friday roundup: free poetry, ‘a smell of the sea,’ and to know again

It’s Friday morning, early. All my people are sleeping. I have nothing planned today for the first time all week. I’m at my desk and happy to be at my desk and planning to stay at my desk most of the day – joy! And now, Reader, it’s roundup time.

free poetry  For the last few years, poets and poetry lovers across the blogosphere have participated in the Big Poetry Giveaway during poetry month. Poet-blogger Kelli Agodon Russell is the wizard behind the curtain for this event. I’m mixing up the formula a bit this year to give away one book of poetry and one subscription to a lit mag (rather than two books). Stay tuned for details on how to win free poetry.

a smell of the sea Many poets and lovers of poetry are mourning the loss of Adrienne Rich who died this week. In her life and in her poetry, Rich was a feminist, an advocate for the marginalized, and a person who put her money where her mouth was. I admire her activism, and I’m grateful for her poetry. I can’t imagine my life without these words: “A wild patience has taken me this far.” Rich’s death made me think of a poem by Denise Levertov, “September 1961,” which explores the subject of the world losing important artists, and the feeling of those left behind, “alone on the road”: “we wonder // how it will be without them… .” I love that this poem ends with a smell of the sea — place of endings (the end of the land, the vast somewhere where many have been buried) and a place of beginnings (the source of life on earth, for example). Read “September 1961″ here (you will have to scroll down a bit).

And then click over to Kathleen Kirk’s blog. She wrote a wonderful piece about the experience of being an artist in the world, and reflects on Adrienne Rich’s directive, “You must write, and read, as if your life depended on it.”

to know again Yesterday, I wrote about revision from a philosophical point of view. I want to say just a bit more about that before moving on to more practical notes on revision. If we look at the etymology of the word revision we see that it comes from the PIE weid, “to know, to see.” And from the Latin re-, “back to the original place, again,” also with a sense of “undoing” (source here).

If we approach revision literally, then, we must know (or see) a poem again. We must go back and undo.

I happen to think this is the very hardest thing about revision because it’s easy to become attached to those words we already have on the page. Again, time and the Resting Drawer enter the mix. But I’ve also had good success and lots of fun by revising through re-drafting, by holding on to the idea and the impulse of a poem (and maybe even a few key phrases), but writing it over and over again, differently each time. Once you’ve re-seen to your satisfaction, other revision strategies can enter the mix. The Mail Order Bride’s letter home came out of several rounds of redrafting. Have you tried re-drafting as a revision strategy?

Ok, that’s the roundup. I’ve gone on longer than I intended. Also, none of my people are sleeping anymore. It’s on to the next phase of the day. Happy Friday to you, and thanks for reading.

friday roundup: an app for that, nothing to say, and all those who go unnamed

public domain from wikimedia

Here it is, Friday again. Friday, how do you do it? You’re here, and then you’re gone, and then you’re here again, lickety-split. And thus, the roundup:

an app for that This week’s word of the week at my desk is unwieldy. That is, “not easily managed, handled, or used (as because of bulk, weight, complexity, or awkwardness).” Unwieldy describes my submissions spreadsheet and my electronic filing system for all bazillion of my writing files. The other night, I said to Husband, “Husband, can you build me a software program that’ll track my submissions for me?” Reader, he said yes (happy sigh. I’m in love.)! Then I got to thinking, there should already be an application for that, no? And it appears that there are some apps for that — desktop, not iPhone/Pad — but that none of them run on a Mac(!). I’ve also been looking for software that will help organize all my writing files: the many drafts and revisions, the research and notes for each poem, critiques from po-friends, etc. I’ve downloaded a free trial copy of Scrivener, which looks like it could be the answer to my prayers, although I’m still learning how it works. It seems to have been built with prose writing in mind, and yet, I can see it working for poetry, too. Meanwhile, I wonder, fellow writers: is your spreadsheet and/or filing system unwieldy too? What tools and strategies have you used to make things easier to manage? I would love to know.

nothing to say  I sat down at my desk this morning thinking of this Todd Boss poem: “Today It Seemed I had Nothing to Say // that hadn’t been said already — / my head full of moldy / hay and feelings / of futility –”  I love that the barred owl makes an appearance (or, technically, fails to appear) in this poem. Did you know the barred owl’s call goes like this: “Who? Who? Who cooks for you?” (listen here). I think it’s pretty fascinating that we human beings put our words into birds’ mouths. My other favorite is the call for the indigo bunting: “Fire! Fire! Where? Where? Here! Here! See it? See it?”

all those who go unnamed This week, I finished up Sandra Beasley’s fantastic book, I Was the Jukebox (more on this here), and turned to Smith Blue by Camille T. Dungy. As a reader, I have a thing for the acknowledgements page(s). I always read that first. Look at what Camille Dungy wrote at the end of her acknowledgements page:

And to all those who go unnamed, the spinners of linen, the keepers of trees, the pressers of paper, the tenders of my body, the bearers of my food, ashe, selah, thank you.

This might be the nicest thing I’ve ever seen on an acknowledgements page. Such gratitude! Such awareness. I’m looking forward to digging into the poems.

That’s it for the roundup today. I know last week I said I was going to try a shoebox poem. I filled the shoebox, but didn’t draft the poem (yet). I’ll let you know how it goes when I do. Until then, happy weekend everyone!

friday round up: revision, the power of vowels, and going to sleep with ‘Fire on Her Tongue’

Happy Friday, all. I am up in the pre-dawn silence of the house doing a bit of reading and writing before the kiddos wake and the onslaught begins. Here are some cool things I stumbled upon this week:

Revision. Donald Hall’s words echo continually in my ears: “If the poet wants to be a poet, the poet must force the poet to revise. If the poet doesn’t wish to revise, let the poet abandon poetry and take up stamp collecting or real estate.” For years, I’ve been reading (and trying to put into practice) everything I can about revision. And yet, there seems to be a dearth of specific, actionable advice besides “punch up the verbs,” “cut out any unnecessary words,” and “read it out loud.” This week, Diane Lockward has remedied that in her post about what is the right time to send out a poem. Her checklist for revision, and her practice of recording herself reading the poem and listening to the recording are specific and actionable. I never thought of recording and playing back — what a great idea! I also loved Traci Brimhall’s suggestion at Her Circle on revising “toward the strange” and her reference to Yeats’ approach of revising toward “a more passionate syntax.” Again, actionable — and somewhat contrary to the oft-used paradigm of drafting as the time to go wild, and revision as the time to tame the monster. Thank you Sandy Longhorn for the link to this article.

By the way, I found both of these posts through Internet rabbit holes. Just sayin’.

The Power of Vowels. Did you know that vowels control your brain? Go read this fascinating article that summarizes the research of linguists who have found that “humans instinctively associate pitch with size,” and that different vowel sounds “pull our brains” to different things (they give great examples in the article). I don’t know about you, but I plan to use this info not just in my poetry, but as a parenting strategy! (Ha! I’ll let you know how that goes).

Going to sleep with Fire on Her Tongue. I recently purchased my first eBook of poetry, Fire On Her Tongue by Two Sylvias Press. I’ve been reading through it each night before I go to sleep (well… and at other times, too). My understanding is that the editors, Kelli Russell Agodon and Annette Spaulding-Convy, put together this anthology of living women writers completely paperlessly (say that 10 times fast) so that the volume is not only chock-full of great poetry, but its production had minimal environmental impacts. Pretty cool. Last night in the cold, dark waiting room of the ballet studio, I read amazing poetry by the light of my iPad. From a wild ride through the gravy of the universe by Martha Silano, to a quiet, open-ended, and amazing meditation on “Anhinga Drying Her Wings” by Peggy Shumaker – and everything in between–, I’m enjoying the portability and variety of this anthology and the excitement of finding so many new poets to read and learn from. Let’s hear it for the girls!

That’s it for today’s round up. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!