymore except for the Sunday (my husband insists). Thanks. Ron Smith (well-known local poet and winner of the 2005 $10,000 Weinstein Poetry Prize) for bringing this to my attention.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
The SlamRichmond team goes to Texas tomorrow!!
This is the second year we've sent a team-
here's an article from Austin, and I would hope the myspace link will be updated.
It's been an interesting two years. It's a lot of work to keep things going- fundraising, rehearsal, the qualifying bouts, Tom Prunier even attended LONG executive committee meetings for the Poetry Society of Virginia, but the PSV was always generous with grants and support!
James River Writers has also been supportive, and many many poets donated money and time to help.
Good luck, all of you! TEAM RICHMOND 2007 IS: Narrator (Grand Champion), Iman Shabazz, Daniel Jose Custodio, Tom Sanchez Prunier and Transition.
This is the second year we've sent a team-
here's an article from Austin, and I would hope the myspace link will be updated.
It's been an interesting two years. It's a lot of work to keep things going- fundraising, rehearsal, the qualifying bouts, Tom Prunier even attended LONG executive committee meetings for the Poetry Society of Virginia, but the PSV was always generous with grants and support!
James River Writers has also been supportive, and many many poets donated money and time to help.
Good luck, all of you! TEAM RICHMOND 2007 IS: Narrator (Grand Champion), Iman Shabazz, Daniel Jose Custodio, Tom Sanchez Prunier and Transition.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Charles Simic is the new poet laureate.
Did I mention that already? I wish i liked his poetry as much as I like Tony Hoagland's or Billy Collin's or a host of others. I hated his book Jackstraws.
I sat right in front of the podium at a reading at the Virginia Museum. Great vantage point. He fumbled and shuffled his papers as if he'd given the reading no thought, not thought at all.
I know a lot of poets do that, but it makes us seem as if we have little regard for the audience.
grumble grumble
Did I mention that already? I wish i liked his poetry as much as I like Tony Hoagland's or Billy Collin's or a host of others. I hated his book Jackstraws.
I sat right in front of the podium at a reading at the Virginia Museum. Great vantage point. He fumbled and shuffled his papers as if he'd given the reading no thought, not thought at all.
I know a lot of poets do that, but it makes us seem as if we have little regard for the audience.
grumble grumble
Thursday, August 02, 2007
I love playing piano for ComedySportz's Musical Improv shows!
It's way too much fun to be good for you- we had a great show tonight.
I turned in my packet for the Virginia Commission for the Arts. There were eight postal boxes on the floor full of them. Eight. I took a sideways glance and saw some familiar names. Imagine how many poems that is- say 150 people applied, put in an average of 20 poems each (I had 16).
That's 4,500 poems. If half are awful , that's still 2,225 poems. Let's say 10% of those are good and have a prayer. That's 223 poems in the competition (assuming I make it to that cut- and other than the fact the judging is not blind, I see no real reason why I couldn't).
Oh well. Hope springs eternal.
Alexander Pope An Essay on Man
of course- it's also from Casey at the Bat by Ernest Thayer- for what it's worth.
It's way too much fun to be good for you- we had a great show tonight.
I turned in my packet for the Virginia Commission for the Arts. There were eight postal boxes on the floor full of them. Eight. I took a sideways glance and saw some familiar names. Imagine how many poems that is- say 150 people applied, put in an average of 20 poems each (I had 16).
That's 4,500 poems. If half are awful , that's still 2,225 poems. Let's say 10% of those are good and have a prayer. That's 223 poems in the competition (assuming I make it to that cut- and other than the fact the judging is not blind, I see no real reason why I couldn't).
Oh well. Hope springs eternal.
Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never Is, but always To be Blest.
The soul, uneasy, and confin'd from home,
Rest and expatiates in a life to come.
Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
His soul proud Science never taught to stray
Far as the solar walk or milky way;
Yet simple Nature to his hope has giv'n,
Behind the cloud-topp'd hill, an humbler heav'n.
Alexander Pope An Essay on Man
of course- it's also from Casey at the Bat by Ernest Thayer- for what it's worth.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
Just read an article sited on Silliman's blog about culling your books.
I have the WORST time getting rid of books, and I try to always at least GIVE them away-
The author, Scott McLemee has this to say at the end (one of my favorite quotes):
This might be the right time to adopt the outlook of Mae West. A friend asked her what she wanted for her birthday. “Just don’t get me a book,” she replied. “I’ve already got a book.”
I have the WORST time getting rid of books, and I try to always at least GIVE them away-
The author, Scott McLemee has this to say at the end (one of my favorite quotes):
This might be the right time to adopt the outlook of Mae West. A friend asked her what she wanted for her birthday. “Just don’t get me a book,” she replied. “I’ve already got a book.”
Friday, July 27, 2007
More to the story-
chicago poetry bust
and I got my check and certificate for winning the Free verse First prize from the Alabama Writer's Conclave- it was very humbling to note I beat out, among others, Allison Joseph, esteemed editor of Crab Orchard Review and professor at Southern Illinois Univ at Carbondale.
She did win first prize in traditional forms, however (I didn't enter that).
It's good to get a check. Particularly for poetry.
chicago poetry bust
and I got my check and certificate for winning the Free verse First prize from the Alabama Writer's Conclave- it was very humbling to note I beat out, among others, Allison Joseph, esteemed editor of Crab Orchard Review and professor at Southern Illinois Univ at Carbondale.
She did win first prize in traditional forms, however (I didn't enter that).
It's good to get a check. Particularly for poetry.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Wow! In Chicago the annual Printer's Ball festivities were shut down mid-party
It might have been a "poetry paradise", as Laity described it in his story. But the real reason given for the raid, as told to us by editors from MAKE and Another Chicago Magazine who were also at the Ball, was that there were "multiple liquor license violations." From what we were told - and again, all of this is conjecture - there was booze being served on all three floors, when only the main level was licensed for liquor. There were also rumblings of underage drinking at the Ball. The combination is probably what led to the cops shutting it down. Everyone we talked to expressed surprise that the cops came so quickly, as though someone had tipped them to the happenings. When the cops are called to clear the place, they aren't asked to do so nicely. Only to do their job.
Read the entire article HERE-
This is why I'm so paranoid (and compliant to ABC laws) at art6 events.
It might have been a "poetry paradise", as Laity described it in his story. But the real reason given for the raid, as told to us by editors from MAKE and Another Chicago Magazine who were also at the Ball, was that there were "multiple liquor license violations." From what we were told - and again, all of this is conjecture - there was booze being served on all three floors, when only the main level was licensed for liquor. There were also rumblings of underage drinking at the Ball. The combination is probably what led to the cops shutting it down. Everyone we talked to expressed surprise that the cops came so quickly, as though someone had tipped them to the happenings. When the cops are called to clear the place, they aren't asked to do so nicely. Only to do their job.
Read the entire article HERE-
This is why I'm so paranoid (and compliant to ABC laws) at art6 events.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Playing improvisation on the piano gives me almost as much pleasure as writing a great poem- though it's usually easier to tell immediately with the piano- sometimes a poem has to grow, stretch, figure out what it wants to be when it grows up.
My fingers make contact with the keys and everything falls into place- for both poetry and music.
magic, or something mighty like it.
My fingers make contact with the keys and everything falls into place- for both poetry and music.
magic, or something mighty like it.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
SlamRichmond held it's 'civil slam' tonight at Artspace- great crowd, great show- I can't believe they go to Austin for nationals in two weeks! Tom Prunier Sanchez took his dream* and made it happen! Good for you, friend!
Or maybe you can be my biographer, if all else fails- hehheh.
The team has a CD available to raise funds- $10- go to see Lyric Ave next Saturday night at the Empire Theater, there will be much poetry there (and more) or
Come tomorrow to Shockoe Espresso in the slip for our open mike (2nd & 4th Sundays 2-4pm) next door to the Martin Agency and buy one from Tom.
and hear some poetry from some others, too. Like me.
Shann tired now- going to bed.
* fine print- like most dreams, you don't always get exactly what you want- but sometimes another door opens, then another, then another until you find something even better waits down the road.
Or maybe you can be my biographer, if all else fails- hehheh.
The team has a CD available to raise funds- $10- go to see Lyric Ave next Saturday night at the Empire Theater, there will be much poetry there (and more) or
Come tomorrow to Shockoe Espresso in the slip for our open mike (2nd & 4th Sundays 2-4pm) next door to the Martin Agency and buy one from Tom.
and hear some poetry from some others, too. Like me.
Shann tired now- going to bed.
* fine print- like most dreams, you don't always get exactly what you want- but sometimes another door opens, then another, then another until you find something even better waits down the road.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Struggling along after so long, I can see where having a poem (and not really even a poem, after all) being thought of as Maya Angelou's greatest wouldn't be so bad.
I think my daughter would have said, hell no, that's my momma's, but who really knows?
in the meantime- rejection in the mail from Runes- nice note from the editor that it's so hard to say no and liked particularly "Expectations."
sigh and thanks
I think my daughter would have said, hell no, that's my momma's, but who really knows?
in the meantime- rejection in the mail from Runes- nice note from the editor that it's so hard to say no and liked particularly "Expectations."
sigh and thanks
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
A poet named Todd Boss has a poem over at Poetry Daily today, recently published in Poetry Magazine (the one to be in, seriously).
Here's a link to Poetry Daily today. At first I wasn't impressed, but the words grew on me as I read. Enjoy.
Here's one I like even better: Things, Like Dogs
Here's a link to Poetry Daily today. At first I wasn't impressed, but the words grew on me as I read. Enjoy.
Here's one I like even better: Things, Like Dogs
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
For the Common Good
Everybody has at least one in them, unfortunately
they don’t get to it until a birthday or anniversary,
college roommate’s wedding or loved ones’ funeral
when words that’ve been bottled up for years pop their seal
and pour sticky sentiment all over the nearest guests.
These untrained souls don’t recall whether an anapest
is one or how the sonnet turns, school having taught only
lessons on the torture of phrases, the way to hoist a hose.
Better if poetry was easily accomplished like text messaging,
simple, attractive and available as soft drinks instead of booze
at church functions. That way, craft would be a matter of pride
as folks jostle and nudge inspiration into pleasing shapes.
Imagine the topless dancer writing an aubade on her thigh,
a serial killer sending crown sonnet clues to the detectives,
pizza delivery boys bringing a villanelle (on special this week)
to the fraternity house hosting a couples couplet fund raiser.
Doubtless we would all benefit, fingers counting syllables
don’t hold guns, scientists formulating Fibonacci rhymes
won’t built better bombs. All could be with the world, you know,
when even dog walkers are busy dreaming up haiku’s.
inspired by James Reiss and his poem The Bureau of Missing Persons"
Everybody has at least one in them, unfortunately
they don’t get to it until a birthday or anniversary,
college roommate’s wedding or loved ones’ funeral
when words that’ve been bottled up for years pop their seal
and pour sticky sentiment all over the nearest guests.
These untrained souls don’t recall whether an anapest
is one or how the sonnet turns, school having taught only
lessons on the torture of phrases, the way to hoist a hose.
Better if poetry was easily accomplished like text messaging,
simple, attractive and available as soft drinks instead of booze
at church functions. That way, craft would be a matter of pride
as folks jostle and nudge inspiration into pleasing shapes.
Imagine the topless dancer writing an aubade on her thigh,
a serial killer sending crown sonnet clues to the detectives,
pizza delivery boys bringing a villanelle (on special this week)
to the fraternity house hosting a couples couplet fund raiser.
Doubtless we would all benefit, fingers counting syllables
don’t hold guns, scientists formulating Fibonacci rhymes
won’t built better bombs. All could be with the world, you know,
when even dog walkers are busy dreaming up haiku’s.
inspired by James Reiss and his poem The Bureau of Missing Persons"
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Time for some reading, some poem gathering, some submitting (got that VA Commisision for the Arts grant deadline coming up), and house cleaning (notice what's last).
Son gone to Ocrakoke with girlfriend and family, daughter moved out (mostly) and me with a new CD from Souvenir's Young America. They played at art 6 last night and were really great- (along with a guy in a tent playing guitar and Erin Tobey).
Cool stuff- I liked it all but particularly SYA- reminiscent of Tortoise with a hint of Calexico (without vocals) - my kind of music.
In the immediate, must get to Ukrops for the Saturday specials! Duke's mayonnaise 2 for $3!!!
I can make tuna salad for DAYS!!!
TOMORROW at art 6- the monthly Bend An Ear reading! 3-5 pm please come!
Son gone to Ocrakoke with girlfriend and family, daughter moved out (mostly) and me with a new CD from Souvenir's Young America. They played at art 6 last night and were really great- (along with a guy in a tent playing guitar and Erin Tobey).
Cool stuff- I liked it all but particularly SYA- reminiscent of Tortoise with a hint of Calexico (without vocals) - my kind of music.
In the immediate, must get to Ukrops for the Saturday specials! Duke's mayonnaise 2 for $3!!!
I can make tuna salad for DAYS!!!
TOMORROW at art 6- the monthly Bend An Ear reading! 3-5 pm please come!
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Body in motion
from the top of the head to the calloused soles of the feet,
the heart pumps blood to all the places it needs to be
in constant movement beneath the skin: sartorius, ilium,
ischium, transverse abdominis, latissimus dorsi, trapezius,
blood like water seeping up only to seek its own level
before a spectacular fall: Niagra, Tagbaladougou, Gocta,
Mutyalamaduvu, Papalaua, Hagoromo-no-taki, names
that tumble off the tongue as spun sugar confections,
slung carelessly down jagged cliffs, over green valleys,
under bridges, water flowing deep to rise, rise,
rise again in unexpected places as springs, springs,
springs that bubble and perk, mystical healing shrines:
Calimanesti, Lourdes, Daius Church, Bethsaida, where
just one toe, one fingertip dipped in the troubled waters
will gain blessed relief from an eternity of pain- but
you must be the first, first, first or be left to crawl back
to your cot and wrap up in sorrow to wait, wait,
wait another year, another holy day, until a stranger says
you can do it if you want to, you can do it on your own,
you can find a healing, it's already within you to take
the gift, float away on a sea of salty tears, buoyant,
expansive as furled sails in tropical harbors, blinding white
against the nacreous panoply of colors: vermillion.
pomegranate, viridian, malachite, gamboge, amaranth,
an impressive array somewhere between red and rose
love stands simple capturing the breath, heart beat, memory
of a fragrant flower: ansinthium, verbena, moonflower, lilac,
gardenia, jasmine, sweet and fragrant as musk, to stand
against the world and its gravitas, one body of many parts,
single-minded, foot to hand to mouth to heart, the beat, beat,
beat pumping blood to all the places it needs to go,
like water rising then falling to seek its own level,
again, again, again, again, again, again.
from the top of the head to the calloused soles of the feet,
the heart pumps blood to all the places it needs to be
in constant movement beneath the skin: sartorius, ilium,
ischium, transverse abdominis, latissimus dorsi, trapezius,
blood like water seeping up only to seek its own level
before a spectacular fall: Niagra, Tagbaladougou, Gocta,
Mutyalamaduvu, Papalaua, Hagoromo-no-taki, names
that tumble off the tongue as spun sugar confections,
slung carelessly down jagged cliffs, over green valleys,
under bridges, water flowing deep to rise, rise,
rise again in unexpected places as springs, springs,
springs that bubble and perk, mystical healing shrines:
Calimanesti, Lourdes, Daius Church, Bethsaida, where
just one toe, one fingertip dipped in the troubled waters
will gain blessed relief from an eternity of pain- but
you must be the first, first, first or be left to crawl back
to your cot and wrap up in sorrow to wait, wait,
wait another year, another holy day, until a stranger says
you can do it if you want to, you can do it on your own,
you can find a healing, it's already within you to take
the gift, float away on a sea of salty tears, buoyant,
expansive as furled sails in tropical harbors, blinding white
against the nacreous panoply of colors: vermillion.
pomegranate, viridian, malachite, gamboge, amaranth,
an impressive array somewhere between red and rose
love stands simple capturing the breath, heart beat, memory
of a fragrant flower: ansinthium, verbena, moonflower, lilac,
gardenia, jasmine, sweet and fragrant as musk, to stand
against the world and its gravitas, one body of many parts,
single-minded, foot to hand to mouth to heart, the beat, beat,
beat pumping blood to all the places it needs to go,
like water rising then falling to seek its own level,
again, again, again, again, again, again.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Here's a petition to sign to Repeal the Virginia Traffic Fees. I got this link from writer Laura Heidy in Alexandria, VA.
This whole mess was quietly put into action by lawyers, for lawyers (see Laura's other posts and links). It's ridiculous. I've heard people say "let the people who break the law pay for the roads" because they know they are safe. I don't speed and I don't drink and drive (hardly drink) but these fees are outrageous and provide far more money to the firms who collect these fees than to the state.
It sure isn't poetry.
This whole mess was quietly put into action by lawyers, for lawyers (see Laura's other posts and links). It's ridiculous. I've heard people say "let the people who break the law pay for the roads" because they know they are safe. I don't speed and I don't drink and drive (hardly drink) but these fees are outrageous and provide far more money to the firms who collect these fees than to the state.
It sure isn't poetry.
Monday, July 09, 2007
I wonder if I'm trying to juggle too much.
I have this blog, my 25 words blog, and now the art 6 blog.
Money needs to be raised to get to New York for AWP- can I hold a personal fund raiser?? I certainly am a non-profit organization!
My house is a mess, I'm trying to submit poetry all over and get a packet ready for the Virginia Commision for the Arts Poetry Fellowship deadline (August 1st). There are only four, as I understand it- the competition will be hot and heavy (and most likely the recipients will be MFA students of graduates who know the panel SINCE IT ISN'T JUDGED BLIND).
Being a fool- I'm applying anyway.
God help the working class poet.
I have this blog, my 25 words blog, and now the art 6 blog.
Money needs to be raised to get to New York for AWP- can I hold a personal fund raiser?? I certainly am a non-profit organization!
My house is a mess, I'm trying to submit poetry all over and get a packet ready for the Virginia Commision for the Arts Poetry Fellowship deadline (August 1st). There are only four, as I understand it- the competition will be hot and heavy (and most likely the recipients will be MFA students of graduates who know the panel SINCE IT ISN'T JUDGED BLIND).
Being a fool- I'm applying anyway.
God help the working class poet.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
She’s gone- her first night in her own place- her first place, chosen, painted, arranged. I’m awake with feelings I can’t sort out yet. Love, fear, anger, envy- she’s close enough I could be there in ten minutes, close enough I feel her heartbeat as if it was my own. It is my own in so many ways, she’s like my double, only better. But without the fear and self-doubt I carry still. I am so excited for her. So proud.
I can’t remember what is was like. I went from home to college to marriage. I wasn’t on my own until I was twenty-seven. Even then the first year I stayed in the house my ex-husband and I bought. I didn’t have to sign a lease or set up utilities or change the mail. And I had a steady job, I was a teacher. Each move was predictable, like checkers or Monopoly. I can’t remember what it was like, even then. It seems as if someone has always depended on me.
This is new territory. I like it. I’m afraid for us both, I think- but I like it.
I can’t remember what is was like. I went from home to college to marriage. I wasn’t on my own until I was twenty-seven. Even then the first year I stayed in the house my ex-husband and I bought. I didn’t have to sign a lease or set up utilities or change the mail. And I had a steady job, I was a teacher. Each move was predictable, like checkers or Monopoly. I can’t remember what it was like, even then. It seems as if someone has always depended on me.
This is new territory. I like it. I’m afraid for us both, I think- but I like it.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Thursday, July 05, 2007
First Friday rolls around again....
cheapest date in town, a chance to see and be seen. Come see me at art 6
cheapest date in town, a chance to see and be seen. Come see me at art 6
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
My 4th of July poem
The Nature of Curiosity
Some folks will always be trouble-
either they beg it or bring it, back
bent under the weight, they come
bearing wretched curses and injuries,
sport red paper carnations, symbols
of long-forgotten warriors who stood
proud from when war was something.
Besides the dead, there are the quick
to remember, the broken soldiers,
limbs buried far from home, wounded
in some new Pharsalia. A bitter sigh,
the more things change, the more
they change, and we are lost luggage,
owners moved on to new belongings.
How could it not be so? Humanity begets
an eternal struggle, the yin and yang,
good vs evil to celebrate this diversity
balanced over eternity's emptiness
we weep hard, rend our garments,
clutch the absurdity of hope, gallows
humor the thing that gives us gravity.
When a child asks "Why? reply
"because", it keeps the ball in play,
a new generation who'll seek the peace
they cannot own, embracing trouble
as we did, so will our progeny display
themselves, curious to find some truth,
defend some creed and carry on, carry on.
The Nature of Curiosity
Some folks will always be trouble-
either they beg it or bring it, back
bent under the weight, they come
bearing wretched curses and injuries,
sport red paper carnations, symbols
of long-forgotten warriors who stood
proud from when war was something.
Besides the dead, there are the quick
to remember, the broken soldiers,
limbs buried far from home, wounded
in some new Pharsalia. A bitter sigh,
the more things change, the more
they change, and we are lost luggage,
owners moved on to new belongings.
How could it not be so? Humanity begets
an eternal struggle, the yin and yang,
good vs evil to celebrate this diversity
balanced over eternity's emptiness
we weep hard, rend our garments,
clutch the absurdity of hope, gallows
humor the thing that gives us gravity.
When a child asks "Why? reply
"because", it keeps the ball in play,
a new generation who'll seek the peace
they cannot own, embracing trouble
as we did, so will our progeny display
themselves, curious to find some truth,
defend some creed and carry on, carry on.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Last night I dreamed I was dancing with Robert Pinsky- and telling him Gerald Stern told me he (Pinsky) was a terrible dancer- Stern told me that, too, earlier in the dream. Go figure.
Maybe I should stop falling asleep with poetry books over my face.
There IS a poem germinating about all this- how could there not be?
Did I tell you how much I am enjoying the book The Fever Almanac by Kristy Bowen??
Some of these poems take little slices out of me, like an eerie biopsy.
Maybe I should stop falling asleep with poetry books over my face.
There IS a poem germinating about all this- how could there not be?
Did I tell you how much I am enjoying the book The Fever Almanac by Kristy Bowen??
Some of these poems take little slices out of me, like an eerie biopsy.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Another link to audio files- this is from the regular Sunday readings at Shockoe Espresso-
Jimmy Warner is still adding files, but one of mine is up-
it takes forever to load, then click on the arrow in the upper right hand corner, check the volume if you can't hear anything.
Jimmy Warner is still adding files, but one of mine is up-
it takes forever to load, then click on the arrow in the upper right hand corner, check the volume if you can't hear anything.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
I can't find my "Pink Cadillac" poem about my mother's car, but here's another one about her - well, kind of- as a reply to my comment on C. Dale's blog. I wrote this in 1998, when my aunt sent me a picture a trip to San Francisco I never knew my mother had taken.
Picture of Mama on the Cable Car
Caught in a real smile, she was sure
she'd never see San Francisco
and there she was: tweed jacket,
hair done, ever-present red nails,
climbing off a cable car.
It took her fifty-three years,
everything up till then a gamble,
never winning very much, bearable
losses, a kind of streak that wasn't
If she'd been an insider, known
there wasn't much game left,
would she have gone back home to Vegas?
Cell by cell by cell, she was dying even then
in increments, but this isn't about that.
It's about snap-shot shoe-drop seconds
when what you always wanted to happen,
happens- right then and is so apparent,
so evident, the camera, for once
full of film, charged up and at hand
takes a picture, takes a REAL picture,
the kind of photograph strangers pick up
to examine because they want,
not knowing why, they want to hold it.
Moments that are too much of themselves,
we let them pass by, our imagination flustered,
like art we can't conceive buried in stone blocks.
Single-minded, we are half-blind,
when other possibilities smack us in the face,
we recoil in shock, then cower in the familiar.
You can't plan for this, no "shoulds" or "ifs",
choices come and go so fast
it’s almost out of our hands, almost.
When you smiled today at lunch,
I thought of Mama, knowing
the memory was worth a picture.
My camera was there in my bag
charged up and full of film.
I didn’t get it out, too afraid
of what it might see.
Picture of Mama on the Cable Car
Caught in a real smile, she was sure
she'd never see San Francisco
and there she was: tweed jacket,
hair done, ever-present red nails,
climbing off a cable car.
It took her fifty-three years,
everything up till then a gamble,
never winning very much, bearable
losses, a kind of streak that wasn't
If she'd been an insider, known
there wasn't much game left,
would she have gone back home to Vegas?
Cell by cell by cell, she was dying even then
in increments, but this isn't about that.
It's about snap-shot shoe-drop seconds
when what you always wanted to happen,
happens- right then and is so apparent,
so evident, the camera, for once
full of film, charged up and at hand
takes a picture, takes a REAL picture,
the kind of photograph strangers pick up
to examine because they want,
not knowing why, they want to hold it.
Moments that are too much of themselves,
we let them pass by, our imagination flustered,
like art we can't conceive buried in stone blocks.
Single-minded, we are half-blind,
when other possibilities smack us in the face,
we recoil in shock, then cower in the familiar.
You can't plan for this, no "shoulds" or "ifs",
choices come and go so fast
it’s almost out of our hands, almost.
When you smiled today at lunch,
I thought of Mama, knowing
the memory was worth a picture.
My camera was there in my bag
charged up and full of film.
I didn’t get it out, too afraid
of what it might see.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
hey! Vocabulary is important to me, dude!
Seriously
It may not be my job to educate the wicked world, but when I'm writing a poem I will look all over until I find what I think is PRECISELY the word that's needed. If you don't know the meaning- GOOGLE is your friend or One Look or an actual paper dictionary.
Sure, I use too much slang and too many current culture references, but I also use rare words, Latin phrases, perplexing descriptions where I twist the definition into something else.
It's my job.
Seriously
It may not be my job to educate the wicked world, but when I'm writing a poem I will look all over until I find what I think is PRECISELY the word that's needed. If you don't know the meaning- GOOGLE is your friend or One Look or an actual paper dictionary.
Sure, I use too much slang and too many current culture references, but I also use rare words, Latin phrases, perplexing descriptions where I twist the definition into something else.
It's my job.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Part of the commencement address by Dana Gioia. chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts, talking about how artists no longer have a dialog with the people.
"This mutual estrangement has had enormous cultural, social, and political consequences. America needs its artists and intellectuals, and they need to reestablish their rightful place in the general culture. If we could reopen the conversation between our best minds and the broader public, the results would not only transform society but also artistic and intellectual life."
Read the rest HERE- I hope you'll be glad you did.
thanks, Jilly at poetry hut
"This mutual estrangement has had enormous cultural, social, and political consequences. America needs its artists and intellectuals, and they need to reestablish their rightful place in the general culture. If we could reopen the conversation between our best minds and the broader public, the results would not only transform society but also artistic and intellectual life."
Read the rest HERE- I hope you'll be glad you did.
thanks, Jilly at poetry hut
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Hell's bells! I just did one of those tests and i came out as Barbara Stanwyck- all grit (93%) and no class (0%) no class at all.
I guess I'm not really surprised- why do I bother anyway??
What's that wonderful Woody Allen film with Tracey Ullman and they buy all that tacky furniture and try to take 'class' lessons?
I'd like to believe I'm a little better than that.
I guess I'm not really surprised- why do I bother anyway??
What's that wonderful Woody Allen film with Tracey Ullman and they buy all that tacky furniture and try to take 'class' lessons?
I'd like to believe I'm a little better than that.
Come to Comedy Sportz tonight!!
10:00 pm I-Prov An all musical musical improv show with yours truly at the keyboard!!
$10- c'mon down!
10:00 pm I-Prov An all musical musical improv show with yours truly at the keyboard!!
$10- c'mon down!
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
A lot's going on in Richmond this week- get over to FlashPaperPoetry and check it out!
There's Cafe Gutenburg, the Haiku Death match at SlamRichmond and UR prof Brian Henry reading at Chop Suey's Von Gribley reading series.
And I won a prize!!
The Sopranos ending was fine with me, the way they did it kinda sucked- I thought the cable had gone out and then- credits with no music? What's with that? The music has always been such a great part (and the stupid Journey song during the last scene DOES NOT COUNT- that was lame).
John From Cincinnati was sooooo boring, I went back to watching the Tony Awards, which were slick and fabulous as usual.
There's Cafe Gutenburg, the Haiku Death match at SlamRichmond and UR prof Brian Henry reading at Chop Suey's Von Gribley reading series.
And I won a prize!!
The Sopranos ending was fine with me, the way they did it kinda sucked- I thought the cable had gone out and then- credits with no music? What's with that? The music has always been such a great part (and the stupid Journey song during the last scene DOES NOT COUNT- that was lame).
John From Cincinnati was sooooo boring, I went back to watching the Tony Awards, which were slick and fabulous as usual.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Food Addiction
it’s not just a doughnut
it’s a fucking doughnut
even if you spell it donut
if you leave it sitting there
to go stale I’ll have to eat it
because it becomes a rescue
band of brothers kind of mission
boxed into the habitual.
first a bite, then the rest
then dabbing the sugar up
with wet fingers, followed
by the kitchen scan for
something else sweet,
the border breached,
power off
and I’m lost again
back to induction atkins
I go
looking for love
in all the wrong pastries
it’s not just a doughnut
it’s a fucking doughnut
even if you spell it donut
if you leave it sitting there
to go stale I’ll have to eat it
because it becomes a rescue
band of brothers kind of mission
boxed into the habitual.
first a bite, then the rest
then dabbing the sugar up
with wet fingers, followed
by the kitchen scan for
something else sweet,
the border breached,
power off
and I’m lost again
back to induction atkins
I go
looking for love
in all the wrong pastries
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
12:39 Wednesday, June 6. 2007
No significant thing moves through the air
though babies are born on Bremo Road,
a hand shake changes worlds in Dover, Mass,
a soldier from Iowa closes his eyes forever,
a husband betrays his wife at Burger King.
These are tiny filaments, loose hairs, sand
specks for the universe to take in, context
lost in the stars, where a heartbeat is too small
to matter, it may yet be the most important
result of random probabilities we can know.
A woman almost falls down a flight of stairs.
a scientist refines a process for growing cells,
a murderer stops to have another cup of coffee,
a homeless family walks into a church for help,
chaos sighs, rearranges itself again and again.
No significant thing moves through the air
though babies are born on Bremo Road,
a hand shake changes worlds in Dover, Mass,
a soldier from Iowa closes his eyes forever,
a husband betrays his wife at Burger King.
These are tiny filaments, loose hairs, sand
specks for the universe to take in, context
lost in the stars, where a heartbeat is too small
to matter, it may yet be the most important
result of random probabilities we can know.
A woman almost falls down a flight of stairs.
a scientist refines a process for growing cells,
a murderer stops to have another cup of coffee,
a homeless family walks into a church for help,
chaos sighs, rearranges itself again and again.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
I can't seem to be able to give away one ticket to Big Head Todd and the Monsters for Thursday night Groovin in the Garden series- if you're in the Richmond area and want to go, I have one ticket- gates open 5:30.
Poetry is out of my head right now, or maybe everything else is intruding too much.
Friday night is the first show of the IProv music at Comedy Sportz with yours truly at the keyboard!!! Call 266-9377 for reservations for the 10:00pm show. Please come and clap for me (and the gang!).
Poetry is out of my head right now, or maybe everything else is intruding too much.
Friday night is the first show of the IProv music at Comedy Sportz with yours truly at the keyboard!!! Call 266-9377 for reservations for the 10:00pm show. Please come and clap for me (and the gang!).
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Friday, June 01, 2007
I know, I know-
tonight is First Friday in Richmond and oh-my the hoopla!
Art 6 will be hopping with the High School Juried Invitational-
Tomorrow, I'll be reading in Williamsburg at the Norge Library for the last Saturday reading of the year!! C'mon down.
tonight is First Friday in Richmond and oh-my the hoopla!
Art 6 will be hopping with the High School Juried Invitational-
Tomorrow, I'll be reading in Williamsburg at the Norge Library for the last Saturday reading of the year!! C'mon down.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Drowned, hanged, or beaten with a stone
Men let wars take blame, send sons to die,
women are more apt to do the job themselves,
at once, no reconsideration, use what's there:
a tub, some ties and belts, a nearby rock.
Little thought wasted choosing implements,
opportunity presents, conjoined with hopeless
horror, fear of what might come: Who knows
what coincidental voices make the final call?
I gave you life a mother says I own you
another states I can take you out I've said
myself to a stubborn face, my daughter's
soft fists ready in defiance of my words.
It must take more than a toddler's No!
to stop breath, to hold down, to beat;
more than hardship, bills to pay, a man
gone bad, gone, nothing left for her.
What some women do when they give up
a life they can't endure or bear to save,
there is no reaching out, no simple cure,
children die everyday while Rachel weeps.
Men let wars take blame, send sons to die,
women are more apt to do the job themselves,
at once, no reconsideration, use what's there:
a tub, some ties and belts, a nearby rock.
Little thought wasted choosing implements,
opportunity presents, conjoined with hopeless
horror, fear of what might come: Who knows
what coincidental voices make the final call?
I gave you life a mother says I own you
another states I can take you out I've said
myself to a stubborn face, my daughter's
soft fists ready in defiance of my words.
It must take more than a toddler's No!
to stop breath, to hold down, to beat;
more than hardship, bills to pay, a man
gone bad, gone, nothing left for her.
What some women do when they give up
a life they can't endure or bear to save,
there is no reaching out, no simple cure,
children die everyday while Rachel weeps.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Lakeside on Memorial Day
Show, show, show, the recyclable trash:
piled up pizza boxes, Miller Lite 12 packs.
This is where Avon comes via UPS *ding-dong*
brings whodo parts, motorcycle shit, eBay deals.
Scruffy, skanky men drink beer, smoke, work on cars
wearing wife-beater strappy shirts because they do,
their fat women coming back from Walmart sales
squeezed into sherbert colored polyester shorts.
This is a neighborhood in flux, proud mullets worn
with gangsta baggy pants, wigger sons with babies
on their hips, daughters decked out like hookers,
bright blondes with the blackest boys, or lesbians.
The Mexicans play guitar and soccer, rent plain houses,
silent mustached men who watch and smile, we don’t
smile back, they won’t stay long, can’t speak English,
drive trucks and vans with company logos and ladders.
Old Mrs. Emmet left when they moved in, her people
here since streets were laid down, a gray-haired widow
who waitressed all her life, raised six kids, all gone,
wary and scared of brown skin, she was a republican.
Sold her house to a businessman who quickly rented it
to a bald deputy sheriff and his family, they moved in
yesterday, hung a flag this morning, one son gone to Iraq,
Working in the yard in early heat, a radio plays gospel tunes.
Just over the city line, our county schools are a little better,
the cops tougher, gas and groceries cheaper, but not by much,
everyday seems to bring bad news, a new lottery opportunity,
the chance to make it big, stave off the fear of dying here.
We’re all afraid, even the Libertarian's in faded Volvo’s,
tucked into long-term starter homes, buying in Costco bulk
next to jobless neighbors with empty cupboards, the smell
of barbecue wafts in, we can’t afford to run the air just yet.
Show, show, show, the recyclable trash:
piled up pizza boxes, Miller Lite 12 packs.
This is where Avon comes via UPS *ding-dong*
brings whodo parts, motorcycle shit, eBay deals.
Scruffy, skanky men drink beer, smoke, work on cars
wearing wife-beater strappy shirts because they do,
their fat women coming back from Walmart sales
squeezed into sherbert colored polyester shorts.
This is a neighborhood in flux, proud mullets worn
with gangsta baggy pants, wigger sons with babies
on their hips, daughters decked out like hookers,
bright blondes with the blackest boys, or lesbians.
The Mexicans play guitar and soccer, rent plain houses,
silent mustached men who watch and smile, we don’t
smile back, they won’t stay long, can’t speak English,
drive trucks and vans with company logos and ladders.
Old Mrs. Emmet left when they moved in, her people
here since streets were laid down, a gray-haired widow
who waitressed all her life, raised six kids, all gone,
wary and scared of brown skin, she was a republican.
Sold her house to a businessman who quickly rented it
to a bald deputy sheriff and his family, they moved in
yesterday, hung a flag this morning, one son gone to Iraq,
Working in the yard in early heat, a radio plays gospel tunes.
Just over the city line, our county schools are a little better,
the cops tougher, gas and groceries cheaper, but not by much,
everyday seems to bring bad news, a new lottery opportunity,
the chance to make it big, stave off the fear of dying here.
We’re all afraid, even the Libertarian's in faded Volvo’s,
tucked into long-term starter homes, buying in Costco bulk
next to jobless neighbors with empty cupboards, the smell
of barbecue wafts in, we can’t afford to run the air just yet.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Wish I had a river (from joni mitchell)
I used to slip out of a chair like a cat,
smooth, legs already in motion, take in
the whole wide world in a turn, mine,
everything in sight, if I wanted it.
Wish I had a river, clear from here
to somewhere I think I was once,
laying in sweet grass, a granite pillow
beat down by time in the warm sun..
This day is blue-skied and soft, summer
standing up to a last pass of spring,
lingering too long in the bed, daffodils
need cutting back, for next year's yellow.
I thought you would be enough, even if
you don't see how I wish I had a river,
flowing from far off so I could let you
fall over my body like a waterfall.
I used to slip out of a chair like a cat,
smooth, legs already in motion, take in
the whole wide world in a turn, mine,
everything in sight, if I wanted it.
Wish I had a river, clear from here
to somewhere I think I was once,
laying in sweet grass, a granite pillow
beat down by time in the warm sun..
This day is blue-skied and soft, summer
standing up to a last pass of spring,
lingering too long in the bed, daffodils
need cutting back, for next year's yellow.
I thought you would be enough, even if
you don't see how I wish I had a river,
flowing from far off so I could let you
fall over my body like a waterfall.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
here is a podcast of some readings last sunday-
I had to turn it way up... let me know if you can get it.
Listen
It took me about 30 seconds to load....
I had to turn it way up... let me know if you can get it.
Listen
It took me about 30 seconds to load....
Monday, May 21, 2007
my freewill astrology for this week- I love this!
I wish I could get a newly discovered species of beetle or an underground lake of ice on Mars named after you. I wish I could buy you a temple in Bali, and arrange for you to have your fortune told by the blind prophetess of Rio de Janeiro. And I wish I could dress you in 200-year-old velvet robes and silk scarves once worn by Turkish royalty. You richly deserve honors and blessings like these, Capricorn. It's that time in your astrological cycle when life is supposed to overflow with rewards for the good work you've been doing for a long time. I urge you to be vividly confident that you do indeed deserve these rewards, and radiate that faith in all directions.
My daughter got her driver's license today- she's 19, her peers have had theirs for years, but her father is ummmmmmmm- a cheapskate- and didn't want to have her insured. Too late now, we did it and it's done. Hah!
She's very proud, just drove herself to a staff meeting for her job in the city's summer parks and recreation dept. She'll be doing costumes, like last year but for more money.
I wish I could get a newly discovered species of beetle or an underground lake of ice on Mars named after you. I wish I could buy you a temple in Bali, and arrange for you to have your fortune told by the blind prophetess of Rio de Janeiro. And I wish I could dress you in 200-year-old velvet robes and silk scarves once worn by Turkish royalty. You richly deserve honors and blessings like these, Capricorn. It's that time in your astrological cycle when life is supposed to overflow with rewards for the good work you've been doing for a long time. I urge you to be vividly confident that you do indeed deserve these rewards, and radiate that faith in all directions.
My daughter got her driver's license today- she's 19, her peers have had theirs for years, but her father is ummmmmmmm- a cheapskate- and didn't want to have her insured. Too late now, we did it and it's done. Hah!
She's very proud, just drove herself to a staff meeting for her job in the city's summer parks and recreation dept. She'll be doing costumes, like last year but for more money.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
woo-hoo! Poetry on the sopranos!!!
Slouching towards Bethlehem
W.B Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert.
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Slouching towards Bethlehem
W.B Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert.
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
brief commercial-
This will be my 5th year attending the West Virginia Writers' Workshop at West Virginia University in Morgantown. The head of the Creative Writing Department (James Harms) is one of the nicest, coolest people in the world (and a damn good poet, too). He surrounds himself with a smart, talented faculty who genuinely care about the workshop participants.
It's not very expensive (as these things go) and the special guests this summer include Steve Almond, Nick Carbo, Maribeth Fischer, Laura Kasischke, and Aleda Shirley. (regular faculty working include Mark Brazaitis, Jim Harms, John Hoppenthaler, and Sara Pritchard.)
I don't know whether it's full yet, but if you want a fine experience you'll benefit from- look it up and clear your calendar (it's Thursday through Sunday so you don't have to take a whole weeks vacation).
End of commercial message-
(except- if you're near Richmond, VA or driving through, I sure could use a ride)
This will be my 5th year attending the West Virginia Writers' Workshop at West Virginia University in Morgantown. The head of the Creative Writing Department (James Harms) is one of the nicest, coolest people in the world (and a damn good poet, too). He surrounds himself with a smart, talented faculty who genuinely care about the workshop participants.
It's not very expensive (as these things go) and the special guests this summer include Steve Almond, Nick Carbo, Maribeth Fischer, Laura Kasischke, and Aleda Shirley. (regular faculty working include Mark Brazaitis, Jim Harms, John Hoppenthaler, and Sara Pritchard.)
I don't know whether it's full yet, but if you want a fine experience you'll benefit from- look it up and clear your calendar (it's Thursday through Sunday so you don't have to take a whole weeks vacation).
End of commercial message-
(except- if you're near Richmond, VA or driving through, I sure could use a ride)
Where are my poems???
In my head, still, I suppose- the rest in revision.
I'm trying to get my little chapbook ready by friday to take to the Poetry Festival in Williamsburg- maybe sell a few, pay for my hotel room and food.
But my printer is being cranky, reluctant to give me clean copies, and I need a cover. There was a great photo Simmons Buntin did but I don't remember where to find it- not to mention I want to save it for something else.
And of course, I have to work. Bleagh.
more poems, less work.
My reading series on May Sunday afternoons are going nicely- we had around 25 people last Sunday for Patsy Anne Bickerstaff, Timothy Ball and Montana Sullivan, and a little by myself- plus Jimmy Warner and Corey Roberts at the end.
Not a bad turnout for beautiful weather and Mother's Day in Richmond.
Next Sunday is the last one! Here
In my head, still, I suppose- the rest in revision.
I'm trying to get my little chapbook ready by friday to take to the Poetry Festival in Williamsburg- maybe sell a few, pay for my hotel room and food.
But my printer is being cranky, reluctant to give me clean copies, and I need a cover. There was a great photo Simmons Buntin did but I don't remember where to find it- not to mention I want to save it for something else.
And of course, I have to work. Bleagh.
more poems, less work.
My reading series on May Sunday afternoons are going nicely- we had around 25 people last Sunday for Patsy Anne Bickerstaff, Timothy Ball and Montana Sullivan, and a little by myself- plus Jimmy Warner and Corey Roberts at the end.
Not a bad turnout for beautiful weather and Mother's Day in Richmond.
Next Sunday is the last one! Here
Monday, May 07, 2007
Three more days left until I'm back home from the mountains of Virginia at the Episcopal retreat called Shrinemont- it's a beautiful place and every year they make it better! It's on the site of an early 20th century hot springs where the wealthy from the DC area went to tale the waters- fell into disrepair and was bought and redone as a conference center. I've been going since the mid-seventies
The time with the congregation I work for was wonderful, though we didn't do enough music ( I did get a chance to do some arrangements for my choir and play through some new stuff). I also worked on my National Poetry Month poems, so s new chapbook is coming soon.
It drizzled a cold rain all day Saturday so some of us went to a new little winery (they're popping up all over the state). Decent, but not great- strongest in light whites, unfortunately I'm mostly a red drinker.
Parse that sentence, grammar police!
The time with the congregation I work for was wonderful, though we didn't do enough music ( I did get a chance to do some arrangements for my choir and play through some new stuff). I also worked on my National Poetry Month poems, so s new chapbook is coming soon.
It drizzled a cold rain all day Saturday so some of us went to a new little winery (they're popping up all over the state). Decent, but not great- strongest in light whites, unfortunately I'm mostly a red drinker.
Parse that sentence, grammar police!
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