Category Archives: Community

“Should I Do An MFA?” (and Farewell, Read Write Poem)

It saddens me to report that, with the departure of the founder, and with the site’s editorial, maintenance, and technical needs having grown beyond the capabilities for a new all-volunteer team to take it on, the excellent poetry social networking website Read Write Poem will close its doors May 1st. It has been a pleasure writing a series of poetry advice column editorials for the site, and getting to know its thousand-plus smart, sensitive, poetry-loving members.

While my first two pieces, on how to learn from rejection and how to be a poet every day, will remain archived on the site, my latest response to a member question, originally slated for mid-May, will now no longer show up on the site. So, in honor of the first day of the last month of this remarkable community’s existence, in honor of the first day of National Poetry Month, and in honor of Read Write Poem member Julie’s question, I am publishing my final column in this series here, on my own website.

At work, when I interview candidates for an open position, I always ask what it was like at their previous job. I am amazed at how many interviewees animatedly complain. It is a warning sign to me that, if I hire them, they will likely soon be doing the same about my company. And so, though it seems Socratic, I am compelled to respond, whenever fellow writers ask me if they ought to do an MFA, with more questions, such as: How is it going in your current writing workshops? What is the conversation like between you and your trusted peers, when they give you feedback? Who are your current mentors (including those you learn from solely through their published work)? What are you working on improving about your writing life? Whom do you emulate? What do you absolutely know you still need to learn?

Learning to write well is, to me, a lifelong process of self-education. Just as I consider myself responsible for looking after my health, and enlist medical professionals to that end, likewise I am the one in charge of educating myself as a writer. My attitude, therefore, played a critical part in making my MFA two of the most rich and fulfilling years of my writerly life so far.

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How to be a Poet Every Day

An Unexpected Dedication

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Robert Peake reads a poem next to "Elliot" the bear

Photo by Randy Graham

I broke away from work to attend the dedication ceremony for my neighbor Mark Benkert’s new memorial sculpture to the Aliso Street Bear (a.k.a “Elliot”). In introducing me to read the poem I wrote dedicated to the bear, Mark also mentioned something remarkable about the process of sculpting the memorial.

For both Mark and I, the loss of the bear resonated deeply with the loss of our sons. As Mark was inscribing the letters “J” and “B”, the initials of his son, Jonah Benkert, the “B” also read much like a “P”–and he mentioned that “J.P.” reminded him of our own son, James Peake. Needless to say that by the time I took the microphone, I was nearly unable to speak.

Yet I managed to read my poem, honoring the bear, our sons, our community. The rest of the dedication meant a lot to me–from written poems and prose pieces, to impromptu verbal tributes, a song, and drumming. It was also a moment of catharsis for our community, coming together once more to honor all that the bear brought to us.

To learn more about how to promote the peaceful coexistence of humans and animals in the Ojai Valley, please visit the Ojai Wildlife League website.

“What Should You Learn From Rejection Letters?”

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The first article in my new series for Read Write Poem is now available, tackling the painful and often taboo topic of rejection letters head-on. It’s not something poets tend to admit to receiving, let alone talk about with their peers.

Yet rejection is a natural and necessary (albeit sometimes painful) part of the writing business. Asking what you can get out of the experience is just plain smart. So, in that spirit, I have done my best to serve up fairly simple, practical advice with a dash of humor and a healthy side of encouragement.

I hope you enjoy it!

The Poetry of Sandford Lyne

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“The half-time announcer at the 1969 Superbowl football game gave us this to consider: ‘The band will now execute the traditional designs and symbols of our national heritage.’ As a one-man band, I try to accomplish the same thing in my poems.”

-Sandford Lyne

Loch Raven Review has put together a wonderful online retrospective of the life and work of Sandford Lyne, bringing together scores of poems from several different books, and a few of his letters.

He was a tremendous man.

We became friends over a love of poetry, and a similar spiritual outlook. When James came into our lives, and left so quickly, Sandy was able to offer the inexplicable kinship of one who had also lost a child.

Sandy dedicated his life to working with children, teaching poetry workshops to over 50,000 students in his lifetime. Re-reading so many wonderful poems online, and discovering a few I had not read before, brings a little of Sandy’s purposeful kindness, gentle curiosity, and soft spoken wisdom back to me.

Enjoy.

Interdisciplinarian

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Ventana Monthly August 2009 I had a great time recently meeting Julie B. Montgomery, a painter who incorporates words in her works, and Ken McAlpine, a wily travel writer, in a round-table discussion for the August issue of Ventana Monthly. “An Author, a Painter, and a Poet” sounds like the beginning of a joke–but turned out to be the start of a great conversation. The editor, Matt Katz, then focused our lively banter into a print article on “the quiet art of words.”

I also had the pleasure of reading some poems on Thursday night for the opening of the “Profusion of Thoughts” gallery exhibit at the Ventura County Administration building. Thanks to the ingenuity of the Ventura County Arts Council, this government building with its brutalist exterior plays host inside to an exciting collection of paintings and sculptures, making it one of the most well-trafficked galleries in the county (and, no doubt, a much nicer place to work.) This particular exhibit featured works from the Ojai Studio Artists–a friendly group of talented visual artists who live in my own backyard.

Engaging in these kinds of interdisciplinary dialogs is good for me. I begin to understand the peculiarities of my medium–words–through conversations with painters and sculptors. I understand more about the aims of poetry through conversations with prose writers. And, when it comes to the discipline of art, I find we all have a surprising amount in common. Julie, Ken, and I discussed a lot that didn’t make it to the page–about finding freedom in limitations, the discipline of craftsmanship, surrendering to life’s constraints, the inadequacies inherent in any medium, and the “total adequacy,” as Heaney puts it, that comes through when a work of art transcends its materials.

More and more, as I engage with other artists, I begin to see myself, not as a poet, but as an artist whose particular medium happens to be words. Strangely enough, this mindset seems to propel me into a more exciting relationship with words themselves, using words, as I said in our discussion (quoting Marvin Bell), to get beyond words–even as a painter gets beyond the paint. Yet even as I identify more with artists in general, my appreciation for the strengths and limitations of poetry itself has never been keener. It seems that, even as specificity in writing is often the means to evoking something universal, the more I identify universally as an artist, the more I embrace being a poet specifically.

Poetry and Generosity

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This is an open note of thanks to Paul Fericano. I had a great time reading at the Broken Word series at Farmer and the Cook last night, and listening to Danielle Camacho, P.Lyn Middleton, Quin Mallory, Paul Fericano, Crystal Salas, Steve Sprinkel, and Johnny Fonteyn weave words into the warm summer night. Afterward, I got to talking with Paul, and he showed me one of the gorgeous, limited-edition offset-print broadsides he creates. On remarking how much I liked it, he gave it to me. And then another. In fact, a whole set.

Strangely enough, this is not the first time I have gone to a poetry reading and come home with a gift. It seems to me that the best kinds of writing communities have, at their heart, a spirit of generosity. This was certainly my experience in the MFA program, where my advisers gave so much more than what was asked of them by the university. And so, with so much talk about “greatness” in poetry, I would like to propose a new definition–that poets not be measured so much by what the Paris Review says about their twelfth collection–but by how poetry inspires them to keep giving back. The product of great poets is great poems. But, so often in my experience, the by-product is generosity.

Timothy Green at Artists’ Union Gallery

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Timothy Green reads beneath the all-seeing eyes I came down from the hills tonight to hear Timothy Green read from his debut book American Fractal. Tim’s work is sonorous, fragmentary, and he reads it well. During his reading a disheveled man kept shuffling papers in his backpack. Afterward, he introduced himself to me as “John,” a “published poet.” He said he, too, lived in Ojai once, before he lost his home. He reeked of alcohol, making it hard to be near him. “Everywhere I go,” he said, “I make the ground safe for barefoot children.”

Poetry seems to attract highly sensitive people–sometimes vulnerably so–more than other art forms. Perhaps it allows us to protect the imagined children that are our own barefooted selves by picking up sharp fragments wherever we go, and assembling them into something sparkling and musical, as Tim did tonight. Or perhaps, like John, we are simply clearing a pathway, or a place to sleep. I was moved by Tim, whose love of poetry has led him through extensive study, and to editing a well-known journal. I was moved also by John, no less possessed of a poet’s turn of mind, who reflected to me, once again, the universality of poetic need. I wish them both a peaceful rest, wherever they lay their head tonight.

Encountering Andrew Philip’s the Ambulance Box

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“Even the pick / of those we share our pulse with shares this jolt / beneath the ribs, this double click of love. / How could they cope with even just one heart?”

-Andrew Philip, “Cardiac”

I have Jilly Dybka to thank for sending Andrew Philip my way. Since I have written openly about the difficult and transformational experience of losing our first-born son, she must have recognized the the rare opportunity our being in touch provides. I am glad she did. It is an experience Andrew and I share.

Naturally, I was keen to read his debut book. What I discovered was not only personally moving, but profoundly accomplished work. Andrew writes in both English and Scots, placing himself in a tradition stretching back to John Barbour and encompassing Robert Fergusson and Robert Burns. As an American, I feel under-qualified to comment on the unique cultural and socio-political implications of this dual-language approach. (And, I must admit that I gave the online Dictionary of the Scots Language a good workout in making my way through some of the poems.) However, both as a poet in love with lyricism, and a father who lost an infant son, I can not resist adding my praise and commendation to the acclaim this book is gathering.

Andrew writes not only in Scots, a Germanic (not Gaelic) language, but in German as well. In “Berlin / Berlin / Berlin” he combines all three. If it is true, as Robert Frost tells us, that “Poetry is what gets lost in translation,” there is a poetry uniquely found between the languages by Andrew Philip. Wildly associative, and at times experimental, the musicality of these poems lend congruity and veracity even as they burst with linguistic mischief. This is, above all, a collection full of life–which is what makes the moments in which poems touch, lightly but unflinchingly, upon grief, all the more profound. From the premonitory vision of a “difficult, unasked-for joy” in “Pedestrian” through the incredible moment in “Still” when grief rewrites the resurrection, announcing in broken lines across the page, “he is not here / he is not here / he is not here,” these poems are rapturous even in despair. Sentimentality and easy words seem as though they might never have been invented in the remarkable worldview Andrew hands us in this book, “in a language,” as he says at the end of “Tonguefire Night,” “yet to be born.”

As part of Salt Publishing‘s innovative cyclone virtual book tour, I will have the pleasure of interviewing Andrew in about a month. I hope you will join me. Salt has also recently launched a highly successful “just one book” campaign to save this well-regarded imprint from financial doom. If you do choose to support world-class poetry publishing by purchasing just one, or one hundred, books from Salt, be sure to make your first The Ambulance Box.

Broken Word at the Farmer and the Cook

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I had the pleasure of reading a few poems tonight alongside Judy Oberlander, Joan Nicholson, Steve Sprinkel, and Johnny Fonteyn in the front patio of The Farmer and The Cook. Despite noise from an occasional bus or rap-spewing low rider, the air was deliciously warm, and the stage was backed by swaying trees. Overcoming initial hesitation, I read a poem featuring sushi at this charming all-vegetarian restaurant. Nobody threw potatoes.

On the contrary, the atmosphere was friendly and casual, aided in part by the well-received happy hour offer of one dollar off organic beer and wine. The patio was packed, and chatty at intermission. P. Lyn Middleton did an excellent job emceeing the evening, with just the right blend of structure and southern grace. This was the second in what appears to be a very promising new series of readings, and the perfect way to spend a summer evening in Ojai.

Ojai Poetry: the Show Goes On!

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“When the Ojai Poetry Festival in Ojai, Calif., was called off late last year, in part because of budget concerns, local poet Tree Bernstein helped form a separate group to revive the event. The original festival drew about 700 people to an amphitheater in May, and featured nationally known poets. Ms. Bernstein plans to reduce costs by choosing less expensive venues and focusing on regional talent.”

–The Wall Street Journal

Hats off to the Ojai Valley Poetry Association for picking up the banner and carrying on the tradition of bringing poetry to Ojai. They have just announced the schedule for the Ojai Valley Poetry Fest on June 6th at the Ojai Art Center .

The free Poetry Fest Day Program begins at noon and includes performances by teens and seniors, Santa Barbara poet laureates, the Razor Babes, and Hispanic poets. Open mic signup also begins at noon for the afternoon session. A workshop in ecstatic Persian poetry, and “Word as Song,” combining poetry and music, complete the afternoon.

The Evening Program features L.A. poets Wanda Coleman and Frank T. Rios , and Ventura Country favorites Marsha de la O. and Jackson Wheeler . Tickets for the evening program are on sale now at Bart’s Books , Ojai Creates , Ojai House, and will be available at the door. Ticket price is $10 (cash only.)

For more information call John Kertisz at 805-640-1508 or email Tree Bernstein at Ojai Poets at gmail dot com.