Moving Forward into Broad, Sunlit Uplands

I returned from my Thanksgiving festivities with a whopper of a cold.  Until last night, the main symptom of my cold was a severe sore throat.  I haven't had a sore throat by itself for years; usually I have a sore throat because my stressed, teacher's voice submitted to a cough, which made my throat sore.

My dad returned home with the same sore throat.  We spent the holiday with 5 children under the age of 6, one of whom had been sick, so we suspect one of them is the disease vector.

I keep thinking that I have a poem here--Thanksgiving and sickness, both my own and the Pilgrims'.  Probably been done to death.

A better poem might be to think about how my cousins, sister, and I spent our youth during family reunions at the beach:  we'd collect odds and ends of abandoned things on the sand and create an ice cream shop out of spent fireworks and shells and trash of all sorts.  And now we spend time talking about the European debt crisis which may become a U.S. crisis yet.

In these dark days, I'm finding the words of Winston Churchill, who was born on this day in 1874, to be comforting:  "The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us. Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this Island or lose the war. If we can stand up to him, all Europe may be free and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands. But if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted science. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, 'This was their finest hour.'"

It's good to remember that no matter how dark our days may be, humanity has faced much worse.  I'm thinking of reading A Train in Winter by Caroline Moorehead.  It's a book about women of the French Resistance and how they survived or didn't survive the Nazis.  I'm not sure I'm up to the task.  But it would be a good way to restore my sense of perspective.

Today is also the birthday of Jonathan Swift, one of my favorite satirists.  I'm always amazed by how many students take his writing in "A Modest Proposal" completely seriously, even after I've cautioned them that he's not really advocating the literal eating of babies.  Many student brains are not built for satire.  Or maybe it's a testimony to Swift's skill that he makes such a compelling case that we take him seriously at face value.

Who will be today's satirists that we will study hundreds of years from now?

Today is also the birthday of Mark Twain, a satirist of a different time.  I remember the first time I taught The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn in an American Lit survey class.  I was prepared for students to be shocked or outraged by Twain's use of the N word, but that didn't phase them.  They were upset by the way that Huck treated Jim, as was I.  It was a good leaping off point to discuss how our society shapes our behavior.


The Writer's Almanac website entry for today reminds us that today is also L. M. Montgomery's birthday.  I loved Anne of Green Gables, but I haven't returned to it as an adult.  I like an author who "divided her time between playing with dolls and engaging in tomboyish exploits like climbing trees and building forts with neighborhood boys."   I was surprised to read of her battles with loneliness and depression, but in retrospect, it makes sense to me.


It's an interesting collection of tidbits on The Writer's Almanac today:  writers who battled against both outer and inner demons in so many different ways:  Churchill, Swift, Twain, and Montgomery.  Of course, what would great writing be without conflict?  Boring, that's what.

So, today I'm battling my cold, and trying to be grateful for the good health that I usually enjoy.  I'm wondering when I will ever find the time to decorate the house for Christmas.  I have a variety of other wrinkles to my schedule, that I'll blog about later, but I'm trying to see the positive.

If you need help maintaining happiness, here's a great blog post with 11 tips.  You probably already knew about some of them, but this time of year, many of us can use a reminder of how we can move forward into broad, sunlit uplands (to use Churchill's phrase, in the hopes that I'm not trivializing it by using it in this way).

Frequent Travelling Autumn Comes to an End

First of all, for those of you who haven't yet gotten enough of my shopping tips, go here for my latest post on the Living Lutheran site.  I talk about balanced gift giving.  As you might expect, I recommend charitable giving--but I also have recommendations for the people on your list who really want a present to unwrap.

I am now back from my Thanksgiving travels.  But really, I've been travelling a lot since the end of September.  My life seems to be like that now--long periods of less travelling followed by a period where I'm on the go a lot.  If I was truly good at this, I'd be arranging readings along the way.  Yes, let me hold on to that thought.

Here are some notes from an autumn of frequent travels:

--We hear a lot of people going on and on about how there's no longer any manufacturing in the U.S.  But there is.  During the last two months, I've seen lots of factories in action, smoke coming out of the stacks, workers coming and going.  But they're small factories, manufacturing parts or obscure machines or things that I'm not sure what they are.

--I also drove by many independent businesses--but these aren't the businesses that will rescue the economy.  They're already employing as many people as they can.

--Lots of deer processing places, lots of agrarian products (hay, livestock, tools, machinery) for sale.

--Of course, I drove by many a manufacturing site that was shuttered--some for sale!  I immediately thought about what I could do with an old plant.

--If I came to your house, and you served me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and black coffee, I'd wonder what was wrong with you.  But on the road--yummmm.

--it's interesting to watch the billboards change along I 95.  At my end of the state, we've got lots of billboards for alcohol and gambling and luxury cars.  At Jacksonville, the other end, more billboards for lawyers specializing in injury cases than I've ever seen.  All along the way, those anti-abortion billboards that remind us of how abortion stops a beating heart or that a fetus' heart starts beating 18 days after conception.  Those billboards used to have a drawing of a fetus.  Now they have a photo of a cute baby who looks to be at least a year old to me.

--I realized some time ago that travelling on a plane meant I'd finish a book or two, zip, zip.  But lately, time in a car is the only time I have to listen to CDs. 

--When I was at Mepkin Abbey, just days after being at Williamsburg, I had this bizarre moment where I felt like I was existing completely outside of space and time.  Yes, time with the monks can sometimes do that to me anyway.  But this year, the feeling was especially intense.

--What a treat it is to travel in autumn, when the landscape is in such a state of change--each trip a feast for my eyes.

--Months from now, I won't remember my aching back, but I'll remember long conversations with my spouse, who was often my travelling companion.  I'll remember the joys of meeting up with old friends, the thrill of a different landscape.

More Ways to Support the Arts with Your Holiday Gift Giving

As we think about our favorite books and chapbooks to give to others, let's not forget about other ways we can support the arts with our gift giving dollars:

--Give a subscription to a magazine or journal. I'm not going to make a list with this one. You know the ones you like. You know the ones you wish would publish your work. Do an act of good poetry karma and actually subscribe, if not for yourself, for someone else (and maybe they'll let you take a look!).

--Give a donation to a magazine or journal in the name of your loved one. Maybe your loved one is like me: my stack of magazines waiting to be read includes material from the spring. I feel guilt over the fact that I don't make time to read them. But magazines and journals need money, and I'm sure they'd take a donation.

--Likewise, you could donate to your public radio station, if you're blessed to have a good one. My local station, which is fairly huge, not only delivers great national programming, but does some local programming too, and they devote considerable time to the arts.

--Donate to other organizations that support the arts. Maybe you've got a local television station or radio station or newspaper/magazine which regularly supports the arts. Let them know that you appreciate it. While you're at it, make some suggestions about how they can make poetry more visible. Suggestions that come with a donation might be taken seriously (make sure to put your contact info on any communication).

--If you've come out of a great school program, donate back to it, in the name of your loved ones. You probably got some assistance, and now is a great time to give back to the community. This idea applies to more than just the MFA graduates. I got my first real non-family encouragement for my writing during undergraduate school, from my English professors to my school's newspaper. I suspect that in this time of shrinking budgets, any gift would be welcome.

--Shop at your local independent bookstore. Even if you're shopping for non-readers, you'll find all sorts of stuff there: notecards, coffee mugs, calendars, music, DVDs, magnets, edibles, shopping bags, and the like. If you don't have a local independent bookstore, shop online. Some of my favorite independents: Books and Books in Miami, Malaprops in Asheville, Charis Books in Atlanta, and Women and Children First in Chicago.

--If you're giving a gift to a poet, why not give a gift certificate to enter a contest? Most contests don't have a real certificate you can buy, but you can make one. Most contests don't cost more than $25, but many poets don't enter, because lots of fees can be prohibitive. Or give a writer the gift of a conference. These fees can be prohibitively expensive for the national conferences, but across the country, there are lots of local conferences.
--Give the gift of time.  Agree to meet your writer friends for coffee and new work.  Arrange poetry lunches.  Go to readings together.  Go see the one or two movies a year that are serious films about artists.

As I've said before, I've moved away from gift giving, at least to first world people. I'd much rather support the third world with my extra dollars. But I know that not every family works that way or would accept my social justice stance. So, if you can't support those who have nothing, you can do next best, and support the arts in other ways!

Poetry Makes a Great Present: The Annotated List of Chapbooks

Friday, I wrote a post with recommendations of books for everyone on your gift-giving list. I arranged it by subject matter.


Here's the master list of chapbooks (the master list of books with spines was yesterday's post), along with brief descriptions so that you can get a sense of the book:

The Doors of the Body by Mary Alexandra Agner: a chapbook of poems that revisit primarily female characters from classic Greek mythology and fairy tales (Mayapple 2009).

Passage to America by Elisa Albo: Wonderful poems about the Cuban-American experience. "How to Make a Raft" is one of my favorite poems about immigration and the risks we take for freedom. (March Street Books 2006)

Dear Professor, Do You Live in a Vacuum? by Nin Andrews: For all the teachers on your list, who will recognize all the notes in this collection. (Subito Press 2008)

I Stand Here Shredding Documents by Kristin Berkey-Abbott: These poems show both the absurdities and joys of modern life, particularly as experienced by office workers and by women. (Finishing Line 2011)

Whistling Past the Graveyard by Kristin Berkey-Abbott: I still enjoy the poems in my chapbook, poems which explore how we live with the knowledge that all we love will be lost. (Pudding House 2004)

Saint Monica by Mary Biddinger: Poems that explore a Catholic childhood, poems the explore what it means to be a woman, poems that explore the intersections between religion, gender, and class. (Black Lawrence 2011)

Odes to Tools by Dave Bonta: Bonta writes a poem for every almost every tool in the shed (unless you've got a really well-stocked shed). Even those on your list who don’t like tools will find the poems in this chapbook delightful and accessible. (Phoenicia 2010)

Another Circle of Delight by Rachel Dacus: A wide range of poems that made me think about my body in whole new ways. (Small Poetry Press 2007)

237 More Reasons to Have Sex by Denise Duhamel and Sandy McIntosh: The subject matter is clear from the title, but the whimsy is unexpected and delightful. (Otoliths 2009)

Little Novels by Denise Duhamel and Maureen Seaton: For the English majors on your list--they'll enjoy these revisitations of classic works. (Pearl 2002)

Oyl by Denise Duhamel and Maureen Seaton: (you get the Popeye reference, right?) Fun with popular culture! (Pearl 2000)

Oh Forbidden by Jill Alexander Essbaum: Untitled sonnets of longing and desire. Very sexy, very physical. (Pecan Grove Press 2005)

A Pilgrim's Guide to Chaos in the Heartland by Jessica Goodfellow: This is the book for the astronomers and mathematicians on your list. (Concrete Wolf 2006)

The Third Winter of War: Buchenwald by John Guzlowski: Guzlowski is my favorite poet exploring World War II and the concentration camp/displaced persons experience. (Finishing Line 2007)

Dating the Invisible Man by Gwen Hart: Intriguing poems about relationships, with some pop culture references threading through. (The Ledge Press 2005)

Broken Sonnets by Kathleen Kirk: Kirk experiments with the sonnet form, including the first prose sonnet that I’ve ever read. She shows that even in brokenness, life holds sweetness, whether it’s in the perfection of the sonnet form or the imperfections of love. (Finishing Line 2009)

Dark And Like A Web: Brief Notes On and To the Divine by Nic Sebastian: In April, thinking she would write a poem a day, Sebastian started writing prayers and charms. She posted them to her blog for about a week before she realized she was creating something deep and special. Months later, lucky readers receive this collection of 15 poems in a chapbook. (Broiled Fish and Honeycomb 2011)

Something to Read on the Plane by Richard Allen Taylor: Taylor does a wonderful job at capturing regular, every day life and helping us to remember why we should appreciate it. (Main Street Rag 2004)

Little Spells by Emma Trelles: Poems that explore the weirdness and wonder of life in the tropics, in particular the South Florida tropics. (Goss183 Press 2008)

Stealing Dust by Karen J. Weyant: One of the best of the modern works of literature of the working class. In many ways, a wonderful elegy for the lost manufacturing infrastructure. (Finishing Line Press 2009)

Waiting for Pentecost by Nancy Craig Zarzar: Wonderful poems about all sorts of outsiders. (Main Street Rag 2007)

Poetry Makes a Great Present: The Annotated List of Books with Spines

Yesterday I wrote a post with recommendations of books for everyone on your gift-giving list.  I arranged it by subject matter.

Here's the master list of books with spines, along with brief descriptions so that you can get a sense of the book.

Here is the list in alphabetical order by author:



Letters from the Emily Dickinson Room by Kelli Russell Agodon: An original voice, poems that change the way I see the world, poems that plagiarize moonlight and confuse macrame and macabre and firmly situate themselves in the pantheon of American literature. (White Pine Press, 2010)

Small Knots by Kelli Russell Agodon: A great series of poems about breast cancer makes up the last third of this book. The profound poems in the first part of the book explore other aspects modern life. (WordTech, Cherry Grove imprint 2004)

The Boatloads by Dan Albergotti: I have wanted to read this book since I read the poem “Things to Do in the Belly of a Whale”—it did not disappoint. Poems that explore modern existence—and many of them use Biblical and classical imagery in new and delightful ways. (BOA 2008)

A New Red: a fairly tale for grown ups by Lana Hechtman Ayers: This book modernizes the tale of Little Red Riding Hood, while not turning all the characters into humans. Interspecies relationships, the possibility of sex with a real wolf—a treat! (Pecan Grove Press 2010)

I Was the Jukebox by Sandra Beasley: poems that animate the inanimate, from sand to eggplants to jukeboxes, poems that took my breath away, so unique was the approach of this volume. (W.W. Norton, 2010)

Theories of Falling by Sandra Beasley: The Allergy Girl series of poems changed the way I see the world and reminded me to be grateful of the smallest thing, like the ability to take a breath. (Western Michigan University Press 2008)

Prairie Fever by Mary Biddinger: Stunning Images and zinging language. (Steel Toe Press 2007)

Frontier Literature by Shefali Choksi: Choksi accomplishes amazing feats with her use of fairy tales. The last section of the book uses the mythology of her native India. (Cyberwit 2010)

Corinna A-Maying the Apocalypse by Darcie Dennigan: Poems that juxtapose the odd, the normal, the surrealistic in ways that leave me stunned. (Fordham University Press, 2008)

Framed in Silence by Lynn Domina: The first section imagines a Creator God in the act of creation, but these poems are informed by scientific knowledge. The middle section has lyrical poems that explore regular life often by using theological imagery. The third section "Peaceable Obsession" offers inspired by the paintings by Edward Hicks, who painted many versions of "The Peaceable Kingdom," images which are probably familiar to most of us. (Main Street Rag 2011)

The Cloud Corporation by Timothy Donnelly: Interesting experiments in composing poems comprised from other documents into new and startling creations. (Wave 2010)

From the Fever-World by Jehanne Dubrow: Dubrow creates a convincing voice in these poems that explore the fictional life of a Jewish woman in pre-WWII Eastern Europe. (Washington Writers' Publishing House 2009)

Ka-Ching! by Denise Duhamel: Poems about money and economics—just the right note (often a funny note) for these hard times. (University of Pittsburgh Press 2009)

Kinky by Denise Duhamel: For every reader who has ever loved a Barbie doll. (Orchises 1997)

Harlot by Jill Alexander Essbaum: For the reader who likes the sacred and the profane mixed in one poem. (No Tell Books 2007)

Town for Trees by Justin Evans: Poems set in Springville, Utah, where the landscape becomes as important, if not more so, than any of the characters in the book. (Foothills 2011)

Unmentionables by Beth Ann Fennelly: how could you not like a book of poems that includes a sequence of poems inspired by kudzu? (W.W. Norton, 2008)

Becoming the Villainess by Jeannine Hall Gailey: Gailey explores all sorts of female icons in all sorts of pop culture: fairy tales, mythology, comic books, video games, and film. What a treat! (Steel Toe Books 2006)

She Returns to the Floating World by Jeannine Hall Gailey: poems that look at codes of all sorts: scientific, fairy tales, and folklore. Her love of Japan weaves through the book, as does her fascination with nuclear imagery. (Kitsune 2011)

The Insomniac’s Weather Report by Jessica Goodfellow: Some of these poems are stunning experiments (successful!) with language, while some are more traditional—all give us interesting insight into the essential elements of our world, both the scientific elements and the social elements. (Three Candles 2011)

The Narrow Road to the Interior by Kimiko Hahn: A book for the reader who loves all things Asian. Also great for those who want to explore the zuihitsu form. Or for those of us who deal with the juxtaposition of being a daughter and a mother. (W. W. Norton 2006)

Toxic Flora by Kamiko Hahn: nature poems, red in tooth and claw. (W. W. Norton, 2010)

Saving Daylight by Jim Harrison: Strong, savage poems full of wilderness. (Copper Canyon 2007)

Modern Life by Matthea Harvey: For those who love wordplay. These 2 series will change the way you view the abecedarian: The Future of Terror/Terror of the Future. (Graywolf 2007)

Why the House Is Made of Gingerbread by Ava Leavell Haymon: poems that use the fairy tale "Hansel and Gretel" to illuminate modern life. (Louisiana State University Press, 2010)

Lighthead by Terrance Hayes: Poems rooted in African-American experience and history (Penguin 2010)

Quarantine by Brian Henry: Poems that explore apocalypses of all types from illness to death to something dreadful which cannot be named. (Ahsahta 2006)

The Animals Beyond Us by Michael Hettich: Poems of modern life and love, particularly modern life as experienced in Miami, modern love as experienced by people at midlife (New Rivers 2011)

Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Dynasty by Tony Hoagland: a devastating critique of modern life. (Graywolf 2010)

Trill and Mordent by Luisa Igloria: These poems ask us to think about the lives we’re living, the trellises that undergird our lives, the armor that we try to construct to protect our lives. (WordTech 2005)

Our Post-Soviet History Unfolds by Eleanor Lerman: Great poems about surviving the cold war, as well as surviving the horrors of mid-life and old age. (Sarabande 2005)

Temptation by Water by Diane Lockward: poems of ordinary life, from filberts to lychees to observing the neighbors to watering the lawn--along the way, the succulent poignancy of midlife. (Wind Publications, 2010)

What Feeds Us by Diane Lockward: Luscious poems about food and all the other things which nourish us. I devoured this volume in one big gulp, and came back for seconds. (Wind 2006)

Blood Almanac by Sandy Longhorn: powerful poems that pulse with life with glimpses of a scary, violent undercurrent (Anhinga Press, 2006)

Cadaver Dogs by Rebecca Loudon: Poems of strange surrealness and beauty. (No Tell Books 2008)

The Freedom Business by Marilyn Nelson (poems) and Deborah Dancy (art): What an interesting artifact! This book contains the slave narrative written by Venture Smith in 1795, poems by Marilyn Nelson that were inspired by the narrative, and Deborah Dancy’s art that responds to the poems. (Wordsong 2008)

Lucky Fish by Aimee Nezhukumatathil: Poems of modern life, particularly modern life as seen through the eyes of immigrants , children, and other outsiders. Lots of wordplay and experiments with language too. ( Tupelo 2011)

Geometry of Dreams by Barbra Nightingale: This is the book for the mathematicians and physicists on your list. The sonnet cycle that concerns the death of the ex-husband should have wide appeal for all of us who have lost loved ones. (WordTech 2009)

Underlife by January Gill O'Neil: poems that explore being a parent, being a child, all the roles we navigate as adults. (CavanKerry Press, 2010)

No Sweeter Fat by Nancy Pagh: For every woman who struggles with body image issues (that would be almost all of us, right?), especially those of us who tend towards heaviness. (Autumn House 2007)

The Meager Life and Modest Times of Pop Thorndale by W. T. Pfefferle: Men hit midlife too. An interesting experiment in telling a longer narrative in linked poem format. (NFSPS Press 2006)

Mercy Island by Ren Powell: Poems that drip and bleed with fecundity—and loss. These poems remind us that even though life leads us to bloody/gory places, we can survive and perhaps even find redemption in the suffering. (Phoenicia 2011)

National Anthem by Kevin Prufer: This apocalyptic collection is full of haunting images, dark and strange. I returned to this volume again and again this past year. (Four Way Books 2008)

The Alchemist's Kitchen by Susan Rich: poems that explore contemporary life (midlife romance, food, walks, abandoned buildings, structures we claim) and poems that explore the life of early-20th-century artist Myra Albert Wiggins (White Pine Press, 2010)

Torched Verse Ends by Steven D. Schroeder: Another book for readers who like an acerbic look at modern existence: robots and personality tests and life in the office. Also the book for those who love wordplay. (BlazeVOX 2009)

Blue Positive by Martha Silano: A wonderful look at modern motherhood and what it means to be female now. (Steel Toe Books 2006)

The Little Office of the Immaculate Conception by Martha Silano: Poems that explore what it means to be a woman and a mother in our modern world, poems informed by a vast scientific knowledge (Saturnalia 2011)

Cyborgia, by Susan Slaviero: Slaviero mixes fairy tales, sci fi, and technology and comes up with unique mashes. (Mayapple Press 2010)

Blood Dazzler by Patricia Smith: poems that explore Hurricane Katrina from every possible angle. (Coffee House Press, 2008)

Life on Mars by Tracy K. Smith: pop culture (especially the songs of David Bowie) mixed with cosmology mixed with other scientific strains and missing a dead father. (Graywolf 2011)

The Wave-Maker by Elizabeth Spires: poems rooted in the natural world, poems that shimmer and shiver with a numinous quality. (W.W. Norton, 2008)

Punching Through the Egg of Space by Richard Allen Taylor: Poems rooted in Southern places, poems with pop culture references, poems that discuss the writer’s life. (Main Street Rag, 2010)

Tropicalia by Emma Trelles: Trelles captures the complexity of life in South Florida, from various exile communities to weird crimes to the scary majesty of the Everglades. (University of Notre Dame Press, 2011)

Native Guard by Natasha Trethewey: For the reader who loves Civil War history. Or for those of us who miss our moms. (Mariner 2006)

Keeping My Name by Catherine Tufariello: For your readers who like formalist poetry. Tufariello covers all sorts of interesting topics, from student leaders of the White Rose movement to women in the Bible to in vitro fertilization. (Texas Tech University Press. 2004)

Poetry Makes a Great Present: There's a Book for Every Person on Your List

Some of you may have already been up shopping already; it's Black Friday after all.  But if you still have shopping left to do, why not give poetry?  Today, I offer a list arranged by subject matter, where I hope you'll find something for everyone on your gift-giving list.

Obviously, this list is far from exhaustive; in fact, it's only the books that I've read in the last few years.  I figure that Shakespeare already has plenty of fans, so I'm promoting poets who are alive and writing interesting work right now.  And there are many books that I hope to read, but I haven't yet, and so to include them would feel like cheating--there are always future years and later lists, after all.

And there's you!  Feel free to leave more recommendations in the comment area.

Tomorrow, I'll have a complete list of the books below that have a spine, complete with descriptions of the books and the publisher and year.  On Sunday, I'll do the same for chapbooks.  But this post was getting long, so here's an abbreviated list (and you'll notice some overlapping).

For readers who like poems based on mythology and fairy tales:


The Doors of the Body by Mary Alexandra Agner (chapbook)

A New Red: a fairly tale for grown ups by Lana Hechtman Ayers

Frontier Literature by Shefali Choksi

Becoming the Villainess by Jeannine Hall Gailey

She Returns to the Floating World by Jeannine Hall Gailey

Why the House Is Made of Gingerbread by Ava Leavell Haymon

Cyborgia by Susan Slaviero

For readers who want apocalyptic poems

Corinna A-Maying the Apocalypse by Darcie Dennigan

She Returns to the Floating World by Jeannine Hall Gailey

Modern Life by Matthea Harvey

Quarantine by Brian Henry

National Anthem by Kevin Prufer

Torched Verse Ends by Steven D. Schroeder

Cyborgia, by Susan Slaviero

Blood Dazzler by Patricia Smith

For readers who like their poems dipped (or drenched) in savage notes

Prairie Fever by Mary Biddinger

Saving Daylight by Jim Harrison

Blood Almanac by Sandy Longhorn

Mercy Island by Ren Powell

Blood Dazzler by Patricia Smith

For readers who want poems rooted in the body

Small Knots by Kelli Russell Agodon

Theories of Falling by Sandra Beasley

Another Circle of Delight by Rachel Dacus (chapbook)

237 More Reasons to Have Sex by Denise Duhamel and Sandy McIntosh (chapbook)

Harlot by Jill Alexander Essbaum

Oh Forbidden by Jill Alexander Essbaum (chapbook)

The Animals Beyond Us by Michael Hettich

What Feeds Us by Diane Lockward

No Sweeter Fat by Nancy Pagh

For readers who would rather have a novel

Saint Monica by Mary Biddinger (chapbook)

A New Red: a fairly tale for grown ups by Lana Hechtman Ayers

From the Fever-World by Jehanne Dubrow

Why the House Is Made of Gingerbread by Ava Leavell Haymon

The Meager Life and Modest Times of Pop Thorndale by W. T. Pfefferle

For readers who like their poems rooted in history

From the Fever-World by Jehanne Dubrow

Town for Trees by Justin Evans

The Third Winter of War: Buchenwald by John Guzlowski

The Freedom Business by Marilyn Nelson (poems) and Deborah Dancy (art)

Native Guard by Natasha Trethewey

For the sociologists on your list, particularly the ones who study class issues

Passage to America by Elisa Albo (chapbook)

Saint Monica by Mary Biddinger (chapbook)

Lucky Fish by Aimee Nezhukumatathil

Blood Dazzler by Patricia Smith

Stealing Dust by Karen J. Weyant (chapbook)

For the sociologists on your list, particularly the ones who study race issues

Lighthead by Terrance Hayes

Lucky Fish by Aimee Nezhukumatathil

Blood Dazzler by Patricia Smith

Native Guard by Natasha Trethewey

For the readers who want to explore motherhood

Frontier Literature by Shefali Choksi

Underlife by January Gill O'Neil

The Narrow Road to the Interior by Kimiko Hahn

Blue Positive by Martha Silano

Native Guard by Natasha Trethewey

Keeping My Name by Catherine Tufariello

For the readers who like poems inspired by art or literature that’s not fairy tales or mythology

Framed in Silence by Lynn Domina

Little Novels by Denise Duhamel and Maureen Seaton (chapbook)

The Alchemist's Kitchen by Susan Rich

For readers who like poems dipped (or drenched) in pop culture


Kinky by Denise Duhamel

Oyl by Denise Duhamel and Maureen Seaton (chapbook)

Dating the Invisible Man by Gwen Hart (chapbook)

Life on Mars by Tracy K. Smith

For readers who like quirky characters

Dear Professor, Do You Live in a Vacuum? by Nin Andrews (chapbook)

The Meager Life and Modest Times of Pop Thorndale by W. T. Pfefferle

Waiting for Pentecost by Nancy Craig Zarzar (chapbook)

For readers who love all things Asian

She Returns to the Floating World by Jeannine Hall Gailey

The Narrow Road to the Interior by Kimiko Hahn

For readers who like poems rooted in place

Passage to America by Elisa Albo (chapbook)

Town for Trees by Justin Evans

The Animals Beyond Us by Michael Hettich

The Alchemist's Kitchen by Susan Rich

Blood Dazzler by Patricia Smith

Punching Through the Egg of Space by Richard Allen Taylor

Little Spells by Emma Trelles (chapbook)

Tropicalia by Emma Trelles

For readers who like poems rooted in nature

Town for Trees by Justin Evans

Toxic Flora by Kamiko Hahn

The Wave-Maker by Elizabeth Spires

For readers who enjoy word play and other surrealist experiments

Letters from the Emily Dickinson Room by Kelli Russell Agodon

I Was the Jukebox by Sandra Beasley

The Cloud Corporation by Timothy Donnelly

The Insomniac’s Weather Report by Jessica Goodfellow

The Narrow Road to the Interior by Kimiko Hahn

Modern Life by Matthea Harvey

Cadaver Dogs by Rebecca Loudon

Torched Verse Ends by Steven D. Schroeder

For readers who want to explore modern life particularly as women experience it

Small Knots by Kelli Russell Agodon

I Stand Here Shredding Documents by Kristin Berkey-Abbott (chapbook)

Saint Monica by Mary Biddinger (chapbook)

The Narrow Road to the Interior by Kimiko Hahn

Broken Sonnets by Kathleen Kirk (chapbook)

No Sweeter Fat by Nancy Pagh

Blue Positive by Martha Silano

The Little Office of the Immaculate Conception by Martha Silano

For readers who want to explore modern life

Letters from the Emily Dickinson Room by Kelli Russell Agodon

Ka-Ching! by Denise Duhamel

Unmentionables by Beth Ann Fennelly

Why the House Is Made of Gingerbread by Ava Leavell Haymon

Lighthead by Terrance Hayes

The Animals Beyond Us by Michael Hettich

Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Dynasty by Tony Hoagland

Trill and Mordent by Luisa Igloria

Temptation by Water by Diane Lockward

Lucky Fish by Aimee Nezhukumatathil

The Alchemist's Kitchen by Susan Rich

Torched Verse Ends by Steven D. Schroeder

Punching Through the Egg of Space by Richard Allen Taylor (chapbook)

For readers who would rather be eating

What Feeds Us by Diane Lockward

No Sweeter Fat by Nancy Pagh

The Alchemist's Kitchen by Susan Rich

For readers who want poems that explore loss (especially of a loved one)

Passage to America by Elisa Albo (chapbook)

Whistling Past the Graveyard by Kristin Berkey-Abbott (chapbook)

Town for Trees by Justin Evans

She Returns to the Floating World by Jeannine Hall Gailey

The Third Winter of War: Buchenwald by John Guzlowski (chapbook)

The Narrow Road to the Interior by Kimiko Hahn

Quarantine by Brian Henry

The Animals Beyond Us by Michael Hettich

Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Dynasty by Tony Hoagland

Our Post-Soviet History Unfolds by Eleanor Lerman

Geometry of Dreams by Barbra Nightingale

Mercy Island by Ren Powell

Blood Dazzler by Patricia Smith

Life on Mars by Tracy K. Smith

Native Guard by Natasha Trethewey

Keeping My Name by Catherine Tufariello

For the Astronomers, Mathematicians, and Physicists on Your List


She Returns to the Floating World by Jeannine Hall Gailey

The Insomniac’s Weather Report by Jessica Goodfellow

A Pilgrim's Guide to Chaos in the Heartland by Jessica Goodfellow (chapbook)

Geometry of Dreams by Barbra Nightingale

The Little Office of the Immaculate Conception by Martha Silano

Life on Mars by Tracy K. Smith

For the man on your list who assumes that poetry is for females:

Odes to Tools by Dave Bonta (chapbook)

The Meager Life and Modest Times of Pop Thorndale by W. T. Pfefferle

Torched Verse Ends by Steven D. Schroeder

For readers who want their poetry dipped (or drenched) in spirituality:

The Boatloads by Dan Albergotti

Whistling Past the Graveyard by Kristin Berkey-Abbott (chapbook)

Saint Monica by Mary Biddinger (chapbook)

Framed in Silence by Lynn Domina

Harlot by Jill Alexander Essbaum

Dark And Like A Web: Brief Notes On and To the Divine by Nic Sebastian (chapbook)

Life on Mars by Tracy K. Smith

Keeping My Name by Catherine Tufariello

Thankful Thursday: All the Books of Poems I Read Last Year

Ah, Thanksgiving, one of my favorite holidays!  No gift giving anxiety--just a day set aside to eat good food and to remember that we have lots for which to feel grateful.

I decided to do a different take on the old gratitude exercise.  I looked back through my blogs and bookshelves and thought about all the great poems I've read in the last year.  The following list is not exhaustive.  It's a list of the books of poems which have made me particularly happy in the past year.

Coming over the next few days will be recommendations for all the gift recipients on your list.  Poetry makes a great present.  Why not support our cottage economies with your holiday purchases?

But for now, a list of the great books of poems I have read in the past year (arranged alphabetically by author's last name):


The Doors of the Body by Mary Alexandra Agner: a chapbook of poems that revisit primarily female characters from classic Greek mythology and fairy tales (Mayapple 2009).

Letters from the Emily Dickinson Room by Kelli Russell Agodon:  An original voice, poems that change the way I see the world, poems that plagiarize moonlight and confuse macrame and macabre and firmly situate themselves in the pantheon of American literature. (White Pine Press, 2010)


The Boatloads by Dan Albergotti: I have wanted to read this book since I read the poem “Things to Do in the Belly of a Whale”—it did not disappoint. Poems that explore modern existence—and many of them use Biblical and classical imagery in new and delightful ways. (BOA 2008)

A New Red: a fairly tale for grown ups by Lana Hechtman Ayers: This book modernizes the tale of Little Red Riding Hood, while not turning all the characters into humans. Interspecies relationships, the possibility of sex with a real wolf—a treat! (Pecan Grove Press 2010)

I Stand Here Shredding Documents by Kristin Berkey-Abbott: My chapbook brought me lots of joy this year. These poems show both the absurdities and joys of modern life, particularly as experienced by office workers and by women. (Finishing Line Press 2011)

Saint Monica by Mary Biddinger: Poems that explore a Catholic childhood, poems the explore what it means to be a woman, poems that explore the intersections between religion, gender, and class. (Black Lawrence 2011)

Odes to Tools by Dave Bonta: Bonta writes a poem for every almost every tool in the shed (unless you've got a really well-stocked shed). Even those on your list who don’t like tools will find the poems in this chapbook delightful and accessible. (Phoenicia 2010)

Frontier Literature by Shefali Choksi: Choksi accomplishes amazing feats with her use of fairy tales. The last section of the book uses the mythology of her native India. (Cyberwit 2010)

Corinna A-Maying the Apocalypse by Darcie Dennigan: Poems that juxtapose the odd, the normal, the surrealistic in ways that leave me stunned. (Fordham University Press, 2008)

Framed in Silence by Lynn Domina: The first section imagines a Creator God in the act of creation, but these poems are informed by scientific knowledge. The middle section has lyrical poems that explore regular life often by using theological imagery. The third section "Peaceable Obsession" offers inspired by the paintings by Edward Hicks, who painted many versions of "The Peaceable Kingdom," images which are probably familiar to most of us. (Main Street Rag 2011)

The Cloud Corporation by Timothy Donnelly: Interesting experimeints in composing poems comprised from other documents into new and startling creations. (Wave 2010)

From the Fever-World by Jehanne Dubrow: Dubrow creates a convincing voice in these poems that explore the fictional life of a Jewish woman in pre-WWII Eastern Europe. (Washington Writers' Publishing House 2009)

Town for Trees by Justin Evans: Poems set in Springville, Utah, where the landscape becomes as important, if not more so, than any of the characters in the book. (Foothills 2011)

She Returns to the Floating World by Jeannine Hall Gailey: poems that look at codes of all sorts: scientific, fairy tales, and folklore. Her love of Japan weaves through the book, as does her fascination with nuclear imagery. (Kitsune 2011)

The Insomniac’s Weather Report by Jessica Goodfellow: Some of these poems are stunning experiments (successful!) with language, while some are more traditional—all give us interesting insight into the essential elements of our world, both the scientific elements and the social elements. (Three Candles 2011)

Lighthead by Terrance Hayes: Poems rooted in African-American experience and history (Penguin 2010)

The Animals Beyond Us by Michael Hettich: Poems of modern life and love, particularly modern life as experienced in Miami, modern love as experienced by people at midlife (New Rivers 2011)

Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Dynasty by Tony Hoagland: a devastating critique of modern life. (Graywolf 2010)

Trill and Mordent by Luisa Igloria: These poems ask us to think about the lives we’re living, the trellises that undergird our lives, the armor that we try to construct to protect our lives. (WordTech 2005)

Broken Sonnets by Kathleen Kirk: Kirk experiments with the sonnet form, including the first prose sonnet that I’ve ever read. She shows that even in brokenness, life holds sweetness, whether it’s in the perfection of the sonnet form or the imperfections of love. (Finishing Line 2009)

Lucky Fish by Aimee Nezhukumatathil: Poems of modern life, particularly modern life as seen through the eyes of immigrants , children, and other outsiders. Lots of wordplay and experiments with language too. ( Tupelo 2011)

Mercy Island by Ren Powell: Poems that drip and bleed with fecundity—and loss. These poems remind us that even though life leads us to bloody/gory places, we can survive and perhaps even find redemption in the suffering. (Phoenicia 2011)

Dark And Like A Web: Brief Notes On and To the Divine by Nic Sebastian: In April, thinking she would write a poem a day, Sebastian started writing prayers and charms. She posted them to her blog for about a week before she realized she was creating something deep and special. Months later, lucky readers receive this collection of 15 poems in a chapbook. (Broiled Fish and Honeycomb 2011)

The Little Office of the Immaculate Conception by Martha Silano: Poems that explore what it means to be a woman and a mother in our modern world, poems informed by a vast scientific knowledge (Saturnalia 2011)

Cyborgia, by Susan Slaviero: Slaviero mixes fairy tales, sci fi, and technology and comes up with unique mashes. (Mayapple Press 2010)

Life on Mars by Tracy K. Smith: pop culture (especially the songs of David Bowie) mixed with cosmology mixed with other scientific strains and missing a dead father. (Graywolf 2011)

Tropicalia by Emma Trelles: Trelles captures the complexity of life in South Florida, from various exile communities to weird crimes to the scary majesty of the Everglades. (University of Notre Dame Press, 2011)

Thanksgiving Eve: A Turkey and Harvest Themed Photo Essay

Today many of us are travelling, cooking, or shopping for tomorrow's feast.  Most of us probably don't have time to read a word-dense post.  So, enjoy these photos!

A different kind of family portrait below!

Below:  the winner for most creative use of a pumpkin!

Are they turkeys or roosters?

Below:  How many pumpkins can you find?

I wish I had pictures of the wild turkeys at Lutheridge, but I've never been quick enough.  There are at least 4 of them around church camp this year.  Maybe I'll be lucky and return with pictures for next year.

Drive safely!  Purchase wisely!  Don't wear yourself out cooking! 

In all seriousness, may we have much to make us grateful, may all be fed, may we find some quiet space to do what we love, and may our loved ones remember us during this holiday week-end.

Poetry Tuesday: Pilgrims

As Thanksgiving fast approaches, let's think about Pilgrims.  Can we write a poem about Pilgrims without sinking into stereotypes?

I remember in grad school, when I asked my English friend if they had Thanksgiving in Britain.  She gave me a look of disbelief and said, "No.  We didn't have Pilgrims who came over on the Mayflower to be saved by the Natives who they would slaughter later."

I'm paraphrasing, but that's the basic gist of what she said.  We collapsed into laughter.

I'm periodically haunted by Pilgrims and by our Colonial history.  It's strange to live down here on the tip of the continent, where most of history has been paved over.

Years ago I wrote this poem.  It's not meant to be autobiographical, although my dad has grown to hate yardwork in his later years, and all of my family obsesses a bit over the nutritional content of food.  I tried writing it in a 3rd person voice, but couldn't make it work.  I see the characters in this poem as Thanksgiving archetypes on some level, but perhaps I'm glorifying them.

Do I think I've successfully navigated the Pilgrim hazards?  No.  But the poem pleases me on some level anyway, and so I offer it here.

Shadow Pilgrims


If my parents had been Pilgrims,
the whole path of American history would have altered.

My father would have seen the New World
as one vast yard to mow. Retreating to the boat,
he’d have plotted his escape back to the crowded
Mother Country, with its lack of lawn.

My mother, having worked herself into a frenzy
as she planned the last perfect detail of the feast, would collapse
into a waterfall of nervous tears and find herself unable
to attend the festive meal.

My sister, who claims she can’t do math, would calculate
the precise amount of calories and fat grams in the food.
She’d tell us the percentages and weights of every bite,
throwing a temper tantrum when we ignored her.

My brothers would complain, as they always
do, about the lack of a large screen TV
on which to watch their primitive
games. Too stuffed to play the game themselves,
they might toss a football back and forth.

And I, I would be too worried about this year’s crop
of starving children to enjoy my own abundant
blessings. I’d join my father back on the boat, but first,
I’d slip the natives some weapons, whispering
“Keep these. You’ll need them later.”

What Can Creative Types Learn from a Folk Duo?

Last night, my spouse and I went to see the folk duo Alathea at our church.  Long time readers of my blogs will realize that we've seen them before (and for a write-up of last night's concert, go here). 

As I enjoyed the concert, I thought about how many lessons I could take away for my own creative practice, even if I'm not a musician.  Like musicians, many of us are going to have to be our own PR teams.  For some of us, it means touring the country to give readings and workshops, with a trunk full of our books to sell.

At many Alathea concerts, they take a free-will offering.  At some stops, the free-will offering is the only money that they make, apart from selling CDs.  Last night, as we emptied our pockets, I thought about the difference between selling tickets and taking an offering.  Which might result in more money?  It might be the free-will offering.

At a fund-raising event last year, my school's department sponsored a beading booth, with big, chunky beads and ways to turn them into necklaces.  We thought about charging a fee, but decided instead to just put out a jar for donations.  We made more money than we would have if we had charged a set fee.

Of course, as an artist, there's a risk.  People might be in a stingy mood.  People might not open up their pockets, purses, and checkbooks.  The weather might keep people at home.

So, I imagine that artists who travel this way take steps to minimize risk.  I always look for ways that I can expand on readings, and I try to schedule readings in towns where I have friends or connections.  I know that Alathea does the same thing.  We got to see them because they were going to be nearby anyway.  They were willing to make the side trip down from Sarasota because they've been here before, and our congregation is a good risk.

I was also intrigued by how many handmade instruments the group had.  A huge, empty water bottle (the kind you'd heave on top of a water cooler) sitting on top of a tambourine makes a great sound.  Empty cans make a variety of noises if you beat on them with drumsticks.  Even a grater rubbed with a drum stick makes a cool effect.

I've often wanted to do more with percussion with the children at church, but I've hesitated because we don't have that many drums.  What a fool I am!  The world is full of percussion instruments if I just look.

I took away a similar message last night--the world is full of potential and possibilities, if I can just be brave enough to grab them.  Whether it be percussion instruments or a chance to read my work, I want to be more alert and aware, always on the watch for ways to develop as an artist.

For more about the folk duo Alathea, go here--but be warned, the website launches with song.  So, if you're at work or in a library, you might want to mute your computer first.

Thanksgiving into Advent: Reading and Planning

So now we enter into the final few days before Thanksgiving--and then, the Christmas season!  Each day, I've thought that maybe I would begin to put away the autumnal decorations and begin the shift to Christmas.  Each day, I have not.  My life seems to get more busy, and I find myself pulled away from the house for longer periods.

I've seen some interesting articles for your Sunday reading and Sunday inspiration.  This article in The Washington Post has some fascinating details about the no-entry zone around the damaged Fukushima nuclear plant in Japan.  I find myself thinking about that farmer who goes back on a daily basis.  I think about the cows left to fend for themselves.  I think about what's left behind.

I know that many of us write poems with apocalyptic themes, imagery, and overtones--if that's you, don't miss this article--lots of inspiration here.

It makes me thankful to be in my own house.  It makes me realize how quickly everything I love could be lost.  I think of hurricanes, but there are any number of horrible things that could happen.

Long-time readers of this blog know that I've written periodically about the issue of talent vs. practice.  I've written about Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers, and the idea that you need 10,000 hours of practice in any discipline to get really good.  But here comes an article in The New York Times that refutes that idea, an article that says intelligence counts for success more often than we want to admit.

But maybe you want something more optimistic than a post-nuclear accident wasteland or an intelligence is destiny outlook.  Check out this article in The New York Times by Mark Bittman.  He reminds us of all the ways that our food situation has gotten so much better lately:  farmer's markets are gaining ground (half as many as McDonald's), we have better food labels, we have an increased food consciousness on all sorts of levels.  As you plan your feast, this article reminds us that we've got lots to be thankful for in the food arena.

And for those of you who are ready to move on to the Christmas season, you might read this blog post that I wrote for my theology blog, where I think about what it means when my deeply atheist friend finds herself yearning to celebrate Advent in the non-commercial ways that her family celebrated when she was a child.

Today is a good day to take some assessment:  what do we hope to have accomplished by this time next week?  A good meal, all our Christmas shopping done on Black Friday, to make it through Thanksgiving with no fights with our loved ones?  And it's a good day to think ahead to Advent, the 4 weeks before Christmas.  How will we maintain our composure and our groundedness?  What can help us avoid the frazzled busyness that so many of us experience?

Thinking about the Art Forms of Our Grandmothers as Thanksgiving Approaches

Earlier this week I wrote this post, in part about my grandmother and my earlier self, who wanted her to teach me to quilt: 

"I started my fascination with quilting in 1985 or so. I was reading Alice Walker, and I was desperate to learn to quilt and to do other arts that had been traditionally disdained as women's spheres. I asked my grandma to teach me, and she said, 'Why would you want to waste your time doing that? You can buy a perfectly good blanket at Wal-Mart for $6.'

It would be years before I understood her view. She had spent many winter nights piecing and sewing by hand, and she hated it. Modern life meant she didn't have to do that torturous chore."

That post took me back to an unpublished poem.  A disclaimer:  the voice in the poem is not my grandmother's voice; while she came from a farm family, their economic circumstances, while constrained, were not as dire as the ones the speaker experienced.  In some ways, the voice is a combination of my grandmother's voice, the mother's voice in Alice Walker's short story "Everyday Use," and a variety of older Southern women I have known.

And I'm not the grandbaby in the poem.  I'd have loved to have done a Ph.D. in Women's Studies, but that wasn't an option at the time and place I went to grad school.  But to be honest, in some ways, that grandbaby is me, at least in her attitudes.

Piecing


That girl ain’t got the sense God gave a cabbage.
It all started when she went to that fancy
university—they filled her head with craziness.
Now she waltzes into my house telling me I’m some kind
of artist. I can’t quite picture that. She says housework
is my art form. She wants me to teach
her to quilt. She doesn’t want to use a sewing machine.
That’s how I know she’s gone plum crazy.

She oohs and aahs over the old, raggedy quilts.
She says, “These ought to be hanging in an art museum.”
As if she don’t have two eyes in her head.
These quilts are ugly, ugly as crops in a year of no rain.
We weren’t thinking of art when we pieced
them together. We wondered how long the fabric would hold
together, whether or not we’d have enough scraps
to keep us warm through the winter.
We gave nary a thought to which colors
should go together, what patterns we wanted.

But that’s not the way my grandbaby sees it. This summer
she lives with me because no one else will take her in, and she needs
a place to finish her research for her degree. So, I’ll show
her what I can. I’ll set her up with needle and thread,
let her sort through my drawers of fabrics,
and by the end of summer, she’ll be begging
to use that machine. I’ll put her to work in the garden, weeding
and digging. We’ll can tomatoes
till the sweat soaks through our clothes.
I can’t believe they’d give her a grade, a degree,
for doing housework, or art,
if that’s what she wants to call it.

Pleasures We Can Almost Taste: The National Book Awards

At the National Book Awards dinner last night, John Ashberry, who was being recognized for his life's work, said that writing poetry “gives me a pleasure I can almost taste.”

And Mitchell Kaplan was honored as well.  He's the founder of my beloved Books and Books and the Miami Book Fair International, which each year overwhelms me with its choices.  He said, “I firmly believe that even with all the upheaval that we find in our industry today, there’s room for plenty of optimism. Writers are writing marvelous and interesting books. Publishers are publishing them.”

How I love books!  How I love the people who write them!  How I love everyone involved in the process!  How I am happy to be a writer too!

Yes, it's that kind of morning.  I could let myself bathe in despair for so many reasons, but I'm not going to do it.  I've been working on the blog posts that will appear over Thanksgiving, and I am so overwhelmed with gratitude at how many wonderful books have been published, just in the last year.  I will be thankful for that.  My public library will likely have to cut hours, but it's still there.  It's a tough time to be in the field of education, but my key still turns the lock.

For a write-up about last night's awards, the story in The New York Times is here.  This story made me want to hear poet Nikky Finney's acceptance speech: 

“'A fine of $100 and six months of prison will be imposed for teaching a slave to read and write,' Finney began her speech, reading from the 1739 slave codes of South Carolina. She talked about how blacks were forbidden to be literate in her home state and across America for a part of history.


'I am now officially speechless,' Finney said, ending her speech with a pun to her literacy.

John Lithgow took the podium over from Finney in front of an audience responding to her acceptance with a standing ovation.

'That was the best acceptance speech for anything I’ve ever heard in my life,' Lithgow said. 'That’s also the loudest I’ve ever heard people cheer for a poetry award.'”

Thanks to Susan Rich who linked to the story here.  We can all view the awards dinner here.

Nikkey Finney sounds like a fabulous poet--why have I not heard about her before?

The world is full of wonderful poets--we live in that kind of time.  I'll order her book later today, along with a few others. 

What I love about these kind of awards is that they do introduce me to poets whose work I haven't known before.  While I love poets like Adrienne Rich and Yusef Komunyakaa, I was happy to see less well-known poets honored too.

And the next time I'm stuck in a boring meeting, I'll start writing an acceptance speech for a book of poems yet to be published, yet to be awarded.  I like that kind of positive energy going out into the universe!

More Thanksgiving Thoughts: Food, Gratitude, and Poetry

A week from today, we'll many of us be getting ready for Thanksgiving.  Even though it's oddly muggy and hot down here, I'm in the mood already!

Perhaps it's because I read the Food section of The Washington Post this morning.  This article made me want to make a pie.   Vodka and better butter could lead to a better pie crust?  I'm willing to try it!

If you've ever wanted reasons to feel grateful that you live in this century, read this article and be amazed at what women used to do to cook a big feast or even daily dinner.

In future centuries, will people be amazed that we cooked for our dogs?  Or will they be amazed that we were willing to use commercial dog food?

Do people who cook for their dogs make special meals for said dogs at holiday time?

This time of year, I have food on the brain, both because of Thanksgiving and because I've often just returned from Mepkin Abbey. 

My Thanksgiving self wants to make huge feasts.  My writer self says, "Hey, hang on one minute.  Every hour you spend on cooking is an hour less that you can spend on writing."

My Mepkin Abbey self reminds me of how delicious a simple meal can be.  The first night we were there, we had cheese sandwiches and a delicious tomato rice soup.  The monks put out a variety of breads, all commerically made since their resident bread baker died years ago.  They put out a plate of cheeses (Provolone, Swiss, and Cheddar) along with condiments, apricot jam, and several kinds of pickles.

I forget about how delicious a simple cheese sandwich can be.  I forget how easy it is to create a pot of soup--and then that pot of soup can nourish me through the week.  It's good to remember those things, especially this time of year when our culture ramps up its messages that aren't always in sync with my values:  cook more, buy more, decorate more, spend more--more, more, more.

Since Thanksgiving week-end is also one of the big shopping week-ends of the year, I'm planning special blog posts, and I hope you'll join me, either on your own blogs or by commenting on what I write.  I've long thought that poetry makes great presents, and what better time to make recommendations for everyone on your list?  I'm up to the task!

On Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, I'll write about the books of poems I've read in the last year that have made me feel gratitude to be alive in a world which has such wonderful poets in it.

On Friday (Black Friday to those of you who follow the economy and have hopes that your retailers will end the year in the black rather than in the red), I'll recommend books for everyone on your list based on the subject matter of the books.

On Saturday, I'll run a big list of poetry books I've enjoyed and on Sunday, I'll do a similar post for chapbooks.  Sure there will be overlap amongst all these posts from Thursday through Sunday, but that's O.K.  And in the spirit of full disclosure, these posts will be stitched together from old posts from past years.  Still, it will be handy to have the lists in one place.

On Monday, as we return to regular lives, I'll write about other ways to support the poetry economy through our gift giving.

Time for Thanksgiving Prep--with Recipes!

Here we are, just a little over a week away from Thanksgiving.  How quickly Autumn has been zooming by!

I loved this post by Jessica Goodfellow, who talks about getting ready for the Thanksgiving meal in Japan.  She has no car, so she has to buy the stuff for her dinner bit by bit--she's limited by what she can carry.  All morning, I've thought of that juxtaposition:  preparing for the holiday that celebrates abundance but being limited to what one can carry.

I've also been thinking about a time in grad school where the local Kroger had whole turkeys for 39 cents a pound.  We bought 3, and they filled up the whole freezer.  I remember staring at the full freezer and saying, "But I'm a vegetarian!"

So, I was, mostly, but occasionally, carnivorous cravings set in.  Thanksgiving was one of those times.  And once a summer, we grilled steaks or burgers, and I just couldn't resist.

If you need to create a vegetarian Thanksgiving, I recommend Mollie Katzen's Still Life with Menu.  She's got a complete menu, with step by step instructions.  Sounds delicious.

Of course, even when I was in my strictest vegetarian phase, I still found plenty to eat at my family's meal.  I love Thanksgiving, meal of many side dishes.

I've never understood families who come to impasses over the question of white potatoes vs. sweet, cornbread dressing vs. french bread stuffing.  Why not make it all?

And the meal can be healthy.  Healthyish.  The brussel sprouts have great nutrients, as do sweet potatoes and yams.  Turkey is a fairly healthy main dish.  Pumpkin pie gives you great amounts of vitamin A.

Oh, I'm hungry just thinking about it.  Let me share some recipes with you.

Aunt Billie's Sweet Potato Souffle

3 C. sweet potatoes (a large can should do it) mashed.

Add 1 c. sugar, 1/2 stick butter--melted if potatoes aren't hot (both butter and sugar can be reduced to taste), 1/2 c. milk (or orange juice), 2 eggs, 1 tsp. vanilla, 1 tsp. cinnamon (you can also add a dash of other autumn spices:  cloves, ginger, allspice, nutmeg

Place mixture into a greased baking dish.

Mix the following and put on top (my mom's notes say that this is very rich and you might want to cut in half--I love the praline topping and can't get enough--you be the judge):
1 C. brown sugar, 1/3 c. flour, 1 c. chopped nuts (I like pecans best), 1/2 stick butter melted

Bake for 30 minutes at 350.

Easy Spiced Nuts

You probably have a recipe that has you boil the nuts, drain them, roast them in the oven while stirring them every few minutes so they don't burn.  There's an easier way!

Put some Tablespoons of sugar in a skillet, along with cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves, salt and a few grinds of pepper. Put in several handfuls of pecans and heated until the sugar melted and covered the toasting nuts.  Don't walk away as it goes from unmelted sugar to perfectly coated to scorched very quickly. This nut concoction tastes great on it's own, but it's also wonderful on salads.

Or make a cheese spread!  This past week-end, I needed a cheese spread, and wanted something Christmasy, holiday-y, autumnal.  And so, I experimented:

Autumnal Cheese Spread

I grated a pound of cheddar and poured in 1/2 c. beer (the beer binds it, but kind of disappears; I wonder if red wine would work as well, or apple juice or cider). I wanted a bit more to bind it, so I put in 2 tablespoons of apple butter and 2 tablespoons of honey mustard. I mixed it all together with the nuts and spread it on crackers, served with red wine to drink.  YUM.


However, my spouse thought it was much too sweet, but I loved it, as did the other 2 women who ate it. It hit that sweet and savory spot that I love.



So, are you shopping for Thanksgiving already?  Or maybe you're thinking about Christmas?  Or maybe you're resisting it all and eating a sensible salad?  Whatever your Tuesday has in store, I hope it's brimming with whatever kind of deliciousness would bring you joy.

Sunday Fun with Fiber

On Saturday, I went to a quilt show; I wrote about the experience in this post.   Sunday afternoon I had a great time sorting through my cloth scraps and yarns--a great time with fiber.  I said I'd post pictures, in case anyone is interested, and so I shall.

I knew that I wanted to try making beads out of scraps of cloth, the way that my grandmother used to make beads out of old church bulletins.  First, I sorted through scraps.

I've had these scissors (below) for a long time, probably since I was 13.  I was taking a sewing class at the Singer store in Montgomery Mall (Alabama).  Nurse Ellie gave me these engraved scissors.  Nurse Ellie was stationed with my parents in France when/where I was born.  She was my nurse.  During the summer of 1978, she happened to be doing an Air Force stint in Montgomery, where we lived.  She gave me these scissors.  I need to get them sharpened.

I cut a piece of cloth into a triangle, and started rolling it into a bead.

I started with just a drop of glue at the tip of the triangle, which would probably be enough.  Later, I spread glue all over the back of the cloth.  And since I'm sewing the beads together, I didn't roll them around a toothpick or a rod, the way you'd need to if you were stringing them together.

You can make a variety of sizes.

You can make whatever size you'd like.  You could probably make them puffier too.

You don't even need to start out with a triangle.

Eventually, I'll sew them together into this shape.  Which brings me to my next project:  making a scarf out of various fibery strands.

I chose about 15 strands of things:  a remnant of cloth, a piece of a sequined scarf, a variety of yarns. 

I laid them out and started to knot, twine, and braid them together.

In the end, a fun scarf!

All in all, a fun Sunday--one that satisfied my fingers' itch to play with fabric and fiber.

Reflections on Fiber Art and Bead Art and Modern Life Inspired by a Quilt Show

Yesterday, I went to a huge quilt show which was SO different from the tiny quilt show I attended in mid-October.  Yesterday's quilt show had 475 quilts.  It was almost too much to take in.

My friend and I have been quilting for over 20 years.  I started my fascination with quilting in 1985 or so.  I was reading Alice Walker, and I was desperate to learn to quilt and to do other arts that had been traditionally disdained as women's spheres.  I asked my grandma to teach me, and she said, "Why would you want to waste your time doing that?  You can buy a perfectly good blanket at Wal-Mart for $6."

It would be years before I understood her view.  She had spent many winter nights piecing and sewing by hand, and she hated it.  Modern life meant she didn't have to do that torturous chore.

The world of quilting has changed enormously since she was quilting in the early days of the 20th century.  It's changed enormously since my friend and I began quilting in the 1980's.  Here are some things we noticed at yesterday's quilt show:

--Lots of unfinished edges.  Lots of ravels and threads.

--Lots and lots of different kinds of textures:  yarns and ribbons and threads and beads.  Often textures woven around other textures, like big buttons with beading attached to yarn which was woven around the button.

--More applique than we've ever seen before.

--Not much hand quilting.  Or hand work of any kind.  Yet the few quilts that were hand done were the most intricate things I've ever seen, and huge, huge quilts.  Amazing.

--An equal mix of art quilts and traditional approaches.

--More hand-dyed fabric than I've seen before.

--More quilts with political messages than I'm used to seeing.

--Lots of people taking pictures.  I didn't even take my camera, because at past quilt shows, photography was strictly prohibited.  Has the presence of cell phone cameras made that prohibition impossible to enforce?

My friend wondered if any sociologists had studied quilters as a group, as a society, in the way that sociologists would study them (as opposed to a study of them as artists, as females, as . . . ).

I also noticed how many techniques had begun to migrate over to the quilting world from other art forms.  There's the fairly standard painting on a quilt, of course.  But there were also a few quilts that took me back to my past.

We saw a quilt that had flowers that had been created by taking several layers of fabric, sewing them together, and cutting them to reveal layers underneath in interesting ways.  It reminded me of coloring or painting a layer, then painting or coloring a layer of black over the colored layer, then scratching or removing some of the black layer to reveal the color beneath.  Cool!

What was even cooler was the presence of fabric beads that reminded me of the beads that my grandmother used to make out of old church bulletins (go here for instructions).  I need to look through my collection of tiny scraps and give this a try!

I feel a bit of shame that I used to want my grandma to teach me to quilt, while I couldn't have cared less about her paper bead making.  She would make me necklaces, which I'd accept (please, let me have accepted them graciously!), but never wear.  I thought that paper bead making was a lesser art form, for one thing, and I hated the fact (irrationally, yes), that they were made out of church bulletins.

Now my ecological consciousness cheers the repurposing of church bulletins into beads.  Sadly, I was not that enlightened as a 19 year old.  My arrogant 19 year old self--how much she thought she knew, and how much she really had left to learn.

Now there are companies that support the work of African women towards self-support by selling beads like the kind my grandmother made (go here to see one website).  Beads as an emancipatory tool!  Hurrah.

My friend and I wandered through the marketplace yesterday before we left, where we saw no companies that support the efforts of 3rd world women.  Lots of wonderful, but very pricey stuff--like an iron that will steam your clothes or your dust ruffles without an ironing board or flat surface, and for the low price of $300.  Yikes.

There was a wonderful box of yarns, 12 balls, each the size of an egg.  Lots of textures, all in the same color family.  There were about 30 collections to choose from.  I thought, if these are $20-$30, I'll buy a box.  What fun I'll have with color, texture, and fiber.  What fun it would be!

I asked the price and the woman said, "One seventy five."

It took a minute for my brain to process that number and translate it into money.  I managed to refrain from blurting, "Dollars?  175 dollars?"

I immediately thought about the yarn section of Jo-Anns or Michaels--how many balls of yarn I could buy for that.  Sure, they're mass-produced and not hand-dyed.  But I can dye them, if I want.  Or simply buy the color I want.  Yikes.

So, this afternoon, I'll look through my cloth and yarn boxes to remember what I have exactly.  Maybe I'll experiment with making beads out of cloth.  Or maybe I'll try to make a cool scarf-like thing that I saw a woman wearing in September.  She was at Lutheridge for a conference on one of the oldest forms of rug hooking in North America, and I was there at a retreat to plan a retreat.  Her scarf was a combination of about 12 strands of thin cloth and yarn and fibrousy things, and a bead here and there.  It was so striking that I complimented her on it and asked if I could take a closer look.  She said she had crocheted the strands together.  Hmm.

If I play with fibers, I'll take pictures, and post a photo essay later.  If I put up my Christmas tree, I probably won't confess it here.  I know, you think I should wait until after Thanksgiving--but once we get past Thanksgiving, there's not much time.  Today we're only 6 weeks away from Christmas. 

Blogiversary: All Our Creative Passions

On this day, in 2008, I launched my first blog (go here to read that post).  I had spent years reading blogs and wishing that I, too, could be a blogger.  I spent lots of time thinking about the kinds of writing I would do.  Still, it took me some time to take that leap.

And it did feel like a leap.  What worried me?

I worried that my blogging might impact my professional future.  Academics everywhere seemed to be discussing how blogging and Facebooking and living a more public life might come back to haunt us.  Would a possible future employer look badly on my blogging?  Would said employer wonder why I didn't focus on more formal writing, the traditional forms that academics are expected to master?

I worried about my current employer.  What would my boss say about blogging?  What about my colleagues?

So, I took the precautions you'd expect.  At first, I tried very hard to not say too much about work.  Then, as I got more comfortable blogging, I tried not to say anything that I wouldn't say in any other public space.  As I blog, I try to be conscious that anyone might read my writing, and I try not to say anything hurtful or to talk about anything that might land me in court.

And frankly, I don't have that kind of life.  Not much goes on that I can't write about here.  But I'm still cautious, especially when it comes to pictures and to talking about other people.  Just because I'm living a more public life doesn't mean that everyone I know wants to be part of that process.

I also worried that my blogging would take me away from my other writing, and that has happened to some extent.  Time spent blogging is time I'm not spending writing poems or short stories.

But blogging has opened up doors that wouldn't have been opened to me otherwise.  I had sent material to The Lutheran magazine before and been rejected.  When I wrote this blog post, an editor for The Lutheran wrote to me to ask if I'd reshape the material for an article.  I said I'd be happy to do that, and I've gone on to write several more.

And my blogging led to an invitation to be an official blogger for a Lutheran website.

Even if my blogging hadn't led to these opportunities, I'd still be glad that I started.  I write down ideas, and often, when I need inspiration, I go back through my blogs and find some.  And my blogs serve as an interesting journal.  I tend to save my paper journal for times when I won't have computer access or for a place to sort out my feelings about things that aren't bloggable.

I think my comfort with eBooks comes out of blogging.  I love that a blog can do things a paper journal can't do as easily:  it's searchable, for one thing.  And I love adding photos (which I plan to do when I venture into eBooks).  I love being able to link.  I love the community that blogs can create.  I love the connectedness.

I still wrestle with the fact that my time for creative pursuits is limited.  In any day, I have choices to make:  will I blog, will I write a poem, will I cook, will I take my camera out into the world, will I paint, will I work with fabric?  I can't do it all--oh, but how I want to.

There are people out there who would encourage me to go with what's likely to bring me the most money--but I tend to go with what will bring me joy at the moment.  I'm lucky; I have a job that pays the bills, so I don't have to consider the money angle as much as some do.

But I've also found that following what brings me joy can often lead to money and other types of opportunities.

My approach to creativity reminds me of my approach to investing.  I have held a variety of jobs, and thus, I have dribs and drabs of money in a variety of retirement accounts.  Some investment specialists would advise me to roll over all those dribs and drabs into one super account that would make me more money.  I haven't done that for a variety of reasons, but mainly because I'm lazy and terrified of making the wrong decision.

Happily, that decision--or lack of decision--has paid off.  I've found that when one account is down, the others are up.  My hope is that at retirement, I won't have lost too much, and I'll be happily surprised to discover that my benign neglect has resulted in surprise returns.

I have the same hopes for my creative projects, that some will go nowhere, and others will surprise me with the doors that open.  But my most fervent hope is that I can continue to be creative every day, to have that joy every day, to feel that yearning to do more, but gratitude that I can do what I can do.