I’ve got a lot of reading to do… May 29, 2009

…so forgive me if I dig in a for a little while!

 

A couple of weeks ago I forked out $45 in overdue book fines (don’t ask) in order to be able to check out the books I need for my field study, which will be introducing Marilyn Nelson and Molly Bendall’s readings at the upcoming residency. I’m supposed to read everything they’ve ever written (or something approximating that) and write a couple of pages as an intro to their work. I now have seventeen books sitting on my desk. 

 

Here is what I have so far (in the order that they’re stacked) for Marilyn Nelson:

**For The Body

*A Wreath for Emmett Till

Fortune’s Bones

Miss Crandall’s School for Young Ladies and Little Misses of Color

The Homeplace

Pemba’s Song (a ghost story)

The Thirteenth Month

Magnificat

The Freedom Business

*Mama’s Promises

The Cachoeira Tales and Other Poems

The Cat Walked Through the Casserole

The Fields of Praise

Carver  – a Life in Poems 

(*these ones I’ve finished ** this one I’m working on)

 

Here’s what I have for Molly Bendall:

After Estrangement

Dark Summer

Ariadne’s Island

 

The residency starts June 18th, and I need to present drafts of both intros beforehand. So — I’ve got a lot of reading to do. 

I doubt that I’ll be able to forgo Scrabble and Wordscraper and WordTwist, etc., on Facebook — I’m sure I’m going to need those brain-breaks — but I probably won’t blog again until I’m through. But certainly I’ll have lots to blog about as the residency nears & occurs. 

If you have any suggestions for further reading on either Marilyn or Molly, or want to point me to something important in their work that I may miss otherwise (I can be pretty dense), I would greatly appreciate it.

***

In the meantime, I will leave you with cats. Yes, more cats. Our rescued kitten-turned-naughty tween has a litter of younger siblings that we’re feeding. Mama kitty got herself knocked up again. I need to get her to let me near her so I can catch her and get her fixed. But those kittens are awfully cute. At this rate we should have about a dozen new cats a year — that is, until the kittens get knocked up, and then the numbers will go up exponentially. We’ll be drowning in cats.

Any suggestions on taming feral cats are of course welcomed. It’s tempting to get a dog just to dissuade them from camping out in our yard, but that just pushes the burden off on someone else.  

 

 

Spooky looks just like his mama.

 

 

The Pharmaka reading May 23, 2009

I’m waiting for Lloyd to get back from dropping his dad off at home (he always comes over on Saturday mornings) so thought I’d take just a minute to post a couple photos from the reading last Thursday.

It was a real treat for me to be able to read with Ann, Kate, and Catherine, (I wonder if Kate’s name is Katherine — if so, then there were three of us there). Sarah was lovely as ever. And the venue was very cool. I have some mixed feelings about the area that it’s in — had to drive through skid row to get to it — the *real* skid row. Apparently it’s been cleaned up quite a bit, but it’s still just a little bit heartbreaking to drive through. The people who live there are so entrenched that you almost want to see address numbers painted on the curb near their feet. I don’t think anyone ever rousts them out. It looked like a parade route sans parade, with the street teeming with people, makeshift cardboard structures leaning up against buildings, with the occasional almost shockingly bright pup tent. 

This is the exterior of the Pharmaka building.

I read first. I read my poem from the anthology, plus Jeannine Hall Gailey’s and Ren Powell’s, and poems from the Desire series.

Then Catherine Daly read hers about bras and the now defunct Hollywood Frederick’s of Hollywood, plus a poem by Wompo listmother Annie Finch.

Then Kate Gale read a poem by Adrienne Kalpfalou (I’m sure I’m botching the spelling here!) and some of her own work on what it’s like to work in the publishing industry.

And then Ann Fisher-Wirth read Anny Ballardini’s poem from the anthology plus work from her new book Carta Marina.

Sarah Maclay brought us all back up at the end.

Here’s an interior shot of the gallery — long and narrow. If you look closely my hubby is in left of center.

 

There were a lot of familiar faces there — Rafael Alvarado of the Moe Green Poetry Hour/H.I.P readings, Larry Colker of the Redondo Poets, Hilda Weiss of Poetry L.A., as well a few others. Fun reading, great crowd, good wine and cheese & crackers & fruit. A *very* late night (by our standards, home by 11:15) — the boys were still awake, but the babysitter looked half asleep — but definitely worth the trip.

A guy named Alec Silverstein who blogs for The Downtownster interviewed each of us afterward. He’s going to be running a piece next Friday — I’ll post the link when it’s up. I’m curious to hear his take!

My summer reading picks (and others’) on the No Tell Motel blog May 21, 2009

I’m sitting here revising my manuscript (al)most delicious (the one after Modigliani’s nudes) when really I should be cleaning up the house in preparation for the babysitter this evening (Pharmaka reading tonight — Jeannine, I’m going to read your LTW poem! And Ren’s! As well as my own. Unless you mind?), or out renting videos/video games to keep the boys busy while the sitter’s here. 

Taking just an itty bitty moment to point you all to the No Tells blog where they are running a series of posts on recommended summer reading. So pop on over there and have a look if you’re so inclined.

Also, I’ve posted the note that’s circulating from Salt Publishing’s director over at Poemeleon: The Blog. They’re really in need of our help right now. This morning I bought Shaindel Beers’ A Brief History of Time, as well as Reb Livingston & Ravi Shankar’s Wanton Textiles (from No Tell Books, supporting them too while I’m throwing my money around; in Reb’s “What the authors are saying about this book” quote, Reb says “Its like pornography for your underpants,” which made me laugh.) As someone — Jeannine? — recommended Reb for future Gurlesque-ish reading, I thought I’d pick this one up. I love  that it’s a collaboration, and am anxious to see how they’ve pulled that off.

Hope to see some of you tonight — I plan to read some from the Desire series as well a couple from my book! 

Hi-Ho-Hi-Ho!

Listening to my friend talk about organs on the radio. May 20, 2009

My good friend Virginia Haisten — aka Gincy, aka the mother of my sons’ good friends that we’ve known practically since birth, aka Jacob’s piano teacher — is being interviewed about her “organ expertise” on KUCR as I write this. (She received her PhD in something organ-related from Stanford.)

If you are at all interested in organ music you can listen by clicking the “listen live” link on the upper right side of the KUCR page. And speaking of organs, for those of you living in San Diego, you should check out the Spreckels Organ Pavilion at Balboa Park, if you never have before. They have free concerts on Sunday afternoons.

Reading w/ Kate Gale, Catherine Daly, & Ann Fisher-Wirth May 17, 2009

THURSDAY, MAY 21, 2009
A CELEBRATION of LETTERS to the WORLD: POEMS from the WOM-PO LISTSERV

Featuring Kate Gale, Catherine Daly, Cati Porter and Ann Fisher-Wirth

 

The Third Area: Poetry at Pharmaka

101 West Fifth Street, Los Angeles (corner of 5th and Main)

Doors open 7 p.m. / Reading begins at 8 p.m.
$5 donation recommended.
 

Kate Gale is Managing Editor of Red Hen Press. Author of several poetry books including Mating Season and Fishers of Men, a novel and librettos, she received her PhD in literature from Claremont Graduate University and speaks widely on publishing, editing and writing. Her opera Rio de Sangre with composer Don Davis is being released as a world premiere at the Florentine Opera in Milwaukee in 2010.

Catherine Daly was one of the first WOM-PO members, and even acted as list webster for a while. She recently founded a women’s prose listserv, WOMPROSE. Now author of eight books, including DaDaDa (Salt Publishing), Locket (Tupelo Press) and most recently VAUXHALL (Shearsman Books, 2008), she wrote the anthologized poem in front of the historic Frederick’s of Hollywood about the first Lingerie Hall of Fame.

Cati Porter is the author of a chapbook, small fruit songs (Pudding House, 2008), and Seven Floors Up (Mayapple Press, 2008). Some of the journals where her poems and book reviews have appeared include Fringe, Rattle, Poetry Southeast, Umbrella, kaleidowhirl, and in the anthologies White Ink: Poems on Mothers and Motherhood, Letters to the World and Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel — Second Floor. She is founder and editor of Poemeleon: A Journal of Poetry.

Ann Fisher-Wirth’s third book of poems, Carta Marina, appeared from Wings Press in April 2009. She is the author of Blue Window and Five Terraces and of the chapbooks The Trinket Poems and Walking Wu Wei’s Scroll. With Laura-Gray Street she is coediting Earth’s Body, an international anthology of ecopoetry in English. Her poems appear widely and have received numerous awards. She has had Fulbrights to Switzerland and Sweden. She teaches at the University of Mississippi.

For a taste of the series, see our feature on www.poetry.la

Yes, my son has joined the Crochet Club. May 14, 2009

I never would have guessed that nine-year old boys would wield crochet needles in the library during recess instead of, oh, I don’t know, playing soccer or kicking each other or chasing the girls or each other or some combination thereof. But Jacob’s friend recently broke his collar bone and since he’s been back at school he’s had to find something else to do during recess besides roughhouse. So he’s taken up crocheting. He founded the Crochet Club and is now teaching a small yet select co-ed group of nine-year-olds how to crochet, with a little chipping in from the school librarian (aptly named Mrs. Read) who graciously bought crochet hooks and yarn (available from her for a bargain $1.50 before and after school). Jacob has now spent the afternoon making chain stitches and asking me questions about how to crochet. Do I know how to crochet? Um, I can’t even sew a button on straight. But I’m very happy that he has discovered something that he can do that is quiet, neat, and productive (he wants to make a sweater or a scarf out of his one long strand — eventually).

When I found out I was pregnant again everyone was sure it was the long-awaited girl-child. Now I don’t even know that it was a child. More likely it was a malformed ball of cells that never developed into anything. I had my last ob appointment yesterday, during which they ruled out any dreaded std’s, cancer, fibroids, ectopic pregnancy, etc., as the cause of the miscarriage. By process of elimination that leaves chromosomal abnormalities. I have to wait at least a month or two to try again. It’s a little worrisome, considering that each day that goes by my eggs get a little older, and I have a little more time to change my mind. The only weird thing that came out of all that blood work (nine vials over the course of thirteen days) is that my blood sugar is a little high. Not high enough to have caused a miscarriage, but high enough to cause them to want to test me again.

My two boys are now eating some pre-homework ice cream. Yes, bribery to keep them out of my hair long enough to finish this post. I’ve been working on finishing up my last packet for this term before I head off to the residency in June. My field study has been determined: I will be introducing guest poet Marilyn Nelson and faculty Molly Bendall’s readings, for which I have to read pretty much everything they’ve ever written. I paid $45 in overdue library fees to check out four books and order thirteen more through the library’s Link+ function. I’m in Jenny Factor’s workshop group this time. I think this is going to be a great residency. And, after a frustrating and exhaustive search to find a sitter this time, it turns out Mrs. Read’s daughter (a good friend of another friend’s daughter) is willing, ready, and hopefully able to keep my boys from tearing down the house while I’m gone. I guess in a way it’s a good thing that this particular pregnancy didn’t stick. I was a little worried as to how I would work out next December’s residency if I was due to pop any day. I certainly wouldn’t want to give birth on the freeway in downtown L.A.!

I think, barring complications, we’ll try again. When I think back to several years ago when we were trying for a girl — tried all kinds of goofy things, including vinegar douches, taking cranberry supplements, and using the Shettles method, even got a poem out of it (”Oogenesis, or “Welcome to the Vagina!”; it’s in Seven Floors Up)–  I worry that we actually *prevented* conception by trying all these goofy maneuvers. 

I was surprised at how quickly all of my pregnancy symptoms disappeared. But I suppose I should stop focusing on the one loss and get back to the business of parenting the two sugar-fueled monsters who are giggling in the living room. I suppose ice cream may have been a better choice for *after* their homework, not before!

[p.s. I updated the "What I'm reading" page a few days ago but forgot to tell y'all!]

Happy Mother’s Day! May 10, 2009

Yes, it’s that time of year again. We were supposed to go to breakfast today but my mom came down with the chicken pox. Very odd. And she thinks she may have picked it up when she took the boys to the school carnival, though I haven’t heard of it going around there. She’s quarantined herself so hopefully none of us will get it — she says it doesn’t hurt, but it itches like mad, and is on an off-work order until mid-next week. In the meantime, I’ve bought her a fish to keep her company (shh! It’s her Mother’s Day present). 

Due to circumstances largely out of my control, I have had lots of time to reflect on the nature of motherhood this week, how it all comes down to luck. Yes, we’re biologically engineered to produce offspring, but the feat of sperm meeting egg — which first depends on the egg being released, said meeting also depending upon timing, and timing depending upon mood (not tonight, honey, I have a headache), mood depending upon hormones and other variables such as whose turn it is to take out the garbage, pick up the toys, put away the laundry, etc, and whether or not said chores were accomplished, and by whom — is a miracle in and of itself, after which we have to rely on autonomic processes to keep the train moving on its track. I’ve always known how easily plans could be derailed. But I had never experienced that myself. Until now.

Over the years I’ve listened to friends’ stories about miscarriage and infant loss, about infertility and secondary infertility, but had always assumed that because my boys came so easily and with so few problems that I must be Mother Nature incarnate. I learned this week that I’m not. I have two very good friends who will continue on in their mamalicious journeys, and I am thrilled for them. And, I suspect, we will try again, but not until the doctor gives us the green light. I have come to accept that if I was going to lose one, it is better that it happened so early, and not when I was further along.

My boys are being very sweet today. Bradley made his bed this morning, and Jacob sent me an e-card. Lloyd brought me flowers. We went yesterday to the Birch Aquarium as a pre-Mother’s Day outing, which was lovely, instead of going today because Jacob has a piano recital this afternoon. And Friday we attended our friends’ child’s conversion ceremony — my friend is Jewish, and wanted her recently adopted daughter to be able to share in that with her. I have been so taken with that “baby” (she’s actually a little over two now), and how easily she has slipped into that family as though she has always been there, as though there was never any question as to where she belonged. I love that parental love is like that. Parenthood depends as much or more on choice as on a couple’s (or a person’s) ability to reproduce.

Whether or not we ever add to our family, I feel lucky to have my boys, and my family & friends, each and every one of them.

New month, no more NaPoWriMo, but still plugging away May 4, 2009

In case you aren’t on the NewsBlog or part of the Facebook group, I’ve reinstated Poemeleon: The Blog. I’m sure I’ll continue to post Poemeleon updates more informally here, but I think it makes more sense to keep the two separate, and I hope to post lengthier poetry-related posts over there. 

As a wrap up to National Poetry Month, I did enjoy NaPoWriMo. I wrote nearly every day, and those I didn’t I had a good excuse. I actually thought I’d be one of the completionists for the Poetic Asides blog PAD challenge, but two days from the end I got hung up on the sestina prompt. I planned to take the afternoon of the 30th and maybe even the morning of the 1st (we had until noon to get the poems posted to the prompts) to get the last two done and posted. But then life snuck in and changed my game plan. 

I think I mentioned that I was expecting again. Well, I’ve run into some complications. Spent the better part of Friday at the hospital where they took six vials of blood and did a very early ultrasound. They couldn’t see anything. I went back today to give more blood. I won’t know anything until the official ultrasound on Thursday, but I’m still hopeful. In the meantime I’ve been working on poems and an essay and staying close to home.

I’ll keep you all posted….

NaPoWriMo day 27 April 29, 2009

The prompt: Longing

 

If you stop she will find you.

It has been three years
since you last saw her.

You have remained chaste
and undaunted by your

own desire for Desire.
And though you have

twelve bones, a lock
of a woman’s hair, and

an irreparably broken
heart, you still think

you want her, even
as you edge toward

the middle of the road,
toward the speeding cars,

walking and walking,
lonely and beaten.

NaPoWriMo day 26 April 29, 2009

The prompt: Miscommunication.

 

Putting it all on the line

The phone call comes while you are in the shower.
Desire answers. She has moved in. After all you have
done for her, she believes she has fallen in love with you.

She has left her sister Disaster out in the cold. She lies
like your mother when she calls. “Dear sister, why have
you abandoned me? I am so lonely.” “Dear sister, why

don’t you come to visit? Bring your lovely friend” “Dear
sister, please tell her that I miss her, too, that the three
of us could get along swimmingly.” “Dear sister….”

Today it is Desire’s turn to do the dishes. Today is not
the best day for her sister to come to call. There is never
a good day for Disaster. Disaster can’t stand being left

to watch the babies while you two take in a movie. A horrible
aunt she has made. Disaster thinks she is the center
of your universe and how dare you to exclude her.

You hear the phone ring. And then the door. You ask
Desire who it is. “Oh, it’s only Disaster. She’s come for
a visit.” You cringe. The last time she let her in

the whole house burned to the ground. You say to her,
“Don’t you dare open the door! Do NOT let her in.”
But all she hears is “…open the door” and “let her….”

Later you will recall how Desire asked her sister
to do the dishes, how you found the shattered plates,
the window above the sink cracked with dried egg.

You will ask them both to leave, and when they won’t
you will unpack your dresser drawers into bags
and throw them in the trunk of the car. You will drive.

You will hope you will never see them again.