Almost Summer, Almost

It's astounding to me that April's almost over. I taught my last class at Hollins today, completely reordered my thesis, and cooked parmesean-crusted pork chops (swine flu be damned!).


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As evidenced by the above damnation, I have little to no idea what this whole pandemic thing is about, but I know I prefer calling it "swine flu" to "Mexican flu," though Israel doesn't. It's certainly scary to think about, but I'm never quite sure how seriously to take this stuff any more. I remember when West Nile, Bird flu, and SARS were going to kill us all. Let's hope this one goes the same way as its pandemic predecessors.


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A nice week. Recently found out that I've been invited to read in DC this summer as part of the Joaquin Miller Cabin Poetry Series. It seems like an amazing program they've got going. I've posted the date/time on the sidebar, though it's still tenative. More info to come on that front. Also, yesterday I recieved the Academy of American Poets prize from Hollins which was very cool, to say the least. And today while I was running, a woman complimented my pace. Put money in the tip jar when you can, the universe repays.

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Registered for the Rocky Mountain Half-Marathon in June. A great chance to run and to see some old friends. A little worried about the elevation, especially considering I've gotten a late start on training. Should be alright though, I'm not trying to break any land-speed records.


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Killer first line of the moment:

"Love's the boy stood on the burning deck"

from "Casabianca" by Elizabeth Bishop
(The Complete Poems 1927-1979, FSG, 1979)


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Bittersweet, this week. I worry for what my mind will do when it runs out of deadlines to distract it.

Day by Day Ruminations

What a very strange week: Yesterday, I finished my thesis. By that I mean that I revised all of the poems in it to the point where I can still read them without cringing. You might even say I like them. I'm proud of the work I've done while I've been at Hollins and hopeful of what might happen to this manuscript as it continues to change and develop. I think I'm going to send another wave of submissions out in the next few weeks. Someone also gave me a copy of the current issue of the Atlantic, which has my name in it for the student writing contest. This brightened my day.


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Tomorrow, I have to take my comprehensive exam. This is the test you have to pass to graduate. It covers all of the literature courses you took as a student at Hollins. Lots of essays. Not looking forward to it. Tomorrow is also the seven year anniversary of my mother's death. Every year it gets a little bit stranger. I find myself wondering if she would recognize me if she saw me on the street. It's startling to me that most of the important people in my life (speaking non-family) never met my mother. Lots I'd like to ask her, though her advice on relationships might not be the best, but it's certainly a void I've been much more aware of in the last few weeks. My dad's not exactly what you call compassionate, though he's certainly pragmatic. I've become more aware that I'm probably more like my mom in how I deal with adverse circumstances, probably overly emotional and underly (not a word, yes) practical. The thesis is dedicated to her, though there are also individual poems dedicated to my dad, Shelley, and my brother. After comps, we're going to see the Salem Red Sox play the Myrtle Beach Pelicans. This, I am excited about.


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And Saturday is my 24th birthday. It's been awhile since I could really get excited for it, probably since it's so closely associated in my mind with the day before it. A year of my life I'll certainly remember. Lots of good things happened, some bad things too, all necessary things. But we're young and that's life (at least that's what the rock and roll songs tell me).

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Sorry for the pity parade, folks. It probably doesn't make for great reading. How about the last sonnet of the Aerials sequence?:

*plish*

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Spring is springing.

As Promised

Well I said I'd post more today, though I must admit I don't have much to say. I've been listening to "Paper Planes" all afternoon, so that makes me feel pretty good.

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Many thanks to all who came out to my reading at Elon. It was great to have some new ears for old (and new) poems. I'll post one of the new ones I read, another sonnet from the Aerials sequence, disappearing soon:

*plish*


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Still applying for jobs. But as things keep moving far too quickly, I've been thinking harder and harder about just picking somewhere I want to live and moving there. I'm pretty terrified by this approaching limbo, maybe because I thought my plans were so unshakeable so recently (and we all know how that turned out). My main obstacle is all this stuff I've accumulated that I would have to put into storage (couches, tables, books and books and books) if I took off. I've thought about selling my car back because it's not necessarily part of my current budget, but I do love the car so I'll probably just take on some red numbers. Also, I still have lots of lines in the water as far as possible jobs go, though with no idea how realistic my chances are at any of them. All that pissing and moaning aside, places I'm seriously pondering, investigating, considering saying "screw it" and moving to: Laramie, Wyoming; Portland, Oregon; Waterville, Maine; Ft. Collins, Colorado. As you can see, there's a theme. I'd sort of like to get away from people for awhile, not necessarily a ranch in the woods, but certainly places with lots of open spaces. Any suggestions?


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Killer opening line of the moment:

"Evergreens have reasons"

from James Galvin's "Navigation"
(Resurrection Update, Copper Canyon, 1997)

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All I wanna do is...

Back from the Woods

Easy Star All Stars are a cover band. They did Dark Side of the Moon. They did Radiohead. Now they've reggae-tized Sgt. Pepper's. Bought the album this weekend. It has not left my CD player.

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Exhausted right now, so more posting tomorrow. I have roughly two weeks left of being an MFA student. This is simultaneously exciting and terrifying. Thesis. Comp exams. Teaching. Poems.

Route 220

Heading south on the titular state highway tomorrow morning. Looking forward to: reading at Elon, seeing folks I truly enjoy seeing, camping, practicing banjo, reading sonnets [specifically Ted Berrigan's book "The Sonnets" (borrowed from T.J. Anderson) and David Slavitt's book "The Seven Deadly Sins and Other Poems" (borrowed from Kelly Cherry)]. Insert more obnoxious name dropping here. Should be a good weekend, if you live in the area--come on out to Elon at 4:15, the Isabella Cannon Room in the Center for the Arts (on Williamson Ave. across from "The Oaks")

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Heard some good news today from a certain prestigious southern writers' conference, which I'll be attending this summer with a scholarship. I understand I'm not exactly hiding anything here, but yeah, I'm thrilled.


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Revising, revising, revising. I'm trying to separate the wheat from the chaff in After the Ark, my thesis/manuscript. I forget who, but someone in the latest Poets & Writers suggested that you should be happy with a stranger opening to any poem in the collection and reading just that poem--something I'm working towards but still miles from. It's strange looking at some of these very old poems. They feel so "talk-y" to me, not so much detached from sound-play, but certainly less interested in it, more centered on narratives. I'm reconsidering the epigraph that currently opens the collection as it may draw an inadvertent and inappropriate comparison between me and Moses. Hazard of the trade, I say.


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Killer first line of the moment:

"At the end, Rigoletto weeps for his daughter who sings"

from David Slavitt's "A Consolation for Rigoletto"
(The Seven Deadly Sins and Other Poems, LSU Press, 2009)


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Sunshine on its way, I know, I heard it in the wings.

Monday Madness

Above is a picture of Carl Dennis giving me a copy of his New and Selected Poems, with Rick Trethewey smiling in the background.

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Now normally the above book link would likely have been to amazon. But as of their recent shenanigans, it seems very easy for me to switch to Powell's. I urge you to do the same.

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Congrats, Keith!

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NC Poet Laureate Kathryn Stripling Byer has been kind enough to post my review of her latest book (from the Hollins Critic) on her blog, and to say some very nice things about it. I recently had a conversation with a poet-friend in which she asked me if I thought there were too many positive reviews out there. I don't. There's simply so much good poetry out there that I don't think gets enough attention, so I would rather do my best to bring that poetry to light than invest all the time and effort of writing and publishing a review about a book I don't think people should read.

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I've joined a weekly poem prompting group, which on top of finishing my thesis (due May 5th, gasp) may be overkill. But then again, I'm always up for a writing push. This weeks prompt was to fall in love with the first inanimate object you see. Here's what I came up with, with tweaking still to be done, and as per usual, to disappear shortly:

*plish*

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Reading at my alma mater, Elon University, on Thursday afternoon. Very excited about this.

Quick One

So I just got home from introducing/listening to Carl Dennis. Really an amazing reading, which had nothing to do with my introduction. He's such a warm man, and his poems really lend themselves to being spoken. That's the good news. The bad news: he signed my book "for Rick," though he did include a very nice note about my introduction, and there's a 48% chance he was being funny with his note because he accidentally referred to me as Rick during his reading. Either way, very nice man, amazing poet.

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I'm thankful for a weekend where I'm staying at home. Running a 5K in Blacksburg on Saturday afternoon, just another fine opportunity for t-shirt acquiring. Should be good.


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Killer first line of the moment:

"Tilt the garden up and, look, nothing"

from Conor O'Callaghan's "The Flat Earth"
(Fiction, Wake Forest University Press, 2005)


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Here's another bit of the Aerials sequence, to disappear shortly. A half-sonnet, if you will, heavily influenced by the Claudia Emerson poem I posted a few days ago:

*plish*

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Very tired. Thankful for good conversations, nice weather, and new poems.

Monday Night OR When UNC Basketball Fulfills Expectations OR Devastation

So tonight's the night. All year I've been worried about predictions, the fact that virtually every major sporting news venue picked the Tar Heels to win it all, and even with the whole ESPN crew picking Carolina, I think we can do it. But I worry. It's incredibly hard to beat the same team twice, especially twice in the same place, especially when that same place is only an hour away from that team's campus. But the stars are aligning--Michael Jordan was elected to the Hall of Fame, Ty Lawson won the Bob Cousy award for best point guard in the country, and I wore my UNC hat to teach class today. Go. Heels.


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Read in Richmond on Friday afternoon at the VMFA as part of the Insights Graduate Student Symposium. It was a great chance to hear folks read from UVA, VCU, and George Mason, and great for me because my Dad, Aunt, and God-mother were all there and had never seen me read before. The museum actually selected my poem as the "winner" of the symposium, which I thought sort of defeated the purpose of having a symposium--I thought the idea was to get together to celebrate art, not to point at one thing as having more or less value than another. That said, I guess I should get used to contests where they declare winners as I prepare to start sending out a book manuscript in the Fall, and I should probably get used to not winning as Aaron Baker told me to plan on 5-7 years of sending out. The museum is going to publish my poem on their website sometime in the near future, once it's up I'll post a link.


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Killer first line of the moment:

"I am not the woman I followed in London"

from "Tethering the Ocean Swells" by Charlotte Matthews
(in Still Enough to Be Dreaming, Iris Press, 2007)

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Still adjusting to life post-engagement. Applying to jobs. Running. Scoping out puppies. Trying to say "I" instead of "we" when talking about things.