Interview Online at Read Write Poem

My responses to a few fun interview questions are now available on the Read Write Poem website as part of their “Member Spotlight” series. This anticipates the release of a new poetry advice column I will be writing for them. Think “Dear Abby” for poets. The first article is due out tomorrow, answering the question “What can you learn from rejection letters?” Check back tomorrow for more!

Poem in Sugar Mule Online

One of my poems, “Matins with Slippers and House Cat,” is now available in Sugar Mule #34 online.

I find the time to write poetry by getting up before dawn. I began writing poems with “matins” (morning prayer) in the title after reading Lousie Glück’s The Wild Iris. At first, these were quiet, grief-stricken prayers. Yet, over time, I have opened up to increasing experimentation, playing with forms more wildly, allowing myself to venture into political and ideological irreverence in search of greater truths.

This poem represents one such adventure. The final imagery comes from a brief vacation in Burgundy with Val. The car rental place upgraded us, at no extra cost, from a sensible Fiat to a nippy Alfa Romeo, and we found ourselves whizzing through the Yonne, stuffing pieces of fresh almond croissant into each other’s mouths. When we came upon the church at Saint-Père-Sous-Vèzelay, we were greeted by decapitated statuary. The implied violence struck me as profound. Sometime later, these icons returned to me in this poem.

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See also:Three Poems in Sugar Mule Online

The Fourth Year

Our son, James, was born four years ago today. His brief life changed mine inexplicably. Since that time, I completed a Doctorate in Spiritual Science, and an MFA in writing poetry, since spiritual practice and poetic expression are two oars by which I navigate the underground waters of grief.

And looking back on the first, second, and third anniversary, I see a clear trajectory toward healing, and toward integrating this profound experience into my life–not as a tragedy–but as a source of strength. I recently found the courage to hold a baby in my arms again, and felt, in that moment, only joy. I have also discovered more of the blessings, strange as it sounds, of the complicated nature of grief.

This experience reaffirmed a few things for me: that art can make life meaningful, that compassion is always the most appropriate response, and that my wife is still the bravest woman I have ever met. Today, I say, once again: godspeed, my son. And thank you.

Paul Fericano at Artists’ Union Gallery

I had the pleasure of hearing Paul Fericano read poems new and old at the Artists’ Union Gallery last night. Paul’s is a distinct turn of mind–able to sweep up humor, irony, and deep feeling in a winning trifecta. Paul takes the materials of popular culture–from Elizabeth Taylor to The Three Stooges–and makes of them something transcendent. It is precisely in the moment I am laughing in a Paul Fericano poem that my guard is down. It is then when Paul slips in a modicum of pathos, reminding me of how complex it is to be human, how, as Virginia Woolf puts it in Mrs. Dalloway, “dangerous it is to live even just one day.” These are poems that read like the messages in a bottle that might be written by the last sane man on Earth, when everyone else has gone mad.

I leave you with a poem that is fast becoming one of Paul’s most popular–read in Ojai at an event I was sadly unable to attend. I am grateful to whomever filmed it.

Amichai and Nasrallah: Poets of Abraham

“Once I said, Death is God and change is His prophet. / Now I have calmed down, and I say: / Change is God and death is His prophet.”

-Yehuda Amichai, “Jewish Travel: Change is God and death is His prophet.”

“Time is a coffin, while nakedness is the daily news.”

-Ibrahim Nasrallah, “The Exile”

Contemporary political discourse about the Middle East often underscores the divide between Israelis and Palestinians. But in reading and re-reading the poems of Yehuda Amichai, one of Israel’s most celebrated poets, and Ibrahim Nasrallah, one of the foremost Palestinian poets of his generation, what strike me are the similarities.

Obviously, the physical landscape they describe is the same–but beyond this, their inner landscape of grief and hope, forged in the intensity of a war-torn homeland, steeped in ancient traditions, yields poems at once timeless and immediate, universal almost to the point of allegory, yet also deeply and achingly personal. Continue Reading “Amichai and Nasrallah: Poets of Abraham” »

2009 Roundup Year-in-Review

Like last year, I have selected one post from each month in the previous year as a means of reflection.

January: The Third Year

Each January brings an opportunity for my wife and I to reflect on the birth and death of our son, and on just how far we have come in learning to re-embrace hope.

February: Poem in The Long-Islander

February was a dark month, as the economy began to take its toll. A glimmer of light came with the news that this poem had been published, on the other side of the country, beneath Walt Whitman’s gaze.

March: Mark Doty: Phoenix Aflame

I discovered solace in the remarkable work of the poet Mark Doty, whose collection Fire to Fire continues to inspire and astonish me.

April: Defining Great Poetry

A young marketing executive from Singapore wrote to me to ask what makes great poetry great.

May: On Ashbery and Surprise

One of the surprises of completing my MFA was discovering an appreciation for the poems of John Ashbery.

June: Pacific University MFA Commencement Student Speech

I was selected by the faculty, on the basis of my “contribution to the program” to give the student speech at my MFA commencement. It was a glorious day.

July: Interview with Scottish Poet Andrew Philip

I had the great pleasure of meeting Andrew Philip through the blogosphere, and interviewing him about his outstanding debut collection of poems as part of Salt Publishing’s innovative Cyclone Book Tour.

August: Generativity and Letting Go

We marked another milestone in recovering from grief when we finally gave away the baby items originally intended for our son.

September: The Blessings of Complicated Grief

The anniversary of the birth and death of a poet-friend’s son prompted this meditation on the blessings that can come from the deep self-examination profound grief can instigate.

October: The Bear

A remarkable visitor came, all too briefly, into our neighborhood, and met a tragic end. I wrote a poem about the experience, and our next-door neighbor placed an enduring metal sculpture in the tree the bear occupied right across our street.

November: The Death of Loftiness in Poetry

I conducted a quick, fun poll about poetry book titles, and came to some surprising conclusions about what people from different backgrounds think poetry “ought” to be.

December: Enlightened America

I had the pleasure of flying to Boston with Val to see two dear friends get married, and to meet their new baby daughter–the first baby I held in my arms since our son passed away.

It has been an incredible year–full of poetry, hardship, and the renewal of hope. I wish you and yours peace and prosperity in the year to come.


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