Jim Murdoch’s novel, Milligan and Murphy, published by Fandango Virtual in November 2011, focuses on a pair of half-brothers who begin with a simple, short journey only to wind up on a much larger one. Inspired by Samuel Beckett’s characters Didi and Godot in Waiting for Godot and Mercier and Camier, these two brothers start out living rather hum-drum lives who have never thought of the bigger questions of life such as whether they are happy, whether they should travel, whether they should find a greater purpose. This story is an enjoyable read and Mr. Murdoch makes it easy to travel alongside the brothers. Mr. Murdoch jumps in to explain the scenery and the characters in detail during the parts where the brothers are simply moving forward without much action other than their walking onward until they encounter a new town or a new character.
In the story, we find the two brothers living with their Ma who sends them to a nearby farm to lend a hand and as they walk down the path they stumble onto a man they’ve never seen before. The man leaves them with questions. Then, before they know it, the two brothers change their path and just keep walking without a true plan in place and ultimately decide they should find the sea which they have never seen before. Their Ma has no idea why she’s been abandoned and the brothers themselves do not know why they’ve abandoned all they know for this journey. The story’s ending leaves you to imagine the next steps the brothers take and perhaps there will be a sequel which I would look forward to reading. What I like is that the pair gives absolutely no forethought to things such as having money for travel or sleeping accommodations and must fly by the seat of their pants throughout their journey. In the process they stumble onto some memorable characters such as another seemingly aimless traveler like themselves, an older woman who puts them to work, as well as barkeepers and the tallest barmaid they’ve ever seen. I recommend this book as a good summer read, take it with you on your own travels and enjoy.
If you enjoyed this review, you may purchase a copy of Milligan and Murphy by Jim Murdoch at:
http://www.fvbooks.com/jmurdoch/jmurdoch5.htm
To learn more about Jim Murdoch please visit his blog at:
http://jim-murdoch.blogspot.com/
Thanks always for reading, please drop in again next week…
Friday, July 20, 2012
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
An Interview with Angela Veronica Wong’s how to survive a hotel fire two-part series
Angela Veronica Wong’s collection of prose and poems titled how to survive a hotel fire is immense in the best possible way. Section by section I could not put it down and was eager for more. As a result this interview is a little longer than most in order to capture all of the sections in her collection, how to survive a hotel fire. Published by Coconut Books, this collection is humorous, imaginative, and enigmatic. Ms. Wong’s work has appeared in numerous places, her chapbook Dear Johnny, in Your Last Letter is available as a winner of Poetry Society of America New York Fellowship and she has had other chapbooks published by Lame House Press, Cy Gist Press and Flying Guillotine Press respectively. In other words, she is a busy lady whose writing is exciting and far-reaching and I am happy that she is allowing me to pick her brain on her first full-length collection.
1.) Your first full-length collection’s title is borrowed from the title of a collection of poems within this book. The cover features the various symbols for fire, fire extinguishers, phone, and elevator buttons, how did you decide to title your book this way and to feature your cover so that it looks more like a Quality Control Manual than a collection of poems?
The cover is something I felt pretty strongly and clear about from the beginning.
From the outset, I wanted a cover that was stark and minimalist, something that acknowledged its “designness.” And certainly, I wanted a cover that would entice someone to pick it up, and something that might not be a typical poetry cover, whatever that means.
I was fortunate enough to work with a smart and understanding and kind editor, Bruce Covey, who allowed me to take over a little (I was slightly more despotic about it than I am proud of—not just with the cover but with the whole manuscript). I should also mention that the cover was made by the Atlanta-based designer Abby Horowitz, and she was really great. She worked with my original idea, and then creating that wonderful back cover.
One of the interesting conversations that Bruce and I had about the cover came when he suggested using a photo of a real fire extinguisher (as opposed to a drawing/illustration of one). The suggestion prompted me to consider why I wanted to use icons on the cover. It was a move toward deliberate design that may in fact seem to be contrast with the emotional content of the poems in the book, but I believe is reflective of the deliberate construct within the poems and the collection itself.
My hope was that the relationship (both complementary and contradictory) between the aesthetic (exteriors) and the content (interiors) would support the construct of the book, which is that the poems and the contents of the book fundamentally hold a tension between presentation (often the bravado) of self versus interiority and self-reflection, seen in those moments of self-exposure in the poems. The book being constructed around a construct, but also a construct that is about construction.
In other words, if the whole collection is about discovering and managing that tension/struggle, a deliberately designed cover that is self-conscious of its design-ness seemed, to me, true to what the poems inside attempt to accomplish. I want the cover to be unexpected, but I also want it to be a little not-real (hence icons as opposed to actual things, though of course a photograph is not the actual thing, which is another level as well), which is simultaneously done as a slight nod to the commingling of fairy tales and the warning directive of “how to survive a hotel fire,” and to acknowledge that this book is doing a constructing of something (which I hope readers can find under the layers in the poems - like Honor Moore’s amazing blurb saying that this book is the one placed on the piano, referencing a line from the book).
Within this context, there's something interesting about using a sign or a symbol (a warning) of something as opposed to the actual thing itself that would be a tool of prevention more so than a warning. Those “icon” signs are there to warn, whereas the actual axe or fire extinguisher is there to be used. And something about “how to survive a hotel fire” (the title itself, though also the poems of that section, and the whole book) rings more true as a warning—it's a guide that you would read before, not during—and, looping back to constructing and the unrealism, it's something that is an imagined situation.
2.) The introduction includes a parable about a mandarin waiting for a courtesan for 100 days only to leave on the 99th. It is a story that gives the impression of “giving up.” Why this introduction to your collection of poems?
The epigraph is from Roland Barthes’ A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments, an exploration/treatise on love as presented through literature and philosophy. The language Barthes uses is often breathtaking, and he manages somehow to animate Love, the Lover and the Beloved, beyond cliché.
I think the parable is a little about “giving up,” but I wonder if it’s also about “moving on.” About how we move on. And how we (as the mandarin) are willing to do crazy things to connect or possess something or someone, and how we (as the courtesan) demand or manufacture space and distance that might be unnecessary or even damaging. In the story Barthes gives us, there is no reason why the courtesan asks the mandarin to wait 100 days. And there’s no reason why the mandarin goes away on the 99th day. The believer in me always wants the ending of this to be different—I always want the mandarin to be still waiting. (Also, random sidenote: there is this somewhat charming Hong Kong movie called Hot Summer Days in which a factory girl makes the boy who likes her stand100 days in the heat before she will date him.) But sometimes that’s the way it is. And sometimes even if there are completely rational, totally understandable reasons behind actions, the actions are still really hard to accept.
I think sometimes to love something, or at least a way to love something, is to accept the possibility of loss, to overcome the fear of losing.
I suppose that is somewhat depressing, but I think it’s also rather brilliantly hopeful, that it’s in spite of pain or heartbreak that we still search to connect, to love, to be with someone.
3.) Overall, your poems and the titles of the sections speak to the idea of lowered expectations and self-deprecating humor, such as your section title (which is also the title of one of your poems) “If You’re Hoping Something Interesting Comes From This I Would Hold Your Breath.” What is your thinking behind this overall feeling and how did you decide to mold it this way?
I recently read this quote from a woman writing on social mockery in mid-seventeenth century France: “To mock well, you must have a fiery intelligence, delicate judgment and a memory full of a thousand different things to use on different occasions." That is a succinct and apt description, right?
Who but yourself do you know the most embarrassing, idiotic things about? I find using self-deprecation as humor a surprisingly delicate task. It’s about balance—it works best when people believe you truly do hate yourself but that you also truly do believe you are better than everyone else. That paradox makes the humor.
I’m not sure if I set out to use self-deprecation as a trope through the collection. I was (and still am) interested in scrubbed-down, raw emotion that creates those kind lines that reflect an almost adolescent sort of melodramatics, and I wanted to see whether or not I could get away with them in the poems. Did I get away with them? I don’t know. But I wanted to play with vulnerability and bravado (as I am really interested in persona), which is probably why the poems are so self-aware. They need that self-deprecating sensibility (like lemon juice, adds acidity) to cut itself down.
4.) Your prose piece (featured below) makes me grin because I can picture anyone who is frustrated doing the same thing. I often feel like throwing my computer out the window when it acts up so how did this piece come about? (Prose piece below)
Every time I feel I’ve lost something I
throw plants over my balcony. I don’t
watch just listen as they hit the sidewalk
below.
The apartment I was living in at the time had a balcony, and I am always desperately trying to cultivate plant life—grow vegetables, herbs, flowers. I really think I was just sitting on the balcony one day and thinking, I am angry and sad and lonely and I am missing someone and I want to be rid of everything I feel and what if I just got rid of everything here instead. It’s also possible that I was really annoyed by people who were making noise on the street.
5.) Your prose piece that starts “Outside children scream like death” caught my eye. In my apartment complex all the children are at the pool screaming the same way and I have stopped looking out my window. How did this piece come about? I especially like the ending line as though you feel guilty for not caring and feel “dirty.” Can you tell us more about this piece and how it came to be? (prose piece below)
Outside children scream like death and I
would worry except I am no mother plus
they are just playing games in the sun. In
the beginning it always feels like a good
idea: moving images onto a big screen and
staying up past nine. I don’t know what I
would say to you if I ever see you again.
The feeling of not caring for someone is
a revelation. The acknowledging of caring
for someone is a wave breaking. Hush we
finger empty notebooks and then feel dirty
about it.
That same apartment I was living in (with the balcony) was right next to a small park and playground. During the sunny afternoons, children from a local elementary school would be brought there to play. I would hear them screaming, having so much fun chasing each other around, but because I’m a little dark, I thought about how if I didn’t look out my window, those screams could have been for darker things.
This poem and section was written shortly after the 2011 earthquake in Japan. I was living in Taiwan, and being so close and also living on an island nation on the Pacific Ring of Fire, I think I felt the emotional and psychological impact of that huge earthquake and the worries afterwards in a way I didn’t expect. And then with our 24-hour news cycle, the whole thing was magnified eight million times over.
I have no idea if it plays out, but a lot of the uncertainty of personal relationships that exist in the book I have tried to fold and layer into or with this uncertainty of the physical world around us.
6.) You have a section titled “In Which Lessons Should Not Be Learned” that encompasses a series of poems that start with the words “In which.” How did these poems come to be? Many of the titles speak of a “Heroine” and the poems themselves describe myriad things that the heroine could learn from but the implication is that she should not. Can you explain this counter-intuitive structure and how this group of poems came to be?
Sometimes I call this the fairy tale section, because in a way, I was trying to build a fairy tale by exploring or creating a love story, from “beginning” to “end” (or non-end).
I think I was trying to understand truth and truthfulness, what would it sound like if we said the things we really wanted to say, or if we admitted what we were feeling. And of course, the poems still don’t really say anything forthright. Even when they do try to make bold statements, they build off of and explore through allusion and metaphor. Because everything we do is layered and nuanced, colored and affected by other parts of our lives in ways we probably will never fully unpack.
Fear of loss is a big part of this section—and the struggle to not be debilitated by that fear.
7.) Your poem “In Which A Leap Is Leapt” is beautiful to me. I love the imagery and the idea of the entire poem. Can you tell us a little more about it? The idea of a bed sheet being used as a letter to be sent in the mail is romantic and fascinating all at once. Once sent, the man who receives it hangs it as a backdrop for shadow puppets with no indication that the man ever bothered to read the letter. The poem is below:
In Which A Leap Is Leapt
Once
she was writing in the dark an
mistook the bedsheet
for the page.
She composed
an entire letter this way and pressed
for time she
sent it along through the post.
He
hung the letter up and
used it as a backdrop
for shadow puppets.
Look how beautifully he conjures
a steed with
just his two hands.
What girl says no
to that?
This poem surprised me a little when I wrote it. Am I allowed to say that it is one of my favorites in the collection?
The first part of the poem came when I was writing furiously in my bed at night, mostly in the dark, and I realized the pace I was going, and a part of me didn’t want to stop to turn the page of the notebook, a part of me just keep writing the line onto the bed, onto the sheets, all the way until everything was written on and written out.
Because I love sending things in the mail to people, and because, at the time, I was sending a series of notes and letters through the mail to someone, I thought: how amazing would it be to send (or receive) something so unexpected but intimate—a letter written on sheets, a letter written on sheets because it was so urgent for the letter writer to write what needed to be written there wasn’t even time to find a piece of paper.
As for the second part, yes, I do think there is an uncertainty, a darker side in this poem, the unknowable part of someone else, the uncertainty that comes with just beginning. Perhaps it’s the other side of hope.
I enjoy the idea of the letter written on the sheets and would love to pause here and let our readers marinate on the book so far.
The book is available through SPD for $16.00 here: http://www.spdbooks.org/Producte/9781938055003/how-to-survive-a-hotel-fire.aspx
We’ll continue the second half of the interview next week as we dive deeper into your collection of poems. Readers, please stay tuned for next Tuesday and thanks always for reading.
Please also click in Friday for another Read A Good Book Review…
1.) Your first full-length collection’s title is borrowed from the title of a collection of poems within this book. The cover features the various symbols for fire, fire extinguishers, phone, and elevator buttons, how did you decide to title your book this way and to feature your cover so that it looks more like a Quality Control Manual than a collection of poems?
The cover is something I felt pretty strongly and clear about from the beginning.
From the outset, I wanted a cover that was stark and minimalist, something that acknowledged its “designness.” And certainly, I wanted a cover that would entice someone to pick it up, and something that might not be a typical poetry cover, whatever that means.
I was fortunate enough to work with a smart and understanding and kind editor, Bruce Covey, who allowed me to take over a little (I was slightly more despotic about it than I am proud of—not just with the cover but with the whole manuscript). I should also mention that the cover was made by the Atlanta-based designer Abby Horowitz, and she was really great. She worked with my original idea, and then creating that wonderful back cover.
One of the interesting conversations that Bruce and I had about the cover came when he suggested using a photo of a real fire extinguisher (as opposed to a drawing/illustration of one). The suggestion prompted me to consider why I wanted to use icons on the cover. It was a move toward deliberate design that may in fact seem to be contrast with the emotional content of the poems in the book, but I believe is reflective of the deliberate construct within the poems and the collection itself.
My hope was that the relationship (both complementary and contradictory) between the aesthetic (exteriors) and the content (interiors) would support the construct of the book, which is that the poems and the contents of the book fundamentally hold a tension between presentation (often the bravado) of self versus interiority and self-reflection, seen in those moments of self-exposure in the poems. The book being constructed around a construct, but also a construct that is about construction.
In other words, if the whole collection is about discovering and managing that tension/struggle, a deliberately designed cover that is self-conscious of its design-ness seemed, to me, true to what the poems inside attempt to accomplish. I want the cover to be unexpected, but I also want it to be a little not-real (hence icons as opposed to actual things, though of course a photograph is not the actual thing, which is another level as well), which is simultaneously done as a slight nod to the commingling of fairy tales and the warning directive of “how to survive a hotel fire,” and to acknowledge that this book is doing a constructing of something (which I hope readers can find under the layers in the poems - like Honor Moore’s amazing blurb saying that this book is the one placed on the piano, referencing a line from the book).
Within this context, there's something interesting about using a sign or a symbol (a warning) of something as opposed to the actual thing itself that would be a tool of prevention more so than a warning. Those “icon” signs are there to warn, whereas the actual axe or fire extinguisher is there to be used. And something about “how to survive a hotel fire” (the title itself, though also the poems of that section, and the whole book) rings more true as a warning—it's a guide that you would read before, not during—and, looping back to constructing and the unrealism, it's something that is an imagined situation.
2.) The introduction includes a parable about a mandarin waiting for a courtesan for 100 days only to leave on the 99th. It is a story that gives the impression of “giving up.” Why this introduction to your collection of poems?
The epigraph is from Roland Barthes’ A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments, an exploration/treatise on love as presented through literature and philosophy. The language Barthes uses is often breathtaking, and he manages somehow to animate Love, the Lover and the Beloved, beyond cliché.
I think the parable is a little about “giving up,” but I wonder if it’s also about “moving on.” About how we move on. And how we (as the mandarin) are willing to do crazy things to connect or possess something or someone, and how we (as the courtesan) demand or manufacture space and distance that might be unnecessary or even damaging. In the story Barthes gives us, there is no reason why the courtesan asks the mandarin to wait 100 days. And there’s no reason why the mandarin goes away on the 99th day. The believer in me always wants the ending of this to be different—I always want the mandarin to be still waiting. (Also, random sidenote: there is this somewhat charming Hong Kong movie called Hot Summer Days in which a factory girl makes the boy who likes her stand100 days in the heat before she will date him.) But sometimes that’s the way it is. And sometimes even if there are completely rational, totally understandable reasons behind actions, the actions are still really hard to accept.
I think sometimes to love something, or at least a way to love something, is to accept the possibility of loss, to overcome the fear of losing.
I suppose that is somewhat depressing, but I think it’s also rather brilliantly hopeful, that it’s in spite of pain or heartbreak that we still search to connect, to love, to be with someone.
3.) Overall, your poems and the titles of the sections speak to the idea of lowered expectations and self-deprecating humor, such as your section title (which is also the title of one of your poems) “If You’re Hoping Something Interesting Comes From This I Would Hold Your Breath.” What is your thinking behind this overall feeling and how did you decide to mold it this way?
I recently read this quote from a woman writing on social mockery in mid-seventeenth century France: “To mock well, you must have a fiery intelligence, delicate judgment and a memory full of a thousand different things to use on different occasions." That is a succinct and apt description, right?
Who but yourself do you know the most embarrassing, idiotic things about? I find using self-deprecation as humor a surprisingly delicate task. It’s about balance—it works best when people believe you truly do hate yourself but that you also truly do believe you are better than everyone else. That paradox makes the humor.
I’m not sure if I set out to use self-deprecation as a trope through the collection. I was (and still am) interested in scrubbed-down, raw emotion that creates those kind lines that reflect an almost adolescent sort of melodramatics, and I wanted to see whether or not I could get away with them in the poems. Did I get away with them? I don’t know. But I wanted to play with vulnerability and bravado (as I am really interested in persona), which is probably why the poems are so self-aware. They need that self-deprecating sensibility (like lemon juice, adds acidity) to cut itself down.
4.) Your prose piece (featured below) makes me grin because I can picture anyone who is frustrated doing the same thing. I often feel like throwing my computer out the window when it acts up so how did this piece come about? (Prose piece below)
Every time I feel I’ve lost something I
throw plants over my balcony. I don’t
watch just listen as they hit the sidewalk
below.
The apartment I was living in at the time had a balcony, and I am always desperately trying to cultivate plant life—grow vegetables, herbs, flowers. I really think I was just sitting on the balcony one day and thinking, I am angry and sad and lonely and I am missing someone and I want to be rid of everything I feel and what if I just got rid of everything here instead. It’s also possible that I was really annoyed by people who were making noise on the street.
5.) Your prose piece that starts “Outside children scream like death” caught my eye. In my apartment complex all the children are at the pool screaming the same way and I have stopped looking out my window. How did this piece come about? I especially like the ending line as though you feel guilty for not caring and feel “dirty.” Can you tell us more about this piece and how it came to be? (prose piece below)
Outside children scream like death and I
would worry except I am no mother plus
they are just playing games in the sun. In
the beginning it always feels like a good
idea: moving images onto a big screen and
staying up past nine. I don’t know what I
would say to you if I ever see you again.
The feeling of not caring for someone is
a revelation. The acknowledging of caring
for someone is a wave breaking. Hush we
finger empty notebooks and then feel dirty
about it.
That same apartment I was living in (with the balcony) was right next to a small park and playground. During the sunny afternoons, children from a local elementary school would be brought there to play. I would hear them screaming, having so much fun chasing each other around, but because I’m a little dark, I thought about how if I didn’t look out my window, those screams could have been for darker things.
This poem and section was written shortly after the 2011 earthquake in Japan. I was living in Taiwan, and being so close and also living on an island nation on the Pacific Ring of Fire, I think I felt the emotional and psychological impact of that huge earthquake and the worries afterwards in a way I didn’t expect. And then with our 24-hour news cycle, the whole thing was magnified eight million times over.
I have no idea if it plays out, but a lot of the uncertainty of personal relationships that exist in the book I have tried to fold and layer into or with this uncertainty of the physical world around us.
6.) You have a section titled “In Which Lessons Should Not Be Learned” that encompasses a series of poems that start with the words “In which.” How did these poems come to be? Many of the titles speak of a “Heroine” and the poems themselves describe myriad things that the heroine could learn from but the implication is that she should not. Can you explain this counter-intuitive structure and how this group of poems came to be?
Sometimes I call this the fairy tale section, because in a way, I was trying to build a fairy tale by exploring or creating a love story, from “beginning” to “end” (or non-end).
I think I was trying to understand truth and truthfulness, what would it sound like if we said the things we really wanted to say, or if we admitted what we were feeling. And of course, the poems still don’t really say anything forthright. Even when they do try to make bold statements, they build off of and explore through allusion and metaphor. Because everything we do is layered and nuanced, colored and affected by other parts of our lives in ways we probably will never fully unpack.
Fear of loss is a big part of this section—and the struggle to not be debilitated by that fear.
7.) Your poem “In Which A Leap Is Leapt” is beautiful to me. I love the imagery and the idea of the entire poem. Can you tell us a little more about it? The idea of a bed sheet being used as a letter to be sent in the mail is romantic and fascinating all at once. Once sent, the man who receives it hangs it as a backdrop for shadow puppets with no indication that the man ever bothered to read the letter. The poem is below:
In Which A Leap Is Leapt
Once
she was writing in the dark an
mistook the bedsheet
for the page.
She composed
an entire letter this way and pressed
for time she
sent it along through the post.
He
hung the letter up and
used it as a backdrop
for shadow puppets.
Look how beautifully he conjures
a steed with
just his two hands.
What girl says no
to that?
This poem surprised me a little when I wrote it. Am I allowed to say that it is one of my favorites in the collection?
The first part of the poem came when I was writing furiously in my bed at night, mostly in the dark, and I realized the pace I was going, and a part of me didn’t want to stop to turn the page of the notebook, a part of me just keep writing the line onto the bed, onto the sheets, all the way until everything was written on and written out.
Because I love sending things in the mail to people, and because, at the time, I was sending a series of notes and letters through the mail to someone, I thought: how amazing would it be to send (or receive) something so unexpected but intimate—a letter written on sheets, a letter written on sheets because it was so urgent for the letter writer to write what needed to be written there wasn’t even time to find a piece of paper.
As for the second part, yes, I do think there is an uncertainty, a darker side in this poem, the unknowable part of someone else, the uncertainty that comes with just beginning. Perhaps it’s the other side of hope.
I enjoy the idea of the letter written on the sheets and would love to pause here and let our readers marinate on the book so far.
The book is available through SPD for $16.00 here: http://www.spdbooks.org/Producte/9781938055003/how-to-survive-a-hotel-fire.aspx
We’ll continue the second half of the interview next week as we dive deeper into your collection of poems. Readers, please stay tuned for next Tuesday and thanks always for reading.
Please also click in Friday for another Read A Good Book Review…
Monday, July 16, 2012
Brave Little Books Blog
Katie (I couldn’t find her last name) posts short video reviews about poems and novels and I envy her, quite frankly. I wish I was brave enough to post videos of myself reviewing what I read and her reviews are enjoyable. Definitely check her out at:
http://bravelittlebooks.wordpress.com/
Thanks for clicking in, please drop by again tomorrow for an interview with Angela Veronica Won on her collection, how to survive a hotel fire…
http://bravelittlebooks.wordpress.com/
Thanks for clicking in, please drop by again tomorrow for an interview with Angela Veronica Won on her collection, how to survive a hotel fire…
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Poems Found by Poet Hound
https://sites.google.com/site/rhptulsa/the-rye
“The Rye” by C.L. Bledsoe
https://sites.google.com/site/53rhpissue/paul-hostovsky
“Pleasure” by Paul Hostovsky
Thanks for clicking in, please click in again next week…
“The Rye” by C.L. Bledsoe
https://sites.google.com/site/53rhpissue/paul-hostovsky
“Pleasure” by Paul Hostovsky
Thanks for clicking in, please click in again next week…
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Double Shot Review: What Is Old Is New Again and Ill-Fated Solutions
What is Old is New Again is “A Steampunk Anthology edited by C.D. Turner and Chris Bartholomew.” This was sent to me by poet David S. Pointer who gave me the details that the editor had passed and that the family wanted to finish and publish this anthology that he had been working on. C.D. Turner edited this book before he passed away and was in turn edited by his younger sister Chris Turner. This is a collection of varied stories that range from time travel to the adventures of hot air balloons followed by a few poems and then leads into recollections of the editor by friends and family. Charles Dean Turner was born in 1952 and passed away in 2011 with his family by his side in Rapid City, South Dakota. This book was completed in his honor and published January 2012 by Static Movement. Below I will share one of the poems:
Gear Head Orbit
By: David S. Pointer
The ship-a
red glass chandelier descending
with a busy sea captain’s desk
to send laser memos-n-lightmail
to earthly loved ones below, and
refrigerated morgue repairman
that nobody nodded to or noticed
until he started a steam punk band
with Gatling gun sounding guitars-
burning diesel fuel like space napalm
igniting the propeller head hop into
mosh pit parade with overjoyed air
pirates demonstrating the astrophysics
of early late night dance floor light.
When read aloud I get the sense of an average Joe by day who becomes a fast-paced punk band player by night, energetic and buoyant.
If you’d like to purchase a copy of this heartfelt compilation, What is Old is New Again, you may purchase a copy from Amazon for $15.99 at:
http://www.amazon.com/What-Old-Again-C-D-Turner/dp/1617061743/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1341670058&sr=8-1&keywords=what+is+old+is+new+again
Ill-Fated Solutions by Joseph Veronneau is a collection of poems that expresses the awkward moments of relationships, their memories, and the moments while wandering a city that leave you stunned. This is book 17 in the Pocketbook Series from Alternating Current’s Propaganda Press published in 2012. Below I am happy to share a few poems:
Session
Listen to the positive
and the negative together. Think
of how big things will get. Imagine
the object in relation to yourself.
Feel the light blanket you
and how it feels
warm or cool.
The shadows, what color
they are, and whether
they are really the same shade
as the inside of your eyelid.
Imagine the story told,
and how it will be narrated.
What language shall make of it,
how clear or muffled it will be,
and picture the ceiling
making its way
toward you,
dropping, bit
by
bit
and how
our time
is up.
I imagine the poet or the main character sitting in a psychiatrist’s chair being walked through visualization and at the moment they finally relax and clear their mind they are told the session is up. How often have we all gone through some variation of the same thing whether it is a massage, a vacation, talking to a friend on the phone who has to go somewhere, or even on the psychologist’s couch?
Away
he drops off
the prescription
heads out into an evening
where the chill comes from
screaming winds and
those hailing cabs
with bottles of their own
in hand
wants to see what is going on
at the other side of town
wishes to have
a say in the nightlife
circling around
walks outside
the confines of this
cerebral trap
and
takes off.
I like this poem, it sounds like a man whose mind is full and he just wants to get out to relieve himself of all the cloying thoughts. I can picture him joining the mass of people out on the streets, blending in, and riding to the other side of town for a change of scene.
Familiar One
Cold winter whipping,
familiar face drifting to
settle with the snow
crunching under the feet
on sidewalks, change tossers
snicker and continue conversations.
Unfamiliar with history,
they don’t know
he was once a construction worker
putting shelves together, painting walls
at the mall 10 years ago now,
time chipping away
at his once semi-proud face.
He slouches, has the wind of life
knocked out now, hollowed stance
of the forsaken, the acquaintance
of many that pass him by
from after work coffee sessions
of rambling politics, of his 3 dogs
taken from him by the city,
of his departure of his quaint apartment
several years ago, where many
drunken mornings were realized
and dealt with.
Hey guys, do you have any…
before he finishes, my friend and I
search our pockets
for something to save him
even if it’s just for a few moments
of refuge.
This poem breaks my heart and hits close to home. Many people are still out of work in this country and the mention of the construction worker is especially striking for me since Florida had such a large amount of construction before the bottom fell out. I can easily picture the people I once knew walking into the insurance office who were in construction and I know many of them are struggling nowadays while I’ve moved to a different field and venue. For those of us who are employed, we count our blessings, and for those who are struggling my heart goes out to them. This poem strikes at the core.
If you enjoyed this short sample, you may purchase a copy of Ill-Fated Solutions by Joseph Veronneau for $3.00 at Alternating Current’s Propaganda Press:
http://alt-current.com/pp/pp_item.html#ill-fated_solutions
Thanks for reading, please drop in tomorrow for more Poems Found by Poet Hound…
Gear Head Orbit
By: David S. Pointer
The ship-a
red glass chandelier descending
with a busy sea captain’s desk
to send laser memos-n-lightmail
to earthly loved ones below, and
refrigerated morgue repairman
that nobody nodded to or noticed
until he started a steam punk band
with Gatling gun sounding guitars-
burning diesel fuel like space napalm
igniting the propeller head hop into
mosh pit parade with overjoyed air
pirates demonstrating the astrophysics
of early late night dance floor light.
When read aloud I get the sense of an average Joe by day who becomes a fast-paced punk band player by night, energetic and buoyant.
If you’d like to purchase a copy of this heartfelt compilation, What is Old is New Again, you may purchase a copy from Amazon for $15.99 at:
http://www.amazon.com/What-Old-Again-C-D-Turner/dp/1617061743/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1341670058&sr=8-1&keywords=what+is+old+is+new+again
Ill-Fated Solutions by Joseph Veronneau is a collection of poems that expresses the awkward moments of relationships, their memories, and the moments while wandering a city that leave you stunned. This is book 17 in the Pocketbook Series from Alternating Current’s Propaganda Press published in 2012. Below I am happy to share a few poems:
Session
Listen to the positive
and the negative together. Think
of how big things will get. Imagine
the object in relation to yourself.
Feel the light blanket you
and how it feels
warm or cool.
The shadows, what color
they are, and whether
they are really the same shade
as the inside of your eyelid.
Imagine the story told,
and how it will be narrated.
What language shall make of it,
how clear or muffled it will be,
and picture the ceiling
making its way
toward you,
dropping, bit
by
bit
and how
our time
is up.
I imagine the poet or the main character sitting in a psychiatrist’s chair being walked through visualization and at the moment they finally relax and clear their mind they are told the session is up. How often have we all gone through some variation of the same thing whether it is a massage, a vacation, talking to a friend on the phone who has to go somewhere, or even on the psychologist’s couch?
Away
he drops off
the prescription
heads out into an evening
where the chill comes from
screaming winds and
those hailing cabs
with bottles of their own
in hand
wants to see what is going on
at the other side of town
wishes to have
a say in the nightlife
circling around
walks outside
the confines of this
cerebral trap
and
takes off.
I like this poem, it sounds like a man whose mind is full and he just wants to get out to relieve himself of all the cloying thoughts. I can picture him joining the mass of people out on the streets, blending in, and riding to the other side of town for a change of scene.
Familiar One
Cold winter whipping,
familiar face drifting to
settle with the snow
crunching under the feet
on sidewalks, change tossers
snicker and continue conversations.
Unfamiliar with history,
they don’t know
he was once a construction worker
putting shelves together, painting walls
at the mall 10 years ago now,
time chipping away
at his once semi-proud face.
He slouches, has the wind of life
knocked out now, hollowed stance
of the forsaken, the acquaintance
of many that pass him by
from after work coffee sessions
of rambling politics, of his 3 dogs
taken from him by the city,
of his departure of his quaint apartment
several years ago, where many
drunken mornings were realized
and dealt with.
Hey guys, do you have any…
before he finishes, my friend and I
search our pockets
for something to save him
even if it’s just for a few moments
of refuge.
This poem breaks my heart and hits close to home. Many people are still out of work in this country and the mention of the construction worker is especially striking for me since Florida had such a large amount of construction before the bottom fell out. I can easily picture the people I once knew walking into the insurance office who were in construction and I know many of them are struggling nowadays while I’ve moved to a different field and venue. For those of us who are employed, we count our blessings, and for those who are struggling my heart goes out to them. This poem strikes at the core.
If you enjoyed this short sample, you may purchase a copy of Ill-Fated Solutions by Joseph Veronneau for $3.00 at Alternating Current’s Propaganda Press:
http://alt-current.com/pp/pp_item.html#ill-fated_solutions
Thanks for reading, please drop in tomorrow for more Poems Found by Poet Hound…
Sunday, June 24, 2012
A couple more weeks
I am currently working some weekends and will be training a new weekend employee soon, I also am expecting family to come in from out of town right after the 4th of July. As such, it will be a couple of weeks before I can sit down and focus on creating posts for Poet Hound, I do apologize.
However, I have a wonderful stack of books to read and cannot wait to share them with you so please stay tuned...
However, I have a wonderful stack of books to read and cannot wait to share them with you so please stay tuned...
Friday, June 15, 2012
Read A Good Book: Narcopolis by Jeet Thayil
Jeet Thayil is a poet and his first novel,Narcopolis, has been published by Penguin Press in 2012. The story takes place in Bombay’s drug-centered underworld during the 1970s when opium is being left behind for a new and far more dangerous drug: heroin. The characters are an intriguing mix and encompass those who take drugs, those who sell drugs or sex, and those who do both as well as those who enter rehab or who die before considering rehab. Drugs, sex, violence, and perversion are all eloquently displayed in the pages and you will find yourself rooting for those who try to untangle themselves from this underworld. My favorite character is Dimple, a “hijra” (eunuch) who tries to improve herself by reading books in English and escape the life of selling her body while also working in the opium dens. Dimple finds a way to escape the brothel she is in by tying herself to just one man who has other wives: Rashid. However, Rashid is prone to violence and is also lamenting the change in the times as he does not wish to deal in heroin despite losing customers at his opium den. There are many characters that you will be fascinated by: Mr. Lee from China who turns pipe smoking into an art form; Rashid’s son, Jamal, who saves Dimple out on the streets with just one word to the would-be attackers, and many more that get tangled up and then lost in Bombay. The book is a page turner and I highly recommend it for anyone curious about such a crime-ridden world.
You can check out a copy at your local library or local bookstore, or to purchase a copy on Amazon, go to:
http://www.amazon.com/Narcopolis-A-Novel-Jeet-Thayil/dp/159420330X
Thanks for dropping in, please stop by again after next week as I am taking next week off to get some extra work done...
You can check out a copy at your local library or local bookstore, or to purchase a copy on Amazon, go to:
http://www.amazon.com/Narcopolis-A-Novel-Jeet-Thayil/dp/159420330X
Thanks for dropping in, please stop by again after next week as I am taking next week off to get some extra work done...
Thursday, June 14, 2012
American Literary Review Poetry Contest
The number one thing to tell you is that there is a $15.00 Entry Fee by check addressed to “American Literary Review” so submit your absolute best work, you may send up three poems by October 1st. Three $1,000 prizes will be awarded!
You will need a cover page with your contact information, they ask that you Do Not Include your information on the accompanying pages of poems, and don’t forget that all-important Self Addressed Stamped Envelope!
Snail Mail to:
American Literary Review Poetry Contest
P.O. Box 311307
University of North Texas
Denton, TX 76203-1307
Definitely check out further details at:
http://english.unt.edu/alr/contest.html
Good luck to all who submit, please stop by tomorrow for another Good Book Review…
You will need a cover page with your contact information, they ask that you Do Not Include your information on the accompanying pages of poems, and don’t forget that all-important Self Addressed Stamped Envelope!
Snail Mail to:
American Literary Review Poetry Contest
P.O. Box 311307
University of North Texas
Denton, TX 76203-1307
Definitely check out further details at:
http://english.unt.edu/alr/contest.html
Good luck to all who submit, please stop by tomorrow for another Good Book Review…
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Poems Found by Poet Hound
https://sites.google.com/site/whiteknucklechaps/josh-bernstein/2
“Jade is Jaded” by Josh Bernstein
https://sites.google.com/site/whiteknucklechaps/josh-bernstein/10
“Sagittarius” by Josh Bernstein
Thanks for clicking in, please drop in again Friday…
“Jade is Jaded” by Josh Bernstein
https://sites.google.com/site/whiteknucklechaps/josh-bernstein/10
“Sagittarius” by Josh Bernstein
Thanks for clicking in, please drop in again Friday…
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Lilliput Review Issue #184
Don Wentworth’s latest issue encompasses nature and the inevitability of death. Below I am happy to share a few poems:
Late Afternoon Landscape
A dead juniper stripped of its scales;
two thirds of the moon
rolling through daylight; dry grass
between yellow and white; an oak
forest rippling beneath the ridgeline;
darkness moving upstream
climbing stone by stone.
By: David Chorlton, Phoenix AZ
This poem allows me to reminisce about my short time in Phoenix so I cannot help myself. It is a beautiful landscape and this poem captures it well.
thank the weeds
for pulling you
closer to the flowers
by: Rich Heller, Pittsburgh PA
This one’s for all you gardeners who grumble as you’re pulling weeds (I do when I’m at my parents’ house). Count your blessings!
While you were onstage reading another poem
A man carrying a garbage bag in the rain
performed the stations of the cross
and moved his lips in silent prayer.
By: Kyle Vaughn, Dallas TX
This poem proves that poetic moments happen beyond the poem itself, wonderful poem.
If you enjoyed this short sample please purchase a copy on-line for a mere $1.00 at:
http://lilliputreview.blogspot.com/
Thank you for reading, please click in tomorrow…
Late Afternoon Landscape
A dead juniper stripped of its scales;
two thirds of the moon
rolling through daylight; dry grass
between yellow and white; an oak
forest rippling beneath the ridgeline;
darkness moving upstream
climbing stone by stone.
By: David Chorlton, Phoenix AZ
This poem allows me to reminisce about my short time in Phoenix so I cannot help myself. It is a beautiful landscape and this poem captures it well.
thank the weeds
for pulling you
closer to the flowers
by: Rich Heller, Pittsburgh PA
This one’s for all you gardeners who grumble as you’re pulling weeds (I do when I’m at my parents’ house). Count your blessings!
While you were onstage reading another poem
A man carrying a garbage bag in the rain
performed the stations of the cross
and moved his lips in silent prayer.
By: Kyle Vaughn, Dallas TX
This poem proves that poetic moments happen beyond the poem itself, wonderful poem.
If you enjoyed this short sample please purchase a copy on-line for a mere $1.00 at:
http://lilliputreview.blogspot.com/
Thank you for reading, please click in tomorrow…
Monday, June 11, 2012
Ameriquebeckian Blog
Very cool blog about all things poetry, art, and inspiration by an adventurous lady, check it out at:
http://ameriquebeckian.blogspot.com/
Thanks for clicking in, please drop by again tomorrow…
http://ameriquebeckian.blogspot.com/
Thanks for clicking in, please drop by again tomorrow…
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Poems Found by Poet Hound
https://sites.google.com/site/52rhpissue/jeanie-tomasko
“Georgia O’Keefe’s Skull” by Jeanie Tomasko
https://sites.google.com/site/52rhpissue/marilyn-westfall
“Synesthesia” by Marilyn Westfall
Thanks for clicking in, please stop by next week for back-to-regular-schedule posts…
“Georgia O’Keefe’s Skull” by Jeanie Tomasko
https://sites.google.com/site/52rhpissue/marilyn-westfall
“Synesthesia” by Marilyn Westfall
Thanks for clicking in, please stop by next week for back-to-regular-schedule posts…
Monday, June 4, 2012
This Week...
This past weekend was my sister’s graduation from high school and my husband and I’s wedding anniversary. What does this mean? It means I have a post for Wednesday and that I spent the rest of my weekend with family so please drop in on Wednesday and check back again for posts next week…
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Apt Open Submissions
For the print journal you may submit 3-5 poems in a single document attachment to the on-line submishmash link on the website. The editors respond within four weeks which is excellent turn- around time!
For further details go to:
http://apt.aforementionedproductions.com/submission-guidelines/
Good luck to all who submit, please click in again next week…
For further details go to:
http://apt.aforementionedproductions.com/submission-guidelines/
Good luck to all who submit, please click in again next week…
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Poems Found by Poet Hound
http://www.alicebluereview.org/main.html
Cat Jones’ “Tuesday”
http://www.blossombones.com/winter_spring2012/darling_ws2012.html
Kristina Marie Darling’s “Noctuary”
Thanks for clicking in, please come back again tomorrow…
Cat Jones’ “Tuesday”
http://www.blossombones.com/winter_spring2012/darling_ws2012.html
Kristina Marie Darling’s “Noctuary”
Thanks for clicking in, please come back again tomorrow…
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