tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18705797244911904042024-03-13T20:21:09.822-07:00Infinite OwlsUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-51252167279606613992017-07-27T15:31:00.002-07:002017-07-27T15:31:27.590-07:00New Website:<br />
<br />
I built a new website. I'm now at <a href="http://christopherdeweese.net/">christopherdeweese.net</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-74983154879256901002015-09-09T17:45:00.004-07:002015-10-10T13:43:06.900-07:00Tour!<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
This fall I'm hitting the road for THE FATHER OF THE ARROW IS THE THOUGHT. Here is where I'll be! </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-top: 6px;">
September 13 - House Beer, Columbus (w Marcus Jackson)<br />
September 18 - University of Texas (w <a class="profileLink" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=9129222" href="https://www.facebook.com/heather.christle" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">Heather Christle</a>)<br />
October 2 - BASH, Boston (w Eileen Myles & Jackie Wang)<br />
October 3 - Amherst Poetry Festival<br />
October 16- Free Water, KGB Bar, NYC (w <a class="profileLink" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=100003870021342" href="https://www.facebook.com/tyehimba.jess" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">Tyehimba Jess</a> & Lynn Emanuel & Hala Alyan)<br />
October 21 - UC Clermont College<br />
October 29 - York College<br />
November 13 - Cleveland State University Poetry Center<br />
November 19 - Western Oregon University (w Zachary Schomburg)<br />
November 20 - Bad Blood, PDX</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-19988660677435049522015-08-16T17:50:00.002-07:002015-09-09T17:45:12.686-07:00<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">
<span style="background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">Dear Friends,</span><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">I am excited to announce that my second book of poems, <i>The Father of the Arrow is the Thought</i>, will be published by Octopus Books on August 25. </span><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">In advance of the book's publication, Octopus has dubbed this coming week (August 17-21) "DeWeese DeWeek," and is running an AMAZING DEAL each day of the week if you preorder the book. I am hoping you might be interested in helping me spread the word and/or checking out the book yourself. Thank you so much for your support!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">Here is a link to the official Octopus Books DeWeese DeWeek page: </span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px;"><a href="http://www.octopusbooks.net/deweese-deweek">http://www.octopusbooks.net/deweese-deweek</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">Here is the schedule of AMAZING DEALS:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">MONDAY: Money Back Monday! Every purchase can be returned for a full refund if you don't like it. AND every 8th buyer gets the entire Octopus Books catalog for free. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">TUESDAY: Every buyer gets <i>Everyone Here </i>by <i>Cecily Iddings</i> and <i>Via Dissimulata</i> by Marisol Limon Martinez for free.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">WEDNESDAY: Every buyer gets <i>The Difficult Farm</i> and <i>The Trees The Trees</i> by Heather Christle for free. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">THURSDAY: Every buyer gets a copy of the book signed with a personal note from the author, and a free copy of The Black Forest. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">FRIDAY: Try Day Friday! Every purchase can be returned for a full refund if you don't like it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">About the book: </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">Christoper DeWeese's second book, <i>The Father of the Arrow is the Thought</i>, re-says the human against the "fucked ecosystem" of the contemporary landscape. Locating themselves in a series of varied physiographic settings, the poems illuminate the tragic reality of our imaginations: that our bodies lag behind our minds; that our physical forms can never go so far as we think, dream, or say. But this is not simply a book of elegy and woe. Drawing upon Paul Klee's theory of "creative kinetics," the idea of art defying physical laws through the use of symbolic, visionary, or transcendent imaginative acts, DeWeese presses past lament, unmoving something strange and complicated amidst "the uncharted lands / I keep discovering inside / no, behind me,/ where my bones I throw." Personal, surprising, questing and ambitious, <i>The Father of the Arrow is the Thought </i>is a wild event, a new myth shot through time and space.</span><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;"></span></div>
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<span style="background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">Dara Wier: <i>There's nothing I can say that comes close to representing the precision presence of mind </i>The Father of the Arrow Is the Thought<i> lends us. How and why human imagination is tragic, mysteriously omnipotent, grievous, triumphant and essential, is the book's story. It proposes how we are who we are because of where we are, letting ideas about time and place be mythical and heroically proportioned. DeWeese's poems, a unified collection of stand alone meditations, offer a new myth composed straight out of our 21st Century's hideous beauty. The poems' heroic chronicle epics our situation and offers us redeeming compassion. That we're able to imagine our way through, across, over, above, beyond and around just about anything, tempts us, teases us, and lets us see what can't be seen. In other words it brings metaphor to life, it gives imagination its most profound work, it simultaneously gives and takes. No other recent book does all this with such a modest, kindly, almost chivalrous sense of duty.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span><span style="background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">Dean Young: <i>The effect of this book reminds me of what we were told in physics class about approaching the speed of light. Fantastic and strange but somehow reasonable, these poems report from a velocity where the familiar seems verging on explosion with unexpected equipoise. Astronauts, here is our pilot!</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">Read a poem from the book here: </span><a href="http://bostonreview.net/poetry/christopher-deweese-tide" style="color: #1155cc; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;" target="_blank">http://bostonreview.net/<wbr></wbr>poetry/christopher-deweese-<wbr></wbr>tide</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;">or another one here: </span><a href="http://granta.com/the-mountain/" style="color: #1155cc; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt;" target="_blank">http://granta.com/the-<wbr></wbr>mountain</a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-57688981230670042462015-05-04T07:29:00.000-07:002015-05-04T07:30:56.275-07:00The Father of the Arrow is the Thought<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LwXqJINS1fY/VUd_ncEsRLI/AAAAAAAAAx0/JY5u7UZZLF8/s1600/DeWeese%2BCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="205" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LwXqJINS1fY/VUd_ncEsRLI/AAAAAAAAAx0/JY5u7UZZLF8/s320/DeWeese%2BCover.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">On August 25, 2015, <a href="http://www.octopusbooks.net/">Octopus Books</a> will be publishing my second poetry book, <i>The Father of the Arrow is the Thought.</i> Here is some info about the book:</span><br />
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-ad356b76-1f53-5b7f-bb9d-9fb006f13db2" style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christopher DeWeese’s second book, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Father of the Arrow is the Thought</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, re-says the human against the “fucked ecosystem” of the contemporary landscape. Locating themselves in a series of varied physiographic settings, these poems illuminate the tragic reality of our imaginations: that our bodies lag behind our minds; that our physical forms can never go so far as we can think, dream, or say. But this is not simply a book of elegy and woe. Drawing upon Paul Klee’s theory of “creative kinetics,” the idea of art defying physical laws through the use of symbolic, visionary, or transcendent imaginative acts, DeWeese presses past lament, uncovering something strange and complicated amidst "the uncharted lands/ I keep discovering inside/ no, behind me,/ where my bones I throw." Personal, surprising, questing, and ambitious, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Father of the Arrow is the Thought </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is a wild event, a new myth shot through time and space.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dara Wier: </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There's nothing I can say that comes close to representing the precision presence of mind </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Father of the Arrow Is the Thought</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> lends us. How and why human imagination is tragic, mysteriously omnipotent, grievous, triumphant and essential, is the book's story. It proposes how we are who we are because of where we are, letting ideas about time and place be mythical and heroically proportioned. DeWeese's poems, a unified collection of stand alone meditations, offer a new myth composed straight out of our 21st Century's hideous beauty. The poems' heroic chronicle epics our situation and offers us redeeming compassion. That we're able to imagine our way through, across, over, above, beyond and around just about anything, tempts us, teases us, and lets us see what can't be seen. In other words it brings metaphor to life, it gives imagination its most profound work, it simultaneously gives and takes. No other recent book does all this with such a modest, kindly, almost chivalrous sense of duty.</span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-ad356b76-1f53-faf4-8225-05d6ef29c202" style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dean Young: </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The effect of this book reminds me of what we were told in physics class about approaching the speed of light. Fantastic and strange but somehow reasonable, these poems report from a velocity where the familiar seems verging on explosion with unexpected equipoise. Astronauts, here is our pilot!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here's a poem from the book:</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">The
River<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">It is a bad, bad business <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">to walk to the river<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">expecting something casually
spiritual <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">to cast aside your skin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">Rocks tongue the bloody light <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">where I’ve been going,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">a cheap motel <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">on the other side<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">where the complimentary bibles <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">have expiration dates<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">and the danishes reflect my
face <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">in their glacial frosting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">We become magnificent <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">as they crumple,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">bending in the fluorescence<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">our ancestors left us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">to better see <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">our cruel bodies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">Outside, the evening quickens<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">into a crooked line<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">of poorly-built fires,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">as if the whole county were
neck-deep <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">in the moral ambiguity<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">of what anglers do<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">after taking off their waders.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">The mosquito-bit air <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">darkens into night,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">scuttling the distance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">into many canoes between us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">There have been times<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">when I confused the river <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">for my friend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">I threw starfish <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">into the wrong water,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">mistaking what was potable <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">for a stronger tide.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">I might as well pardon <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">my own genealogy<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">for bringing me here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">I’m sorry, darling, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">but where we’ve been <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">is just no match <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">for standing on this bank<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">flexing our muscles<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">until the sun jumps up <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">and the angry fish <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">whip against the leaves,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">the whole tableau <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">uncertainly taking note<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">of where the river goes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">and what it means<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">as, beside it, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">a dozen drunk survivalists <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">unzip their camouflage <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">to show us where they are</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and what they have been hiding.</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-16868990431154257532014-03-08T13:59:00.002-08:002014-03-08T13:59:48.583-08:00It's March 8, a Saturday<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Here is a poem from <i>The Black Forest </i>that features today's date.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">HEART OF 5000 BEAR<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">No king could break me <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">with speeches or
sweetmeats.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">No queen could teach me <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">how to pray and mean it, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">even how to meditate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Even if she was my
mother,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">my foot would undulate<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">like the giant country<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">all our oceans form,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">the horizon outside
shrinking<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">into nervous rhetoric<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">in solidarity with my
interior.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">The air turns Slovenian,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">the palace smells like
cinnamon,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">and I’m into it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">As a servant, I
understand suburbs:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">like mine, their
biographies<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">merely parallel the real
story<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">these wet years write<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">upon the royal tarmac,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">driftwood left behind a
fierce storm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">It’s March 8, a Saturday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I’ve been sleeping in
this poem<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">for several weeks,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">a pocket history of neon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">tucked inside my jacket,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">where hardscrabble
frontiers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">dissipate into acceptable
weather.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">In my cat-suit, friend,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I entered manhood<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">and surveyed all this
land<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond;">and indeed caused it to
be.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-74991848773606384732013-08-11T12:41:00.003-07:002013-08-11T12:41:44.698-07:00I Live in Ohio NowIt's a nice day in Ohio. I live here now. I spend a lot of time mowing/playing sports in the backyard. Here is a photograph of it that I took because I'm proud to have mowed yesterday:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yVzNUDGZdrQ/Ugfnh5f6cEI/AAAAAAAAAjs/arAjO3wO15s/s1600/IMG_2048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yVzNUDGZdrQ/Ugfnh5f6cEI/AAAAAAAAAjs/arAjO3wO15s/s320/IMG_2048.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I live in a town called Yellow Springs. It is very small, quiet, pretty, and friendly. Our cat is now an indoor/outdoor cat. I'm reading a giant history book. I'm getting ready to start teaching at <a href="http://www.wright.edu/cola/Dept/eng/news.html">Wright State University</a>, which I am very excited about. That's all for now.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-36760115505221950732013-04-07T08:29:00.003-07:002013-04-07T08:29:57.040-07:00Spring by Charles OlsonSpring<br />
<br />
<br />
The dogwood<br />
lights up the day<br />
<br />
The April moon<br />
flakes the night<br />
<br />
Birds, suddenly,<br />
are a multitude<br />
<br />
The flowers are ravined<br />
by bees, the fruit blossoms<br />
<br />
are thrown to the ground, the wind<br />
the rain forces everything. Noise<b style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;">—</b><br />
<b style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br /></b>
even the night is drummed<br />
by whippoorwills, and we get<br />
<br />
as busy, we plow, we move,<br />
we break out, we love. The secret<br />
<br />
which got lost neither hides<br />
nor reveals itself, it shows forth<br />
<br />
tokens. And we rush<br />
to catch up. The body<br />
<br />
whips the soul. In its great desire<br />
it demands the elixir<br />
<br />
In the roar of spring,<br />
transmutations. Envy<br />
<br />
drags herself off. The fault of the body and the soul<br />
<b style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;">—</b> that they are not one<b style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;">—</b><br />
<br />
the matutinal cock clangs<br />
and singleness: we salute you<br />
<br />
season of no bungling<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-69076237667250298032013-01-21T09:01:00.000-08:002013-01-21T09:01:02.616-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.nature.org/idc/groups/webcontent/@web/@rhodeisland/documents/media/northern-saw-whet-owl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="163" src="http://www.nature.org/idc/groups/webcontent/@web/@rhodeisland/documents/media/northern-saw-whet-owl.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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Would you like to know more about <i>The Black Forest</i>? Here are some links to recent reviews of the book, and a few interviews about the book. Oh, and happy 2013! It's going to be a great year.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://iopoetry.org/archives/1475">Review in IO</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://www.bostonreview.net/BR37.5/poetry_microreviews.php">Review in Boston Review</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://www.drunkenboat.com/?p=2523">D.A. Powell's short review in Drunken Boat</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://htmlgiant.com/author-spotlight/to-remember-this-idea-after-waking-an-interview-with-christopher-deweese/">Interview w/ Blake Butler on HTMLGIANT</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://bombsite.com/issues/1000/articles/6862">Interview w/ Jack Christian in BOMB</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://thecommonmag.tumblr.com/post/21003473380/clock-makers-and-tourists-an-interview-between-brian">Interview w/ Brian Foley for The Common</a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-9857719301966742902012-10-03T09:42:00.002-07:002012-10-03T09:52:32.652-07:00Flying Object 2nd Anniversary Fundraiser and EPIC RAFFLE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
There is this place called <a href="http://www.flying-object.org/">Flying Object</a>. It looks like this: <a href="http://www.flying-object.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/IMG_0677-290x290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.flying-object.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/IMG_0677-290x290.jpg" /></a></div>
It is located in Hadley, Massachusetts, in the old Firehouse. Amazing things happen there. Events, readings, music, art shows, letterpress classes, lectures, books, and other things. Workshops about pickling. Lectures explaining current linguistic research. Benefits for other local organizations and non-profits. It is a space that makes itself available to support many different communities. Over time, those communities form a larger and more connected community. This is a rare thing. <br />
<br />
I got invited to a meeting about a month ago to help plan a party/fundraiser/raffle to help celebrate Flying Object's second anniversary. There's going to be a great party on Oct. 13, and everybody is invited. Information about said party is <a href="http://www.flying-object.org/?p=4678">here</a> and <a href="http://www.facebook.com/events/424242010944192/">here</a>. CA Conrad, Dorothea Lasky, and Ben Hersey are going to be reading/performing/fortune-telling. I have every confidence that it will be a wonderful event. At the meeting to plan this party, I volunteered to help out with the Raffle portion of the event, because I love raffles. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kN0snkp-WqU/UGxfj8l6ZvI/AAAAAAAAAKM/wEU-ZgVunYw/s1600/IMG_1792.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kN0snkp-WqU/UGxfj8l6ZvI/AAAAAAAAAKM/wEU-ZgVunYw/s320/IMG_1792.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raffle Donation from Flood Editions</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-glTSv5Z_hj8/UGxftqvnvAI/AAAAAAAAAKU/M6fxY-ygCKc/s1600/IMG_1812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-glTSv5Z_hj8/UGxftqvnvAI/AAAAAAAAAKU/M6fxY-ygCKc/s320/IMG_1812.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raffle Donation from Knopf/ Everyman's Library</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Along with other raffle committee members, I started emailing presses to see if they might donate books, broadsides, chapbooks, ephemera, or anything else for this raffle. The response really amazed and surprised me: many of the presses I got in touch with responded enthusiastically and wonderfully. Presses both small and large were thrilled that a place like Flying Object exists, and wanted to help out. Soon, I began receiving 4 or 5 boxes of books a day. Presses have been sending rare things, beautiful things, surprising things. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9qVy8DAX-Z0/UGxgwt0IiMI/AAAAAAAAAKc/T2LRtT7j6FY/s1600/IMG_1793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9qVy8DAX-Z0/UGxgwt0IiMI/AAAAAAAAAKc/T2LRtT7j6FY/s320/IMG_1793.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raffle Donation from Octopus Books</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-35ULZvi2wZY/UGxgx7jfDnI/AAAAAAAAAKk/Pz_B1SSmr-s/s1600/IMG_1800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-35ULZvi2wZY/UGxgx7jfDnI/AAAAAAAAAKk/Pz_B1SSmr-s/s320/IMG_1800.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raffle Donation from BOA Editions</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w2nPXjHSuYk/UGxgzYMPFyI/AAAAAAAAAKs/t-yoRSI5Iws/s1600/IMG_1803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w2nPXjHSuYk/UGxgzYMPFyI/AAAAAAAAAKs/t-yoRSI5Iws/s320/IMG_1803.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raffle Donation from Visual Editions (UK)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And I guess that brings me to the other part of this post that I wanted to write about, which is this larger community that also exists, the community of publishers and poets and artists and bookmakers and photographers. People are up to some really wonderful, smart, beautiful things, and their enthusiasm and generosity has reminded me how lucky I am to be a reader and writer and participant in this large, wild community. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HfBYv61R9ag/UGxpArnePSI/AAAAAAAAALk/xJ0C6qGBNBE/s1600/IMG_1806.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HfBYv61R9ag/UGxpArnePSI/AAAAAAAAALk/xJ0C6qGBNBE/s320/IMG_1806.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raffle Donation from Twin Palms</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a8hFlzfvv3M/UGxpDpiWLzI/AAAAAAAAAL0/TsN0pZClY2o/s1600/IMG_1821.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a8hFlzfvv3M/UGxpDpiWLzI/AAAAAAAAAL0/TsN0pZClY2o/s320/IMG_1821.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raffle Donation from Cabinet Magazine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SOLkr2ry4uc/UGxpE7CJLZI/AAAAAAAAAL8/AT8etq-ILZ0/s1600/IMG_1825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SOLkr2ry4uc/UGxpE7CJLZI/AAAAAAAAAL8/AT8etq-ILZ0/s320/IMG_1825.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raffle Donation from Anchorite Press</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The local community has also stepped up to support Flying Object. We have received raffle donations from local organizations and businesses like Mass MoCA, Hungry Ghost Bread, Jackson & Connor, The Claw Foot Tub, Popcorn Noir, Hill Farmstead Brewery, Amherst Books, Pale Circus, and Green River Ambrosia. High & Mighty is donating beer for the event. If you live anywhere remotely close to Western Massachusetts, I hope you'll join us on Saturday, October 13 to celebrate and to get some amazing things from the EPIC RAFFLE. Even if you can't make it in person, you can still donate and have raffle tickets entered in your name to win prizes! Please go <a href="http://www.flying-object.org/?p=4678">here</a> to find out more.<br />
<br />
Here follows a (still growing) list of the amazing publishers and organizations who have given us EPIC PRIZES to raffle in support of this event. A huge thank you to all of them!<br />
<br />
1913, 2-UP, 2HB, 5X7, Action Books, Agnes
Fox, Ahsahta, Alice James Books, Amherst Books, Amherst Cinema,
Anchorite Press, Birds LLC, Black Ocean Books, BOA, Burning Deck, Cabinet
Magazine, Canarium Press, Chelsea Editions, Coach House Books, Coconut
Books, Coffee House Press, Content, Cuneiform Press, Denver Quarterly,
Dexter Sinister, DoubleCross Press, Elk Books, Europa Editions, Factory
Hollow Press, FC2, Flood Editions, Flying Guillotine, Forklift Ohio,
Four Way Books, Futurepoem, Green Lantern Press, Greying Ghost Press,
Green River Ambrosia, Grove/Atlantic, High & Mighty, Hill Farmstead, Hungry Ghost Bakery, Institute of Cultural Inquiry, Jackson & Connor, Jubilat, Kat
Ran Press, Knopf/Everyman’s Library, Lay Flat, Loosestrife Editions, MASS MoCA, McSweeney’s,
Mud Luscious Press, Noemi Press, O-Blek, O’Clock Press, Octopus Books,
Otis Books/Seismicity Editions, Owl Press, Pale Circus, PEN America, Popcorn Noir,
Propolis Press, Publishing Genius, Rescue Press, River Valley Market,
Sarabande, Schematic Quarterly, Siglio Press, Slope Editions, Small Anchor Press, Sona Books,
Spork Press, Tarpaulin Sky, Telephone, Thames & Hudson, The
Caseroom Press, The Claw Foot Tub, The Physiocrats, The Sienese
Shredder, Springtide Press, Tibor de Nagy, True Panther Sounds, Twin Palms Publishing,
Typecast Publishing/The Lumberyard, Ugly Duckling Presse, Unit Editions,
University of Chicago Press, University of Iowa Press, Visual Editions,
Wakefield Books, Wave Books, Wesleyan University Press, Wonder<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-90430196153956163562012-05-21T10:23:00.000-07:002012-05-21T10:26:11.124-07:00Poem Beginning With a Line by Lionel Messi<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://beautifulcoolwallpapers.files.wordpress.com/2011/06/lionel_messi1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="389" src="http://beautifulcoolwallpapers.files.wordpress.com/2011/06/lionel_messi1.jpg" width="630" /></a></div>
So, there's this great thing that happened called <a href="http://www.knoxwritershouse.com/The_Knox_Writers_House_Site/The_Knox_Writers_House/The_Knox_Writers_House.html">The Knox Writers' House Recording Project</a>, in which these three Knox College students traveled around the country recording writers reading their work and talking about it. Last year, they found us in Atlanta and sat in our cold dining room with us and encouraged us read to them. Now they have this amazing website where you can listen to <a href="http://www.knoxwritershouse.com/The_Knox_Writers_House_Site/The_Knox_Writers_House___Writers.html">all sorts of interesting people</a> read their work. It's great! This week, poet Chris Tonelli has picked a poem of mine as the weekly featured poem, which is really nice, and what is even nicer is that he calls me "the Lionel Messi of poetry," which is the best compliment possible. Here is the text of the poem, just in case you can't understand my weird voice.<br />
<br />
POEM BEGINNING WITH A LINE BY LIONEL MESSI<br />
<br />
It’s true I still have a thorn inside me,<br />
a little personal weather.<br />
Pace blossoms when I am running.<br />
Districts unfold cement picnics<br />
and spells for athletics<br />
between the arable suburbs.<br />
My calories propagate them<br />
like strange, tiny stars.<br />
I close my eyes.<br />
I cry “Oh cryptic murmurs<br />
listing within my Doppler!”<br />
I slow down, find a great hotel<br />
for my wind to get wasted in.<br />
I go poolside<br />
and ash there a while.<br />
My friend, when it comes to the sweaters,<br />
you are not the wool:<br />
you are the insane gigantic bear design.<br />
I will think of you if I ever see a bear.<br />
I mean, whenever.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-54464187585776418382012-05-03T08:56:00.000-07:002012-05-03T08:57:43.741-07:00Interview at HTMLGIANT<a href="http://htmlgiant.com/author-spotlight/to-remember-this-idea-after-waking-an-interview-with-christopher-deweese/">It's not every day you get interviewed by Blake Butler, especially if you are, in fact, me.</a>
In other news:
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_djYeu-MX1YM/R-Qc6OVdpEI/AAAAAAAAEOk/s0Y2WWieWjA/s400/Playing-music-with-a-piano-on-fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="294" width="393" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_djYeu-MX1YM/R-Qc6OVdpEI/AAAAAAAAEOk/s0Y2WWieWjA/s400/Playing-music-with-a-piano-on-fire.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-63050454351602838792012-04-13T05:56:00.002-07:002012-04-13T06:01:51.411-07:00Juniper Festival and an Interview<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eBfBgnV5hnw/TdrzyeFSt6I/AAAAAAAAibk/wwSMaWYD_5w/s1600/black_forest_germany.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 480px; height: 360px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eBfBgnV5hnw/TdrzyeFSt6I/AAAAAAAAibk/wwSMaWYD_5w/s1600/black_forest_germany.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />The Juniper Festival is this weekend! <a href="http://www.umass.edu/english/MFA_JuniperFestival.htm">So many good people will be in town to read their poems and stories and to buy and sell beautiful books and magazines and chapbooks</a>!I will be reading from <a href="http://www.spdbooks.org/Producte/9780980193893/the-black-forest.aspx">The Black Forest</a> on Saturday at noon at the UMass Fine Arts Center. <br /><br />Also, an interview! I made one, with the help of the poet Brian Foley. The interview is up <a href="http://thecommonmag.tumblr.com/post/21003473380/clock-makers-and-tourists-an-interview-between-brian">here at The Common's Tumblr page</a> and is full of my thoughts on witches, Calvino's Italian Folk Tales, and the "real" Black Forest.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-47888481610300999272012-02-01T12:59:00.002-08:002012-03-12T20:39:11.794-07:00THE BLACK FORESTMy first book of poems, The Black Forest, looks like this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PbmXQ9D9gas/Tymn_9by_YI/AAAAAAAAAJY/kYiM52Emcag/s1600/DEWEESE%2BCOVER%2BFINAL%2B10000%2BCROP.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 205px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PbmXQ9D9gas/Tymn_9by_YI/AAAAAAAAAJY/kYiM52Emcag/s320/DEWEESE%2BCOVER%2BFINAL%2B10000%2BCROP.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704275120306191746" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.spdbooks.org/Producte/9780980193893/the-black-forest.aspx"> It is available from Small Press Distribution. They will send it fast! </a><br /><br /><br />"These poems sock home truth and enact poetic somersaults that leave me out of breath. It's a pleasure to recommend them to anyone brave enough. Chris DeWeese is the real thing, a poet true to his calling." <br /><br /> — James Tate<br /><br /> <br />"Christopher DeWeese's The Black Forest is a world that splinters into halves, fourths, and thirds all at once. The book is actually a forest, or it is many forests, and they're all ones we know, but they don't look the way we remember. When the book ends, we feel very brave, as if we have gone through the tall and muted trees into the darkest place of all, a place of fundamental urges. DeWeese has painted this forest for us so we might see clearly into the fall." <br /><br /> —Dorothea LaskyUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-65569590260437260212011-10-09T07:36:00.000-07:002011-10-09T07:41:30.254-07:00LEAVES LIKE WOAH<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2011/10/06/article-2045984-0006794800000258-604_634x342.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 634px; height: 342px;" src="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2011/10/06/article-2045984-0006794800000258-604_634x342.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I live in Northampton now/again. It's good to be back here.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-69093558532157776592011-06-03T12:58:00.000-07:002011-06-03T13:00:52.186-07:00POEM BY GUNTER EICHQUOTATION FROM NORWAY<br /><br /><br /><br />We continue to think<br />the grass on the rooftops,<br />leave the fjords to the left,<br />partisans of the fog.<br />Where can you cry<br />in this country?<br />The lemmings<br />have gone into the sea.<br />The tobacco pouches<br />of polar explorers<br />preserve Time<br />in little crumbs.<br /><br /><br />-Gunter Eich, Trans. David YoungUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-19835458383980611822011-04-28T12:12:00.000-07:002011-04-28T12:18:24.252-07:00"The Narrows" featured at The Common<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lib.washington.edu/specialcoll/exhibits/tnb/fall7b.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 422px; height: 347px;" src="http://www.lib.washington.edu/specialcoll/exhibits/tnb/fall7b.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.thecommononline.org/">The Common</a> is a new print journal dedicated to work that explores a sense of place. It is based out of Amherst College. The first issue is really gorgeous, and I am happy to have two poems in it. One of the poems, "The Narrows," is this week's feature on the Common Online. <a href="http://www.thecommononline.org/home">Check it out</a>! These poems are the first two published from a new manuscript I have been writing for the past year, and I am very excited to have them out in the world.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-26731289953065561402011-01-14T09:14:00.000-08:002011-01-14T09:29:54.791-08:00Everybody and His Uncle by Ron Padgett<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.aboutlaketahoe.com/images/jump-in-lake/echo-lake.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 734px; height: 483px;" src="http://www.aboutlaketahoe.com/images/jump-in-lake/echo-lake.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />You know what is a great magazine? The Sienese Shredder is what. This Ron Padgett poem is from their first issue, published in 2006. I feel like I've been leasing a room in this poem for the past year. "total illusion/and total reality at the same time" = YES<br /><br /><br /><br />EVERYBODY AND HIS UNCLE<br /><br />I was waiting to happen.<br />At a stoplight<br />the buildings curved up from my ears,<br />office buildings<br />with offices in them and people<br />doing office things, pencils<br />and paper clips, telephone rings—<br />Where is that report?<br />At Echo Lake the vacationers<br />have made the city only slightly<br />emptier, how did they get there?<br />By station wagon and dogsled<br />in the “old” days. The forest ranger<br />was Bob. He said we could spell his name<br />backwards if we wanted, then<br />our laughter vanished into his tallness.<br />I thought maybe he was not a forest ranger,<br />just a guy named Bob, but<br />it turned out he was part of the echo<br />of everything around there, which radiated<br />out a few short miles before the farmland set in.<br />The farmland had waited to happen<br />and then it did, just as it knew it would.<br />A farmhouse appeared and a front porch<br />and on it sat my Uncle Roy. He was very farmer.<br />Get on this horse, he said.<br />But the horse said, Don’t.<br />I would prefer to play baseball, I said.<br />Later we took Rena Faye to the hospital.<br />Darn that horse, Roy said, when his ears<br />laid back I saw trouble. The light changed,<br />my shoes went across the street<br />while I rose straight up into the high part of the air<br />so as to form a right angle<br />with the dotted line that lit up behind my shoes<br />as they turned into pots of gold<br />receding into that smaller and smaller thing<br />we call distance. But I was already there<br />in the distance, I had been waiting my whole life<br />to be wherever I should be at any given moment,<br />a ring around not anything. Wake up, Rena Faye,<br />said Roy, we need to take you to the hospital.<br />She gave us the most beautiful smile<br />but it bounced off our faces and we forgot<br />to pick it up and put it somewhere safe.<br />It’s probably still lying there on the road<br />in front of the house. Come to think<br />of it, I did pick mine up<br />as I looked out the back window of the car,<br />and as we skirted Echo Lake<br />everything got twice as big and then three times,<br />like laughter and hiccoughs flying among children<br />whose immortality has turned them<br />into temporary rubber statues of curvature in confusion<br />that slides into the appeasement of early evening.<br />That is, Rena Faye felt better, at least she was able<br />to know there was a bump on her head, and inside<br />the bump a small red devil running furiously in place.<br />Rena Faye is going to be okay, said Roy,<br />but I wasn’t so sure, there was a doctor involved<br />and a hospital with a lot of white in it.<br />The house hadn’t changed, but the barn<br />was gone and the land stretched out flat<br />to far away. The horse was still waiting, for what<br />who knows? I was waiting at the light, and when it changed<br />I went on across the street<br />to where another part of town was waiting,<br />it was Europe and I was in or on it,<br />I had Europe touching my foot, the train<br />was pointing its big nose toward the Gare St-Lazare,<br />where you wake up even if you aren’t asleep.<br />Rena Faye opened her eyes and said, “I don’t think . . .”<br />and then a funny look<br />came across the street toward me, the one big horrible face<br />of surging forward, but I was like whatever bends<br />but doesn’t break because I didn’t give a whit about any of it,<br />I was in the forest and my name was almost Bob and the trees<br />didn’t care about any of it either because tallness can’t care.<br />Roy wasn’t really my uncle, we just called him that.<br />When the sun rose his new picture window could be seen through<br />to the lone mimosa tree, its pink blossoms smiling frizzily,<br />and a car went by, not a Chevrolet or a Ford,<br />not a green or blue car,<br />just a car, with a person driving it. My notebook<br />and its pencils were ready to go and I<br />moved toward them as if music had replaced the sludge<br />we call air. I.e., Swiss cheese had become gruyère.<br />The car started, then rolled back and stopped.<br />We got out and looked, then kicked ourselves. Moon,<br />is that what that is, that sliver? I was thinking,<br />the car was not thinking, my pencils were almost thinking,<br />all three of them, but they took too long and so<br />time went on ahead without them.<br />Then an angel from the side touched my head inside<br />and my head outside surrounded less and less.<br />His wristwatch is a street, green, yellow, blue, and open<br />as a meadow in which your parents are grazing<br />because the fodder and forage are stored away<br />in the kitchen cabinet too high for them to reach<br />with their muzzles. And lo the other parents are mooing<br />plaintively, tethered to an idea they like to dislike:<br />The fox is free. Silly old cows, the fox is never free,<br />he is just running, and with good reason, and with good legs,<br />from the ooga-ooga. Brrrrring!<br />Waterfall of afternoon!<br />And I left.<br />I went east three miles and then<br />fifteen hundred more, and then<br />three thousand five hundred more,<br />and then I turned around<br />and came back five thousand and no hundred.<br />My mother was still in the kitchen<br />standing on the yellow tiles<br />as dinner rose up out of the pots and pans<br />and hung in the air while she adjusted it.<br />Soon Dad came home and we dined<br />but he didn’t and neither did Mother<br />and neither did I. We put the food<br />in our mouths and chewed and swallowed—<br />it tasted good—and we drank liquids<br />which also tasted good although<br />they were across the room and on the wall.<br />The phone rang. It was meaningless<br />like a proton, but Mother laughed<br />and said words that were exactly the words<br />she would have said, total illusion<br />and total reality at the same time, just as<br />Dad coughed fifty years later, it was me coughing,<br />which is why I left, heading east, and stopped<br />after fifteen hundred miles, and coughed again.<br />So this is Echo Lake? Sure looks nice.<br />Ice had once gone by.<br />High overhead was an iceberg just checking on things,<br />wings folded and in flames.<br />The soul materializes in the form of an echo and says<br />“I’ve been following you.”<br />“But you are a shadow and only a shadow!”<br />“Only in the dark am I a shadow,” the soul replies.<br />“In the light I am a very good light bulb!”<br />“You are a big nothing something,” the soul says.<br />The light changes and I start across.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-70705708017536283392010-12-17T07:23:00.000-08:002010-12-17T07:25:06.630-08:00BLOODHOUND by Ivan GollBLOODHOUND<br /><br /><br /><br />Bloodhound in front of my heart<br />Watching over my fire<br />You that feed on bitter kidneys<br />In the suburb of my misery<br /><br />With the wet flame of your tongue lick<br />The salt of my sweat<br />The sugar of my death<br /><br />Bloodhound in my flesh <br />Catch the dreams that fly off from me<br />Bark at the white ghosts<br />Bring back to their pen<br />All my gazelles<br /><br />And savage the ankles of my fleeting angel<br /><br /><br /><br />-Translated by Michael HamburgerUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-29656858411548422052010-12-07T10:01:00.000-08:002010-12-07T10:07:50.865-08:00PEOPLE W/ BARRELS<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.niagarafallslive.com/images/Charles_Stephens%20.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 350px;" src="http://www.niagarafallslive.com/images/Charles_Stephens%20.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_25Kgd2MZyCo/Sg7VqIZULmI/AAAAAAAAAFw/XAXVDLCyq4o/s400/AnnieTaylorNiagaraFallsBarrel.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 203px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_25Kgd2MZyCo/Sg7VqIZULmI/AAAAAAAAAFw/XAXVDLCyq4o/s400/AnnieTaylorNiagaraFallsBarrel.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.twotuttlesfourpaws.com/images/DDredhillsr_1_.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 315px;" src="http://www.twotuttlesfourpaws.com/images/DDredhillsr_1_.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.izismile.com/img/img3/20101019/640/first_lady_of_640_01.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 450px; height: 559px;" src="http://img.izismile.com/img/img3/20101019/640/first_lady_of_640_01.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://en.wikivisual.com/images/6/65/BobbyLeachNiagaraFalls.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 640px; height: 390px;" src="http://en.wikivisual.com/images/6/65/BobbyLeachNiagaraFalls.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-21246421978346534722010-12-07T09:45:00.000-08:002010-12-07T09:52:08.683-08:00Li Po: "For Tu Fu"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://academic.brooklyn.cuny.edu/core9/phalsall/images/zhanghe3.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 301px; height: 238px;" src="http://academic.brooklyn.cuny.edu/core9/phalsall/images/zhanghe3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />FOR TU FU<br /><br />by Li Po<br /><br /><br />On Boiled Rice Mountain<br />I met Tu Fu<br /><br />wearing a big round<br />bamboo hat<br />in the hot noon sun<br /><br />Tu Fu<br />how come<br />you've grown<br />so thin?<br /><br />you must be suffering<br />too much <br />from poetry!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Translated by David YoungUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-55255607991707720482010-12-03T07:13:00.000-08:002010-12-03T07:19:26.142-08:00BENJAMIN PERET FRIDAY!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.culture.gouv.fr/culture/actualites/celebrations/images/peret.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 283px; height: 179px;" src="http://www.culture.gouv.fr/culture/actualites/celebrations/images/peret.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I'LL GO HOW ABOUT YOU<br />by Benjamin Peret<br /><br /><br />There was a big house<br />with a fire diver swimming on it<br /><br />There was a big house <br />surrounded with kepis and golden helmets<br /><br />There was a big house<br />full of glass and blood<br /><br />There was a big house<br />standing in the middle of a swamp<br /><br />There was a big house<br />whose master was made of straw<br />whose master was a beech tree<br />whose master was a letter<br />whose master was a hair<br />whose master was a rose<br />whose master was a sigh<br />whose master was a sharp turn<br />whose master was a vampire<br />whose master was a mad cow<br />whose master was a kick<br />whose master was a cavernous voice<br />whose master was a tornado<br />whose master was a capsized boat<br />whose master was the cheek of an ass<br />whose master was the Carmagnole<br />whose master was violent death<br /><br />Tell me tell me where is the big house<br /><br /><br />Translated by Keith HollamanUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-39162569940443693822010-12-01T10:08:00.000-08:002010-12-01T10:14:02.573-08:00FINALLY A GOOD TRANSLATION OF 'SEA BREEZE'<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.simplonpc.co.uk/CunardJPEGs/RVSun17_SeabournSun.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 448px; height: 296px;" src="http://www.simplonpc.co.uk/CunardJPEGs/RVSun17_SeabournSun.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /> SEA BREEZE<br />by Stephane Mallarme<br /><br /> The flesh is sad, and I've read all the books. Away! away! I sense<br />the birds are drunk on being between the unknown foam and the skies!<br />Nothing, not the old gardens reflected in eyes will hold back this<br />sea-soaked heart, O nights! not the desert brilliance of my lamp on the<br />empty paper defended by whiteness, and not the young woman nursing <br />her baby. I will depart! Steamer, rocking your masts, weigh anchor for <br />an exotic nature!<br /><br />A boredom, aggrieved by cruel hopes, still believes in the last farewell<br />of handkerchiefs! And maybe the masts, inviting storms, are the ones<br />listing in wind above the shipwrecks lost, with no masts, no masts, no<br />fertile islets ... But hear, o heart, the master-singing sailors! <br /><br /><br /><br />Translation: Peter MansonUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-82069869569274165572010-11-28T19:59:00.000-08:002010-11-28T20:01:55.781-08:00I LOVE MAX JACOB<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fightingarts.com/content00/graphics/Savate01.gif"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 159px;" src="http://fightingarts.com/content00/graphics/Savate01.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />ADVENTURE NOVEL BY MAX JACOB<br /><br />Then it's true! Here am I like Philoctetes! abandoned by the ship on an unknown cliff, because my foot hurts. The unfortunate thing is that my trousers were torn off by the sea. Upon inquiry I find that I am nowhere else but on the shores of chaste England. "I shall soon find a policeman!" Which is what happened: a policeman who spoke French. "You don't recognize me," he said in that language, "I'm the husband of your English maid!" There was a reason for my not recognizing him: I never had an English maid: he led me into a neighboring town concealing my nudity with leaves as well as possible, and there he took me to a tailor. And, as I was about to pay: "Quite unnecessary," he told me, "Secret fund of the police" or "Of politeness": I didn't quite catch the word.<br /><br /><br /><br />-translated by John AshberyUnknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-79334212946413179492010-10-27T08:47:00.000-07:002010-10-27T08:56:29.864-07:00Rain<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fiftyonefiftyone.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/10/glowsticking_at_rave.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 543px;" src="http://fiftyonefiftyone.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/10/glowsticking_at_rave.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I woke up on Monday morning to the threat of tornado, a "tornado watch" they call it. I realized that I have no idea what to do if a tornado hits. In the Northwest, they only trained us to be prepared for earthquakes. It seems like when you move to a different state, you should get some kind of a handbook, "What Terrible Things to Expect Here." It would only be fair. <br /><br />I read this poem on Verse Daily yesterday, and really enjoy it. I thought I'd share it here; it seems good to share poems by people I don't know. This poem is by Marc Rahe. It is from his book <span style="font-style:italic;">The Smaller Half</span>, which is available from <a href="http://www.rescue-press.org/">Rescue Press</a>.<br /><br />Late<br /> <br /><br />The cold night is starry.<br />The starlight has no warmth.<br />A loved one is standing<br />farther away, farther<br />than I can see.<br />The sky is getting darker<br />earlier. December's well-lit nights.<br />Sometimes waiting alone<br />after work, I feel<br />like I'm watching magic<br />on the window.<br />Like somewhere<br />white gloves raise to music<br />and there are car lights<br />passing streetlights.<br />The light inside the coke machine<br />outside the car wash across the avenue<br />is the same as the light of the stoplight.<br />That the light could almost change color<br />and mean its opposite.<br />Doesn't white, white snow turn<br />to spring flood? Can't a blue horizon<br />fill with warning? These things<br />happen. They're possible.<br />I have no music,<br />but sometimes when I'm waiting<br />I get patient.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870579724491190404.post-39093282766646921672010-10-12T14:55:00.000-07:002010-10-12T14:58:00.129-07:00THE BLACK FOREST<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3OijpozBwp8/TLTZsWgTmDI/AAAAAAAAAFk/lCSmiH8tt5c/s1600/Spectrum.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 220px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3OijpozBwp8/TLTZsWgTmDI/AAAAAAAAAFk/lCSmiH8tt5c/s400/Spectrum.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527281998668994610" /></a><br /><br />Octopus Books will publish my first book, The Black Forest, in 2011!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1