Archive for January, 2012

Poetry Festival 2012, birth of Brothel Books

Monday, January 30th, 2012

The Poetry Society of New York is now soliciting “Poets, Artists, Curators, Organizers, Vendors, Volunteers and Poetry-Lovers of any sort” for the The Second Annual New York City Poetry Festival, which will be held, as it was last year, on the grasses of Governors Island. If you run a reading series, poetry organization or collective in NYC and would like to bring it to one of the festival’s stages, write to Stephanie Berger at sb@poetrysocietyny.com.

The Poetry Society of New York also announced this week the formation of Brothel Books, a “small book publisher based in New York City and published by The Poetry Society of New York, the producer of the international poetry event series The Poetry Brothel. The Poetry Brothel has long been a proponent of bringing poetry to the masses–exclusively, and with absolute discretion. Likewise, The Poetry Brothel’s publishing arm, Brothel Books, publishes the most intimate, most charming, and most crafted works being produced today, primarily by The Poetry Brothel’s poets across the globe, but also the general public.”


Song of the Week: “Willie” by Cat Power

Monday, January 30th, 2012

Warm chords. “Have you seen him?
Have you seen him? Have you seen
him?” Brass horns. Then the voice,
her voice a yellow tobacco field
wide & dry deep summer deep South.
In Florida, in the backseat of
a taxi, she wrote the first notes
during a three-hour drive, an epic
eighteen-minute acoustic tune she
pared then amplified—it sounds
finest on vinyl—, I have listened
(no exaggeration) at least once
every day since 2006. And you can
hear the years between recordings,
what fell wayside and what held:
the triumphs letdowns, bewilderments,
cigarettes, etc.; “unbelievable”
versus “beautiful” flowers, etc.—
it balms the nerve. Vital. Sly.
Empathetic (“There are some people
living alone”), politic (“There are
some people with nowhere to go”) and
ultimately romantic (“There are some
people who don’t believe in love”).

-Zachary Pace

Zachary Pace lives in Brooklyn.

Questions, compliments, (hopefully not) complaints? Contact Jackie Clark: jackie [at] coldfrontmag [dot] com.

See all Songs of the Week here.


chap nook 6: Pritts, Dhompa, Herzer

Friday, January 27th, 2012

Sentimental Spectacular, Nate Pritts (Mondo Bummer, 2010)

Nate Pritts’ chapbook Sentimental Spectacular contains five poems, a short collection, even for a chapbook. Though slight, Sentimental Spectacular mines the sentimental for careful, specific image and sound, crafting a work that’s, yes, deeply sentimental, but one willing both to celebrate its sentimentality and to search for a major key of resonance in its reader.  “Darling, darling, darling,” reads the title poem, “there’s something sensational in the way / my heart takes on different forms.” (It is probably worth noting that the poet has also published a book called Sensational Spectacular.) We encounter the speaker’s heart—large, lush, loudly beating—in each of these image-rich poems.

Pritts engages with other poets in Sentimental Spectacular, including Frost in his poem “Frost at Midmorning”: “…me, a proud honorary / astronaut sent out as a lover of uncontained / & immortal beauty but, O, just a chump in love / with the ground…Frost in autumn, frost at midnight, / Frost on a hotel bed, telescoping from mountains to buzzsaws…” Here, we find a wisp of a reference to Frost’s “Out, Out–”, an arguably unsentimental tale of a young boy’s lost hand, as well as ever-sentimental Whitman, with his exultant and emotional O’s and preoccupations with lovelorn “chumps.”

In the final poem “Inarticulate Bird in Befuddled Blooming Bafflement,” Pritts upends his moment-driven sentimental explorations, challenging memory and nostalgia as stable vehicles of sentimentality. “You can’t bring [this poem],” states the speaker, “to the waterfall you made up, // you can’t show it to the rainbow you see when you / close your eyes.” Where imagination and desire intersect with memory, Pritts shows, sentiment becomes longing, and Sentimental Spectacular veers in an unexpected direction, as startling as it is beautiful. “Some handy flower to dip into,” the speaker calls this shadowy memory, this longing for a past self that did or didn’t exist, “a struggle to remember the sweetness.”

Rachel Mennies

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selvage: for country, Tsering Wangmo Dhompa (Belladonna, 2011)

The title of this chapbook from the Belladonna Chaplet series sets a complex backdrop for the poems within. The word selvage refers to the edge of a woven fabric that keeps the fabric from unraveling. The word selvage also calls to mind the word salvage. A selvage salvages the unity or wholeness of the fabric; it preserves the individuality of something, keeps it from blending in with the rest of the world and becoming invisible in the chaos.

In these poems, Tsering Wangmo Dhompa’s speaker seems to be struggling to preserve identity, control and hope. For instance, in the first poem, the speaker proposes that “Perhaps it is no longer necessary to hope” and asks, “Does it matter how I feel?” The first poem establishes a general sense of giving oneself over to the powers that be. And all that is left is hope as can be seen at the end of the second poem: “And if I think with all my heart / and if I listen with rituals and codes in place, / maybe it will come to pass.” There exists, within these lines, the possibility for sarcasm, though. The phrase “with all my heart” is clichéd and obvious, suggesting a speaker that is, in fact, no longer hopeful. A sarcastic moment here would indicate that hope does not have the power to revise.

Hope plays a substantial part in these fifteen pages of poetry. A poem on page 13 ends, “everything balances on hope.” Although hope becomes central to these poems, there are multiple forces working against it. The concept of free will also shows up often in Dhompa’s collection, but almost always, it is rejected: “As though / the plants on my kitchen window have free will” and “No point bringing up free will.” Dhompa’s poems expound the internal human struggle to understand and control one’s life.

Some of the poems, however, become too abstracted and limit the reader’s ability to connect with the speaker. Take the following lines for example, “Not error but irony / of displacement gives tyranny / degrees of exception.” The piggybacked prepositional phrases and abstract nouns—“of displacement” and “of exception”—push the reader farther from the poem’s core. But nonetheless, readers are left with a beautifully confusing and hopeful moment: “I leave / today and will / see you yesterday.” Yes, see you then.

–Melinda Kaye Wilson

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i wanted to be a pirate, Christine Herzer (H_NGM_N, 2010)

By design, Christine Herzer’s chapbook i wanted to be a pirate is an uneven and unpolished read. A visual artist, Herzer has scattered text, handwriting, scribbles, and blacked-out lines highlighting text in white. The poems are more successful in their telling rather showing, but Herzer mitigates that success by trying to maintain a distance from her poems and characters. She has several recurring characters, (‘surfer boy,’ Pan Tau, family members, and more), but none of them move beyond stereotype.  There is very little personal connection here either between the reader and the poems or the speaker and the poems.  Herzer writes, “I remember sister getting lost.” There is no article or possessive pronoun affixed to ‘sister,’ creating a colloquial, dramatic dissociation, which is soon contradicted. Other character-relation instances in the book feel similarly detached, emotional but partially insincere.

Though many whole poems don’t quite connect, there are many stand-out lines within them.  The most simple and direct lines are the strongest: “the party, us arriving together / & leaving together, I liked it,” “where would i go if i had to be there / who would you call before the plane crashes.”  Strong lines frame the poems but the attempted stories/emotions put to those lines are too expected.  For example, the eponymous line, “we have so much love to do” is obscured in the poem, relying  too heavily on butterfly sentiment (“it is a delicate process / branding wings, numbering wings”). While it’s unfair/unreasonable to expect narrative from poetry, “i wanted to be a pirate” is more notable for stand-out lines than its overall direction or impression.

Matt Soucy

***

 

 


Song of the Week: “I’ll Never Forget You” by Husker Du

Monday, January 23rd, 2012

I’ve never forgotten Husker Du’s “I’ll Never Forget You,” when Bob Mould’s vocals ripped the title lyric eight times through vinyl fabric and into my bloodstream.  Like everyone else I loved hardcore, but this song was about emotion unleashed—both anger at a friend’s betrayal and agonizing remorse at the friendship’s loss.  Looking at the lyrics by themselves over the past couple of days, I’ve come to believe the song was written about revenge, but performed as a heart-wrenching loss, in which we listeners know that Mould (or we) will, of course, forget—at least everything other than the snapshot of the song itself, which is punctuated in the end by a cataclysmic rocket of a guitar solo.  Ok, the song might come across as a little narcissistic today, but it’s an unbelievably raw, crashing expression of anger, terror, and hurt.  What’s not to like about that?

-Bruce Covey

Bruce Covey‘s fifth book of poetry, Reveal, will be published by Bitter Cherry Books at the beginning of 2012; his next-most-recent titles are Glass Is Really a Liquid (No Tell Books, 2010) and Elapsing Speedway Organism (No Tell, 2006).  He lives in Atlanta, GA, where he edits Coconut Poetry, teaches at Emory University, and curates the What’s New in Poetry Reading Series.

Questions, compliments, (hopefully not) complaints?  Contact Jackie Clark: jackie [at] coldfrontmag [dot] com.

See all Songs of the Week here.


NBCC Award finalists announced

Sunday, January 22nd, 2012

The National Book Critics Circle has announced finalists for the 2012 National Book Critics Circle Award in Poetry. Two of the nominees, Yusef Komunyakaa (The Chameleon Couch) and Bruce Smith (Devotions), were nominated for the National Book Award last fall; the award was eventually won by Nikky Finney. Here are all five nominees:

Forrest Gander, Core Samples from the World (New Directions)

Aracelis Girmay, Kingdom Animalia (BOA Editions)

Laura Kasischke, Space, in Chains (Copper Canyon Press)

Yusef Komunyakaa, The Chameleon Couch (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux)

Bruce Smith, Devotions (University of Chicago Press)

The National Book Critics Circle, founded in 1974, “is a nonprofit organization of book reviewers and critics that honors outstanding writing and fosters a national conversation about reading, criticism, and literature, in part through annual awards for the year’s outstanding books. Books are directly nominated and chosen by leading book critics. The NBCC thus offers the unique opportunity for professional critics to recognize and reward literary excellence.”

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Wednesday, January 18th, 2012

Jessica Fjeld at Sixth Finch


Derricotte, Hirshfield, Sze elected AAP Chancellors

Tuesday, January 17th, 2012

Tree Swenson, Executive Director of the Academy of American Poets, has announced that Toi Derricotte, Jane Hirshfield, and Arthur Sze have been elected to the Board of Chancellors, the Academy’s advisory board of distinguished poets.

Each of the new Chancellors will have a poem featured in the Academy’s Poem-A-Day program, starting today with Toi Derricotte. To sign up, visit www.poets.org/poemaday.


The Return of the Native

Tuesday, January 17th, 2012

by Kate Colby
Ugly Duckling Presse 2011
Reviewed by Wendy S. Walters

6_5stars_6

“…and shrink with me”

Kate Colby’s The Return of the Native draws several of its poem titles from Thomas Hardy’s tragic novel of same name, which explored gender politics and foiled ambitions at the beginning of the modern era.  The novel’s frank portrayal of a shifting mindset about religion and new ways of thinking about the role of women in English society was ahead of its time.  Hardy’s detailed realism inspired empathy for his female characters especially, without the veil of romance to distract attention from their choices and faults.  Colby, in her work, seems less interested in generating strong feelings for a character than she does in evoking the world that makes a character’s invention possible. Because of this, the relationship between the two texts appears to be more atmospheric than literal.

The two works do intersect in Colby’s intent to represent “a synopsis and historical context” that illuminates the threshold of a changing social landscape. Colby’s aesthetic is wrought from scraps of icons, clichés, advertising slogans, and folklore, which resist the comfort that narrative provides in moments of discord.  These fragments manifest as multiple instances of disconnection that form a “crafty sampler of secretly/discontinuous, tied-off threads.” Many of the poems showcase extended metaphors that, in juxtaposition with other brief allegories, mimic the postmodern experience of constant interruption. Throughout the work, the divergent narrative threads do seem to lean towards each other, if never succumbing to unity.  These intentional disconnections both satisfy and annoy at unexpected moments.

“A Desperate Attempt at Persuasion,” one of the more direct pieces in the book, draws on lines we know. Each one aims to confirm some underlying disappointment: “Home is where/ the head is/ taken”; “now back to the technocolonial/ color of my youth” and “Over title I’d take the chain on my stopper,/ my own corroding string of beads and couplings/ and what goes out with the bathwater.”  Colby’s innovations on clichés provoke good feelings, despite the seriousness expressed by them. Some of the most resonant moments in the work as a whole are meditations on growing smaller. The poem “Through the Moonlight” points to the origins of introversion in the “architecture of the body:

Living in cities,
when you become the space
that the body contains
—feel the physics—
and shrink with me
under my para-
pluie of bent tines.

The speaker’s consciousness is informed by the space under the umbrella, but the desire for smallness also has implications for the intimate relationship. When she invites the reader to “shrink with me,” it is implied that presence is also the manifestation of ego.  The speaker’s desire for smallness is also a desire for greater connection through the compression of the self.

Consider a few lines from the poem “An Old Move Inadvertently Repeated” as another laud of the virtues of being contained, this time in the form of an object or artifact:

To climb inside the vitrine
gather together the glass
flowers I want to break
between my teeth, hear
shatter in my head—

How will it end?
With neither a bang nor a whimper
but a weary,
insistent
banging.

Inside the vitrine, the speaker becomes capable of irrevocable change.  Her expression of desire introduces the question of how one lasts when one is considered precious.  In the end, the weary banging manifests only in the speaker’s mind, but still does not cease.  Every “end” serves as a beginning, an endless set of starting points.  This idea is emphasized in the final image of the poem:

My tiny plot
I hoe and harrow
again and again
to see each time
what I might grow there.

The emotional core of the book is comprised of competing desires: to acknowledge there is no ending to any story and to manufacture a resolution when it is not possible to have one.

An intellectual intensity drives most of the poems in the collection, though the few overtly lyrical moments in the work are striking.  In the poem “Through the Moonlight,” an unexpected turn towards overtly romantic language and a direct plea for longing stun with their sweetness:  “Let us always be about/ to be leaving/ one another for the evening.” Later in the poem, we witness the sticky weight of intoxication in this lovely image: “Sluggish bees in late season/ suckle empty soda cans,” which suggests that when we become like the bee and seek fulfillment from beyond the context of predictable associations, desire appears to be unending.

As the book attempts to map the collision of personal, political and literary accounts that define an individual, we are reminded that whatever we observe is likely to be affected by our own meddling in the “drama”:

a long walk
on a short
fourth wall

Colby offers a smart and provocative counterpoint to “the romance of recorded history” through her confident embrace of the narrative fragment. The Return of the Native orchestrates a dynamic between broad cultural influences and sentiment but with little transparency about who is at the center of these perceptions.  Perhaps Colby does not want us to know.  Or maybe she is making the case that character was never that discrete, singular, or of certifiable provenance.  In either instance, it is not entirely clear how she interprets the relationship between conceptual argument and aesthetic experiment.  Maybe this kind confusion is the inevitable outcome of attempting to blend histories that otherwise would not intersect.

*


Tuesday, January 17th, 2012

Nate Pritts at The Awl


Polestar Series to take on the Beatles

Monday, January 16th, 2012

So far, Polestar has done readings for Nirvana’s Nevermind, Curtis Mayfield’s Superfly, Radiohead’s Kid A, The Pixies’s Doolittle, Smashing Pumpkins’s Siamese Dream. February 5th will mark the largest album interpretation in Polestar history by having roughly thirty poets take on The Beatles’ The White Album.  If you find yourself in New York, be sure to check out the Polestar Reading Series.

Polestar Poetry Series is curated and hosted by Melisa Broder, author of two poetry collections, Meat Heart (Publishing Genius Press, March 2012) and When You Say One Thing but Mean Your Mother. Broder is also editor of the online journal La Petite Zine. Polestar readings take place at the Cake Shop in the Lower East Side of Manhattan, the first one dating back to August of 2008. Broder choose the Cake Shop because of the “darkness, the kitsch and the grit,” providing a perfect location for both established and up and coming poets to interact with an intimate audience.

Polestar also does poetic interpretations of albums which is been wildly successful. Broder says the idea came from a London series run by Roddy Lumsden. She continues, “Roddy did one here in New York where each poet got a line from Bob Dylan’s Subterranean Homesick Blues*. My line was “Ring bell, hard to tell if anything is gonna sell.” There was this mess of a poem I’d been working on, and suddenly the line helped me re-imagine it into something strong. I like that approach to using a prompt, the collage method rather than starting from scratch. Anyway, around that time I wanted to shake things up at Polestar, which was functioning like more of a typical reading series. I wanted to have some fun.”

* Read Coldfront’s coverage of the Dylan reading here.

Read about more poetry and music blending in NYC here.

 

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