IS YOUR MULE BLUE?

Marc Weber is sending out feelers (which he calls "feelings", making Moi smile) to see if anyone has work that might fit in an issue of Sugar Mule entitled "The Blue Mule." Marc, the editor, welcomes poetry or prose submissions which might fit in "any way you interpret that title"! Send him stuff viz marclweber.com@sugarmule.com. Go ahead and bray...uh, blue-ly!

Also, if you click on the link, there's some pretty nifty prose about mules. Doesn't this one by Charles Darwin remind you of one of the U.S. Presidential candidates?:

"The mule always appears to me a most surprising animal. That a hybrid should possess more reason, memory, obstinacy, social affection, powers of muscular endurance, and length of life, than either of its parents, seems to indicate that
...--Charles Darwin
from The Voyage of the Beagle

MOI HEART THE LIBRARY!

I've often thought my ideal career would be that of a librarian (hi John, ye poet-librarian!). This goes back to my first "job": shortly after immigrating to the U.S. (I was ten years old), I came to be a volunteer in my school elementary library.... over the years, this has meant I've long been a library patron as well as library supporter by donating books. Most recently, I donated a bunch of books from the Meritage Press titles I publish, as well as (but of course) some of my poetry books to the Andy Ausonio Library. If you click on this link to Jean's OKIR, you'll see a wonderful write-up of the library, but also including the rather limited state of its poetry collection -- scroll down to the bottom of Jean's report and you see a photo of its poetry collection...on a mere two shelves!

Anyway, so imagine my extra-special delight to receive a letter recently from Kurt Ellison, whose title identifies him as Supervising Librarian, Castroville Branch Library, Monterey County Free Libraries." Kurt writes:

"Jean Vengua brought your very generous donation of a box of new poetry books to our Castroville Branch Library...That was a very, very pleasant surprise! Your thoughtful donation really beefs up our poetry collection and will be of great benefit to our patrons. Our staff has had a chance to skim through the books you donated and have found the collection to be of high quality and from authors not in our current offering."

et-wonderful-cetera....

And as an author moiself, I love the idea of any of my books being in a public library collection. That ... is just special.

POLITICS

Had to go to a museum-sponsored dinner last night. Ended up seated next to a curator's hubby, which was unexpectedly fun. While most peeps discussed the history of a certain mega-collector, he and I discussed "Empire" and its ramifications. He concluded at evening's end: "It's so refreshing to discuss politics at one of these affairs. Usually, I have to be careful..."

I can just imagine how he has to be careful discussing politics in the museum settings, though it turns out he writes political analyses for a living. That's the problem with contexts affecting fundraising -- politics is tricky when cash itself is apolitical. Then we discussed poetry. Doesn't follow poetry but doesn't shy away from it either. He appreciates Kay Ryan's -- "because it's not one of those poetries you gotta take a class in so that you can understand..."

Off to mail him a copy of the BRICK. I am thinking of inscribing it with, "I hope you enjoy this textbook..." (after all, it was most recently taught at U.C. Berkeley this summer, though interestingly the course focused more on "community" vs "creative writing").

Last but not least, TODAY I VOTE. Because none of us lives in a museum.

SMOKE

What Moi found interesting about BLUE SMOKE AND MURDER,a novel by Elizabeth Lowell, is the notion of "blue smoke" -- i.e., how the hoopla surrounding an art work defines the (commercial) value of said art work. Cultural capital at its capitalistic worst...it's not that different, actually, as to how certain poetries are valued....it's just that there's not much money usually in Poetry, the upside to which, though, is that it's immune to the recession.

In these recessionary times (wink), here's my latest Relished W(h)ine List:

THE CITY SLICKER'S HARVEST (to date)
5 persimmons
2 orange decorative squash
4 green figs
12 Santa Rosa plums
50 apricots
86 strawberries
1,551 basil leaves
377 purple basil leaves
267 mint leaves
505 pinches of parsley
7 zucchini
7 yellow squash
1 orange squash
590 tomatoes
40 green figs
23 green onion stalks
302 green peppers
11 red peppers
8 Japanese eggplants
45 purple table grapes


PUBLICATIONS
ONLY MYSTERY: FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA'S POETRY IN WORD AND MEANING by Sandra Forman and Allen Josephs

DEMENTIA BLOG, prose poetry by Susan M. Schultz

NOT SO FAST ROBESPIERRE, poems by Geoffrey Gatza

GOODNIGHT VOICE, poems by Dana Ward

HAVE A GOOD ONE, poems by Anselm Berrigan

THE ENIGMATIST, poetry journal edited by Mike & Joyce Gullickson

LETTERS TO POETS: CONVERSATIONS ABOUT POETICS, POLITICS, AND COMMUNITY, Edited by Jennifer Firestone & Dana Teen Lomax

ON THAT DAY EVERYBODY ATE: ONE WOMAN'S STORY OF HOPE AND POSSIBILITY IN HAITI, memoir by Margaret Trost

WE'VE ALWAYS HAD PARIS...AND PROVENCE: A SCRAPBOOK OF OUR LIFE IN FRANCE by Patricia and Walter Wells

CHINA GHOSTS: MY DAUGHTER'S JOURNEY TO AMERICA, MY PASSAGE TO FATHERHOOD, memoir by Jeff Gammage

FORWARD FROM HERE, memoir by Reeve Lindbergh

THE HILLS OF TUSCANY: A NEW LIFE IN AN OLD LAND, memoir by Ferenc Mate

AN IRISH COUNTRY DOCTOR, novel by Patrick Taylor

BLUE SMOKE AND MURDER, novel by Elizabeth Lowell

THE PERFECT HUSBAND, novel by Lisa Gardner

SAY GOODBYE, novel by Lisa Gardner

THE OTHER DAUGHTER, novel by Lisa Gardner

THE THIRD VICTIM, novel by Lisa Gardner

THE NEXT ACCIDENT, novel by Lisa Gardner

ALONE, novel by Lisa Gardner

GONE, novel by Lisa Gardner

SHEM CREEK, novel by Dorothea Benton Frank

THREAD OF DECEIT, novel by Catherine Palmer

TAILSPIN, novel by Catherine Coultier


WINES
1994 Von Strasser Cabernet NV
2003 Dutch Henry Cabernet
1996 Williams Selyem Pinot Noir Rochioli Vineyard
1990 Prunotti Cannubi
1996 Bacio Divino
2002 Behrens & Hitchcock Merlot NV
Schramsberg sparkling wine
2004 Dutch Henry Argos
2006 Dutch Henry rose
2004 Dutch Henry chardonnay
200_ Dutch Henry pinot noir
2004 Dutch Henry "Terrier Station" cabernet
1993 Ravenswood Old Hill Ranch zinfandel Sonoma Valley
2006 Tangient
1993 Seavey cabernet
Domaine Chandon sparkling wine
2006 Mondavi chardonnay
2007 Mondavi pinot noir

LISSEN UP, BERKELEY!

if you're in the Berkeley area 94.1 on Sunday evening 10/26 5p-10p!

Apparently, it's "PILIPINO SPECIALS" on KPFA Radio this weekend, including "PILIPINO OURSTORY 2008" on KPFA this SUNDAY 6:30PM (until 10PM).

Which is to say, thanks to Michelle Bautista for reviewing Moi last two books, The Light Sang... and The Blind Chatelaine's Keys. Also to be reviewed moithinks is STAGE PRESENCE, Ed. by Theo Gonsalvez. Here's more info from KPFA:

INTERVIEWS/REVIEWS:  Eileen Tabios, Michelle Bautista, Theo Gonzalves, "The Romance of Magno Rubio", "GIMIKERA" (Prostituted Women), ESKAPO

VOICES FROM MINDANAO: PASTOR D, KAPATID T, & DATU MANGANSAKAN

NEW MUSIKA:  BAYANG BARRIOS * DJ QBERT * NATIVE ELEMENTS * TRACY CRUZ 

Special Guest Hosts:  Aivy Cordova & Nicole Cordova

CD & TICKET GIVEAWAYS, and much more!

Live Broadkast: KPFA~FM 94.1 Berkeley
                 KFCF~FM 88.1 Fresno
Audiostreaming & FREE mp3 Archive: www.kpfa.org

Can't tune in live?  KPFA archives our shows as FREE mp3's at www.kpfa.org under the date and time of webkast and the NAME of Program.

CHAPS, CHECK OUT COLLECTED CHAPS!

Is anyone else thinking there's a trend here? A trend of Collected Chapbooks? Which is interesting because chaps are, or can be, discrete publications on their own but, being chaps, are typically skinny. So that a collection of such need not be overly-BRICK-ish. One of my favorite new collected chaps, for instance, is Jim McCrary's All That which comes in at 172 pages (I can write 172 pages as a single poetry collection).

Of course, another favorite is Sheila Murphy's COLLECTED CHAPS which is a BRICK at at 599 pages. Anyway, Jim and Sheila have produced mighty fine chaps over the years...do check them out!

AUTUMN POEMS

The wonderful Anny Ballardini has put together an Autumn Issue of Poems over at FieraLingue. I got a poem HERE but here's the list of featured poets with lovely takes on Autumn:

Dirk Vekemans, Bobbi Lurie, Anny Ballardini, Obododimma Oha, Jeff Harrison, Cecil Touchon, Halvard Johnson, Jill McCabe Johnson, Ann Neuser Lederer, Barbara Crooker, Christina Pacosz, Penelope Schott, Georgia Ann Banks-Martin, Sandra Giedeman, Joel Weishaus, Pat Falk, Tim Mayo, Wendy Taylor Carlisle, Wendy Vardaman, Bill Morgan, Eileen Tabios, Sheila E. Murphy, Alan Sondheim, David Graham, Tad Richards, Bob Grumman, Henry Gould, Jukka-Pekka Kervinen, Guido Catalano, Ruth Fainlight, Ann Fisher-Wirth, Fan Ogilvie, Larissa Shmailo, Geof Huth, Grace Cavalieri, Mark Weiss, Pam Brown, David Howard, Edward Mycue, Elizabeth Smither, Elena Karina Byrne, David-Baptiste Chirot, Nico Vassilakis, Allen Bramhall, Dan Waber, Aaron Belz, Nicholas Piombino, Joseph Duemer, Daniel Zimmerman, Geoffrey Gatza, Jon Corelis, Berty Skuber, Peter Ciccariello.

Do join Moi in enjoying their company! And THANKS Anny!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PHILIP LAMANTIA!

To celebrate, do check out Steven Fama on Philip--full of many wonderful recollections.

A favorite recollection, as Steven puts it:

Philip could talk about history, poetry, biography, the news of the day, the news of (for example) the Thirteenth Century (the greatest, he said), medicine, religion, movies, food, wine, science, music, psychology, the theoric, ornithic, and hermetic, plus just about anything else. Sometimes, most all of this would be touched on in a single universe-expanding conversation that would verge on the monologic. Philip would talk in great detail, tangent off this way or that, then spiral or rocket off into now for something completely different and suddenly it was 3:00 in the morning.

Yah. I still remember with glee how I once found moiself deep in conversation about agricultural matters with Philip. Wheat, it was...

My one regret with Philip. He had wanted to introduce me to BART, even fork over the dollar bill (he laughed) to do so (I'd met Philip shortly after moving from New York to the Bay Area). We never had a chance to do that....but we did share many other things...e.g. Portuguese wine and olives...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PHILIP!

WHEN BLOGS BECOME BOOKS, PART 2

I should clarify my prior post. When I wrote,

unless the book becomes more than just a polished version of what's already been blogged, I think the result is aesthetically unambitious, not to mention environmentally shoddy.

I was referring to mostly prose work done on blogs (like memoir-ish stuff) vs the posting of poems or early drafts of poems on blogs before such blogs are culled for creating poetry collections. I don't mean ever to discourage the writing of poems on blogs, ... walls, notebooks, back of envelopes, beaches and so on. I fully support writing the planet into one big whole poem...!

AS BLOGS BECOME BOOKS

one of the challenges is making sure the book can do more than just offer an edited version of what had been drafted viz a blog. I know that when I incorporated the blogged memoir of my father's last days in The Light Sang As It Left Your Eyes, I was also very conscious of recontextualizing it into something larger than the specifics of a particular family's story (e.g. the blurring of the father with Ferdinand Marcos and the daughter with Imee Marcos) and the incorporation of other authors' works to reflect how the blogged memoir was influenced by responses from this blog's Peeps.

In this way, DEMENTIA BLOG (Singing Horse Press, 2008) by Susan M. Schultz is highly effective. DEMENTIA BLOG tracks, in part, the progression of the dementia that afflicted the poet's mother. And it is effective not because (as I attempted with The Light Sang...) the book seeks to transcend its blog(ged) beginnings but because the book organically integrates the blog form as being critical to the book text. For example, the book's use of reverse chronology (per blogs) makes sense in terms of Schultz's address of the loss of memory. Another example: several of the blogged posts end by replicating what's often shown on a blog's column: a list of its most recent posts. But, as shown by this example below, that list then also becomes a logical offshoot of dementia's deterioration of self, viz the incompleted phrases and seemingly arbitrary narrative juxtapositions between the list's lines:

November 19, 2006 Nothing left except loss of ...
November 12, 2006 -- What I do not say to her: th...
November 11, 2006 -- Houses are square, with pitc...
October 15, 2006 -- No Imperial Mints in Chiswic...
September 30, 2006 -- The lyric in wartime. If...
September 25, 2006 -- The former President lost h...
September 22, 2006 -- The words bear weight, bu...

So, yes, I do think a blog can become a book project. But unless the book becomes more than just a polished version of what's already been blogged, I think the result is aesthetically unambitious, not to mention environmentally shoddy. Kudos to Susan for her ... scope.

[If I get my act together and/or get some free time, I'll present a longer engagement with DEMENTIA BLOG in the next issue of Galatea Resurrects.]

HEAD ACHE

Spent the afternoon at a bank restructuring a relative's retirement account. Said relative is more protected now from financial market hoo-haas. But the experience showed again why I left a banking career for Poetry. Or, rather, why I left banking since the phrase "for Poetry" implies I knew where I was going and Poetry, of course, has no map.

ELEMENTS FROM MY HIDDEN LIFE

Nearly two years ago, I started investigating (for lack of a better word) a different world, and have sort of been living in it as if it were a parallel universe to my usual (for lack of a better word) life-style. This isn't a metaphor or some imaginative mode. This world I speak of exists and exists on its own terms and the fact that it's a parallel universe attests to how it can also be a horror show and I've resisted it even as I've had to ghostly-swim through it. My few attempts to do something about certain of its horrors have been met with, to date, a RESOUNDING SLAP. When I've managed to cope with its horrific-nesses, it's been to rely (to lapse back to) the distance of observer, even as -- getting to how I'm in its trajectory in the first place -- at some point the point of intersection inevitably will become the one world in which I will exist.

As I write this, how fitting that suddenly a pack of coyotes start yipping and baying seemingly right outside my window, attesting to how they must have just caught some prey. As I write this, I believe they're ripping apart that prey.

And I'm also pressed to write this while fresh in the middle of reading a new anthology of letters between 14 pairs of poets. The book reminds me, though I'm not just referring to the book here, that we poets are often so precious when we write about poetry -- even when we're not trying to be, when we're hoping we're not going to be, precious, we come off a bit oily. But there's aptness in how a poet discussing poetics infuses even the I Don't Know with some simmering arrogance, if only because we get so insistent.... (I could explicate further but ...)

And I was compelled, just now, to re-read these...

Everything I've done to date now seems to have been preparation for a pause. I write a book in order to prepare. I write bookS in order to prepare. Which is all to say, the book is not the point, yah? I write books in order to prepare myself to arrive here, A Pause where I take a deep breath and exhale, Okay, now I'm ready to begin attempting poems.

Except I've been speechless. Doesn't seem like it, e.g. got two more books scheduled out. But I'm just hiding behind the time-lag between writing and publication. I haven't written new poems in a long, long while.

I'm ready to stop, frankly. But I can't. At the same time, I'm dry. I get it, really: I'm supposed to just be in this pause. It's incredibly irritating, but I suppose that's part of the point.

I've been irritated ... for a long time. I am ready to speak, but my lips form a line, not a circle.

ANOTHER POETRY PARADOX: PRICELESS BUT CHEAP

Today, bought the hardback COLLECTED POEMS 1947-1997 by Allen Ginsberg (HarperCollins, New York, 2006). Retail price is $39.95. Bought it for $7.99. 'Twas remaindered at a Borders bookstore in San Francisco through which I was passing while awaiting an appointment.

And among recent freebies I picked up at the local library was for colored girls who have considered suicide/ when the rainbow is enuf: a choreopoem by Ntozake Shange (Scribner, New York, 1975-1977). "Freebie" here means a book donation that the library didn't want to keep or hold onto for their intermittent fundraising book sales.

So much for all that.

YOU GO, SONNY!

I still grin when I recall a reader of The Anchored Angel once telling me that he was happy to see E. San Juan, Jr.'s contribution because it's a prose piece rare for being comprehensible. Which is to say, "Sonny"'s particular brilliance is such that, uh, words often fail him. Grin.

But not in this article on Jose Garcia Villa (viz Ron Silliman where I seem ironically to be getting much of my e-news re Filipino poets nowadays...and who also helpfully links to Screaming Monkeys) headlined

"Salvaging The Disappeared Poet: The Case of Jose Garcia Villa"

It's really worthwhile reading...and One need not be a Communist to appreciate that judicious use of the word "salvaging...", di ba? Pinoys have such pungent sense of humor...

*****

A review of Jose Garcia Villa's Collected Poems (Penguin) will be in the next issue of Galatea Resurrects. As the deadline for the next issue is Nov. 15, it's not too late for you reviewers to consider writing one for said next issue! Review copy information HERE.

SUCH IS MOI EXPANSE

that I knew even Moi FAT-NESS would a-muse be: Ernesto writes a poem that could be sub-titled "Soccer Poetics":

But,
Eileen, darling,
drunken poet empress,

angelic
You, of
course You're Huge!

(As
we say
in "my" country

when
some one
scores one goal:

¡enooooooooorme!)

An enoooooooorme GRACIAS, Amigo. Para tu, I shall quaff an extra goblet tonight...to the hay(na)ku, a doorway to all sorts of unexpected experiences!

IF ELECTED PRESIDENT

I promise to protect the middle class from being objectified.

If I were Joe the Plumber, I'd be complaining about being used and abused with no sex involved. Now, Joe's got a gun in hand! And let me tell ya somethin' about Joe the Plumber: he's no Dick Cheney!

It's not too late for the true poetic and political Third Way! Remember:

If elected President, I promise a poet in every pot!

*****

More seriously, I've been obsessed for the last couple of weeks with watching the stock market ticker every morning. Being three hours behind NY time, I can catch most of the Dow's movements during my California mornings. And I have to say, short-term trading aside, there are a lot of idiots on, and pundits related to, Wall Street. Y'all have no business having significant rallies, folks, when you hadn't yet received the data on economic fundamentals that you knew was unfolding this week (and if you're a technician vs a fundamentalist, what about rallying ahead of the known unraveling of Lehman positions). Let me put it succinctly:

                  It's not the economy, Stupid. It is jobs, Stupid.

There, I've just given you more specificity than you've gotten from the two Presidential candidates. In other words, you can address the credit and housing crises all you want but you need more direct address on unemployment. No job? No demand for credit. (If that trickle-down effect hasn't worked, what makes you all think trickle-vertical is going to be sufficient? Yes, you need a more direct address of the issue.)

I am a trained economist but I do not approve of interupting my life as a blathering-drunken-poet to deliver to y'all this message.

ONE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN POLITICS AND POETRY

I guess it's a sign of the times: I recently had the chance to print a new book either at a U.S. printer or through a printer based in another country. Decided to opt for the U.S. printer to help out the U.S. economy. Hmmm: as a poet, "Moi local is global". But when I choose to help out more local business, that is a political decision and as the saying goes, "All politics are local." I'm not blathering this matter with confidence, just so I'm not misunderstood. To wit, I continue to mull over the significance of this decision...

THIS ISN'T A WARNING; IT'S A PROMISE

My trip to South America is off for now. Someday, when I finally get to rule the universe, a lot of people are going to be sorry.

Hopefully, I go early next year to finish up some VERY. IMPORTANT. BUSINESS.

But even so, when I finally don my diamond-dripping crown and raise my diamond-studded sword and flap my diamond-dotted wings as Empress of the Universe, A. LOT. OF. PEOPLE. ARE. GOING. TO. BE. SORRY.

VERY. SORRY.

Meanwhile, I replaced my eyeglasses with contacts yesterday. My eye prescription is over five years old because, on certain matters, I'm just lazy. So, who'da thunk? I don't know whether it's the new prescription or the switch to contacts, but with my new contacts, the world is larger. That is, everything is larger than I'd been seeing them through my old glasses.

Which is to say, I was SHOCKED when I got up this morning and turned to preen at my reflection in the mirror. I AM HUGE!!! I am getting as big as the mountain! My wrist is a *)(*&)(*& tree trunk. (Fortunately, as I frequently tell "That One" with whom I just celebrated the 22nd, "What do I care what I look like? I'm married.")

Galatea is (also) a mountain and in moi poetic myth I am living out Galatea but did I have to actually grow in scale like a ... mountain?! That's the downside of wine: calories. But, no -- don't think I'm going on a diet. If Poetry as a Way of Life means Moi has to be a Mountain, too, well, I happily (okay, dourly, but still committedly) sacrifice Moi for Poetry.

And, Oh. Moi. Gawd. The dawgs are HUGE! HUGE! Did you peeps think my dogs were big from the pictures I occasionally post? Coz I'ma tellin' ya, I knew intellectually they're German Shepherds but moi babies always seemed like chihuahuas in terms of scale. Now, I realize: my dogs are HUGE! No wonder the sofas slump when they get on my lap....!

Well and still, it's all good. I think the world should respond to Moi the way I respond to my dogs:

                  It's okay--that only means there's MORE to love!

Besides, we all-ways knew Moi is Bigger Than Life.

THE INAUGURAL ISSUE OF THE MARSH HAWK REVIEW!

Yay! Always good to see a new poetry journal! And this one, Marsh Hawk Review, is put out by one of the greatest poetry publishers out there: Marsh Hawk Press (MHP) (great because after all, they published Moi HERE....and HERE ... and HERE). The inaugural issue is edited by Norman Finkelstein . Editorships are on a revolving basis among the MHP Collective members. But featured poets are not limited to members of the MHP Collective, because we savvy poets know better than to think "community" is a closed circle.

You are invited HERE to see poems by the following poets:

Jane Augustine
Claudia Carlson
Joseph Donahue
Thomas Fink and Maya Diablo Mason
Norman Finkelstein
Edward Foster
Michael Heller
Burt Kimmelman
Nathaniel Mackey
Robert Murphy
Amanda Nadelberg
Peter O'Leary
Kristin Prevallet
Donald Revell
Mark Scroggins
Jakob Stein
Nathan Swartzendruber
Henry Weinfield
Tyrone Williams

Last but not least, btw, this is yet another journal possible through Blogger.com. Yay bloggers for saving trees! Enjoy!

FIRE: A POETICS

Oh fer *)(*&(*)^&^%^&%*^% crissakes -- I hate it when the Muses get it wrong! the Chatelaine proclaims and shakes her wingtips at the cowering angels.

"HOW MANY TIMES DO MOI GOT TO TELL YOU!???? IT'S POETRY THAT SHOULD BURN, NOT THE MOUNTAINS!!!!!!!!"

she yells again.

Which is to say, THE FIRE has arrived and is two miles away from Galatea's mountain. The sky is livid. Fire helicopters keep whirling overhead to scoop water from the reservoir nearby for dropping over the blazes. It's rumored that Robert Redford's home in the area is ablaze. There are cops at the bottom of my road preventing people from going up the mountain (well, except for Moi whom they reluctantly allowed to enter since I live here). And tonight, here on Galatea, there'll be a Nightwatch in case of needed evacuations.

And wouldn't you know it, she thinks in disgust. The Big, Burly Men were scheduled to finish the fire protection ridge just next month!

Fortunately, the wind is as strong as the Chatelaine's blather, and it is blowing the fire away from Galatea.

And so, while she watches the night, the Chatelaine goes back to crooning over the brooding mountainside lit now and then by flames:

Come to Moi, all ye furry animals. You will be safe here. Ye jackalopes, ye deer who drive my doggies wild, ye squirrels and skunks (I forgive you, skunks), even you coyotes and jackals and mountain lions and bears. Come here to safety where your fur shall remain unsinged. Here, ye furry Babies, where Poetry burns hot enough to damp out any other pretender to Fire.

Meanwhile, you go Wind! Whoooooosh and blow as hard as Moi blathers. Blow and blow and, yes, I shall sing you your own poems someday. Ye whose existence transcends invisibility...

MERCI ET MERCY!, SOPHIE

I'm really honored by the attention visual artist Cecilia Sophia Ibardaloza has been paying to my poem "The Secret Life of an Angel." Recent ekphrasis HERE.

Merci bow-coooooo, Sophie!

HOW TO HAVE A SUCCESSFUL MARRIAGE: A POETICS

I am celebrating my 22nd wedding anniversary today to "THAT ONE" (a fashionista-sigh over those eyeglasses that make him look like he's from the 1950s). Which reminds me to replay a question frequently asked of Moi:

What is the secret to a successful marriage?

I am pleased to share the answer, for Moi is here to serve: it's a one-word answer, to wit:

Apathy

And off she goes cackling over her morning coffee...until she pulls herself up to discourse: You know, the above is also my MOST MISUNDERSTOOD JOKE. And it wasn't until I was surprised recently by the amount of people who don't get the humor of a certain poetry hoax that I realized how much insecurity had to do with misunderstanding a joke. I'll, uh, leave it there....

....well, except to belabor the obvious: Moi is never insecure -- and, btw, this is actually part of my poetics experiments. That is, I've long noticed how so many poets are insecure so I wondered what it'd be like to have a poetic persona who is not insecure. Anyway, Moi is never--or tries never to be--insecure (if "I" is occasionally insecure, that be none of your bidness). In conclusion, another of my slogans (borrowed, of course) which I share at the risk of seeming Republican which I'm not:

Perhaps in error, but never in doubt.

LISSEN TO ANGELIC MOI

and you will be TRANSPORTED.

It's as cool as Obama, as
cool as this evening caped around Moi....

Yeah, Baby: that couplet rhymes!

Gracias y Salamat y Agyamanak, Lucy y Ernesto!

LET MOI FLASH THE LEG!

If I do say so moiself and Moi does: I'm quite sexy when I wear a long skirt....with a long side slit that presents the possibility of revealing a thigh....and now you know why your eyes are ever-vigilant for that REVEAL.

Another reason why I don't actually inscribe that tattoo? It's like writing a poem: I have an impetus that makes Moi raise pen to paper or put fingers to keyboard....I write the poem....and the poem doesn't quite say what I thought I'd wanted to say. All I can do is file that initial impetus under Dreams....

....all of my poems are imperfect. Like the weaver's slipped knot in the rug, like the accepted wabi-sabi break. Like the skirt splitting to reveal something that exists through its non-existence. Ye image from a broken glass mirror....or deliberate fuzziness from a metal's sheen. I strive for the glint slipping from a dream. Such be Moi's Tattoo Poetics.

GO SWAG YOURSELF

in MOISELF & MICHELLE!

For, what is a political campaign without swag!

Naturally, Achilles and Gabriela shall each get one of THESE. While Artemis and Missy Scarlet shall now lap at THESE.

I'm trying to figure out how many of THESE to order. So many girlfriends have I!

I should get Ron Silliman one of THESE for his linkie...He can wear it to go vote for Obama...

Last but not least, I'll share what the hubby will get this year in his Holiday Stocking. Poor Man.

Thanks for the continued support, Ernesto--you Campaign Instigator, I mean, Campaign Manager...

MORE TINY BOOKS OF POETRY FEEDING THE WORLD ... LITERALLY!

Meritage Press Announcement

TINY BOOKS OF POETRY FEEDING THE WORLD ... LITERALLY!

Meritage Press (MP) is pleased to announce two new releases from its "Tiny Book" series:

               Randion screpts
               by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen
and
               (b)its
               by Joel Chace

MP's Tiny Books utilize small books (1 3/4" x 1 3/4") made in Nepal by artisans paid fair wages, as sourced by Baksheesh, a fair trade retailer. Photos of a sample "Tiny Book" are available HERE as well as at Crg Hill's Poetry Scorecard. Another illustrated review by Geof Huth is available HERE.

Jukka-Pekka Kervinen is a Finnish writer, composer and visual artist. He has published 16 books so far, as well as numerous e-books and collaborative books; his texts also have appeared in several magazines, electronic publications and anthologies. His works are focused to modern technology, heavy use of computer for generation, manipulation and re-synthesizing of textual, visual and aural materials. Jukka lives in the small village Puhos, in Kitee, Finland.

Joel Chace has published poetry and prose poetry in more than a dozen print and electronic collections. New from BlazeVox Books is CLEANING THE MIRROR: NEW AND SELECTED POEMS, and from Paper Kite Press, MATTER NO MATTER, another full-length collection. For many years, Chace was Poetry Editor for the experimental electronic magazine 5_Trope.

All profits from book sales will be donated to Heifer International, an organization devoted to reducing world hunger by promoting sustainable sources of food and income. This project reflects MP's belief that "Poetry feeds the world" in non-metaphorical ways. The Tiny Books create demand for fair trade workers' products while also sourcing donations for easing poverty in poorer areas of the world. Note, too, that the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation has awarded a $2.5 Million Matching Grant to Heifer, which means every dollar donated (e.g. through "Tiny Books") can be doubled!

Each “Tiny Book” costs $10 plus $1.00 shipping/handling in the U.S. (email us first for non-U.S. orders). To purchase the “Tiny Books” and donate to Heifer International, send a check for $11.00 per book, made out to "Meritage Press" to

Eileen Tabios
Meritage Press
256 North Fork Crystal Springs Rd.
St. Helena, CA 94574

Please specify which of the “Tiny Books” you are ordering, since the entire “Tiny Books” Series continue to be available:

               from “The Tradition
               by Juliana Spahr
and
               some hay
               by Lars Palm
and
               Speak which
               Hay(na)ku poems
               by Jill Jones
and
               "…And Then The Wind Did Blow..."
               Jainakú Poems
               by Ernesto Priego
and
               Steps: A Notebook
               by Tom Beckett
and
               all alone again
               by Dan Waber

With “Tiny Books,” MP also offers a new DIY, or Do-It-Yourself Model of publishing. You've heard of POD or print-on-demand? Well, these books' print runs will be based on HOD or Handwritten-on-Demand. MP's publisher, Eileen Tabios, will handwrite all texts into the Tiny Books' pages and books will be released to meet demand for as long as MP is able to source tiny books -- or until the publisher gets arthritis or debilitative carpal tunnel syndrome.

FUNDAISING UPDATE:
In addition to providing livestock, Heifer International also provides trees. In, 2007, Meritage Press' Tiny Books program sold enough Tiny Books to finance the donation equivalent of at least seven sets of tree-gifts. Here's what Heifer has to say about trees:

One of Heifer International’s most important commitments is to care for the earth. We believe development must be sustainable — that projects should be long-term investments in the future of people and the planet.That’s why in addition to livestock, Heifer often provides families with trees. On a steep Tanzanian hillside, Heifer International helped a family learn to plant trees and elephant grass to keep the soil in place. Today, they have flourishing rows of leucaena trees and corn.Through training, families learn how to keep their small plots of land healthy and renew the soil for future generations by planting trees, using natural fertilizer, and limiting grazing.By helping families raise their animals in harmony with nature, you can fight poverty and hunger while ensuring a healthy, productive future for us all.

Then of course there are the chickens, goats, water buffalos, pigs, ducks, honeybees, llamas....all of which can help ease hunger around the world. Meritage Press thanks you in advance for your support and hopes you enjoy Tiny Books -- small enough to become jewelry, but with poems big enough to resonate worldwide.

For more information: MeritagePress@aol.com

"FIRST WE TAKE MANHATTAN, THEN WE TAKE BERLIN"

Fresh from elevating the latest hoax by writing the best poem in it, I now cut to the chase: I AM RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT OF THE WORLD!..even as Lolabola aptly notes: "Why stop at World?" I love ambitious women whose first names aren't Sarah...

It's funny that Moi's World Presidency is Ernesto's dream. I actually dreamt of him last night....

MY POEM IS BETTER THAN YOURS

I'm pleased to announce that I wrote the Best poem in Issue 1 whose list of "participants" after all is, to quote Ron Silliman, "both long and impressive".

I didn't actually download the issue as it's too big for my landline-constrained e-access here on the mountain. But, nonetheless, I've no doubt that I wrote the best poem in the issue (Someone alert me, please, to what I titled it....if I titled it).

I'm also pleased to see that they didn't include a poem by that poetaster Barack Obama, given that Moi, too, am running for President.

I am less pleased, however, to note a rather significant typo in my great poem. Poetry editors are so lax nowadays. There goes my hope that they have the discrimination to pick my poem for Pisscart Prize nomination...

I PROMISE A POET IN EVERY OVEN!

That's right! I reserve the politician's right to wiffle-waffle on campaign slogans and so: per Bob, if elected President of the United States, I promise a poet served up in every kitchen of this great country of ours!

Meanwhile, pick up your banner of Moi lovely V.P. HERE!

And if she looks familiar to the approximately five million peeps to date who've peeped at Moi's Blind Chatelaine's Keys, well, yes, she looks sideways from "my" Author Photo -- after all, we don't really know what "Eileen Tabios" looks like, yah?

HOPE. THEN PROGRESS! YADDA!

Vote early and vote often!

THERE IS NO CHOICE, MOI FELLOW CITIZENS

Debate, schmbate (not surprised that Senator Biden won but I am surprised at how he won it with such Grace--moithinks he'd be a good poet if he tried). BUT STILL, there is no other choice:

Go HERE for WISDOM.

As one of my campaign managers exhorts:

VOTE EARLY AND VOTE OFTEN!

LAURA INGALLS WILDER POETICS

Because I was born and attended school overseas, much of my childhood education is different from the typical U.S. kid's. So, there I was this week *catching up* by reading all of the novels, as well as a biography on and collection of letters, by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Just picture me sheepish when I went to the local library to check them out and was directed to the Children's Section. Naturally, cough, I pretended I was reading them on behalf of another kid...

Anyway, I didn't expect to find the Wilder books to be such enthralling page-turners. I read one novel and that made me check out the rest of the nine-novel series as well as books on the author. I'm not sure I can name a dozen poets who've had that effect on me.

And, obviously, that's the kind of effect I'd like my books to have -- to not be loved by just other poets (whose practitioner POV would interest me) but also to attract people who may not have had a prior interest in poetry. My favorite reactions come from non-poets who are led for some reason or another to check out one of my books and reply, "Oh. I didn't know poetry can be like that..." When that becomes one's motivation -- to not just be relished by one's community of poet-peers -- it can (for me, anyway, it can) have a free-ing effect. That's why my recent books are, I insist, poetry collections, but not typical in form, structure, or (last but not least) length.

If you read my longer books HERE, HERE, HERE and HERE--they're not the usual poetry book (Ron Silliman has classified ONE as "Other"....I frankly appreciate the fit irony of being Other-ed there...). I welcome ye Strangers out there who stumble across my blog for a non-poetry related reason, and thus can come all innocent to my books about what a poetry book should be. I don't wish to preach to the choir. I'd like to enlarge the choir....and have that Song heard louder and louder until the stars join in.

Until then (wink), here's my latest Relished W(h)ine List:

THE CITY SLICKER'S HARVEST (to date)
2 green figs
12 Santa Rosa plums
50 apricots
86 strawberries
1,451 basil leaves
327 purple basil leaves
267 mint leaves
505 pinches of parsley
3 zucchini
2 yellow squash
1 orange squash
237 tomatoes
40 green figs
23 green onion stalks
210 green peppers
11 red peppers
8 Japanese eggplants
45 purple table grapes


PUBLICATIONS
FOR TO, poems by Skip Fox (another winner by this poet who should receive more attention for his work)

PARSINGS, poems by Sheila Murphy (free .dpf HERE. I confess empathy to this due to moi own The Secret Lives of Punctuations. (John--you should check out partly due to your interest in annotations.)

SUBMISSIONS, poems by Jared Schickling (sensibility-wise, a refreshing dose relative to many other contemporary poetry books)

ARDOR, poems by Karen An-Hwei Lee

WHAT THE FORTUNE TELLER DIDN'T SAY, poems by Shirley Geok-lin Lim

TO BE SUNG, poems by Michael Kelleher

PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE GHOST, poems by Peter Ramos

POETIC ARCHITECTURE, "worthless sophomoric exercises" (per blurber Kenneth Goldsmith) by Kent Johnson and photographs by Geoffrey Gatza

FACE BLINDNESS, poems by Megan A. Volpert

from UNINCORPORATED TERRITORY [HACHA], poems by Craig Santos Perez

LATE POEMS OF LU YOU, THE OLD MAN WHO DOES AS HE PLEASES, New Translations by Burton Watson

FOURSQUARE SPECIAL EDITION featuring poems by Samar Abulhassan

FOURSQUARE, Vol. 2, No. 10, featuring Mischa Erickson, Miranda Lee Reality Torn, Lee Ann Brown, Kristen Orser and Jessica Bozek

TRENCHART: TRACER SERIES, aesthetics by Teresa Carmody, Allison Carter, Kim Rosenfield, Amina Cain and Sophie Robinson, with visual art by Susan Simpson and Ken Ehrlich

MEL VERA CRUZ, art monograph by Mel Vera Cruz

BUSTER'S DIARIES: THE TRUE STORY OF A DOG AND HIS MAN as told to Roy Hattersley

BEST FRIENDS: THE TRUE STORY OF THE WORLD'S MOST BELOVED ANIMAL SANCTUARY by Samantha Glen

ON THE WAY HOME: THE DIARY OF A TRIP FROM SOUTH DAKOTA TO MANSFIELD, MISSOURI, IN 1894 by Laura Ingalls Wilder with a setting by Rose Wilder Lane

WEST FROM HOME: LETTERS OF LAURA INGALLS WILDER, SAN FRANCISCO, 1915

LITTLE HOUSE IN THE BIG WOODS, novel by Laura Ingalls Wilder

LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE, novel by Laura Ingalls Wilder

ON THE BANKS OF PLUM CREEK, novel by Laura Ingalls Wilder

LITTLE TOWN ON THE PRAIRIE, novel by Laura Ingalls Wilder

BY THE SHORES OF SILVER LAKE, novel by Laura Ingalls Wilder

THE LONG WINTER, novel by Laura Ingalls Wilder

THESE GOLDEN YEARS, novel by Laura Ingalls Wilder

THE FIRST FOUR YEARS, novel by Laura Ingalls Wilder

THE SOUTH, novel by Colm Toibin

THE COMMONER, novel by John Burnham Schwartz

THE PANDORA PRESCRIPTION, novel by James Sheridan

THE FINDER, novel by Colin Harrison

TRIBUTE, novel by Norah Roberts

TWISTED, novel by Andrea Kane

FIDELITY, novel by Thomas Perry


WINES
1997 Wild Duck Creek Estate "Heathcote"
Korbel Brut Rose
2004 Chateau St. Jean red blend
2006 Chateau St. Jean chardonnay
2003 Dutch Henry chardonnay

MICHELLE FOR MOI V.P.!

The Peeps have spoken! Beneath my CAMPAIGN POSTER, you will see comments supporting Gura Michelle for Vice President. Part of Michelle's sparkling qualifications HERE!

I'll just emphasize -- Moi don't mean to fear-monger (yeah, right), but the gal who can take down three big, burly men with one hand notes that she can also use a rifle to take down the terrorists threatening our Empire, but she don't need no bullets. Can Sarah claim that?

More recently, she's been weaponing beautiful fans. I can't access YouTube from the mountain but you can check out my V.P. running mate at:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a2356XChZ10

where's she's the one with the blue fan while her sister fans the red one. It's a much lovelier vision than what will be inflicted on the universe tonight by would-be V.P.s Biden vs. Palin.

Last but not least: do as John Bloomberg-Rissman does. If I happen to drive by your casa and you don't have my CAMPAIGN POSTER speared atop your lawn, I will send my V.P. after you. Kapischkie?!

LULU GIVE ME THE BLUE-BLUES...

Well okay. An "IMPORTANT" message from Lulu this morning -- that be Lulu which is a popular printer and/or publisher tool for many indie/small press poetry publishers; here be the excerpt:

No one is immune to our current economy. With the rise in cost of raw materials, freight and shipping, we have had to make some pricing adjustments.

I dashed off an email for clarification and a request for bottom-line effects: (1) what's the publisher's take on books sold under the current vs new, economically-affected Lulu system (effective in late October); and (2) what's my publisher's inventory cost under the current vs new system.

Just another straw on the camel's back that is the poetry publisher. The brain starts getting twisted: e.g., Well, the less books you sell, the less able Lulu is able to pass on the increases in raw materials.... Bonkers, yah?

BOUGHT MOI SUM POETREEEES!

Recently acquired:

EYESHOT by Heather McHugh

ONLY MYSTERY: FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA'S POETRY IN WORD AND IMAGE by Sandra Foirman and Allen Josephs

Then again, these were made available through the local library book sale: a buck for each hardback.

A. Buck. For. A. Hardback. Such be the state of the poetry book...

NOTA BENE: A DAMAGE

"Aaaah, Nico. But don't forget the Phoenix..."
                                    *****

Am proofing the pages for Moi next book, NOTA BENE EISWEIN (Ahadada Books, Tokyo / Toronto) -- thank YOU Jesse Glass for asking for a manuscript.

But something occurred to Moi while going through the proof -- besides noticing that I'm reading the poems as if they're written by someone else as I don't recall now the space I inhabited whilst writing them. And it's something that's reared up its ugly thought before, starting about four years ago, to wit:

Poetry has done many things for me, including many wonderful things. But Poetry has also damaged me.

The damage seems very evident in NOTA BENE EISWEIN as I read through it this morning.

There is no "should" in art-making. If there were, I would have listened to the Voice that began speaking four years ago: "You should stop making Poems. The Poems have started to break you."

There is no "should" in art-making. I didn't obey then. I'm not obeying now.

Even as this damage, in all seriousness, is ... painful. My back alone has become a recurring concrete pavement. Once a week (sometimes more), a huge Russian jackhammers on it for nearly two hours.

There is an antidote for me to stop writing poems. It's bottled in glass bearing the label of Skull and Bones. And a forbidding "X". (My) Poetry -- it comes from a hurt alleviated only by Death.

And, still -- Or, yet -- I want to live forever?

From the "Ice" section of NOTA BENE EISWEIN:

Entrails sparked
when she breathed...

...and that is something
like pink pearls
luminescent among
the gutted goat's remains

From the "Wine" section of NOTA BENE EISWEIN:

a bird caws
from my
mirror.

My mirror spits
out bloodied
feathers.

I love you
nightingales! All
of

you!