19
Apr
14

Journals That Accept Long Poems

Here is yet another list for poets. I will update this as I can. Each journal name is also a link to the submission page.

If you know of journals that accept long poems, please leave a note in the comments section, and I’ll add it. Thanks. //

Journal Journal Medium Submission Type Simultaneous Submission: Yes/No
Alaska Quarterly Review Print Mail Yes
Angle Journal of Poetry in English Online Electronic Yes
Arroyo Literary Review Print Mail Yes
Artful Dodge Print Mail Yes
At Length Online Electronic Yes (Not verified)
Beloit Poetry Journal Print Mail and Electronic No
Birmingham Poetry Review Print Mail Yes
Blackbird: an online journal of literature and the arts Online Mail or Electronic Yes
Diode Online Electronic Yes
Georgia Review Print Mail or Electronic plus fee No
Gettysburg Review Print Mail Yes
Heavy Feather Review Print Electronic Yes
Long Poem Magazine (England) Print Electronic No
Michigan Quarterly Review Print Mail Yes
Missouri Review Print Electronic Yes
New England Review Print Electronic plus fee No
Nimrod Print Mail Yes (Not verified)
Pedestal Magazine Print Electronic Yes
Permafrost Print Electronic Yes
Prime Number Magazine Online Electronic Yes
Rattle Print Mail and Electronic Yes
Rhino Print Mail and Electronic Yes
Seattle Review Print Mail and Electronic No
Southern Indiana Review Print Mail and Electronic Yes
Southern Humanities Review Print Mail and Electronic Yes
storySouth Online Electronic Yes
Sugar House Review Print Electronic Yes
Tusculum Review Print Mail Yes
Virginia Quarterly Review Print Electronic Yes

Lats updated 4-22-14 4:41 p.m. 29 journals.//

06
Apr
14

Tree Signs Along the Longleaf Trace

From about mile 1.5 to mile 3 of The Longleaf Trace, there’s a stretch where signs appear indicating various trees along The Longleaf Trace. I took a picture of each sign for curiosity, future nostalgia, and for a series of poems I’m working on. I assume there are more trees, such as the bamboo and lilac trees I have spotted but that are not marked. (I’m not good with identifying trees, but I can identify those two.) If you know of more trees along the Trace, please leave a comment thanks.

The order of these pictures are in the order as I encountered them. I walked west for the first part, so I took a picture of the tree signs on my right-hand sign, or towards the north. Then I turned around and walked east, and took pictures on my right-hand side, again, but this time to the south. The last of the north signs is, I think, “Sweetgum,” which is right at the 5K marker.

Chinese Tallow Tree

Chinese Tallow Tree

Blackgum

Blackgum

Yaupon

Yaupon

 

Sparkleberry

Sparkleberry

Post Oak

Post Oak

Shortleaf Pine

Shortleaf Pine

Sassafras

Sassafras

Tulip Poplar

Tulip Poplar

Loblolly Pine

Loblolly Pine

Longleaf Pine

Longleaf Pine

Eastern Dogwood

Eastern Dogwood

Beautyberry

Beautyberry

Elliott's Blueberry

Elliott’s Blueberry

Southern Magnolia

Southern Magnolia

Sweetgum

Sweetgum

Blackjack Oak

Blackjack Oak

Supplejack

Supplejack

Crabapple

Crabapple

Crabapple and Supplejack

Crabapple and Supplejack

Groundsel Tree

Groundsel Tree

Wax Myrtle

Wax Myrtle

Hornbeam

Hornbeam

//

The Longleaf Trace, if you don’t know, was once a railroad track, but it has been converted into a long walking and biking path. It begins at The University of Southern Mississippi campus and goes west 40.2 miles until it ends in Prentiss, Mississippi. More officially:

This is South Mississippi’s premier running, biking, hiking, equestrian trail. It is a beautiful linear park,  41 miles long and fairly flat (a rails-to-trails conversion), extending  from Hattiesburg (elevation 220′) through Sumrall (290′), Bassfield (460′), and Carson to Prentiss (336′). The trail is 10 feet wide and paved with asphalt. It has been extended to the USM campus, and negotiations are underway to acquire the right of way to downtown Hattiesburg. And can you imagine the impact of someday extending it from Prentiss to Natchez, thus connecting it to the Natchez Trace and Mississippi River Trails? (www.longleaftrace.org)

//

17
Mar
14

Reading for the Powder Horn Prize

thelinebreak:

This is a contest for a first book of poems. It is run by my friend who makes beautiful books. He’s also the editor of Rock & Sling out of Whitworth University. You can also read my interview with him here: http://thelinebreak.wordpress.com/2013/01/29/interview-with-rock-sling-editor-thom-caraway/

Originally posted on Sage Hill Press:

Powder Horn III will be judged by Kevin Goodan, author of Upper Level Disturbances (Center for Literary Publishing, 2012), Winter Tenor (Alice James, 2009), and In the Ghost-House Acquainted (Alice James, 2004). He teaches at Lewis & Clark College in Lewiston, Idaho.

To submit your manuscript, please use our online submissions manager. Click here for access.

The Powder Horn Prize is a first book award for poetry. Manuscripts should be 48+ pages in length. The author should not have previously published a full-length collection, though she may have published chapbooks.

The reading fee is $25. Entry deadline is June 1, 2014.

For questions, email sagehillpress@yahoo.com.

View original

03
Mar
14

Thing and All: Reading W. C. Williams Spring and All Through a Thing Theory Lens

Below I read William Carlos Williams Spring and All through a Thing Theory lens in an attempt to understand “Thing Theory.” My understanding of Thing Theory may not be complete, so if you have suggestions and/or want to clear up any of my misunderstandings, please leave a comment below.

//

Thing and All 

A Sense of Things: The Object Matter of American LiteratureIn Bill Brown’s “Introduction” to A Sense of Things: The Object Matter of American Literature, he makes a comment about Williams Carlos Williams and Williams’s Spring and All when he writes, Williams “seems to understand the process of wresting things away from life and experience to be the essential dynamic of the artist’s endeavor” (2). Later on, however, Brown misunderstands the meaning of Williams “no ideas but in things,” a quote from Williams that appears a few years later than Spring and All in the poem “Paterson.” In that misunderstanding, Brown also misses out on an opportunity to read Spring and All through a Thing Theory lens. By reading Spring and All through a Thing Theory lens, and asking some of the questions Brown asks in “Introduction” about how to read literature, Thing Theory can illuminate how Williams enables the reader of his poems to see things as aesthetic items devoid of utilitarian value and to objectify latent pleasure within the thing as beauty.

Thing Theory’s main focus is on things, especially in relation to objects, or how things transform into objects and objects into things. For Brown, a thing can be encountered in two manners, and in either manner “we only catch a glimpse of things” (Brown “Thing Theory” 4) before they are transformed into objects. One way is to encounter an item is to interact with it as a percept, or thing, before language intervenes and transforms the thing into an object with meaning. Perhaps this can best be explained by seeing something for the first time and not knowing what it is, or imagining a baby first perceiving an item, or even imagining how an animal might witness an item for the first time – all occurrences are in a sudden pre-linguistic state. It is from this “amorphousness out of which objects are materialized by the (ap)perceiving subject” (5). The other way to encounter a thing is to “imagine things [. . .] as what is excessive in objects” (5). That is to say, objects are things that have accumulated meaning (whether from culture, tradition, history, etc.) or have a use value, and to strip away those meanings and utilitarian values is to find or encounter the thing as it really is. Brown points out that “We begin to confront the thingness of objects when they stop working for us” (5). For instance, if a person has a flashlight and the batteries in it die, then the flashlight can no longer beam light. Instead of a flashlight, the person now holds a cylinder of plastic with no use value. As a result, the relation between the object and subject change, where the subject is the perceiver of the thing/object, user of the thing/object, or the person who gives the thing meaning or name. With a flashlight that doesn’t beam light, the subject has to create a new relation with the plastic thing, which the subject could render useless or transform into something new, like a hammer. In other words, as Steven Connor points out, “Objects are what we know, objects are things that know their place, and whose place we know” (1), and once the subject no longer knows the object, it loses its use value, or the object loses its place, the object becomes a thing. Much of Modern poetry is also concerned with the thing, and it tries to rediscover objects or relocate them into environments where they have new meanings and aesthetic values. This can be done in a variety of ways, such as using the mythic method or through non-representational means. As a result, Thing Theory becomes a useful tool for reading poetry from the Modernism era, especially in order “to imagine a work of art as a different mode of mimesis – not one that serves a thing, but one that seeks to attain the status of thing” (“Brown “Introduction” 3).

The fundamental impulse of Modernist poetry is to find or create utopia. For some poets, such as T. S. Eliot and W. B. Yeats, this utopia is found in the past, and for other poets, such William Carlos Williams and Wallace Stevens, this utopia is in the future or what can be created now. These poets who find utopia in the past, or mythic poets as Roy Harvey Pearce calls them, see history as static and believe that there are a set of beliefs that hold true everywhere and at all times. Without these beliefs, T. S. Eliot’s objective correlative could not exist, because its underlying premise is that there are symbols that speak to all people in the same way. For the mythic poets, the past is something a person wants to return to because it holds an existence as it should be. These poets use objects and all the cultural, linguistic, traditional, mythic, and historical residue that has accumulated on them over the centuries as a means of expression. For Eliot, to use an object or symbol is for him to use all the meanings and allusions that are associated with that word or object and then relocate the object into a new environment. For him, the rose, for example, will carry all the symbolism and tradition that comes with the rose.

The poets who see utopia in the future or as a form of creation, however, think differently. These poets, or the Adamic poets as Roy Harvey Pearce calls them, want to break from this tradition. These poets want to scrape off all the cultural, linguistic, traditional, mythic, and historical accumulation and residue that has gathered on an object in order to see the thing again and then to recreate the thing into a new object in order to create and direct the foundational terms of culture. The poet wants his/her audience to feel a rupture from their expectations of art and how they live. An example of this rupture happening occurs with William Carlos Williams’s Spring and All.

Spring and AllSpring and All is collection of poems and prose pieces that was released in 1923 from Contact Publishing in a print run of 300 copies, and it acts and often reads as a manifesto to what poetry should do in the modern era, at least what Williams wants to do, anyway. It acts in a manner to support what Williams will say a few years later in his poem “Paterson” (which precedes by a number of years the epic poem Paterson), “no ideas but in things,” and this “no idea but in things” is at the heart of Thing Theory despite Brown’s misunderstanding of it in his “Introduction” to A Sense of Things, where Brown writes:

Williams’s creed [“no idea but in things”] violates his own poetic practice of rendering things – “a red wheel / barrow” – in their opacity, not their transparency. “No ideas but in things” should be read as a slip of the pen: a claim – on behalf of replacing abstractions with physical facts – that unwittingly invests objects with interiority, whereas Williams meant to evacuate objects of their insides and to arrest their doubleness, their vertiginous capacity to be both things and signs (symbols, metonyms, or metaphors) of something else. (11)

Since Brown refers to the now very well-known poem “The Red Wheelbarrow,” or “XXII” as it appears in Spring and All (see “Attachment A: ‘The Red Wheelbarrow’”), I can point out Brown’s misunderstandings while at the same time viewing the poem through the Thing Theory lens. Just prior to this poem are three other poems and a little over two pages of prose. In the prose sections of this book, Williams sets up points of his manifesto for a new poetry and/or how the old poetry is no longer adequate. The prose sections are then followed with an example of what he means or wants to accomplish by presenting one of his poems or a group of poems that perform what the prose has said it wants poetry to perform. In the prose section before “The Red Wheelbarrow,” one concern for Williams is to mark the distinctions between prose and poetry and between fact and imagination. For Williams, prose is a “statement of facts concerning emotions, intellectual states, data of all sorts – technical expositions, jargon, of all sorts – fictional and other” (219), and prose “is the accuracy of its subject matter” (219). Poetry, however, is a “new form dealt with as a reality itself” (219) and is “related to the movements of the imagination revealed in words – or whatever it may be –” (219). Natalie Gerber explains Williams’s distinctions more clearly:

Poetry’s organization frees words from their usual discursive burdens of making and securing meanings. Whereas the form of prose is determined by its need to present an exposition of facts, poetry situates words as the transcription of immediate perceptions that are serially considered and modified, and yield in turn to further clarifications. (13)

In other words, Williams is rendering things, and the rendering is accomplished through the imagination rendering things physical as they are, or rendering their opacity and not their transparency. Turning back to “The Red Wheelbarrow,” we can see Williams’s idea in practice. The first two lines of the poem open in abstraction, “so much depends / upon” before it turns to the physical world. So on one level, Brown is partially correct, as Williams is replacing the abstractions with physical facts. However, Williams’s poem is actually moving like the imagination through words. The opening of the poem, and the prose that precedes it, is actually cleansing the reader’s lenses of perception in order to see new again (to re-see) and not necessarily replacing abstractions with the physical. As Brown says in a different essay, “Thing Theory,”:

The story of objects asserting themselves as things, then, is the story of a changed relation to the human subject and thus the story of how the thing really names less an object than a particular subject-object relation. (4)

This is what Williams is doing. He is changing the relation of the subject and object. And what’s being named are not the objects but the reader coming out of abstractions (“so much depends / upon”) and then seeing, as if for the first time, a red wheelbarrow. Actually, first the reader sees “a red wheel” and then, after the line break (“a red wheel / barrow”), the reader sees a red wheelbarrow in full. The reader’s relationship has changed thrice. Twice by looking at the thing before and after the line break and once by looking though the dependency – “so much depends / upon” (“The Red Wheelbarrow” 1-2). In addition, the reader sees the wheelbarrow in a stationary position. It is not being used to carry or move anything, such as mulch, feed, or seeds. The wheelbarrow has no utilitarian value. In fact, one could say, as Brown does, “You could imagine things [. . .] as what is excessive in objects, as what exceeds their mere materialization as objects or their mere utilization as objects” (“Thing Theory” 5). In other words, an object becomes a thing when the object loses its use value, as the wheelbarrow does here. But the wheelbarrow does gain another value – an aesthetic value – and not only because it is in a poem. It is because it is red. There is no need to paint a wheelbarrow, unless it is made of metal so as to protect it from rust. This wheelbarrow from 1923, however, was most likely a wooden wheelbarrow, and would not require coloring, except for aesthetic reasons. In fact, the paint, adds to the opacity of the thing, and not the transparency that Brown thought, as mentioned earlier. In addition, the wheelbarrow acquires value but not of a productive labor value, but it acquires the value that arises from the new subject-object relation, and this relation is an aesthetic relation. In addition, Williams redefines the object of the wheelbarrow, he strips it of its traditional use value and associations as a tool of labor, and returns the wheelbarrow to its thingness. Then, because he is a modern Adamic poet, Williams transforms the thing into a new object, or rather, Williams enables the reader to transform the thing into an object.

Thing Theory has other issues it is concerned with besides transforming objects into things and then into new objects. Some of the concerns can be addressed by answering the questions Brown asks about literature but by rephrasing those questions as questions concerning Williams’s Spring and All, such as: what does Spring and All do “with objects” (Brown “Introduction” 16)?; how does Spring and All “reinvest the subject/object dialectic with its temporal dimension” (16)?; does Williams turning things into objects, as a result, objectify the subject (17)?; and “how do objects mediate relations between subjects, and how do subject mediate the relation between objects” (18)? A reading of the poem “The Rose,” the only unnumbered poem in Spring and All (see “Attachment B: ‘The Rose’”), will help to answer these questions in relation to Spring and All, as a whole.

The first line of Williams’s “The Rose” is “The rose is obsolete,” but before the rose can become obsolete, Williams first must make the world surrounding the rose obsolete in order “[t]o refine, to clarify, to intensify that eternal moment in which we live” (Spring and All 178). Williams realizes “[t]here is a constant barrier between the reader and his consciousness of immediate contact with the world” (177), and much of the barrier comes from cultural, linguistic, traditional, mythic, symbolic, and historical barriers, and most of these barriers come from Europe. These barriers, according to Travis Timmons, prevent “us from making contact with and engaging the rose. So Williams’s poem [“The Rose”] seeks to recover this sort of encounter with the rose” (41). To accomplish removing the barrier, Williams declares war on Europe:

Tomorrow we the people of the United States are going to Europe armed to kill every man, woman and child in the area west of the Carpathian Mountains (also east) sparing none. [. . .] Kill! kill! the English, the Irish, the French, the Germans, the Italians, and the rest: friends or enemies, it makes no difference, kill them all. The bridge is to be blown up. (178-79)

When “the annihilation of every human creature on the face of the earth” has occurred, when this “holocaust” (179) is completed, when the destruction of the bridge to the past and European cultural values, symbols, and meanings, “[t]hen at last will the world be made anew” (179). The imagination previously “intoxicated by prohibitions” (179) will be freed. A new spring will rise, a new spring witnessed through the perception of poetry and seeing the thing blossom and “with a full realization of the meaning of ‘art’” (181).

As a result, Williams has established a world of things. A place where objects no longer have use value or meaning, and a place with a new subject-thing relation and the potential for a new subject-object relation. Williams has established a place where “The rose is obsolete” (“The Rose” 1). Meaning, the rose with all its European cultural, traditional, sentimental, symbolic, etc. accumulation and residue on the rose have been removed, so the rose is just a rose, which recalls Gertrude Stein’s a “Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose” (“Sacred Emily” 187). What follows in Williams’s “The Rose” is the reconstruction of the rose, and as a result, the relation between subject and thing is reconstructed and “the oneness of experience” (Spring and All 194) is revealed.

In order to accomplish this, the reader needs to know how to re-see, or to see things as if for the first time. The prose section preceding the poem helps the reader understand how they can now use their imagination as a “means of expression, the essential nature of technique or transcription” (193) of reconstruction. The imagination, however, is only a tool. There is also a process of how the “subject mediate[s] the relation between objects” (Brown “Introduction” 18). This process, the process Williams will use in “The Rose” and other poems, uses the new Modern art techniques of Cubism and artist Juan Gris, as explained in the paragraph before “The Rose,” where Williams says, “the attempt is being made to separate things of the imagination from life [. . .] by using the forms common to experience so as not to frighten the onlooker away but to invite him,” (Spring and All 194). Notice how the paragraph ends with a comma before the poem begins. The comma separates, but it also invites. A period would be an end, but the comma suggests to the reader to continue. This comma is the first hint at the new technique of seeing anew – the collage method. The comma acts as place to begin the juxtapositions. On a literal level, it’s the juxtaposition of prose and poem, but it also hints at the workings of the poem, where the passive is juxtaposed with the active, and nature is juxtaposed with the mechanical, mathematical, artistic, metallurgy, romance, and the metaphysical.

After the opening line, the rose becomes active. Each rose petal’s edge is “cementing,” “cuts,” “meets,” and “renews / itself.” The rose through its actions is trying to define itself. In fact, at this point, the subject is a passive observer watching the rose redefine itself. Soon the subject’s passiveness becomes active and is actively perceiving the rose, “so that to engage roses / becomes a geometry” (12-13). In just these first few lines, the thing has imposed on the subject and then the subject has imposed on the thing. However, neither has redefined the other. The rose is still a rose, as the subject has not attached value or meanings to it. The rose is just asserting opacity through action. The subject while engaging the rose geometrically, realizing how its shape interacts with space, how its shape defines space and space defines the rose, the subject has still not recreated the rose. The rose is still a rose, and the subject is still learning how to interact with a thing, and to interact with the thing in the moment. The subject has not imposed old meanings and symbolic associations on to the rose nor has the subject made assumptions about the rose. At this moment, perhaps subject and thing are both things. The subject, yet defined, is only perceiving, and the thing, without meanings, has only begun to enter the new space. This new space will be collaged, and as we will see later, will become a place of definition.

“The Rose” begins with descriptive terms borrowed from the world of construction: “cementing,” “columns,” “metal,” and “porcelain”; then the poem brings in the mathematical term “geometry” (and later “infinitely”); moves to artistic terms, such as “majolica,” “plate,” and “glazed”; then moves to metallurgy with terms like “copper roses” and “steel roses”; then moves to romance with “love”; and eventually will end in the metaphysical world as the rose “penetrates / the Milky Way” and then “penetrates space.” Each one of the description presents a unique way of encounter the rose. It’s a collage of encounters, but each encounter uses the “forms common to experience” (Spring and All 194). Each encounter repositions the subject to have a new relation with the thing. That is, the subject can now choose how to interpret the rose. This is especially true in the fourth stanza, where the impression of a rose is given:

     Sharper, neater, more cutting
     figure in majolica –
     the broken plate
     glazed with a rose
                         (14-17)

On this plate, was a mimetic representation of a rose, and it was an even more precise rendering of the rose, as it was “Sharper, neater, more cutting” (14). This representation was made by a person (or subject) or a machine programmed by a person, but now the plate is broken and so is the image of the rose. Much like the war Williams waged on Europe, this broken plate has freed the rose from another form of representation. The mimetic rose is shattered. Its broken self is now only a collage of fragments. As a result, the plate no longer has use value and it no longer has aesthetic value, or it has the potential for newly rendered aesthetic value but without use value. The broken object, now a thing because its use value has been removed, forces the subject to interact with it in a new way. More important, though, is that the poem has forced the reader to interact with a mimetic rose stripped of its “glazed” context as well as a natural rose stripped of symbolism, tradition, cultural, and historic contexts. As a result, “Williams’s solution [to creating a thing] in this poem is to disavow the ‘crude symbolism’ accrued around the rose by creating a present moment in which the rose happens to us as an artistic event” (Timmons 41-42). The subject-thing relationship has changed for the second time, and it will change a third time, too.

Before the third transformation, however, the rose needs to be stripped of its only remaining association – its romantic associations. The rose needs to have the heavy symbolism of love removed from it because “love is at an end – of roses” (22). The rose can no longer be associated with love, at least not in same ways it has been for centuries. This love is now “at the edge of the / petal” (23-4), where the petal cuts into space, the space of renewal, as indicated in the first stanza. And while love waits there, in the next stanza it’s as if the rose has finally lost all its virility and is now impotent:

     Crisp, worked to defeat
     laboredness – fragile
     plucked, moist, half-raised
     cold, precise, touching
                                (25-28)

It’s delicate, limp, and without passion. All the accrued meanings of the rose have finally been removed and removed using mechanical, natural, and sensual word descriptions, which are the same types of words that tried to re-render the rose in this poem. In Gerber’s words, “Instead of confirming words in their emotional implications, this organization liberates words from their emotions. Words no longer convey ‘facts’ but are experienced as facts in themselves” (13). And this leads to the third transformation – the rose as poem.

In his “Introduction,” Bill Brown wonders: “The question of things becomes a question about whether the literary object should be understood as the object that literature represents or the object that literature has as its aim, the object that literature is” (3). In other words, is the poem a symbol of literature, much like the rose is a symbol of love, or is the poem a thing waiting to be rendered a literary object with meanings? Is the literary entity, such as a poem or collection of poems, mimetic, representational, or creative? To begin answering these questions, “The Red Wheelbarrow” needs to be revisited.

“The Red Wheelbarrow” is a 16-word sentence, and as Hugh Kenner points out in A Homemade World: The American Modernist, it is without rhetorical situation (59-60). It’s not a sentence, he thinks, that anyone would ever say, and if it was said, the person who heard it would “wince” (60). This sentence is really a collage of three items (wheelbarrow, rain water, and chickens) and one abstraction (the opening stanza) and is held together by three prepositions (“upon,” “with,” and “beside”). The poem has linguistic elements, though it lacks punctuation and rhetorical situation. In that sense, it’s not a traditional literary item, at least not in 1923. It has no symbolism or meanings. It is a thing, or as Kenner says:

But [“The Red Wheelbarrow”] hammered on the typewriter into a thing made, and this without displacing a single word except typographically, the sixteen words exists in a different zone altogether, a zone remote from the world of sayers and sayings.

That zone is what Williams in the 1920’s [sic] started calling “the Imagination.” (60)

In other words, Williams has created a thing from words. When these words are arranged, they are non-referential other than to themselves. That is, they have no allusive content, symbolism, or culturally imposed expectations, especially since they have no exterior or outside context. The reader can only assume the scene is on a farm, but the assumption is without certainty. In addition, the words do not create any meaning. They have no use value, other than to enter that “zone” of the imagination, that “Somewhere the sense / makes” (“The Rose” 18-19) things into objects and makes objects of aesthetic value. This poem does its best to take language and things out of a context, so they can be reinvented new by the reader. The poem has, thus, changed the subject-thing relationship and subject-object relationship, but on a slightly different level than mentioned in the earlier discussion of “The Red Wheelbarrow.”

“The Rose” is also redirecting the reader to see the rose as a poem. For instance, the poem “The Rose” begins to draw attention to itself in lines 29-31: “What // The place between the petal’s  / edge and the.” The poem in its collage descriptions of the rose interrupts itself to ask “What do you mean that love is between the petal’s edge and air? What do you mean the petal’s edge cuts without cutting?” These questions become self-reflexive as we can now see the petals as the lines in the poem. Each line cuts into nothing, or into the page’s white space, and sometimes this is dramatically rendered with the em dashes at the ends of lines. Even the incomplete sentence, “The place between the petal’s / edge and the” (30-31) cuts into the white space and into the expectations of a completed thought, but the sentence is cut short. As a result, as Timmons points out, the actions of the poem and its lines:

encourages us to simply notice the poem happening on the page, rather than reducing the poem merely to a vehicle for meaning. Readers experience these words free from the conventional expectation that the edge is meant metaphorically. The edge happens in reality on the page. Thus, the poem happens as something that undoes any prepared knowledge of what is rose is that we might bring into the poem. (43)

The poem is reduced to a happening, an artistic event like watching the rose become. The poem has become a thing. The poem is not the traditional meaning container of a literary object. It is a container waiting to be filled from the imagination of witnessing the happening. The rose is not its petals and thorns, but it is what penetrates space. To return to the earlier question, “Is the literary entity, such as a poem of collection of poems, mimetic, representational, or creative?” the answer is none of these. The poem is a happening. It is a thing cutting into the space of a page, with the potential for beauty to be projected on or in to it.

In “Thing Theory” and “Introduction,” Brown quotes Leo Stein, who says, “Things are what we encounter, ideas are what we project” (“Thing” 3, “Introduction” 11). In “The Rose” and in “The Red Wheelbarrow,” as well as Spring and All, Williams has created things through words. He has created artistic events wherein the subject and thing can recreate each other through an act of the imagination. The reader does this by objectifying the latent pleasure within the poem/thing through projection, and the thing or poem through various decontextualized linguistic endeavors transforms the subject’s relation with it and, thus, enables an aesthetic object to be created, whether or not it has any utilitarian value.

//

//

//

Works Cited

Brown, Bill. “Introduction: The Idea of Things and the Ideas in Them.” A Sense of Things: The  Object Matter in American Literature. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003. Photocopy.

—. “Thing Theory.” Critical Inquiry 28.1 (Autumn 2001): 1-22. JSTOR. Database. 18 Oct. 2013. PDF.

Connor, Steven. “Thinking Things.” Textual Practice 24.1 (February 2010): 1-20. Ebsco. Database. 17 Nov 2013. PDF.

Gerber, Natalie. “‘The Movements of the Imagination Revealed in Words’: Williams Poetics in Spring and All.” William Carlos Review 24.2 (2004): 11-17. Literary Reference Center. Database. 14 Oct. 2013. PDF

Kenner, Hugh. A Homemade World: The American Modernist. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1975. Print.

Pearce, Roy Harvey. The Continuity of American Poetry. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 1987. Print.

Stein, Gertrude. “Sacred Emily.” Geography and Plays. New York: Something Else Press, 1968. 178-188. Print.

Timmons, Travis P. Spring and All: Foraging a Link to the Present Moment. Diss. The Florida State University. 2008. DigiNole Commons (The Florida State University). Database. 12 Oct. 2013. PDF.

Williams, William Carlos. Spring and All. The Collected Poems of William Carlos Williams: Volume I: 1909-1939. Eds. A. Walton Litz and Christopher MacGowan. New York: A New Directions Book, 1991. 175-236. Print.

//
//
//

Attachment A: “The Red Wheelbarrow”

     XXII

     so much depends
     upon

     a red wheel
     barrow

     glazed with rain
     water

     beside the white
     chickens

//
//
//

Attachment B: “The Rose”

The rose is obsolete
but each petal ends in
an edge, the double facet
cementing the grooved
columns of air – The edge
cuts without cutting
meets – nothing – renews
itself in metal or porcelain –

wither? It ends –

But if it ends
the start is begun
so that to engage roses
becomes a geometry –

Sharper, neater, more cutting
figured in majolica –
the broken plate
glazed with a rose

Somewhere the sense
makes copper roses
steel roses –

The rose carried weight of love
but love is at an end – of roses

It is at the edge of the
petal that love waits

Crisp, worked to defeat
laboredness – fragile
plucked, moist, half-raised
cold, precise, touching

What

The place between the petal’s
edge and the

From the petal’s edge a line starts
that being of steel
infinitely fine, infinitely
rigid penetrates
the Milky Way
without contact – lifting
from it – neither hanging
nor pushing –

The fragility of the flower
unbruised
penetrates space

//

17
Feb
14

Palettes & Quills 4th Biennial Poetry Chapbook Competition

Palettes & Quills

4th Biennial Poetry Chapbook Competition

with Judge Kelly Cherry

Open to All Writers

www.palettesnquills.com

Palettes & Quills Logo

Prize: A $200 cash award plus 50 copies of the published book. Additional copies will be available at an author’s discount. All finalists will receive one free copy of the published book. All contest entrants will be offered a special discount on the purchase price of the published book. Deadline: September 30, 2014. Manuscripts postmarked after September 30 will not be read.

 

A complete submission should include:

  • Manuscript between 14-48 pages. Poems must be typed on 8 1/2″ x 11″ paper and bound with a spring clip. Use a standard 12 pt. font, such as Garamond, Arial, or New Times Roman. Manuscripts should be in English and contain no illustrations. Please do not submit your only copy. Manuscripts will not be returned.
  • A cover sheet with the contest name (The Palettes & Quills 4th Biennial Chapbook Contest), your name, address, telephone, email, and the title of your manuscript.  Your name should not appear anywhere else in the manuscript.
  • A title page with just the title of the manuscript.
  • An acknowledgements page. Poems included in your manuscript may be previously published, but the book as a whole may not. Please include an acknowledgements page listing specific publications.
  • A complete Table of Contents.
  • Payment of a $20.00 non-refundable entry fee (check or money order payable in U.S. dollars made out to: Palettes & Quills). Please do not send cash. Multiple submissions are accepted, but we require a separate entry fee for each manuscript you submit.
  • Self-addressed stamped post card for confirmation of receipt and a self-addressed envelope stamped (please use a Forever Stamp) for announcement of the winners. (International submissions must include an IRC.)
  • You must also include a statement that all poems are your own original work.

Mail your entry to Donna M. Marbach, Palettes & Quills Chapbook Contest, 1935 Penfield Road, Penfield, NY 14526-1434. No electronic or faxed submissions will be accepted.  However, we will request an electronic copy of the winning manuscript.

Winners will be announced on the Palettes & Quills website in December 2014.

Manuscripts by multiple authors will not be accepted. Translations will not be accepted.

Simultaneous submissions are accepted. If your manuscript is accepted for publication elsewhere, you must immediately notify Palettes & Quills.

Kelly CherryJudging: Final judge is Kelly Cherry, author of over twenty books of poetry, fiction (novels, short stories), and nonfiction (memoir, essay, criticism), eight chapbooks, and translations of two classical plays. She was the first recipient of the Hanes Poetry Prize given by the Fellowship of Southern Writers for a body of work. Other awards include fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Rockefeller Foundation, the Bradley Major Achievement (Lifetime) Award, a Distinguished Alumnus Award, three Wisconsin Arts Board fellowships and two New Work awards, an Arts America Speaker Award (The Philippines), and selection as a Wisconsin Notable Author. She was the Poet Laureate of Virginia from July 2010 to June 2012.//

To download these guidelines as a PDF, click Palettes & Quills Chapbook Guidelines 2014.//

Previous judges include Ellen Bass, Doriane Laux, and J. P. Dancing Bear. Previous winners include Kathryn Howd Machan, Michael Meyerhofer, and Meg Cowen. For more information about Palettes & Quills, please visit their website: www.palettesnquills.com.//

19
Jan
14

Alfonsina Storni’s Tú Me Quieres Blanca (a translation)

Alfosina StorniAlfonsina Storni (May 29, 1892 – October 25, 1938) was one of the most important Argentine and Latin-American poets of the modernist period (Wikipedia). She was also an early feminist poet, as this poem clearly shows.

Much of this translation was a group effort with help from Melissa Gioia and Laura Hakala.//

//

//

//

Tú Me Quieres Blanca

Tú me quieres alba,
Me quieres de espumas,
Me quieres de nácar.
Que sea azucena
Sobre todas, casta.
De perfume tenue.
Corola cerrada

Ni un rayo de luna
Filtrado me haya.
Ni una margarita
Se diga mi hermana.
Tú me quieres nívea,
Tú me quieres blanca,
Tú me quieres alba.

Tú que hubiste todas
Las copas a mano,
De frutos y mieles
Los labios morados.
Tú que en el banquete
Cubierto de pámpanos
Dejaste las carnes
Festejando a Baco.
Tú que en los jardines
Negros del Engaño
Vestido de rojo
Corriste al Estrago.

Tú que el esqueleto
Conservas intacto
No sé todavía
Por cuáles milagros,
Me pretendes blanca
(Dios te lo perdone),
Me pretendes casta
(Dios te lo perdone),
¡Me pretendes alba!

Huye hacia los bosques,
Vete a la montaña;
Límpiate la boca;
Vive en las cabañas;
Toca con las manos
La tierra mojada;
Alimenta el cuerpo
Con raíz amarga;
Bebe de las rocas;
Duerme sobre escarcha;
Renueva tejidos
Con salitre y agua;
Habla con los pájaros
Y lévate al alba.
Y cuando las carnes
Te sean tornadas,
Y cuando hayas puesto
En ellas el alma
Que por las alcobas
Se quedó enredada,
Entonces, buen hombre,
Preténdeme blanca,
Preténdeme nívea,
Preténdeme casta.

//

//

//

You Who Want Me White

You want me dawn,
You want me sea foam,
You want me mother of pearl
To be a lily
Above all, chaste.
Of faint perfume.
An unopened blossom.

Not even a moonbeam
To caress me.
Nor a daisy
that may call herself my sister.
You want me snow,
You want me white,
You want me dawn.

You who had all
The drinks at hand,
With lips stained
From fruits and honey.
You who were in the feast,
Who were covered with leaves,
Who destroyed the flesh
To celebrate Bacchus.
You who in the black
Gardens of deception
Dressed in red
Ran to ruin.

You who still preserve
Your skeleton.
I don’t even know
For what miracles
You expect me white
(May god forgive you),
You expect me chaste
(May god forgive you),
You expect me dawn.

Run away to the forest
Leave for the mountains;
Clean your mouth;
Live in the shacks;
Touch with your hands
The wet earth;
Feed your body
With bitter root;
Drink from the rocks,
Sleep on the frost;
Renew your flesh
With salt and water;
Speak with the birds
And get up with dawn.
And when your flesh
Returns to you,
And when you have put
In it the soul,
Which in the bedroom
Was left tangled,
Then, good man,
Expect me white,
Expect me snow,
Expect me chaste.

//

13
Jan
14

On Kelly Cherry’s The Life and Death of Poetry

A version of this review (and a better edited version) may appear in a future issue of Redactions: Poetry, Poetics, & Prose issue 18, due out July 2, 2014.//

Kelly Cherry's – The Life and Death of PoetryThe Life and Death of Poetry (Louisiana State University Press, 2013), is an ambitious title to fulfill, especially in 68 pages of poetry. I could write about how Kelly Cherry manages to achieve this, but instead I want to think about beginnings. I want to mainly focus on how this book of poems opens and then moves, because after my first reading, I wasn’t convinced the current opening poem was the best poem to open the book with. I thought it a good opening poem, but I thought there was a better choice with the poem “Underwriting the Words”:

   Ousted from heaven,
   we crashed into language.
   Incomparable music
   gave way to words.
   Authors filled auditoriums
   with their friends.
   Orpheus wrote a novel.

   Some days we try to climb back.
   We search for the word that sings,
   the sentence that sings.
   It’s not the same.
   Remember the music?
   It lifted you up to the light
   and endowed you with understanding.

   None of us understands anymore.
   Commentators baffle, words
   reinvent their meaning, every voice
   contradicts another. In a city
   of deserted streets, where people hide
   like turtles, in their houses,
   silence is the one common denominator.

   The hidden theme of the book is silence.
   Between the lines,
   underwriting the words:
   silence.
   In every line we read
   the absence of perfect sound,
   the severed head with mouth sewn shut.

   The hidden theme of the book is our obliteration:
   that we are swept away
   like fallen leaves from the front steps,
   insect shells from a sill,
   drafts from a desk.

Bob Dylan – Blonde on BlondeThat’s a dynamite poem and it covers some of the themes of the book: language, writing, singing, relationships, silence, death. (These aren’t the book’s only themes, as it also explores nature, poetry, and love.) “Underwriting the Words” could deliver some of the necessities of opening a single collection of poems as it’s strong, it introduces themes, it gives a beginning (we fall from heaven), and anticipates the end (“obliteration”). I wondered why the book didn’t begin with this poem, and then I thought of Bob Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde – both the double album and its later reincarnation as a CD. If you haven’t noticed, the order of the songs is different on the album than on the CD. I particularly like the album’s order better. But why are the songs ordered differently on the CD? Not all the songs are rearranged, but enough are. The CD version still opens with a defiant, partying youth celebrating getting stoned in “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35” and it still ends with a deeply in love, fully-matured adult who is singing one of the most passionate love songs “Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands.” Even the tones of the songs are completely different. The former is quicker paced, playful, and in a higher pitch, and the latter is slow, contemplative, and in a lower pitch. But back to the order of the album. The album is ordered so that each album side (all four of them) crescendos into a higher intensity. Each of the four sides starts at lower intensity than where it ends, and, overall, the album’s intensity reaches its maximum in “Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands.” The CD, since it only has one side, has to rearrange the songs so the crescendo is more gradual. Oddly, one might think the CD’s order would work better than the album as it moves from song to song, but in my opinion, it doesn’t. It seems a little jerky. I think Cherry had a similar idea to the Blonde on Blonde-album crescendo effect when she chose to start The Life and Death of Poetry with “Which Is a Verb”:

   We fell out of eternity
   into time, which is a verb.
   Life was rushing past us,
   and we began to rush too.
   Everything was a blur. In the confusion,
   some things got mixed up with others.
   A loaf of bread drove a bus.
   A longleaf pine swam in the pond.

   We grew so dizzy, light sparked
   beneath our closed eyelids, like rescue flares.
   We lay down on the red grass
   and clung to the world as it whirled.

   Wind whistled past our ears.
   Tears flew from our eyes.

This is a dynamite poem, too, but it lacks the powerful intensity of “Underwriting the Words” and its end. If the book started with “Underwriting the Words,” it would decrescendo not only in intensity but in facility (for lack of a better word, as some poems are more powerful than others, though I wouldn’t remove any one poem from this collection). “Underwriting the Words” is probably the strongest and most successful of the poems in the book, a book that certainly has many very fine poems. So the book, as a result, would descend (though subtly) on two fronts. Still the first poem needs to get the reader excited, it has to act as a frame of sorts, and the one Cherry did choose to start the book does.

The book opens with the fall, but not the traditional fall or the fall from heaven, but a fall from eternity. We are falling gods. Only gods are eternal, and non-eternal beings (like angels) can fall from heaven, as in “Underwriting the Words,” but they cannot fall from eternity. And we, as gods, fell “into time,” and time makes us mortal, human. But time is not an abstract noun here. It’s a verb. Time is active and acts on us, with us, and through us. Time is so active, we couldn’t see straight. We ended up in surreal world where bread drives busses and pine trees swim in ponds. We were pre-linguistic with one verb we didn’t yet recognize. And here is our and the book’s beginning. We are going to go through the evolution of language and poetry in this collection of poems. We are going to live and die in this whirling world and transform wind and tears, what we hear and what we see, into poetry. And that’s where it all begins. And this is why “Which Is a Verb” comes first. This is an effective opening poem in framing the book, leading us into the book, and establishing energy levels from which the three sections of the book will build on.

And so section I, “Learning the Language,” and the book begin with “Which Is a Verb” and crescendos into the section’s penultimate poem “Underwriting the Words.” In between, the section moves into steadying the world that was whirling by in “Which Is a Verb,” to discovering music, to vowels, to the first word (which is also a person’s last word), to more words, to singing, to language, to signified and signifier, to fiction, to poems, and to gods and heaven. During these poems, the section crescendos from crawl to dance in the gathering of experience and the development of poetry, which climaxes in “Underwriting the Words” and then gently settles in section one’s denouement “A Voice Survives,” which is a quiet meditative poem.

Section two, “Welsh Table Talk (A Sequence),” moves into using poems to create a land, a place. Not recreating like Olson in The Maximus Poems, but creating it much like I remember Robert Graves writing about in The White Goddess, the goddess of birth, love, and death. When I’m in this section, I feel Graves in the silences, or perhaps I feel the poems arise from analeptic thought, or unlived and forgotten events recovered/created through intuition, as this Welsh land often feels ancient, or with the echoes and hints of the ancient. This section then crescendos into an emphatic yearning that echoes the end of The Waste Land’s wondering what to do, but Cherry has an answer – “Carve.”

The book turns to section three, “What the Poet Wishes to Say,” which is a natural progression, because even if carving is the answer as to what to do, there is still the question of what to carve, as the opening lines of the opening poem, “On Translation,” indicate:

   Be warned, I tell my students.
   A writer with nothing to write
   is in danger of falling into
   one or more of four
   pitfalls: drink, drugs,
   adultery, and translation.

The book’s concluding poems, including the one just mentioned, or essays in verse about poetry, help the reader arrive to the final realization that “A poem can move to love,” and love, which is a verb, is the ultimate crescendo and the last line in Kelly Cherry’s The Life and Death of Poetry.//

//

//

//

Cherry, Kelly. The Life and Death of Poetry. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2013.//




The Cave (Winner of The Bitter Oleander Press Library of Poetry Book Award for 2013. Forthcoming in late Autumn of 2014.)

The Cave

Poems for an Empty Church

Poems for an Empty Church

The Oldest Stone in the World

The Oldest Stone in the Wolrd

Henri, Sophie, & The Hieratic Head of Ezra Pound: Poems Blasted from the Vortex

Henri, Sophie, & The Hieratic Head of Ezra Pound: Poems Blasted from the Vortex

Pre-Dew Poems

Pre-Dew Poems

Negative Time

Negative Time

After Malagueña

After Malagueña

Enter your email address to subscribe to The Line Break and receive email notifications of new posts.

Join 1,559 other followers

April 2014
M T W T F S S
« Mar    
 123456
78910111213
14151617181920
21222324252627
282930  

Archives

The Line Break Tweets


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,559 other followers

%d bloggers like this: