early morning corn

A Good Interview...

Wed, 24 Apr 2013 10:12:00 -0400

…HERE. Matthew Henriksen talks to Graham Foust about humor, translation, and the Midwest:

“I should say, too, that I always think of myself as a midwestern poet, as that’s the only place with which I feel a kind of existential kinship. If seven years in California taught me anything, it’s that. In his terrific essay ‘Good-bye Wisconsin,’ the insanely underrated novelist Glenway Wescott says something about midwesterners being in the situation of ‘being born where they do not like to live.’”

Photo

Mon, 22 Apr 2013 15:23:00 -0400

Kathleen Peirce’s The Oval Hour is available as a free...

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 10:39:00 -0400

Kathleen Peirce’s The Oval Hour is available as a free download, thanks to the University of Iowa. (Though you should probably buy a copy of the book anyway.)

"I am astonished in my teaching to find how many poets are nearly blind to the physical world. They..."

Sun, 14 Apr 2013 15:20:48 -0400

“I am astonished in my teaching to find how many poets are nearly blind to the physical world. They have ideas, memories, and feelings, but when they write their poems they often see them as similes. To break this habit, I have my students keep a journal in which they must write, very briefly, six things they have seen each day—not beautiful or remarkable things, just things. This seemingly simple task usually is hard for them. At the beginning, they typically “see” things in one of three ways: artistically, deliberately, or not at all. Those who see artistically instantly decorate their descriptions, turning them into something poetic: the winter trees immediately become “old men with snow on their shoulders,” or the lake looks like a “giant eye.” The ones who see deliberately go on and on describing a brass lamp by the bed with painful exactness. And the ones who see only what is forced on their attention: the grandmother in a bikini riding on a skateboard, or a bloody car wreck. But with practice, they begin to see carelessly and learn a kind of active passivity until after a month nearly all of them have learned to be available to seeing—and the physical world pours in. Their journals fill up with lovely things like, “the mirror with nothing reflected in it.” This way of seeing is important, even vital to the poet, since it is crucial that a poet see when she or he is not looking—just as she must write when she is not writing. To write just because the poet wants to write is natural, but to learn to see is a blessing. The art of finding in poetry is the art of marrying the sacred to the world, the invisible to the human.”

- Linda Gregg, The Art of Finding (via haveapoemwithyourcoffee)

"The body is the first writer of the poem. The mind is the caretaker who moves in to make order...."

Wed, 10 Apr 2013 17:25:57 -0400

“The body is the first writer of the poem. The mind is the caretaker who moves in to make order. Sometimes what the mind does to the poem is good. Sometimes, it’s too much. “I am an enemy of the mind,” writes Berryman, while Ginsberg insists that “mind is shapely.” With whatever trust or mistrust we have of it, the mind works the poem in a different way. But let’s be clear: intellects don’t write poems. While they’re wonderful to have, they are no substitute for the body’s senses of the world. Because the body is irrational, and the irrational is where discovery happens.”

- D.A. Powell (via poetryeater)

[PANK] :: February 2013 :: 8.2 :: Bret Shepard :: Place Where Presence Was

Sat, 06 Apr 2013 13:02:46 -0400

[PANK] :: February 2013 :: 8.2 :: Bret Shepard :: Place Where Presence Was :

pankmagazine:

At breakfast I can’t eat, so I draw
a topographical map of where

your body was. I look for relief
when you’re not here. Contour lines

down your side of the bed, then up
the refrigerator door, its elevation

suggesting your torso, and inside it
the eggs you’d break on yourself.
Then the dip

in the couch where your body sat
drinking coffee. Dark concentrations

where lines bunch together. Dark
stains on the cushion, spilt thoughts.

Rae Armantrout

Fri, 05 Apr 2013 18:04:07 -0400

GHOSTED

Long, loose,
spindly, green
stalks with their few
leaves, bug-eaten
tatters
on which
a black monarch
sits, folding
and unfolding
its wings.

A friend’s funeral has broken up—

or was that the last dream?

Now I’m struggling
between monuments,

looking for Chuck.

It’s getting dark
and I’m pissed off

because he won’t answer his cell.

On the wall in a coffee bar,
a model’s arms
and stern, pretty face
frame a window

(where her chest should be)

and a clear sky beyond

Jeff Alessandrelli’s A Lover’s History of Nevada....

Tue, 02 Apr 2013 14:26:00 -0400

Jeff Alessandrelli’s A Lover’s History of Nevada. Buy it here.

Iris Cushing

Tue, 05 Mar 2013 10:00:00 -0500

STATE REPORT

All I want to do today is sit around Wyoming
until it gets dark.

It must be the time of year: the angle of the sun
has shifted, and the leaves are finally Wyoming.

I flip through a picture-book
by the light of one long window.

Vincent Van Gogh gathered inspiration
while Wyoming through the South of France.

I think he captured especially well
the shadows that fall as the sun is Wyoming.

These landscapes unfolded
on my lap remind me
of the season I was in love.
We’d sit together on the porch,

Wyoming en Español. It was the summer
I discovered bread and butter, and walked

through golden fields of rolled-up hay—
curls on the head of a giant saint.

But it’s another season now. Soon
my pet canary will begin Wyoming.

An old German folk song
is Wyoming on the radio.

Its consonant verses, freed of meaning,
deepen the whiteness of the sky.

I give a piece of cheese to the dog
so he’ll stop Wyoming,

then I cut off a piece for myself.

—via Boston Review

Two New Chapbooks

Sun, 03 Mar 2013 16:14:00 -0500

MULTIPLE CHOICES

A. It’s the sound of the absence of sound.

B. It’s not soundlessness.

C. It’s the decay after hitting the whole note.

D. It’s the sound of being heard.

—from James Shea’s Air and Water Show

THIS LAST TIME WILL BE THE FIRST

The world is perfect

and that’s the problem.

You can’t discover

the lost treasure

if the ship didn’t sink.

This last time

will be the first.

—from Jeff Alessandrelli’s People Are Places Are Places Are People

Paulo Leminski

Thu, 28 Feb 2013 11:59:00 -0500

nothing the sun
could not explain

everything the moon
makes glamorous

no rain
fades this flower

—from *Nothing the Sun Could Not Explain: 20 Contemporary Brazilian Poets*

The Next Big Thing: Joshua Ware

Thu, 14 Feb 2013 15:05:00 -0500

The poet Joshua Ware asked me to post his self-interview. Check out his blog, and get his book Homage to Homage to Homage to Creeley, which is great.

What is the working title of the book?

The title of my forthcoming chapbook is Imaginary Portraits.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

The title of this chapbook comes from Walter Pater’s book of the same name. The general concept of the collection stemmed from imaginary explorations of real events and conversations with another poet.

What genre does your book fall under?

Poetry.

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

Since one of the poems deals directly with the Arthur Miller penned film The Misfits (1961), starring Marilyn Monroe, Clark Gable, and Montgomery Clift, those three would make sense. But they’re all dead. So maybe James Franco, my brother, and Selma Hayek (my celebrity crush).

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

Imaginary You is a meditation on love, pronouns, the imagination, and the complex relationship between the three.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

I wrote the first draft of these poems from April 2011 through May 2011. I’m a chronic revisionist, so I’ve worked on these poems as recently as last week.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Several things acted as inspiration for Imaginary Portraits, most prominently an amazing and beautiful poet I fell in love with at the time. Other sources of inspiration are: Ted Berrigan’s “Red Shift” (specifically, the recording of the poem found on PennSound), the aforementioned film The Misfits and Pater’s Imaginary You, Michael Earl Craig’s “Bluebirds,” Tina Brown Celona’s unpublished chapbook My Cat Jeffrey, Wallace Stevens’ “Snowman” and “The Idea of Order in Key West,” Joanna Klink’s “Lodestar,” and William Carlos Williams’ “The Red Wheelbarrow.”

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Well, individual poems appeared in Country Music, diode, and The Journal; while the collection these poems come from, titled Imaginary You, was named a finalist for last year’s National Poetry Series, Cleveland State Open Book Competition, Akron Poetry Prize, and Coconut Books’ Braddock Prize. If you find these journals and presses interesting and appreciate their editorial tastes and aesthetic choices, then you’ll probably like these poems.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Greying Ghost Press will release Imaginary Portraits soon, probably in the next couple months. Carl puts together great artifacts and possesses a terrific editorial eye, so I’m very happy that he selected these poems. To my mind, Greying Ghost has been one of the best chapbook publishers putting out work over the past several years. I’m pleased with its home.

from Mary Ruefle's "Topophilia"

Mon, 11 Feb 2013 16:08:37 -0500

I study nature so as not to do foolish things.
For instance, in the worst windstorms
only the most delicate things survive:
a vireo’s nest intact on the lawn next to the roots
of a monstrous tree. Life makes so much sense!

Two Poems by Steve Wilson

Sat, 09 Feb 2013 16:42:00 -0500

COUMEENOLE BEACH / CANCER JOURNAL 6

—Slea Head Grotto, Ireland, August 2010

From hurt the heart unwords itself.
Goes down to dark. Sits silent.

No breaks, I’d thought, were working
there. Then roar. Then seafoam blast:

a wound was waiting. Feeds to grow.
Now alters, rends. That one long strand,

like faith, curves out uncalmed, thinned
to a breath—just so at once I’m done,

I’m lost. Yes, white the waves that scar
the shore. Yes, cold the roiling deep.

EXTRAVAGANCE

—for Robert Creeley

Like a numbing thumb,
the moment dulls until it tastes
complicity. Of worry

then the crawing gnaw—to eat and eat is all,
is all. I’ve stored long
loss upon some kitchen shelf.

A jar that rounds along
the night. Worry words: that works
us sure, the way

a nightbird sures—through shadow sures
its call. At least
this once. This one, at last.

The Next Big Thing

Wed, 30 Jan 2013 16:07:00 -0500

The wonderful poet Nick Courtright tagged me for The Next Big Thing self-interview series that’s going around, so here goes.

What is the working title of the book?

Thought That Nature.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

Most of what I write is a reflection of my inability to understand my surroundings, which is true of the poems in this book. Though I didn’t have a premeditated project in mind, after writing and sifting through many individual poems and sequences, some familiar obsessions began to emerge and create a sense of scaffolding.

What genre does your book fall under?

Poetry.

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

I’d rather consider who might direct it: Gus Van Sant, Paul Thomas Anderson, the Coen brothers, Alexander Payne.

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

Thought That Nature attempts to process the complicated layers of place, which is impossible.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

The earliest poem in the book dates back to 2007, and the most recent was written in 2011, the year I began organizing and revising the poems. So it took me about four years to write the first draft.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Weather. Grocery stores. Jennifer. The Midwest. Texas. Buses. Emily Dickinson. Walking. Ghosts. Francis Ponge. Landscapes. Birds. California. Lorine Niedecker. Environmental policy. Trees.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

1) Cole Swenson, whose work I very much admire, selected Thought That Nature for Sarabande Books’ 2012 Kathryn A. Morton Prize in Poetry.

2) Jeff Alessandrelli, Nick Courtright, James Shea, and Joshua Ware—all great poets—helped improve this book by reading and commenting on earlier versions.

3) A few proper nouns found in the book include “God,” “Nebraska,” “Oppen,” “Sam Cooke,” “Susan,” and “Walmarts.”

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Sarabande Books will publish Thought That Nature in early 2014.

My tagged writers for next Wednesday are: Rob Schlegel and Joshua Ware.

Cole Swensen: A Conceptual Introduction

Sun, 06 Jan 2013 12:23:00 -0500

1. Focus your life on the precise point at which perception turns to thought.

2. The base structure of both the city and the poem is the labyrinth…As in any maze, you can only see to the next corner, never around it.

3. One of the things that I’d like to manage to do when I write is to have the texts generate a sort of phenomenon of persistence, (like certain short pieces of music seem to continue to be heard after silence has returned).

4. Unification is another misleading term. It’s a euphemism for conformity even among ourselves. We must continue to differ, even to disagree.

5. The poem becomes a search for the new structures that time makes when memory becomes the living present.

6. I’m always a little puzzled by the fetish for originality, yet participate in it fully.

7. Never paint a moving part.

(via The University of Arizona Poetry Center)

heatherchristle: Amherst College announced the other day that...

Sun, 06 Jan 2013 10:50:21 -0500

heatherchristle:

Amherst College announced the other day that “all of the manuscripts of Emily Dickinson held by Amherst College are now freely available for viewing by anyone with an internet connection anywhere in the world.”

This bears repeating.

Amherst College announced the other day that “all of the manuscripts of Emily Dickinson held by Amherst College are now freely available for viewing by anyone with an internet connection anywhere in the world.” (Emphasis mine/the world’s.)

Ernst Meister's "Winterly" (tr. Michael Hamburger)

Thu, 20 Dec 2012 15:45:00 -0500

Here, where the blood-stained
game track ends
the huntsman lies bound
and his dog eats snow,
a black dog,
my eyes have the power to see
crystals of the air.

Snow in the mouth
purifies
the word of love.
In the frost glimmer
eyes
of the sea-buckthorn.

There, as of
blue ore,
stars contain it,
is a taste
on the tongue—

scarcely affording
folly.

See you soon, SATX.

Thu, 20 Dec 2012 15:22:00 -0500

See you soon, SATX.

TYPO 17

Thu, 20 Dec 2012 10:47:00 -0500

TYPO 17: Another great issue of TYPO!

adamclay:

w/ poems by:

STEPHANIE ANDERSON
MONICA BERLIN & BETH MARZONI
MOLLY BRODAK
HANNAH BROOKS-MOTL
LAURA CARTER
TINA BROWN CELONA
JEFF ENCKE
GRAHAM FOUST
NATHAN HAUKE
JENNY GROPP HESS
KEVIN HOLDEN
STEVEN KARL
KAREN LEPRI
LINNEA OGDEN
ELIZABETH ROBINSON
PATTABI SESHADRI
PAIGE TAGGART
JOSHUA WARE
JOSHUA MARIE WILKINSON