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Tuesday (Poetry, Envelopes, and Stamps) Musings

As today’s title suggests, I spent all afternoon putting submission packets together. I’m already starting to doubt myself, so it is best to get these out tomorrow before I tear them open and throw the contents into the garbage.
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Economic crisis getting you down? Why not buy a Matisse?

PARIS — Despite the global economic crisis, a lot of money seems to be left over. On Monday, the private collection of Yves Saint Laurent and his partner became the most expensive one ever sold at auction, bringing in more than $264 million on the first night alone.

Monday (Bread!) Musings

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with a muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let areoplans circle the moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policeman wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one:
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W.H. Auden
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I teach A Good Man is Hard to Find in my Creative Writing class, so I may check this biography out:

What makes “Flannery” so valuable is the degree of intimacy with which it captures O’Connor’s sensibility in that story. What creates a gap is Mr. Gooch’s use of the word “so.” There’s something in that “so” that he doesn’t fathom. There’s still a part of O’Connor that we can’t really know.

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I made bread this weekend in my new bread machine. It is whole wheat, and it is delicious. I think this bread making is going to be a regular occurrence from now on.

Saturday (Winter Returns) Musings

I would encourage everyone to check out the latest issue of New Madrid. I’m not plugging this journal just because it is from Murray’s MFA program and because I worked on journal. I’m very proud of where the journal is going and this issue (our theme was intelligent design) is very well done. There are a lot of wonderful pieces but here are just a few “Breasts” by Pamela Johnson Parker, Slow Fuse of the Possible: A Poet’s Psychoanalysis by Kate Daniels, Mouse by Mark Brazaitis, Small Talk by Lauren Smith, and Call it Beautiful by Scott Doyle. I’m still finishing the issue but please go to the link (listed under my links section) and check it out.
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This article appeared in the the Sunday Book Review section of the New York Times:

In October, John Ashbery became the first poet to have an edition of his works released by the Library of America in his own lifetime. That honor says a number of things about the state of contemporary poetry — some good, some not so good — but perhaps the most important and disturbing question it raises is this: What will we do when Ashbery and his generation are gone? Because for the first time since the early 19th century, American poetry may be about to run out of greatness.

What strikes me about it is it’s the same old question. When the old “greats” die, will there be anyone to replace them? I have news for poets, this isn’t just a poetry problem. I also think it is a bit narrow minded to say that just because the older generation is passing on, all poetry is doomed to mediocrity. The younger generation learns from the greats, they idolize the greats, and then they move beyond them. That’s is and always will be the cycle. I don’t think poetry is any different.
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Friday (Submission) Musings

As I mentioned earlier this week, I’ve been preparing packets of submissions to go out. I’ve noticed a couple of things while researching journals that I think are interesting.

First, as far as I can tell, not as many journals are moving to online submission as you think. I still have to send hard copies to most places. In fact out of the twenty some journals I have as possibilities, I think only two or three use online submission. Also, those two or three are online journals.

Two, who doesn’t take simultaneous submissions? Not many people, but there are still a few. I know my opinion doesn’t count for much, but I think not accepting simultaneous submissions is a mistake. I know that if I come across that line in the submission guidelines, I don’t even bother to send my work. Let’s face it, it still takes many journals a couple of months to read through submissions. I’m not going to let someone hold my work hostage. Especially when there are no guarantees. As a side note, I noticed a lot of places will accept simultaneous submissions from prose writers but not for poets…

Three, the “what we’re looking for sections” on most journal websites are still frustrating. I genuinely appreciate it when journals try to give writers and idea of what they’re looking for. But, (you knew it was coming) this is only useful when it actually tells you something about the journal. All journals want to publish new and unique poetry. Who doesn’t?

I’m sending packets out next week.
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Ms. Rosalia, 54, is part of a growing cadre of 21st-century multimedia specialists who help guide students through the digital ocean of information that confronts them on a daily basis. These new librarians believe that literacy includes, but also exceeds, books.

UNC creative writing professor and poet Michael McFee has won the 2009 James Still Award for Writing About the Appalachian South.

Thursday (I Awoke to a Dusting of Snow…) Musings

The temperature dropped drastically last night. In fact, when I took Kweli out at 9, it was sleeting. He was not impressed. He walked about 50 feet away from the door and then proceeded to shake his head vigorously for five minutes. My thoughts exactly.

It’s official. I don’t like attitude. Just so everyone knows.
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Break-up Poetry

And if more people break up after hearing his poetry, Arnold, who is himself divorced, can relate. The difference between offering your poetry to an audience and offering your heart to someone you desire, he said, is small.
“Whether in writing or in love, it’s a similar gesture,” he said.


Wednesday (Rainy) Musings

It’s a dark, rainy morning in the Midwest. Really, this is the kind of day that would be better spent at home, under a blanket, watching a movie. Instead I’m sitting here in my classroom listening to my students click away on their keyboards.
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I would like to extend my congratulations to Pamela Johnson Parker and poet and friend of mine. Sunday she received notification that she’s been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
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Food for thought:

Poetry exists to break through to below the level of reason where the angels and monsters that the amenities keep in the cellar may come out to dance, to rove and roar, growling and singing, to bring life back to the enclosed rooms where too often we are only “the living and partly the living.”

May Sarton
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I spent the better part of four hours last night compiling a list of journals to send my work out to. AWP left me feeling energized and cautiously optimistic. It’s a jungle out there, but the only way to get anywhere is to suck it up and jump in. I know that a few months from now when the rejections start rolling in, my cautious optimism will be replaced with full blown despair, but in the meantime I’m trying to focus on the positive.

A friend gave me a compliment today while we were commiserating about the woes of getting your work “out there.” He said, ” Writing my friend, I’m thinking about your poetry, and actually, I miss it. It always made me feel good, reading it, not like so much muck poets tend to shoot for these days. Yours is like lotus poetry, blooming white and clean even if it’s rooted in mud.”

Thanks, Sam. I hope someone else thinks so too.

Tuesday (Mark Rothko) Musings

I had a very interesting conversation with a student today. I’m still processing it, but when I have some coherent thoughts, I’ll be sure to share them.
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I did not post a poem yesterday because of AWP, so here’s this weeks tidbit:

Those Winter Sundays

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?

Robert Hayden

Incidentally, this poem was playing in the elevator at AWP. I must have heard it a half dozen times.

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I love Mark Rothko. I have his calendar hanging on the wall in my office. This is February:

Monday (Post AWP/Why Didn’t I Get President’s Day Off?) Musings

I survived my first AWP. It was a whirlwind but I had a great time. I’ve decided that the book fair is by far the highlight of the entire event. I came home with tons of free journals and ideas of places to submit to. I talked to a lot of different editors, students, and teachers. In line with my fellow AWP bloggers, I give you the highlights of my conference:

*Arriving at the Hilton Chicago and realizing that hotel parking was $53 a night. After cursing the expensive price and circling the surrounding streets (Garmin is a lifesaver) I found parking for $20 a night.

*Wandering the book fair Thursday afternoon with my friend and fellow poet Larry O’Dean while he made hilarious comments about small presses, big presses, and all things literary.

* Walking into our hotel room. You’ll see pictures of the beds. Enough said.

* Attending the AWP offsite event “Reading Between the Lines” at The Beat Kitchen. Out of twenty some readers (prose and poetry) yours truly was dead last.

*The Beat Kitchen. I had one of the best steak sandwiches I’ve ever had. Delicious.

*Waking up at 7:45 Friday morning to sit at Murray State’s table. We were a major sponsor and we had a prime spot. I liked promoting New Madrid to people. It was fun.

* Trying to convince some guy that even though his last two novels had been “well received by The New York Times” that New Madrid would be a good place to submit his short stories.

* Wandering the book fair on Friday afternoon and receiving a free bag from The Poetry Foundation with this Marianne Moore quote on the back ” I too dislike it.”

* Attending a panel (one of the few panels I attended) called Writing Our Passions: Forbidden Topics. To be honest, I wasn’t real impressed.

* Running into Corey Marks and Will Tyler at the bookfair and then eating Chicago deep dish pizza.

* Listening to Mary Jo Bang and Frank Bidart read.

* Buying Dana Levin’s new book.

* Eating sushi with Natalie and Michael.

* Reading a vampire story by Kim Addonizio in Indiana Review. I’m still trying to figure out if she was trying to be ironic or not…

* Paying $14 for a vodka tonic at the hotel bar.

* Riding in a limo because it was cheaper than a cab to Lou Malnatis for more pizza.

* Voting for the best ice sculpture in the park across the street from our hotel.

* Did I mention the bookfair?
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A collage from AWP…
These first two pictures are from The Beat Kitchen where we had our reading. The nook is where we read and then there is a shot of the crowd.

These next three shots are from our table at the bookfair. We handed out all of our journals for free. The issue with Abe Lincoln is the one I worked on.


These photos are from the hotel, Chicago Hilton.

Finally, some of my favorite snow scultptures from the contest across the street.


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This is a sketch that Dmitry did of our reading at The Beat Kitchen. Check out his website.


I’m the one with the glasses.