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Poets on the Pandemic

A new anthology, Together in this Sudden Strangeness, edited by Alice Quinn and due as an ebook by Knopf in June, collects the work of over eighty poets who express their anxieties about life and writing during the pandemic.  Ada Limon, among those featured in the collection, observes that she initially felt “flattened and silenced” by the shutdown, according to a report on the site www.https://voalearningenglish.com.  In her recent poem, “The End of Poetry,” (New Yorker, April 27, 2020), she lists a series of subjects that she found “she could no longer access” during these uncertain times (see “Writing Prompts”).  Some of the other poets included in the new book are Major Jackson, Amit Majmudar, Billy Collins, Jane Hirshfield, Jenny Xie, and Julia Guez.  Poems cover topics such as parenting, grief, and the loneliness of social distancing.

Pandemic Haiku: Volume One, an anthology initiated by a haiku posted on Facebook by Iowa writer and therapist Robin Schinnow, is one of the best-selling books on Amazon in its category, according to a May 16th article in the Des Moines Register.  “People’s feelings, questions, and support are an important part of recording this event,” said editorial coordinator Cathie Gebhart, who helped produce the book containing over 100 haiku.  All proceeds from sales go to the Outreach Program of Des Moines, Iowa.

Native American Poetry Anthologies

Joy Harjo has been appointed to a second term as U.S. Poet Laureate.  An enrolled member of the Muscogee Creek Nation, she’s working on an anthology of Native American poetry along with an online resource featuring biographies and recordings of Native poets, entitled, “Living Nations, Living Words: A Map of First Peoples’ Poetry.”

The first anthology in thirty years of Native poets “exclusively from the United States,” New Poets of Native Nations (Greywolf Press, 2018) contains the work of twenty-one indigenous authors.  Edited by Heid E. Erdich, an Ojibwe writer and scholar enrolled at Turtle Mountain, it won the American Book Award and has been described by The Washington Post as “A wonderful introduction to the diverse landscape of native voices.”

Michael McClure (1932–2020)

Michael McClure, who participated in the legendary San Francisco Six Gallery reading in 1955 that helped launch the west coast literary movement of the Beat Poets, died May 4th at the age of 87.  A former Playwright in Residence at San Francisco’s Magic Theater, McClure is the author of the controversial play, “The Beard,” as well as thirty books, and is co-author of the song, “Mercedes Benz,” popularized by Janis Joplin.  (A selection of his haiku can be found online at Terebess Asia Online).  Robert Creeley said of his work that he “shares a place with the great William Blake, with the visionary Shelley, with the passionate D. H. Lawrence,” to which might also be added the names of Basho and Chuang Tzu.  In her recent tribute, “Remembering Michael McClure, Poet, Teacher, Friend,” historian Rebecca Solnit writes, “He helped transform the culture.  He was an opener of doors and a builder of bridges.”  www.https://lithub.com

Buddhism and the Beats

Buddhism was the primary philosophical foundation for several of the Beats, a term coined to describe the free-spirited literary innovators who came into prominence in the mid-1950s.  Jack Kerouac studied Buddhism and wrote about it in “Some of the Dharma,” Gary Snyder lived as a Zen monk in Japan, Michael McClure practiced tantric yoga and Zen, Allen Ginsberg and Diane Di Prima embraced both Zen and Tibetan Buddhism, Bob Kaufman converted in his later years, and Philip Whalen was ordained as a Zen Priest in the Soto school, serving as Abbot of the Hartford Street Zen Center in San Francisco.  Despite being initially disparaged by some (but not all) in the literary establishment, the work of the Beats helped to introduce the principles of Buddhism into mainstream American culture and broadened the range and style of American poetry — notably, linking it to the breath in free verse and haiku.

Philip Whalen is one of the lesser known figures of the Beats.  A participant in the landmark Six Gallery poetry reading in 1955 (along with Michael McClure, Allen Ginsberg, Philip Lamantia, and Gary Snyder), he lived for a time as a monk in Kyoto, Japan, at the San Francisco Zen Center, and later as head monk of Dharma Sangha in Santa Fe, New Mexico.  By the early 1990s he was nearly blind, but that didn’t stop him from welcoming practitioners to the Hartford Street meditation hall.  His poetry appeared in The New American Poetry 1945 – 1960, edited by Donald Allen (Grove Press, NY, 1999), in Overtime: Selected Poems by Philip Whalen (Penguin, NY, 1999), and in The Collected Poems of Philip Whalen (Wesleyan University Press, Conn, 2007).  Many of his poems function as a form of quasi-meditation, honoring the moments of everyday life while framing that within the larger historical and philosophical context of Buddhism.  A selection of his work that appeared posthumously in Lion’s Roar illustrates this point (Poems & Zen Talks of Philip Whalen).  David Kherdian puts it this way: “Whalen has managed to espouse the religious principles of Zen Buddhism without renouncing the world around him, retaining a humorous, whimsical balance in his poems, and mixing the pleasures of California life with contemplation…”  (Six Poets of the San Francisco Renaissance: Portraits and Checklists).

English romantic poets such as Wordsworth and Shelley, American Transcendentalists Emerson, Whitman, and Thoreau, and early Asian writers such as Han Shan, Du Fu, and Dogen, were the literary forebears of Whalen and his contemporaries, notably Gary Snyder.  In Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems, Snyder’s translations of the work of Han Shan marry the spirit of the originals with his background as a scholar, monk, mountain climber, fire lookout, and trail builder.  Reflecting a deep connection to nature, his poetry and essays bring the principle of reverence for life (ahimsa or non-harming) into the ecological movement.  Recipient of the Pulitzer Prize for his 1974 collection, Turtle Island (New Directions), he has written that, “One of the major challenges facing our large current human populations is what role we should play in regard to the many thousands of other living beings we share the planet with.”  Now aged 90, Snyder is a long-time resident of the Sierra foothills in California, near Nevada City.

The late Michael McClure’s work also reflects a profound awareness of nature, especially animal nature, and this was evident early on when he presented his poem For the Death of 100 Whales at the Six Gallery reading (he was 22 at the time).  The author of fourteen volumes of poetry, more than twenty plays, two novels, and four collections of essays, his poetry “combined spontaneity, typographical experimentation, Buddhist practice, and “body language” to merge the ecstatic and the corporeal,” according to the Poetry Foundation.  In an interview with Rebecca Foresmen in the New Yorker (January 14, 2013), he mentions that he “practiced tantric yoga in my early life, and now practice Zen to Hua-Yen, or Flower Garden Buddhism…a practice intended to elucidate the actual moment of Buddha’s enlightenment.”  Many of his Zen poems can be found in the volume, Touching the Edge, Dharma Devotions from the Hummingbird Sangha (Shambala Publications, 1999).  A recipient of the Obie Award for Best Play (The Beard) and the Alfred Jarry Award, he co-authored the song, Mercedes Benz, with Janis Joplin.

Known primarily for his novels, Jack Kerouac was also a poet, haikuist, and Buddhist scholar.  With the publication in 1957 of his second novel, On the Road, he became an “overnight sensation” and the key figure of the Beats.  This was followed two years later by The Dharma Bums, which was dedicated to Han Shan, hermit poet of the Tang dynasty.  Another semi-autobiographical tale, this one centered on his quest for spiritual awakening while on a mountain climbing trip with Gary Snyder.  According to Allen Ginsberg (Negative Capability: Kerouac’s Buddhist Ethic, Tricycle, Fall, 1992), Kerouac was introduced to Buddhism through A Buddhist Bible, a collection of Buddhist sutras translated by Dwight Goddard that presents the Four Noble Truths and the three “marks” of existence: suffering, impermanence, and anatman or “no permanent self.”  This was the impetus for Kerouac’s collection of meditations, Some of the Dharma, begun in 1953 and published by Viking in 1997.  He was awarded a posthumous honorary degree in 2007 by the University of Massachusetts Lowell (his hometown) and his Collected Poems was published in 2012 by Library of America.

Besides Jack Kerouac of On the Road fame, Allen Ginsberg is probably the most recognizable of the Beat writers.  Born in Newark, New Jersey, he attended Columbia University in the 1940s, studying briefly with critic and teacher Lionel Trilling. While living in Manhattan, he met Kerouac, William Burroughs (Naked Lunch), and Gregory Corso (Gasoline Alley), who also came to be associated with the Beats.  Relocating to San Francisco in the mid-1950s with his life partner Peter Orlovsky, Ginsberg read his declamatory poem, Howl, at the Six Gallery event to much acclaim.  Poet and publisher Lawrence Ferlinghetti, who was present at the reading, recognized Ginsberg’s potential, sending him a telegram the following day that read: “I greet you at the beginning of a great career” (echoing Emerson’s words to Walt Whitman).  When Ferlinghetti went on to publish Howl in 1956 as a paperback under his City Lights imprint, the publicity from the subsequent obscenity trial (which exonerated Ferlinghetti) all but assured Ginsberg’s role as one of the main voices for an alternative literature movement.  His interest in Eastern religion prompted travel to India, where he met His Holiness The Dalai Lama and His Holiness Dudjom Rinpoche.  On his return, he became a student of Tibetan teacher Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche at the Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado.  He also served on the board of Maitri, an Aids hospice in San Francisco.  Although Ginsberg was shunned by some in the east coast literary establishment, his collection, The Fall of America, won the National Book Award and he was inducted into the American Academy of Arts and Letters.

Diane Di Prima attended Swathmore College but dropped out to pursue writing in Manhattan in the late 1950s, editing the newspaper The Floating Bear (with LeRoi Jones) and co-founding the New York Poet’s Theater.  Her first volume of poetry, This Kind of Bird Flies Backward was published by Totem Press in 1958.  Relocating to the West Coast in the early 1960s, she studied with Suzuki Roshi at the San Francisco Zen Center and, upon his death, with Chogyam Trungpa in Boulder, where she taught for several years at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics.  In the 1990s, she became a student of Lama Tarchin Rinpoche, the late Tibetan Dzochen master.  Her poetry blends political, personal, and spiritual themes in an intimate, stream-of-consciousness mode.  “I wanted everything — very earnestly and totally,” she has said.  “I wanted everything that was possible to a woman in a female body…”  A fictionalized story of her early life, Memoirs of a Beatnik, was published by Olympia Press in 1969, and her selected poems, Pieces of a Song, was published by City Lights in 1990.  This was followed by a memoir, Recollections of My Life as a Woman: The New York Years, published by Viking in 2001.  A recipient of the Fred Cody Award for Lifetime Achievement (2006) and a former Poet Laureate of San Francisco (2009), Di Prima has lived in the city for over thirty years.  Now 85, she continues to write and has taken up watercolor painting.

Bob Kaufman was one of the finest poets — and one of the least known — to come out of the Beat movement.  Regarded as the “Black Rimbaud” in France, his work exemplifies the ideal of free-flowing spontaneity valued by Kerouac and others, in part because much of his poetry was composed orally to jazz accompaniment and later written down.  Born and raised in Louisiana (one of thirteen children), he attended the New School in New York City, moving to San Francisco in 1958.  A convert to Buddhism and a founder of the influential poetry publication “Beatitude” with Allen Ginsberg and others, he published three volumes of poetry in his lifetime: Solitudes Crowded with Loneliness (New Directions, 1965), The Golden Sardine (City Lights Books, 1967), and Ancient Rain: Poems, 1956-1978 (New Directions, 1981).  Following the assassination of John F. Kennedy, he took a vow of silence, not speaking until the end of the Vietnam War (Poetry Foundation).

 

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Silence

We began to notice the silence in the first few days after the shutdown.  There was no longer the white noise of traffic from the nearby state highway, and the comings and goings of cars on our block had tapered off.  Something seemed different in the call of birds, too, as if they were testing this new quiet, listening to the resonance of their songs.

Walking to the local market yesterday, I found myself sauntering — a practice, and a word, that seems to have gone out of fashion.  It’s not so much about the need to hurry to my destination these days as it is about enjoying the scenery along the way.   The hills are still green.  A few horses graze below the ridge.  Roses are in bloom, and the scent of flowering citrus blossoms is in the air.  Does silence have a scent?  Well, no, not exactly.  But it permeates the scent, just as it permeates my thoughts.

I hope the current shutdown helps to “flatten the curve” of COVID infections — that we’ll all be back to work, again, soon, that schools can safely reopen, and business as usual will return to our communities.  But this may not happen as soon as we wish, at least not entirely.  So I also hope that something of this moment stays with us, something more than uncertainty and fear.  That we’ll listen for the silence that underscores political messaging, birdcalls, and the sound of our own breathing.

Writing Prompt: Settling in with Haiku

Haiku have a way of occurring out of the blue, but you may want to try a “haiku walk” in your neighborhood or in a local park to refresh your senses and mind to what’s going on around you — to nature “as it is,” minus the usual preoccupations.  In Japan, these walks are known as ginkoo (gin -singing, praising, poem-making; koo – walking).  You may want to take a notebook and pen along so that you can jot down a few key words about your experiences.  These may serve the basis of one or more haiku later.

If that’s not possible, list some of the memorable places you’ve visited.  What was the outstanding thing, event, or experience about your visit to each of them?  Compose a haiku about one or more of these places, incorporating a seasonal image, or possibly a reference to your feelings or state of mind at the time.

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Poetry of the Pandemic

The first poem I read about the pandemic was written by Lynn Unger, San Francisco Bay Area minister and author of Blessing of the Bread, and it’s still the one that resonates with me most.  Pandemic originally appeared on her blog and later was the subject of an article in the Chicago Tribune, March 13th.  Reflecting on the practice of social distancing, Unger offers that it’s not something we do to remove ourselves emotionally from others, but to affirm a sense of compassion for each other.  It’s a message I’d yet to hear from Washington, and I don’t think we can hear it often enough.

Poets have written about epidemics in the past — Thomas Nashe (1567-1601) wrote A Litany in a Time of Plague, John Davies wrote The Triumph of the Dead, and Christina Rossetti (1830-1894) wrote The Plague, to name just a few examples.  More recently, Rafael Campo (1964 – ) wrote Silence = Death about the Aids epidemic and Simon Armitage, Poet Laureate of the U.K., wrote Lockdown.

Not Shutting Down in a Shut Down

The demands of sheltering in place can be daunting.  “Feelings of anxiety can creep up when you’re sheltering in place,” according to Jei Africa, Director of the Behavioral Health and Recovery Services at the Marin County Health and Human Services Department.  In a recent story in the Marin Independent Journal, he’s quoted as saying, “You could have trouble sleeping, not feeling like eating or eating too much, shortness of breath, heart racing or feeling irritable or impatient.”  Keeping stress levels down is important, and this can be done by “controlling the things you can control,” he says.  His advice: “Exercise, limit exposure to news and social media, keep in contact with friends and family, eat healthy, get enough sleep and make sure to have a solid connection with your main health care provider.”

Saving City Lights

Like other small businesses that are suffering from the economic impact of the health crisis, the futures of many independent bookstores are threatened, including the legendary City Lights bookstore and publishing company in San Francisco’s North Beach.  Founded by poet and painter Lawrence Ferlinghetti, it helped to launch the careers of Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso, Lenore Kandel, and many others.  A recent message from Elaine Katzenberger, Publisher and CEO of City Lights Booksellers and Publishers, described City Lights as “a steady beacon…there whenever we need a place to feel at home with our fellow humans, their ideas and aspirations, their curiosities and their wild dreams of a new beginning.”  The landmark store, opened in 1953, has been closed since March 16th and currently has no way to generate sales.  The good news is that a GoFundMe campaign exceeded the initial goal of $300,000 in just a few days, raising over $400,000.  The store will go on, Katzenberger says, at least for now.  “Knowing that City Lights is beloved is one thing, but to have that love manifest itself with such momentum and indomitable power, well, that’s something I don’t quite know how to find words for.”

Acknowledging Grief

In an interview with Amapour & Co. on PBS (available on YouTube), grief and dying expert David Kessler observes that many people are now grieving for the loss of loved ones but, in addition, we’re also mourning for the world we’ve lost.  “Everything has changed,” he says, and “it’s sinking into us that next week the world’s not going back to normal.”  Acknowledging grief over our losses is important, he adds.  “If we name it, it allows us to be sad, to cry, to feel those emotions…suppressing them isn’t going to work.”  His most recent book, Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief (Scribners, 2019) explains that these six stages aren’t linear, and that in acknowledging our felt experience, we can begin to find meaning, and healing, in that.  The process is deeply personal one, and what’s meaningful for one person may not be for another.  For Kessler, it comes in the form of helping others through his lectures and writing.

West Marin Review

Thanks to West Marin Review of Point Reyes Station, California, and especially to co-founder Madeleine Corson, whose attention to my poem Temple Snow helped it come to life.  Their website describes the journal as “influenced by the natural beauty of the land and water, and the surrounding agricultural lands and open space.”  A collaborative effort with Point Reyes Books and Black Mountain Circle, the latest issue is due shortly.  https://www.westmarinreview.org

 

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Reading and Writing Haiku: A Brief Introduction

The basics of haiku are straightforward, making it accessible to just about everyone.  In English, haiku are traditionally written in the present tense in a format of three lines; the first line is composed of five syllables, the middle line of seven, and the last line of five, for a total of seventeen syllables.  But modern examples often vary from this 5/7/5 format.  The pronoun “I” is generally excluded, as are rhyme and metaphor; punctuation is often unconventional or nonexistent, with dashes or ellipses sometimes serving as breaks between images.

These norms evolved from an earlier poetry form, the renga, a linked, collaborative effort that begins with a three-line verse called hokku.  The great renga master, Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), also practiced writing hokku apart from renga, and is now recognized as the “father of haiku.”  But it wasn’t until poet and critic Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902) advocated calling these compact verses “haiku” that it was formally acknowledged as an independent literary form.

The main purpose is to express a slice of life and, in so doing, enhance awareness of ourselves and the world.  Mitsu Suzuki, author of A White Tea Bowl: 100 Haiku from 100 Years of Life (Rodmell Press, 2008), has observed that haiku is “a practice of meditation and life…” that “helps us penetrate deeply into ourselves and cleanse ourselves.”

Probably the most well-known example is by Basho:

The old pond.

A frog jumps in —

Plop!

(trans. R.H. Blythe)

In this version of the Japanese original, the fundamental event is depicted through two primary images and an aural cue: out of the waters of stillness comes life, movement, and sound.  The emphasis here is on direct perception — the verse invites the reader to share the essence of the moment, without an obvious authorial persona.  As authors William J. Higginson and Penny Harter point out in The Haiku Handbook (Kodansha USA, 2013), the ideal of the Basho School-haiku is that “both the language of the poem and the mind of the poet should be transparent to the reader….”  Much has been written about these three lines, yet there’s a playful, even celebratory aspect to them that’s often overlooked, and this aspect presages Basho’s later work which stresses karumi, or “lightness of tone.”

While haiku generally doesn’t use the pronoun “I,” it nevertheless recognizes the person and the richness of human feeling — from wonder, ebullience and laughter to loneliness, anger, and sorrow.  Here’s one by Issa that’s somewhere in between the poles:

blossoms everywhere

this New Year’s Day — yet something

remains unopened

(version by j.g.)

A more thorough introduction to the subject would include reading a few anthologies and browsing through a handful of dedicated journals.  Or, you may want to start by reading the “four greats” — Basho, Buson, Issa, and Shiki.  As you do, you‘ll notice that their work often contains a reference to the season.  This practice stems from the hokku which traditionally contained an image to date it (cherry blossoms in early spring, for instance).  Many haikuists today continue to evoke nature through the use of official “kigo,” words that allude to the seasons and affirm our deep connection to the elements, and to plant, animal, and insect life.

Among the many Japanese poets who expanded the scope of nature-focused haiku is Keneko Tohta (1919-2018), who incorporated his WWII experiences as well as surrealist-like images akin to imagist poetry.  Americans such as Richard Wright, Jack Kerouac, Jane Reichhold, Nick Virgilio, and Elizabeth Searle Lamb continued to broaden the scope so that, now, it’s hard to imagine many topics that would be out of bounds.  Reading old and new haiku from around the world provides an opening into a dialogue that spans time and cultures.  Writing and sharing it with others, both in person at haiku meetings and in print and online journals, we can cultivate that dialogue within ourselves and our communities.

Suggested Reading

Seeds from a Birch Tree, Clark Strand, Hyperion, NY, 1997

Haiku Mind: 108 Poems to Cultivate Awareness and Open Your Heart, Patricia Donegan, Shambala, 2008

The Essential Haiku: Versions of Basho, Buson, and Issa: edited by Robert Hass, The Ecco Press, NJ, 1994

The Genius of Haiku: Readings from R.H. Blythe on Poetry, Life, and Zen: The British Haiku Society, Hokuseido Press, 1995

The Haiku Handbook: How to Write, Teach, and Appreciate Haiku: by William J. Higginson and Penny Harter, Kodansha USA, 1985

A Zen Wave: Basho’s Haiku and Zen: Robert Aitken, Weatherhill, 1978

A White Tea Bowl: 100 Haiku from 100 Years of Life, by Mitsu Suzuki, edited by Kazuaki Tanahashi and Norman Fischer (Rodmell Press, 2008)

Resources

Haiku North America sponsors biennial conferences on haiku that include readings, panels, workshops, and more.  www.haikunorthamerica.com

Haiku Poets of Northern California sponsors an annual reading that’s open to the public, and a members only anthology.  www.hpnc.org

The Haiku Society of America promotes “the writing and appreciation of haiku and haiku related forms in English” and publishes the journal Frogpond.  www.hsa-haiku.org

Journals

Frogpond

Wales Haiku Journal

Hedgerow

Bottle Rockets

The Heron’s Nest

Modern Haiku 

Presence

Dodging the Rain

Mayfly

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Briefly Noted

Shiki (1867-1902) was one of the first of the modern Japanese poets to expand the traditional view of haiku as a practice strictly devoted to the natural world.  He introduced subjects as diverse as railroads, war, and baseball, into the mix.  A new book, Haiku as Life: A Kaneko Tohta Omnibus (Red Moon Press, Winchester, VA, 2019), adds to our understanding of modern haiku reform with the work of Keneko Tohta (1919-2018) by presenting over two-hundred translations of this influential critic, teacher, and poet.  In his introduction, Richard Gilbert draws from Tohta’s lectures, in which he suggests that, “If we are only to compose haiku on the life of ‘birds and flowers,’ failing to include the whole of life, not excepting humanity, our range of expression will become narrow as a result.”  Tohta’s early work doesn’t shy away from the war time topics he experienced first-hand such as air raids, torpedoes, gunfire, and the bones of the dead, while later examples incorporate surreal-like images, such as the one that depicts bank clerks as “fluorescent squid” and one that evokes “blue sharks” in a spring garden.  And although Tohta abjured the use of “kigo” or official seasonal words, his oeuvre is interwoven with images from nature, evoking perennial themes of impermanence and change.         

The winter issue of World Haiku Review, edited by Susumu Takiguchi, can now be found online: https://sites.google.com/site/worldhaikureview2/.  Congratulations to Marie Shimane, winner of the Editor’s Choice award for her superb haiku about a winter walk that traverses youth and old age.  WHR’s anthology, Fuga No Makoto: Ten Years of World Haiku, 2008 – 20017, edited by Rohini Gupta, has been published as an ebook and is available through Amazon.  The title, referring to Basho’s dictum “truth and sincerity in art,” is reflected in a soulful array of haiku ranging from classical to modern, and those that fall somewhere in-between.  Editor Takiguchi’s commentary offers both context and insight into some of the writers’ approaches.  Commenting on Lawrence Barrow’s haiku that depicts the swift-moving Kiyotaki River, for instance, she writes that it has “a story to tell, a drama to enjoy, and music to listen to,” while pointing out that it falls into the Japanese tradition of Utamakura — the poetic practice of alluding to beautiful sites in nature.  Recommended for novice and seasoned haijuns alike, as well as readers who just want to sample the diversity of the many voices heard here.       

Hidden River Arts Awards

In the Cool of Morning, was selected as a finalist for the Trilogy Award in Poetry by Hidden River Arts.  Based in Philadelphia, the organization is “dedicated to the service, support, and celebration of all artists.”  www.hiddenriverarts.wordpress.com

Poetry Prompts

Melissa Donovan’s article, A Selection of Poetry Prompts from 1200 Creative Writing Prompts, August 22, 2019, offers a wealth of ideas to jump start your writing.  www.writingforward.com

Warm wishes for a peaceful and happy new year!

 

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Picking Berries

So many of my favorite poems are about picking berries.  I’ve always loved one by Lisel Mueller, Picking Raspberries.  The first four lines are memorable: “Once the thicket opens/and lets you enter/and the first berry dissolves on your tongue/you will remember nothing/ of your old life”  (Alive Together, Louisiana State University Press, 1996, Baton Rouge, LA).  Mary Oliver has written two that I know and admire — Blackberries, and Blueberries (Devotions, Penguin Press, 2017, NY, NY), and there’s Galway Kinnell’s Blackberry Eating, that compares the ripeness of berries to “certain peculiar words/like strengths or squinched,/many-lettered, one-syllable lumps…”  (Collected Poems, Galway Kinnell, Houghton, Mifflin, Harcourt, 2017, Boston, NY).  Then, there’s Seamus Heaney’s Blackberry Picking with its compelling turn at the end (Death of a Naturalist, Faber & Faber, 1966, London).

The Music of What Happens

Reviewing the BBC production of Seamus Heaney and the Music of What Happens (The Guardian, November 18, 2019), Rebecca Nicholson observes that the documentary “stands as an excellent tribute to the man and his work.”  Heaney’s poetry has beguiled readers since the publication of his first major collection, The Death of a Naturalist in 1966, and continues to do so.  Like his countryman, W. B. Yeats, to whom he’s often compared, Heaney has a gift for finding the music in both the somber and the prosaic, especially as it refers the rural life he knew and loved.  In his commentary on the title poem of The Death of a Naturalist, poet Andrew Spacey notes that the “language is typically rich with what has become known as clusters of sound — alliteration and assonance juxtaposed…”   This is poetry that begs to be spoken, not only read.  For Spacey’s line by line analysis — in effect a mini-course in poetic devices, go to www.owlcation.com.

Historic Greta Hall

If you’re in the market for an historic house with a literary pedigree, Greta Hall in England’s Lake District may be just your cup of tea.  The three-story, Georgian style house was variously the residence of poets Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Robert Southey, and has hosted such notables as William and Dorothy Wordsworth, Lord Byron, and John Keats over the years.  Boasting ten bedrooms and a 335 year-old fireplace, it served most recently as a B&B.  Not to be missed: the Venetian window and view of the woods from Southey’s one-time study.  www.mansionglobal.com

Line Breaks and Enjambment

Hannah Huff’s article, Dear Bad Writers: Read This Poetry Line Breaks Guide offers some good tips on the effective use of line breaks and enjambment.  The examples are especially helpful.  www.notesofoak.com

Pushcart Nominations

Three poems that appeared in Rumors of Wisdom have each been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.  The poems are “Looking Out at the Stream,” “Shed,” and “Crow Makes a Scene.”  Many thanks to Concrete Wolf Press and Editor Lana Hechtman Ayers for this recognition.

Poetry and the Contemplative Life

In the article Poetry and the Contemplative Life (Commonweal, July 4, 1947), Thomas Merton wrote:  “It is obvious, then, that contemplation has much to offer poetry.  But can poetry offer anything in return, to contemplation?”  What poetry offers, I think, is an invitation to experience the sacred in our everyday lives, which Merton — himself a poet — likely intuited.  This may also be one reason so many people are instinctively drawn to it, both as readers and writers.

Wishing you all the joys of the season, and a happy and healthy new year!

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Poetry Contests: Pros and Cons

Every other small magazine seems to have a poetry contest of one kind or another, whether it’s an “editor’s choice” for an individual poem or group of poems, a themed contest, or a competition offering publication for a chapbook or a full-length manuscript.  It’s one way for editors to drum up interest in the magazine and cultivate new subscribers.  Obviously, contests are also an alternative for new poets to attract the attention of editors and get their work published.  From my experience, I’d say that participating in contests has more pluses than minuses.  I’ll address the pluses first.

I’ve found that the prospect of entering a contest has motivated me to compose new work, revise and polish older poems, and to reconceptualize a manuscript.  Recently, I entered a contest that asked entrants to write poems using select words — the one that interested me was “sforzando.”  I didn’t have a clue what it meant but, looking it up, I found that it was a mark on sheet music “to make a strong, sudden accent on a note or chord.”  That one word was enough to inspire a short poem which I gleefully sent out along with the fee (more about those later).  It really wasn’t a very impactful poem and I wasn’t surprised to hear back in short time that it wasn’t a winner.  The good news, though, is that I still appreciated the poem for what it was, and more importantly, for what it might be.  It wasn’t showy, and it wasn’t emotionally riveting like many of the winning poems I’ve read, but with a little more work and a few more lines, it came into focus — much improved I think, and very much on theme for a new collection I’ve been working on.

Winning a contest generally comes with publication and often a cash prize.  But, it can also be a confidence booster.  Winning the Louis Award (Concrete Wolf Press, 2019) for my first full-length volume, Rumors of Wisdom, gave me the boost I needed to tackle a second volume, and a third.  Although I’m still revising and polishing both, I don’t think I would have gotten this far without knowing that someone out there found my work engaging enough to publish it.

One of the downsides to contests is that the entry fees seem to be going up and up.  I recently decided to forgo one that charged forty dollars, and find that it pays to shop around for a suitable contest that doesn’t drain your wallet, or better yet, one that’s free.  (For a list of free writing contests, visit www.https//jerryjenkins.com and www.https//trishhopkinson.com.)  Also, keep in mind that many publishing houses have no cost, open submission periods for manuscripts and don’t require that a writer have an agent.  These “over the transom” submissions may seem like a long shot, but definitely shouldn’t be ignored.  Other firms prefer to see a book proposal first.

The other problem with entering contests is learning how to spot illegitimate ones from the real thing.  The Council of Literary Magazines and Presses (www.https//:clmp.org) discusses the importance of ethical guidelines for literary contests while recognizing that there is a range of ethical models.  Most legitimate contests post their standards along with guidelines — if they don’t, be wary of entering; one of the very real risks is that you may be signing away your future publishing rights by winning.  In her article, “Confessions of a Contest Junkie,” Carolyn Moore discusses the problem of poetry anthology “scams,” but just as valuable is her discussion of how to target your work for the right contest (www.https//winningwriters.com).

New Anthology Praised by American Library Association

The American Library Association’s BOOKLIST Magazine described the recently released anthology, Loon Magic and Other Night Sounds, as “uniquely tuned to the beauty and fear expressed in the night’s symphony…offering unexpected moments of connection and reconciliation.”  Kudos to Editor Whitney Scott of the TallGrass Writers Guild!

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Special Feature

Working in Multiple Genres: an Interview with Aline Soules

Interviewed by Jerome Gagnon

It’s a privilege to have poet and historical fiction writer Aline Soules as my guest today.  Author of Meditation on Woman (bit.ly/meditationonwoman) and Evening Sun: A Widow’s Journey (bit.ly/evening-sun), her poetry has appeared in such publications as Kenyon Review, Houston Literary Review, Poetry Midwest, and the Galway Review.  I thought it would be interesting to see what she’s up to these days and, in particular, to ask about her experience working in multiple genres.

Q. I know you’re a fairly voracious reader.  What are you reading these days? Do you read more for information, amusement, or some other thing?

A. Answer to your last question first:  Yes, yes, and yes—information, amusement, fun, the cereal box, I don’t care.  I read all the time and have several books going at once, depending on where I’m reading—my comfy chair, my outdoor chaise longue, in bed.  Right now, I’m reading the following: The Secret History of SOE, by William Mackenzie and Code Name: Lise: the true story of the woman who became WWII’s most highly decorated spy, by Larry Loftis, both as research for my novel; Lovers and Dancers, by Heather Ingman, for fun; some of the Collected poems of Louis Macneice (always read poetry); conversations with W. S. Merwin, by Michael Wutz and Hal Crimmel (so sad—no more poems from him).  As you can see, anything goes.

Q. Can you share with us some of your favorite poets and novelists?   What’s the appeal for you?  

A. So many poets.  I’ll start with Seamus Heaney, not just for his famous poems, like “The Field,” but also for Beowulf.  I’ve noticed that, in “English” classes, students are often presented with the Iliad or the Odyssey. That’s fine, but why not our English classic, Beowulf?  Heaney’s version is accessible and wonderful.  Gerard Manley Hopkins—I go back to him all the time.  The language, the imagery stun me. Many women poets, like Adrienne Rich, Carolyn Forché, May Sarton, Linda Gregerson, Rita Dove, Lucille Clifton, Elizabeth Bishop, Wislawa Szymborska—I could go on.  But I also like “dead white males,” which isn’t the popular choice these days. I remember the controversy over Robert Bly’s Iron John: a Book about Men, yet it’s proved to be one of his most enduring works, an international best seller and a start to the Mythopoetic men’s movement in the U.S.  There’s a danger in deciding that one’s ethnicity or gender has made one biased, thereby missing out on great language and thought, whether I agree with it all or not.  Today, we have new writers—Ocean Vuong, Sherman Alexie, Amber Tamblyn, Kei Miller, Morgan Parker. I’m trying to understand the appeal of Rupi Kaur, the “Instapoet,” but I admit to struggling with her work.  

Q. You’ve written poetry in the past and now you’re working on an historical novel.  Do you find that any of the skills for writing poetry apply to fiction, or are they very different?

A. Great question.  I use my poetry skills (if “skills” is the right word) in everything I write.  Poetic language is key anywhere—the ability to come up with the right words, the right image, the best phrase to convey a feeling or a thought in a way that resonates with readers and makes what you write memorable.  Writing is an endless struggle (why do we do this, again?), but, somehow, a struggle that’s worthwhile to me. In my current novel, I’m still not at the point of going through my work to struggle with the final language and phrasing, but, when I do (soon), it will be one of the more pleasurable parts of novel writing.  I should add that poetry has also helped in all my writing. During my academic career, I wrote many articles and book chapters, all of which were improved by my poetry practice. In fact, I start all my writing days with poetry, unless I have a pressing deadline.

Q. In an interview, I think Ocean Vuong said that his new novel (On Earth, We’re Briefly Gorgeous) was written, in part, as a letter to his mother.  How do you go about finding the right form (or forms) for a novel, or does it find you?

A. Forms are organic, I think, particularly in poetry, but also in other writing forms.  

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Even academic writing, with its introduction, method, results, and discussion/conclusion sections enables organic form within the structure.  My novel is historical fiction and I’ve discovered that it’s like a jigsaw puzzle in some ways. I’ve written a full draft (more than once) and I still find myself cutting up the summary of each chapter and moving the pieces around on my table to decide the best order for the story.  I may have a linear approach in my first draft (what happens? what happens next? etc.), but I won’t end up with that.

Q. Are you continuing to write poetry even as you work on a prose project?  If so, do you have any advice for writers on how to balance these two disciplines?

A. I do write poetry—all the time.  As mentioned above, I start with poetry when I sit down to write.  It might be ten minutes or two hours, depending on how the work develops. Then I turn to my novel.  I have no advice for writers on balancing multiple disciplines, other than to suggest that each writer must find his/her/eir path through the process.  When I also wrote academic articles and book chapters, I interspersed those with poetry, too. I’m sure that some writers practice one or the other at any

given time, rather than engaging with more than one at the same time, but starting with poetry gets me in my writing frame.  I’ve also noticed that when I’m “on a roll” with poetry, everything else is “on a roll,” too. The converse is also true.

Q. A sense of Time with a capital “T” seems to be all important in novels.  Even if they’re written conventionally in the past tense, they’re generally supposed to represent the present — or, in the case of historical novels, the “distant” present.  Where is your narrator located in terms of time? Have you encountered any challenges and/or benefits in exploring the notion of time in fiction? 

A. My novel is written in close third, past tense.  I’ve tried other points of view and other tenses, but have decided on this approach.  The idea of “representing the present” is really the idea of engaging the reader so that he/she/ey feels “present” with the main character.  I say character (singular) because I’m working in close third and the story unfolds from her point of view. I’ve never tried omniscient point of view, although the greats in the past used it all the time (Dickens, Thackeray, Trollope).  As for the notion of time in fiction, I’ve never explored this directly, but Alan Lightman has. I particularly love Einstein’s Dream, which I re-read periodically, but any of his books are fabulous.  He engages with physics principles, such as time. After all, who better?  As a physicist and a writer, he’s worked at Harvard and MIT, where he’s currently professor of the practice of the humanities.  

Q. Some writers advise that, once you have an outline, you should write straight through your first draft and not stop for anything, no editing or rewriting at all.  How do you feel about this, and what’s your approach?  

A. Ah, the pantser vs. plotter theme.  The pantser, e.g., Ellen Sussman, goes for what happens?  what happens next? and next? and next? (no outline). After that, she spends a year or two revising. The plotter, e.g., John Grisham, goes for plot everything out before he writes a single word.  After that, he writes. I like a combination. I start with a form of the pantser method, where I write scenes about what comes to me but, not too far into what happens, I make a rough outline. After that, I move back and forth. If I wake up with an idea that excites me, I write the scene while it’s “hot,” whether it’s next in line or not.  Otherwise, I follow and develop my outline and my scenes together.

In the end, what’s important about any method is that your reader makes “discoveries” along with you; otherwise, the reader won’t be engaged.  The action may be too predictable. Of course, some readers like predictability (e.g., romance novels), but, I want surprises. The pantser method leads me to discoveries that surprise me and those are key for my novel because the reader will be surprised, too.  I’m also endlessly amazed at how my characters tell me what to do. They go off on tangents I don’t expect — surprises. And that’s the joy of the written word, isn’t it? To be surprised, expanded, given an emotional journey as well as intellectual stimulation. Reading and writing and the book itself — what a great trio.  What a wonderful world.

 

aline_black_sweater_2017Find Aline Soules online at http://allinesoules.com,@aline elisabeth, https://www.facebook/com/alinesoulesauthor, and https://www.linkedin.com/in/alinesoules/. 

For Aline’s Q & A with me, Writing Contemplative Poetry, please visit her blog or the Interview section on this site (see main menu).  

 

(Note: I’ll be on hiatus from the blog through August, resuming in mid-September.  I hope you’ll join me then.)

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Rumors New Cover

“Rumors of Wisdom impressed me throughout with poems about very specific things, or memories, or details; specifics that often metaphorically stand for bigger things.  This collection stands out for its breadth of scope.”

– Timons Esaias, Louis Book Award Judge

author of Why Elephants No Longer Communicate in Greek

“Luminous, lyric, sparkling with wit and the kind of subtle wisdom that comes from a

long, slow, generous looking at life… these poems are simply irresistible in their appeal.”

– Mark S. Burrows, Ph.D

Poetry Editor of Spiritus, author of Meister Eckhart’s Book of the Heart:

Meditations for the Restless Soul, with Jon M. Sweeney

Book Release

I’m happy to report that Rumors of Wisdom has just been released.  This full-length, perfect bound collection consists of fifty-eight poems and received the 2018 Louis Book Award from Concrete Wolf Press.  My sincere gratitude to Editor/Publisher, Lana Hechtman Ayers, for her commitment to this ongoing series, to the judge, Timons Esaias, and to Tonya Namura for her handsome cover design.   Rumors can be ordered from selected retailers via the publisher’s website at Concrete Wolf Press or click on the photo, above.

Contest Announcements

Hidden River Arts will award $1,000 plus publication by Sowilo Press to a woman fiction writer over the age of forty for a collection of stories, a novella, or a novel.  Submit by March 15th……Bellingham Review will award three prizes of $1,000 each for poetry, fiction, and nonfiction (including CNF).  Submit by March 31st……River Styx is offering a $1,500 prize in the River Styx International Poetry Contest.  Oliver de la Paz will judge.  By May 31st…..The Crab Creek Review Poetry Prize offers $500 plus publication for the best poem.  “All entries are considered for submission.”  By May 15th.

Writing Prompt:

Expressing Another Person’s Struggle

“Write a poem about someone you know in a way that helps you to become more keenly aware of their struggle or difficulty.  Find sounds, rhythms, details and images to describe what this person is going through.  What does this person’s experience tell you about yourself?”  (from Poetic Medicine, The Healing Art of Poem Making, by John Fox, Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam)