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Archive for August, 2007

In the last week, I’ve received two emails from people I don’t know who complimented my poetry. This rarely happens. I’ve received a few emails in the past from people who have read my work in a specific journal and then contacted me regarding the poem, and that’s always been nice. But these had nothing to do with my work showing up in a specific journal, they were both compliments of my poetry as a whole which felt different to me. It’s always nice to hear that someone, anyone, enjoys your work besides yourself (and I’m not one to count on myself).

I was driving to work the other day and the idea of putting together a chapbook mss with music as its primary theme hit hard. I’ve been playing around with the idea in my head for a long time now but it finally settled and came to me in a way that I had never felt before – I have to do it. I know that the project is risky, I think mainly because it could easily come off as gimmicky. I think, too, that when a poet uses other people’s words in their own work the poet could rely too heavily on those words or the work could easily become misconstrued as relying too heavily on those words. Though I guess, if you’re a good enough poet, that won’t happen. And there-in lies more risk.

None of this really matter to me, though, because I have to do it. I already know how the last poem in the chapbook is going to end.

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Or not. Or they are and they aren’t at the same exact time.

When I register to vote in NC I’m officially changing my party affiliation to Independent.

Spin this! Slave labor, both parties support it.

Question for all of you:

Do you know of any chapbooks or full-length collections that have been fully dedicated to music and inspired by music? For example, do you know of anyone who has published a collection of poems where every poem starts out by quoting a specific song?

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Did You Know?

…that the Summer 2007 issue of Blue Fifth Review is now up? There you can read my poem, A Poet’s Tools.

Sam always has an impressive array of poetry and poets at BFR, so I’m honored.

I have to say that I especially enjoyed the work of Rebecca Lu Kiernan, which is full of naughty tension. Also Laurel K. Dodge’s poem, Archaic Torso of a Daughter, is beautifully sad and I’ve read it several times over.

Edit To Add:

There is some kind of magic in this poem:

Melissa Buckheit’s As If I Were Conceived In Her Diorama

I swear. Read it. Read it, again. No, really. READ IT.

Happy Reading!

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(poem)

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Bragging Rights

Finally, I’ve landed a job that I love! With a company that will remain top secret for now. But, it’s a big company. International. And it’s headquarters are in Boca Raton which is hysterical seeing as how I used to live there. I’m sure that didn’t hurt when I interviewed. ANNNNNDDD I’m doing what I want to be doing, and that’s HR work. The branch in North Carolina, the one that I’m supporting, has 500 employees. Can you hear my sighs of relief?

I got some great finds on poetry books at the Auction a few weeks ago – first edition Sylvia Plath, Robert Lowell, and Donald Hall books. I was also able to grab the first edition W.S. Merwin, signed.

The Whitman lot, however, did not sell as there was a reserve which was not met. I don’t have that kind of money.

Night Above The Avenue, W.S. Merwin

The whole time that I have lived here
at every moment somebody
has been at the point of birth
behind a window across the street
and somebody behind a window
across the street
has been at the point of death
they have lain there in pain and in hope
on and on
and away from the windows the dark interiors
of their bodies have been opened to lights
and they have waited bleeding and have been frightened
and happy
unseen by each other we have been transformed
and the traffic has flowed away
from between them and me
in four directions
as the lights have changed
day and night
and I have sat up late
at the kitchen window
knowing the news
watching the paired red lights
recede from under the windows down the avenue
toward the tunnel under the river
and the white lights from the park rushing toward us
through the sirens and the music
and I have wakened in a wind of messages

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