tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98622582024-03-12T23:59:35.283-04:00Supple AmountsThe off-and-on-again blog of Ron Mohring, whose plate is almost always overfilled. CONTENTS OF THIS BLOG ARE MIGRATING (gradually) to my new blog, The Boy Who Reads in the Trees. See top post for URL.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger628125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-20791072843757736752017-11-11T14:13:00.004-05:002022-08-18T09:53:54.789-04:00I am (gradually) moving the contents of this blog to my new site, <a href="https://theboywhoreadsinthetrees.blog/">Reads in the Trees</a>. You're welcome to follow my writing there.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-60708133799773526362010-07-22T18:05:00.002-04:002010-07-22T18:10:37.237-04:00GlitchOkay, I admit I'm all thumbs when it comes to setting up anything on the Internet. But the new Seven Kitchens site over at Word Press was going along so well--so well that I thought installing those little Paypal "Buy Now" buttons would be a snap. They were a snap to install on Blogger. But even though I can see the HTML code pasted correctly on my Word Press pages, I don't see the button when I switch to view the saved page in regular ("visual") mode.<br /><br />I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Maybe they are only visible once the site is publicly searchable? --That doesn't make sense, because I want to get everything loaded before it goes public.<br /><br />I'm flummoxed. I'm walking away from it for a little while. Ah, gardening: something I'm really good at.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-17948452350982234462010-07-22T02:40:00.003-04:002010-07-22T03:18:08.648-04:00Up too late againDear 3 AM: WTF?<br /><br />I mean, yes, I can always find something to do (two new chapbooks launched the same week, am I that crazy?) but I am not, I repeat not, a night owl.<br /><br />We've got to stop meeting like this. I'd rather see you in my dreams.<br />_____<br /><br />Yes, two chapbooks: <em><a href="http://sevenkitchens.blogspot.com/2010/07/terry-kirts-to-refrigerator-gods.html">To the Refrigerator Gods</a></em> by Terry Kirts came out on Monday--#8 in the Editor's Series, and on Wednesday (today) (though it's already Thursday), Guillermo Castro's <em><a href="http://sevenkitchens.blogspot.com/2010/07/guillermo-castro-cry-me-lorca.html">Cry Me a Lorca</a></em> came out--#4 in the limited-edition Summer Kitchen Series. I've been up late putting together a big batch of copies and cheating on my Red Sox by half-watching the Mets' lackluster effort to avoid being swept by the Diamondbacks. I gave up in the 12th inning: don't know, don't care.<br />_____<br /><br />I've spent hours every day this week typing in book & author data for Seven Kitchens' new online home. Yeah, we're jumping over to Word Press on August 1st, ready or not. I think we'll be ready. All the book pages are loaded. I need to add Paypal links (which should be easy, having just done this last week on the Blogger site) and move all the author updates to new subpages. That'll take about a week. Then a few days to let our authors preview the site and hit me back with any fixes that need attending to. Then we launch!<br /><br />I should have a party. Or even better, a sale. But I wanted to have a sale this fall on our three-year anniversary, if I can figure out exactly when that is.<br />_____<br /><br />Slowly cutting through the pile of papers and files on my desk. There were two piles; now there's only one, and I made a good dent in it today. Progress! I want to make room for my old printer here on the desk beside the laser printer: I need it for color scanning and for printing drafts.<br />_____<br /><br />Harvested the first good handful of tomatoes today. We've been eating the yellow pears as they ripen, one at a time. These are thumb-sized, red tomatoes, I can't remember the name. And the yard-long beans, which I planted way too early in May, have suddenly come alive after languishing beneath the peas for months: tendrils snaking everywhere, and even a couple of flowers, though they were surprisingly dull--I was expecting more yellow or pink or even cream-colored blossoms, but these were a drab dirty-dishrag off-off-white. If I were a bee I wouldn't even stop to investigate.<br />_____<br /><br />There's a birthday with my name on it, and I can almost hear it slouching towards Lewisburg: the Big One. The half-century mark. I don't know what fifty is supposed to feel like, but I do admit that as I edge daily closer to this milestone, my ability to accommodate it as a tangible aspect of my reality, my identity, sheers off increasingly into disbelief.<br /><br />Aaaand then I look into the bathroom mirror. No need to pinch me; I know this one is real.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-46895770033835335072010-07-02T21:48:00.002-04:002010-07-02T21:55:11.469-04:00New venue for reviews of poetry and nonfictionPalmer Hall has launched a new online venue for reviewing poetry and nonfiction: <em>The Yanaguana Literary Review</em>. You can find it <a href="http://library.stmarytx.edu/ylr/index.htm">here</a>.<br />. . .<br /><br />Turned in my keys and ID today at Lyco. They asked for my parking decal as well. (Sure, no problem.) The only surprise was that there's no way to store & retrieve three years of e-mail, unless I go back in, have someone unlock my old office, and painstakingly <em>forward</em> <em>each e-mail</em> to myself. Umm, I could have used that information a few weeks ago; at least I'd have had time to forward <em>some</em> of the important stuff.<br /><br />Other than that glitch, a very satisfactory three-year gig. I will miss it.<br />. . .Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-66192470992043871432010-06-23T12:04:00.002-04:002010-06-23T12:15:01.620-04:00Waiting for callas<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/TCIy3DlNJYI/AAAAAAAABYk/ZWog05BmfCY/s1600/yellow+calla.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486003217526236546" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/TCIy3DlNJYI/AAAAAAAABYk/ZWog05BmfCY/s320/yellow+calla.jpg" /></a> Last year we bought some lovely yellow callas. I can't remember how long they bloomed, but I was eager to try to keep them over the winter and see whether they'd repeat the show this year. Late in the fall, when the leaves had started yellowing, I brought them into the kitchen and tucked the pot (a rather large brass pot that I'd lined with a heavy plastic trash bag) against the corner of the kitchen table where it would be out of traffic. The remaining leaves died quickly and were gone within a week.<br /><div></div><br /><div>And that was that. I think I sprinkled a little water on it once over the whole winter. </div><br /><div></div><div>Then, in early March or maybe even late February, I started getting curious. I watered the soil sparingly, then, a week later, more generously. And as soon as I saw the tiniest points of green emerging, I moved the pot to a bench in the laundry room--more susceptible to changing temperatures but also to steadily increasing sunlight.</div><br /><div></div><div>And the plants have leafed out beautifully. I especially like the small translucent spots in the leaves. But so far, no blossoms. The pot sits on the corner of our back door stoop, where it gets bright light for most of the day and a couple hours of direct sun. I'm feeding and watering regularly. Are leaves all we can hope for this year? Did some process of "forcing" that the callas may have gone through in order to be sold at market last year render them "spent" for this year? Are they recovering the urge to bloom? Or am I just being hasty: are they waiting for high summer?</div><br /><div></div><div>Will report back on any new developments.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-90715736937132820052010-06-14T17:20:00.004-04:002010-06-14T17:30:39.550-04:001984: Friends don't let friends buy Ziggy cards<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/TBadS0YQ9pI/AAAAAAAABYc/TT_jGrpUggs/s1600/ziggy.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 158px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482742542993782418" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/TBadS0YQ9pI/AAAAAAAABYc/TT_jGrpUggs/s200/ziggy.jpg" /></a> Oh, God.<br /><br />I've been cleaning the upstairs bookcases at the rate of roughly one shelf per day. So many books to sort through--keep out? box away for now?--and then there are the binders. Binders dating way back. Binders containing every rejection slip I received for my poems. Binders full of correspondence. Binders of journals from high school. Binders documenting people (and years) I don't even remember.<br /><br />Oh, God. Did I ever buy Ziggy cards? I think I did. And smarmy pastel Blue Mountain Arts cards with insipid verses by Susan Polis Schutz. I always thought it was Schultz. But no, here's a card copyrighted 1982, all salmon and purple, and it's Schutz: <em>When the/world closes in/and lies so heavily upon you.../ remember that I care. </em>(It goes on. I won't.)<br /><br />Oh, God. Who <em>was</em> I?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-50643840827924482812010-06-13T09:35:00.003-04:002010-06-14T11:53:11.510-04:00queer calls<strong><span style="color:#ff9966;">June 27th</span></strong> is the deadline for this year's <span style="color:#66cccc;">Oscar Wilde Award</span> (Gival Press) for the best previously unpublished poem in English that best relates GLBT life. The reading fee is $5 per poem of any length, form, or style. The winning poem will be published on the Gival Press website and carries a prize of $100. Previous winners are Chino Mayrina, Stephen Mills, Pablo Miguel Martinez, Dante Michaux, Julie Marie Wade, Jeff Walt, and some guy named Ron Mohring. Visit the<a href="http://www.givalpress.com/"> web site </a>for complete details (click on "contests" and then "Oscar Wilde Award-Guidelines").<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff9966;">July 1</span></strong> is the deadline for the anthology <em><span style="color:#66cccc;">Queer Girls in Class: Lesbian Teachers and Students Tell Their Classroom Stories</span>, </em>a collection of personal narratives. . . For more information or to submit work, e-mail: <a href="mailto:queergirlsanthology@gmail.com">queergirlsanthology@gmail.com</a>.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff9966;">July 1</span></strong> is also the deadline for entries to the <span style="color:#66cccc;">Atlanta Queer Lit Fest's Broadside Contest</span>. The winner will receive $200, 100 copies, and a keynote reading invite at the festival. Full details are at <a href="http://www/atlqueerlitfest.com/">http://www/atlqueerlitfest.com/</a>.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">[Thanks to Jameson Currier's <em><a href="http://queertype.blogspot.com/">queertype </a></em>blog for this information.]</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-79540220951350363162010-06-12T16:41:00.003-04:002010-06-12T16:51:40.509-04:00proofing<div align="left"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/TBPxWtBjIzI/AAAAAAAABYU/eMqNS0MDMno/s1600/peony.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481990543785534258" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/TBPxWtBjIzI/AAAAAAAABYU/eMqNS0MDMno/s320/peony.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> <span style="font-family:georgia;">[photo: peony, Mom's garden, May 2010]</span></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I've spent time every day this month working on chapbooks: proofing pages, printing, folding and cutting and tying, mailing copies. I'm still not caught up with some of the copies I owe, but the new titles are coming along very well and I think I can stay on track with the summer schedule.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">It's fulfilling work. It nourishes a part of me that exists mainly in solitude. I can't emphasize strongly enough how deeply I love this work.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">What it doesn't do is pay the rent. June, June: Will you bring me a new job?<br /></div><div align="left"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-19690151372692786002010-05-13T00:21:00.003-04:002010-05-13T01:23:14.188-04:00Old Iris<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/S-uMdJLuHXI/AAAAAAAABWk/cDBVzKSFLes/s1600/Iris_050810.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470620604680772978" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/S-uMdJLuHXI/AAAAAAAABWk/cDBVzKSFLes/s320/Iris_050810.jpg" /></a> I can trace this iris back 45 years to the first garden I remember, though what I recall most intensely is lying on my back beneath a blue sky full of papery Oriental poppies--bright orange--waving on hirsute, wiry stems. The original garden was bulldozed to make way for a convenience store the summer I was ten or eleven, along with the first house I clearly remember living in. The iris--or a piece of it--moved when we moved. Most recently, I snagged a fan from beneath an encroaching blue spruce at my parents' house about five years ago. I planted the spruce trees--25 of them--and can't believe how large they've grown.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-4965719237573317262010-05-11T21:10:00.004-04:002010-05-11T21:29:16.540-04:00Submit to the Pilot<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/S-oEJ2tzFqI/AAAAAAAABWc/97Hb7uWQYy4/s1600/meddling+kids+series.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470189264747828898" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/S-oEJ2tzFqI/AAAAAAAABWc/97Hb7uWQYy4/s320/meddling+kids+series.jpg" /></a><em>Passing along this CFS from our buddies at Pilot Books:</em><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="color:#00cccc;">We will read chapbook manuscripts postmarked in May of 2010. The selected manuscript will be published in our Meddling Kids Series in 2011. Please submit two printed copies of your original poetry manuscript (10-20 pages) each with two cover pages: one with manuscript title, your name, address, email and phone number; the other with manuscript title only. Entries should be postmarked in the merry month of May, 2010. Manuscripts will be logged in by an impartial third party and read anonymously by the Pilot Books Editorial Board. No SASE necessary; we will communicate via email. Post your entries, along with a $10 reading fee (make checks out to Pilot Books) to the address below. All entry monies will fund the production of the selected manuscript.</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#00cccc;">Send to: Pilot Books, PO Box 60551, Florence MA 01062</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-16236461882499273982010-05-08T16:45:00.002-04:002010-05-08T17:03:43.129-04:00Zinnias at Rapid Run<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/S-XRhP7HFjI/AAAAAAAABWU/ALpU8Iy-zaQ/s1600/Zinnias_050810.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 254px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469007691651683890" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/S-XRhP7HFjI/AAAAAAAABWU/ALpU8Iy-zaQ/s320/Zinnias_050810.jpg" /></a>This afternoon we drove out to one of our favorite greenhouses. The woman who runs it had baby goats two years ago running free in one of the three greenhouses, and every year we see hummingbirds there well before they show up in our garden.<br /><div></div><br /><div>No hummers today (and no goats): we're under a wind advisory, and the constant snapping, vibrating plastic was a bit unnerving. Long rows of hanging baskets swayed as the poles they hung from vibrated and quivered, the whole creaking structures feeling as if they wanted to take flight. I snapped the photo of these zinnias with my phone camera. We bought some lovely cream-striped ornamental grass (it's outside on the patio table; I'll check the name later), a few yellow pear tomato plants (Randy's favorite tomato), and a big flat of cosmos, which I plan to set in a big mass into the garden this year instead of popping them here and there all over the place.</div><br /><div>We've shared fish pepper seedlings with the owner in past years, and I fleetingly thought about taking along a six-pack (I have eighteen plants growing on the windowsills) but didn't. Turns out, she didn't have any. We said we'd bring them next time, and made arrangements to trade them for some ancho pepper plants. (I really don't have room for eighteen pepper plants, but that doesn't usually stop me from growing them!)</div><br /><div></div><div>Windy and cool--I almost said cold. Windows barely open. Glad I'm wearing socks.</div><br /><div></div><div>Working on getting some review copies sent out of <a href="http://sevenkitchens.blogspot.com/2010/05/rebecca-lauren-schwenkfelders.html">Rebecca Lauren's new chapbook</a>, then assembling more copies of a few other titles. I'm hoping to catch up this month but could really use some help. If I put out the call for a summer intern or two, I wonder if anyone near enough would respond?</div><br /><div></div><div>Tonight's the long-awaited episode of <em>Saturday Night Live</em> hosted by Betty White: can hardly wait!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-23112973082229081372010-05-07T22:40:00.002-04:002010-05-07T22:49:10.527-04:00Fresh callas<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/S-TPazxBIhI/AAAAAAAABWM/3G9I_nTtptI/s1600/0506_Callas.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 261px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468723907013976594" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/S-TPazxBIhI/AAAAAAAABWM/3G9I_nTtptI/s320/0506_Callas.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Fresh callas I bought this week.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-21233732150012550252010-05-01T00:39:00.004-04:002010-05-01T00:51:50.717-04:00Poetry book giveaway: the winners are...<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/S9uw3FGn02I/AAAAAAAABV8/loKxJCJTUZY/s1600/7KP+drawing1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466157033053475682" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KaA8a2gl15g/S9uw3FGn02I/AAAAAAAABV8/loKxJCJTUZY/s320/7KP+drawing1.jpg" /></a>If you've friended me on Facebook, you can see several more photos I took as I documented the selection process. Congrats to the following nine folks, only one of whom I've met (to my knowledge)--which is pretty awesome:<br /><p>1) Tara Mae; 2) Stephanie Goehring; 3) Jen Gresham; 4) Matthew Thorburn; 5) Marie Gauthier; 6) Eldritch1313; 7) Carl Palmer; 8) totalfeckineejit; and 9) zooeylive.</p><p>You've won the following books, in corresponding numerical order:</p><p>1) my book, <em>Survivable World; </em>2) Daniel Rzicznek's <em>Neck of the World; </em>3) Boyer Rickel's <em>reliquary; </em>4) Christine Klocek-Lim's <em>The book of small treasures; </em>5) Deborah Burnham's <em>Still; </em>6) Kevin McLellan's <em>Round Trip; </em>7) Christina Pacosz's <em>Notes from the Red Zone; </em>8) Matthew Hittinger's <em>Platos de Sal; </em>and 9) RJ Gibson's <em>Scavenge.</em></p><p>You can read more about the last seven titles over at <a href="http://sevenkitchens.blogspot.com/">Seven Kitchens</a>. Meanwhile, I'll be contacting y'all for mailing addresses this weekend. Congratulations and Happy National Poetry Month!</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-11978134435248867042010-04-30T13:17:00.004-04:002010-05-01T23:02:51.678-04:00The 30th day: a ten-minute spillWell, here we are on the final day of NaPoWriMo. I'm glad I did this: some real crappy drafts, yes, but a few that feel promising, definitely more than I'd have written without the daily public deadline.<br /><br />Which I <em>do not</em> plan to adhere to: at least not the public part, though the daily aspect has certainly made me more consciously aware of language and its little surprises, something I thought had become part of my nature but which, I realize now, had been dulled (by not enough reading, by isolation from other poets, by--ehh, we'll leave it at that).<br /><br />So here's my last offering, the only poem this month generated by an exercise--specifically, Rita Dove's "Ten-Minute Spill"--though I kept tinkering with it past the initial ten minute mark (more like an hour and ten minutes):<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">:: bloop ::</span><br /><br />Thanks for reading, y'all, and for the encouragement to hang with this project.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-87964683931299515222010-04-29T12:12:00.003-04:002010-04-30T00:01:34.020-04:00Day 29: on synaesthesiaBusy day today, and I'm late heading up to campus. This is as far as I can get this one to go for right now:<br /><br /><span style="color:#33ffff;">:: bloop ::</span><br /><br />. . . And that's all he wrote of that one. Still grading papers here and not much time for writing, but I'll give it my best tomorrow morning and see what comes of the final--yahoo, the final!--poem-a-day post.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-67246575323925966252010-04-28T12:31:00.001-04:002010-04-29T00:52:47.689-04:00Day 28: Putting on the Patsy Cline<em>Putting on the Patsy Cline</em> is a phrase that's been stuck in my head for a few years now, one I want to do something with--I think it may be a chapbook title if I can ever write the rest of the poems that comprise that collection. Scavenging through my journals this morning in search of a line to launch a fresh poem, I ran across the phrase again, as well as a line that our neighbor's youngest daughter uttered while trying to reach our cat<em>: Allie, don't you want to pet me</em>? And that's the line that started off this poem:<br /><br /><span style="color:#66ff99;">:: bloop ::</span><br /><br />Well, that's that: two days to go. No idea what I'm writing tomorrow, but this has been an awesome experience and I want to thank y'all now for your supportive enthusiasm.<br /><br /><span style="color:#66ff99;"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-66921192520090521122010-04-27T11:57:00.001-04:002010-04-28T00:16:39.449-04:00Day 27: Adrienne RichI started this draft in June then abandoned it, so it's not "fresh" like the others, but it's all I have to offer today as we near the end of NaPoWriMo. The poem borrows language from Adrienne Rich's "XIII: Dedications" in <em>An Atlas of the Difficult World.</em> "Borrows" is too mild a word; the poem is literally constructed around passages from Rich's poem to the extent that I'm nervous about posting it, nervous at using so much language from another source. I do think, though, that there might be something new in what's created here. And I love, love, love the source poem.<br /><br /><span style="color:#33ccff;">:: bloop ::</span><br /><br />Thanks for reading, y'all.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-76949196451730287642010-04-26T12:34:00.005-04:002010-04-27T00:10:57.688-04:00Day 26: Villanelle on a line from Ned RoremA few years ago in my creative writing class, I gave my students a three-page list of lines I had collected from various sources, both poetry and prose, as potential "starters" for poems. This is one of the methods I use to write collaboratively with another poet: it brings a third voice to the table, and each of us responds both to this initial voice/statement and to each other as the poem progresses.<br /><br />One of my students wrote a powerful, beautiful villanelle from a line by Ned Rorem, a line I'd been carrying around in my head for a few years: <em>Here is the boy who will breathe my air.</em> He wrote it in response to an ultrasound image of his soon-to-be-born son. His poem was at once a celebration and an acknowledgment of his own mortality. In many ways, his poem is better than the one I finally wrote this Saturday.<br /><br />I didn't post this on Saturday because I'd written something else as well, but also because it's about a particularly crushing moment in one's career and--because anyone who knows me knows where I've worked for the past ten years--I didn't want to hurt any feelings.<br /><br />But fuck that. It's a <em>poem, </em>for Pete's sake, and it's driven as much by its form and meter and rhyme scheme as by any "truth" at its heart. And the scene it describes happened only in my head, not where I work(ed). So all disclaimers aside, here's the villanelle I have been trying to write:<br /><br /><span style="color:#ffcc00;">:: bloop ::</span><br /><br />Thanks for reading, y'all. See you tomorrow.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-19359352118804475462010-04-25T16:50:00.004-04:002010-04-26T00:38:42.322-04:00Day 25: Bathroom Window, CatAn attempt at a more minimalist approach to my usual narrative bent:<br /><br /><span style="color:#ffff99;">:: bloop ::</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-76215010877455641302010-04-24T19:48:00.003-04:002010-04-25T13:43:30.961-04:00Day 24: Late Testament<span style="color:#33ccff;">:: bloop ::</span><br /><br />Thanks for reading. Six days to go.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-89481515068877135222010-04-23T12:13:00.001-04:002010-04-24T00:24:38.358-04:00Day 23: on a line by Gertrude SteinStein wrote of Glenway Westcott in her <em>Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, </em>"He has a certain syrup but it does not pour." From which I made this today:<br /><br /><span style="color:#ffcc00;">:: bloop ::</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-47491755310612354572010-04-22T17:14:00.001-04:002010-04-22T17:16:12.797-04:00Read this now: Terrance Hayes<a href="http://poems.com/poem.php?date=14720">"The Golden Shovel"</a><br /><br />The top of my head flew off. My brain is still fizzing.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-878590988035816482010-04-22T12:47:00.003-04:002010-04-23T00:25:15.200-04:00Day 22: The FiresI was thinking about Hurricane Andrea from a few years ago, how folks in Florida were practically praying for the storm to bring rain to douse their wildfires. That satellite image of Andrea's noncompliance. And so came up with this:<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff6666;">:: bloop ::</span><br /><br />Wow. Only one week to go.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-21860281112748921202010-04-21T12:39:00.001-04:002010-04-22T10:27:42.694-04:00Day 21: PracticeThis old guy is in my head today. Who knows why. Here he is:<br /><br /><span style="color:#33ccff;">:: bloop ::</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#33ccff;"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9862258.post-29061350637377251952010-04-20T22:05:00.002-04:002010-04-21T11:42:39.246-04:00Day 20: Deer & DogI missed yesterday's post, but here's a big ol' mess of a poem draft to make up for it:<br /><br /><span style="color:#66ff99;">:: bloop ::</span><br /><br />Thanks for reading it, y'all.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0