Friday
Mar012013

Poetry is the soul's erosion control

Behind the veil of morning fog Mount Hood - by Margaret Chula

Traffic? Construction? I'm not bothered.

Driving through a mess of construction this week, I was thrilled to spot bright orange poetry lining the highway. Orange Lining is a brilliant public art project created especially for the construction of Portland, Oregon's newest light rail line. Part One of the project places lines of poetry on orange silt fencing used at construction sites to control soil erosion.

Poetry is the soul's erosion control - by J. Graham Murtaugh

In a call for short lines of original text (50 characters or less), Orange Lining received 1,100 submissions and chose 102 for use in the project.

"Orange Lining works on multiple levels – visual, conceptual and poetic," writes Peg Butler, the artist-designer who created this project with Buster Simpson. "It offers a creative, collaborative adventure that enables an ephemeral yet utilitarian process to evolve and transform into a permanent element of transit infrastructure. The process is legible and transparent to allow for the serendipity that creates an authentic, well-loved urban streetscape."

Part Two of the project stamps lines of poetry in the site's freshly laid concrete sidewalks.

What we love will save us - by David Oates

By "setting in stone" evocative lines and text, explains artist Buster Simpson, "we are borrowing this utilitarian process, the act of setting impressions in fresh concrete, to mark the expressions of a specific time in history and acknowledge the civic beauty of this grand infrastructure project."

 

How's your commute? Are you experiencing poetry in public places? Please share!

 

Tuesday
Feb262013

Fevered

All day I've been chewing
on my own acrid gloom,
trying to put away
the things you keep carrying
home from work: the possessions
of children and women
and drunks, stolen or cheated,
the tasteless unhappiness
of others into jars labeled:
Heartbreak, Injustice,
Just-Plain-Bad-Fucking-Luck

 — Olena Kalytiak Davis
from It's Shaped Like a Fork

Not since Naomi Shihab Nye. Not since Julia B. Levine. Not since Anne Sexton.

It's been a long time since I've turned and returned to a book of poems to dissect line after line, holding each piece to light, peering at the shadows to gaze with a mix of adulation and envy.

But now there is Olena Kalytiak Davis with And Her Soul Out of Nothing, and I'm marking pages, writing down and down and down. I want to remember, to share, to shake and shout, say, You won't believe this poem, and this one, and this one, too.

Outside, the thin line left in the sky
is exhausting itself.

- from This Is The Way I Carry Mine

These poems beat with force and beauty. She's the rebel girl you want to know — all long limbs and sharp angles, wearing a cigarette and an indifferent gaze. You're desperate to be her but you know you never will, and you're sort of afraid to try.

Still, I dig under, walking, stalking, circling the words, trying to discover her science. These poems move. I am restless to read more but also eager to settle in. How does she do this, create this tempo, this wonderfully alluring ache?

Please don't misunderstand:
We still suffer, but we are happy.

— from Postcard


Reading good writing stirs my own. This is the beautiful fever.


What's got you burning? What great words are you reading, writing, admiring, envying, savoring?


Thursday
Feb212013

Thankful Thursday: Told and Untold

The nine-year-old girl stands tall and announces to the room, I am ready for my story to be told. 

We're reading The House on Mango Street, and talking about places we've lived. What do you remember? What do you want to forget?

The memories unwind. I miss this . . . I remember that . . . We write a line, and another. Some minds wander, others fix. Pages rustle with quick turning. Pens fly. Others stutter, stop.

A boy folds his arms. I don't want to write about my life, he mutters. 

How much to push? How much to rest? We are measuring our lives. We stop and start. Even just a line is enough, is enough for now.

Something in me yields, and I am thankful for this time together. For willingness, for reticence, for memory that feels both collective and individual. For children reaching, for children trying. For all of our stories, told and untold.


It's Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to appreciate people, places, things and more. Joy contracts and expands in proportion to our gratitude. What makes your world expand?


Sunday
Feb172013

Are you a good citizen?


What is the secret to getting published?

Learn your craft, yes. But also, work to create a world in which literature can thrive and is valued.


Cathy Day


Are you a good literary citizen? Just as in "real" life, in your writing life it's not enough to move through the days thinking only of yourself. In a selfless and inspired action, author Cathy Day offers the following six principles of Literary Citizenship:

1.
Write “charming notes” to writers.
Anytime you read something you like, tell the author. Send them an email. Friend them on Facebook or follow them on Twitter. Not all writers are reachable, so you might have to write an old fashioned letter and send it to the publisher or, if they teach somewhere, to their university address. You don’t have to gush or say something super smart. Just tell them you read something, you liked it. They may not respond, but believe me, they will read it.

2.
Interview writers.
Take charming notes a step farther and ask the writer if you can do an interview. These days, they’re usually done via email. Approach this professionally, even if you are a fan. Write up questions (I prefer getting one question at a time, but some prefer getting them all at once). Let the writer talk. Writers love to talk. Submit the interview to an appropriate print or online magazine. Spread the word. There are many, many outlets, some paying. I really like the interviews published by Fiction Writer’s Review, like this one.

3.
Talk up (informally) or review (formally) books you like.
Start with your personal network. Then say something on Goodreads. Then Amazon.com or B&N. Then try starting a book review blog. Or a book review radio show, like a former student of mine, Sarah Blake. Submit your reviews to newspapers and magazines, print or online. God knows, the world needs more book reviewers. Robin Becker at Penn State and Irina Reyn at Pitt are just two writer/teacher/reviewers I know of who actively teach their students how to write and publish book reviews. Remember: no matter what happens to traditional publishing, readers will always need trusted filters to help them know what is worth paying attention to and what’s not. Become that trusted filter.

4.
If you want to be published in journals, you must read and support them. Period.
If it’s a print journal, subscribe. If it’s an online journal, talk them up, maybe even volunteer to read. One of my favorite writers, Dan Chaon, had this to say about journals: The writing community is full of lame-o people who want to be published in journals even though they don’t read the magazines that they want to be published in. These people deserve the rejections that they will undoubtedly receive, and no one should feel sorry for them when they cry about how they can’t get anyone to accept their stories. You can read his incredibly practical advice here.  

5.
If you want to publish books, buy books.

I don’t want to fight about big-box stores (evil!) vs. indie bookstores (good!) or about libraries (great!) or how truly broke you are (I know! I’ve been there, too!) or which e-reader is “better” for the writer or the independent book seller (argh!). I just want you to buy books. Period. It makes me angry to see the lengths relatively well-off people will go to avoid buying a book. Especially considering how much they are willing to spend on entertainment, education, or business-related expenses. If you’re a writer, you can file a Schedule C: Profit or Loss from a Business, and books and magazine subscriptions are tax deductible.

6.
Be passionate about books and writing
,
because passion is infectious. When I moved back home again to Indiana this past summer, my husband and I set out to buy bookshelves. The first furniture store we entered didn’t even carry bookshelves, the second carried only a single type, and the third (which we bought, because they were on sale) were really intended to be decorative shelves, not book shelves. Mind you, I wasn’t really surprised by this. I grew up here, after all. If you find yourself in a literary desert, rather than fuss and complain about it, create an oasis. Maintain a library in your home. Share books with your friends, co-workers, children, and community. Start a book club. Start a writing group. Volunteer to run a reading series at your local library. Take a picture of your bookshelves and put them on Facebook. Commit to buying 20 books a year for the rest of your life.


This list, by Cathy Day, was originally posted on The Bird Sisters, a blog by author Rebecca Rasmussen (and like a good citizen, I bought their books in a show of appreciation and support).


Are you a good citizen?
Have you anything to add to the list?
I'd love to hear your ideas.

 

Thursday
Feb142013

Thankful Thursday: And love says . . .

Push Pull Books

Thank you Rumi:

And love says
I will, I will take care of you
To everything that is near


& Emily Dickinson:

It’s all I have to bring today
This, and my heart beside

This, and my heart, and all the fields
And all the meadows wide


& Wendell Berry:

Suddenly you flare in my sight,
a wild rose blooming at the edge
of thicket, grace and light
where yesterday was only shade


& e.e. cummings:

love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail


& all the many, moony, love-struck hearts who love, long, yearn & write. You make love bearable, wantable, touchable & true.

It's Thankful Thursday and Valentines Day. What's in your heart, your head, your journal, your life? What are you thankful for today?