Alas...no poem to post because I dreamt it instead of writing it. Does this ever happen to any of you?
I believe poems come to us in our most unconscious states, but that they only come once--if we miss it, it's gone. And of course the poems we dream are always brilliant in our memories aren't they? I can't remember a single line, but I remember that glow that comes right after a good poem is written….
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Waiting for the Baby
So the doctor put me on bed rest this week. While it's agonizing to be inside, looking out at everyone on the beach, it is good motivation to write poems. Here's a very new one, not yet edited.
Turning Two
- For AnnaCaroline
Do you remember your tears
and panic last night? How you let me
hold you for a long time, your small
head tucked into my neck?
You are still my baby,
my little bug, my sweetest thing.
You will still sit on my lap, still call
to me in your dark dreams.
But I can also see the cocoon of you
spinning, wrapping your baby self
away, starting a new body as startling
as a luna moth, who will wake up one day
and realize how much more of the world
is now below, how reachable that branch
is. And we will love this you, too,
your wing against my cheek,
your flight rising in my throat.
Turning Two
- For AnnaCaroline
Do you remember your tears
and panic last night? How you let me
hold you for a long time, your small
head tucked into my neck?
You are still my baby,
my little bug, my sweetest thing.
You will still sit on my lap, still call
to me in your dark dreams.
But I can also see the cocoon of you
spinning, wrapping your baby self
away, starting a new body as startling
as a luna moth, who will wake up one day
and realize how much more of the world
is now below, how reachable that branch
is. And we will love this you, too,
your wing against my cheek,
your flight rising in my throat.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Tidal Echoes Cover & David Woodie's Art
One of my favorite moments of publishing the journal is seeing the cover. This year the graphic design work is being done by two designers at Capital City Weekly, the local paper that is co-publishing with us now. Katie Spielberger is doing the layout and design and Anna Millard designed the cover. The cover features work by UAS professor David Woodie. His image is above. Amazing, isn't it?
I hadn't seen Woodie's work until the galley proofs of the journal came through and this one just knocked me flat. I go to gallery walk and look at art like any respectable Juneau citizen, but it rarely really bowls me over, and this one really did. I just love this. Somehow it captures exactly how I feel about Juneau.
Poetry Contest
The Fairbanks Arts Association called yesterday to let me know my poem "Proof" won 3rd prize in this year's contest. The FAA holds a yearly contest for all Alaskan poets, with a category for youth and one for adults. It's so great to see literary arts being promoted this way in Alaska. There always seems to be so much for the visual artists and not much for us writers.
So the awards ceremony is tonight in Fairbanks but of course I'm not going. When I talked to Seth, he said none of the winners will be in Fairbanks so he is arranging to call each of us and have us read our poems over the phone. This will be my first phone reading! I'm sitting by the phone now, waiting for him to call.
Here's the poem that won:
Proof
We have photo after photo
of splashes—
white wings of water
against blue silk,
swirls and eddies
where just a moment ago
a fin, a head, a tail
disappeared into the quiet dark
of the sea. And this is just how
it should be, when we show photos
down south at Christmas to curious
relatives, contemplating Alaska.
This is just how it should be
when we try to remember our own lives
and what brought us to this
moment. We can see the imprint
of hope on the surface of our faces,
while in our bellies, something dives
deep.
A few summers ago when AnnaCaroline was just a baby Corey's mom and dad came up to Juneau and we went on a whale-watching cruise. It's actually the first one I've been on since we moved here 13 years ago. Corey's dad is a photographer and he got these beautiful, amazing photos of humpbacks. Most of mine are of AnnaCaroline and splashes in the water. It's funny how often something that doesn't work, or turn out liked I had hoped, ends up in a poem. Poems are always good consolation prizes.
So the awards ceremony is tonight in Fairbanks but of course I'm not going. When I talked to Seth, he said none of the winners will be in Fairbanks so he is arranging to call each of us and have us read our poems over the phone. This will be my first phone reading! I'm sitting by the phone now, waiting for him to call.
Here's the poem that won:
Proof
We have photo after photo
of splashes—
white wings of water
against blue silk,
swirls and eddies
where just a moment ago
a fin, a head, a tail
disappeared into the quiet dark
of the sea. And this is just how
it should be, when we show photos
down south at Christmas to curious
relatives, contemplating Alaska.
This is just how it should be
when we try to remember our own lives
and what brought us to this
moment. We can see the imprint
of hope on the surface of our faces,
while in our bellies, something dives
deep.
A few summers ago when AnnaCaroline was just a baby Corey's mom and dad came up to Juneau and we went on a whale-watching cruise. It's actually the first one I've been on since we moved here 13 years ago. Corey's dad is a photographer and he got these beautiful, amazing photos of humpbacks. Most of mine are of AnnaCaroline and splashes in the water. It's funny how often something that doesn't work, or turn out liked I had hoped, ends up in a poem. Poems are always good consolation prizes.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
New Poem
Last Saturday I read at the Silverbow with a group of local writers. It was fun to see what other poets in Juneau are working on right now.
This is one of the poems I read:
Museum of Natural History, New York
Finally, the day when we will visit the Museum—
a long break between conference talks
and we all go—daddy, grandparents,
and you, rattling under the park and into
the belly of that amazing place.
I’ve been dreaming of the bones of sea turtles
for days. We walk
and walk and walk—you tucked against
my back, looking, looking
and soon we are overwhelmed.
How can we remember all these facts?
How can we hold the vision of so many
birds in our minds? Case after case
documenting a world we need to know better.
Finally, you whimper and save us both.
We slip away from the group
and into the blue whale room—
a life size replica slung from the ceiling
and the whole room, dark and blue
and cool. Below the whale is just a patch
of carpet and all the mothers and babies
are here on the floor. I take you out of your pack
put you down, and we both lie back
under the whale. It fills our whole
sight, going on forever, this view of a whale
that only nursing calves must see.
We follow its belly lines and they are the latitude
lines of the whole world. I reach out and touch
your head, as the quiet washes over us,
as we rest under the sea, and I remember
how I fit with you, and I remember who I am,
in this vast, unknowable world.
This one seemed to get the best response of the 6 poems I read. Maybe because it's the most narrative? I'm still kicking around the idea that poetry readings are hard because we can't follow lyric or meditative poetry orally. Do we need something narrative to hang on to when we're listening?
This is one of the poems I read:
Museum of Natural History, New York
Finally, the day when we will visit the Museum—
a long break between conference talks
and we all go—daddy, grandparents,
and you, rattling under the park and into
the belly of that amazing place.
I’ve been dreaming of the bones of sea turtles
for days. We walk
and walk and walk—you tucked against
my back, looking, looking
and soon we are overwhelmed.
How can we remember all these facts?
How can we hold the vision of so many
birds in our minds? Case after case
documenting a world we need to know better.
Finally, you whimper and save us both.
We slip away from the group
and into the blue whale room—
a life size replica slung from the ceiling
and the whole room, dark and blue
and cool. Below the whale is just a patch
of carpet and all the mothers and babies
are here on the floor. I take you out of your pack
put you down, and we both lie back
under the whale. It fills our whole
sight, going on forever, this view of a whale
that only nursing calves must see.
We follow its belly lines and they are the latitude
lines of the whole world. I reach out and touch
your head, as the quiet washes over us,
as we rest under the sea, and I remember
how I fit with you, and I remember who I am,
in this vast, unknowable world.
This one seemed to get the best response of the 6 poems I read. Maybe because it's the most narrative? I'm still kicking around the idea that poetry readings are hard because we can't follow lyric or meditative poetry orally. Do we need something narrative to hang on to when we're listening?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Tidal Echoes
How embarrassing...almost a year since I've posted! But it's been a busy one. AnnaCaroline is almost two...I'm pregnant with our 2nd baby (a girl), and in between I've been working like crazy at UAS.
I'm the faculty advisor for Tidal Echoes the Southeast Alaskan literary journal. This week the editorial board has made final decisions on which pieces get included and which get cut. It's always interesting and difficult to make these choices.
Other than working with the student editors, who are fantastic, my favorite aspect of this project is seeing the amazing diversity of topics we Southeast Alaskans write about. We don't restrict our journal to any particular subject matter--something I think is absolutely necessary for a place that has such a "brand" to the rest of the world. It's a relief and joy to see poems written about something other than whales; to see stories written about biking in Arizona, or fighting with your wife. The journal is a much more accurate reflection of who we really are here, and the of the lives we live in this amazing archipelago.
If you want to see the work we do, check out a preview of last year's journal: http://www.uas.alaska.edu/humanities/tidalechoes/docs/TIDALECHOES2008.pdf
The launch party for this year's journal is April 11, 7:00 pm at UAS. Everyone is invited!
I'm the faculty advisor for Tidal Echoes the Southeast Alaskan literary journal. This week the editorial board has made final decisions on which pieces get included and which get cut. It's always interesting and difficult to make these choices.
Other than working with the student editors, who are fantastic, my favorite aspect of this project is seeing the amazing diversity of topics we Southeast Alaskans write about. We don't restrict our journal to any particular subject matter--something I think is absolutely necessary for a place that has such a "brand" to the rest of the world. It's a relief and joy to see poems written about something other than whales; to see stories written about biking in Arizona, or fighting with your wife. The journal is a much more accurate reflection of who we really are here, and the of the lives we live in this amazing archipelago.
If you want to see the work we do, check out a preview of last year's journal: http://www.uas.alaska.edu/humanities/tidalechoes/docs/TIDALECHOES2008.pdf
The launch party for this year's journal is April 11, 7:00 pm at UAS. Everyone is invited!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Judging Poetry Out Loud
This past week I had the honor of judging the Statewide Poetry Outloud Competition. This is competition sponsored by the National Endowment for the Arts and the Poetry Foundation. Check out this great video of last year's winners performing.
The competition was held in Anchorage and high school students from 11 different cities and villages from all over Alaska came. They had each memorized three poems and they performed them for the audience. I was amazed at the power these kids evoked. One student performed "Unknown Girl in the Maternity Ward" by Anne Sexton. Her performance reduced two of us judges to tears and made me realize the amazing value of this project. To perform well a student has to really get the poem--has to internalize it and make it their own. And we could immediately tell who has really gotten into the poems. The Alaskan winner, Alev Kelter, from Chugiak High School in Achorage was wonderful.--I have rarely seen such passion in a high school student for anything, much less for poetry. We talked to her afterwards and she told us she's a hockey player too. Now there is a well-rounded Alaskan student!
After the judging, all of us judges (John Straley, Erin Hollowell, Anne Hanley, and Jerah Chadwick) along with Susan Olson, the State Arts Council staff member who runs this project, went out for dinner at Sacks. John bought everyone champagne and we spent hours just chatting about poetry, about life in Unalaska (where Jerah lives), and about our various teaching lives. It was such a treat to hang out with two former and one current poet laureate of Alaska.
Moments like this...they remind me why we are doing what we're doing. We aren't alone in the love of poetry, and when we get our little tribe together, and discover we all speak the same language, it feels like coming home. Bliss!
The competition was held in Anchorage and high school students from 11 different cities and villages from all over Alaska came. They had each memorized three poems and they performed them for the audience. I was amazed at the power these kids evoked. One student performed "Unknown Girl in the Maternity Ward" by Anne Sexton. Her performance reduced two of us judges to tears and made me realize the amazing value of this project. To perform well a student has to really get the poem--has to internalize it and make it their own. And we could immediately tell who has really gotten into the poems. The Alaskan winner, Alev Kelter, from Chugiak High School in Achorage was wonderful.--I have rarely seen such passion in a high school student for anything, much less for poetry. We talked to her afterwards and she told us she's a hockey player too. Now there is a well-rounded Alaskan student!
After the judging, all of us judges (John Straley, Erin Hollowell, Anne Hanley, and Jerah Chadwick) along with Susan Olson, the State Arts Council staff member who runs this project, went out for dinner at Sacks. John bought everyone champagne and we spent hours just chatting about poetry, about life in Unalaska (where Jerah lives), and about our various teaching lives. It was such a treat to hang out with two former and one current poet laureate of Alaska.
Moments like this...they remind me why we are doing what we're doing. We aren't alone in the love of poetry, and when we get our little tribe together, and discover we all speak the same language, it feels like coming home. Bliss!
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