THE ROAD TO DOMESTIC GODDESS-NESS IS RIDDLED WITH HOLEY POTS

Shitski. Sometimes, I loathe middle school. You know the worst thing about parenting a young student? It's all those projects that require the involvement of the parent -- usually the Mom! -- into cooking something for class. LOATHE. IT. Ironic since I have a kitchen newly-reconstructed to fit in a futbol field...but that's another story.

Here's my 7th grade experience with the culinary arts. Now, Michael's 8th grade class is studying China -- all well and good. But, tomorrow, the kiddos are supposed to bring in Chinese food prepared by them or their parents. Excuse Moi?!!!

So I do what I always do for Chinese food -- go to the telephone for take-out. But then I remembered this ain't Kansas New York anymore, Chatty Dawg! It's St. Helena where not a decent Chinese restaurant exists for miles!

Being a brilliant conceptual artist, I solved my dilemma easily. I ordered the hubby to bring in Chinese food from San Francisco since he commutes there to work every day. Snap. Crackle. Pop. I AM A GREAT MOM!

Speaking of boys, puppy dog tails, snails or whatever that phrase is that I'm mangling, here's Michael with a tree frog he caught from his window:



I made him release said froggie back into the wild. Such are days with growing a boy ... who shamed me recently by stumbling across a cookbook I once bought in a fit of fancy from a library sale -- it was about "microwave cooking." Sigh.

So, can we get back to basics here like algebra and stuff, instead of teaching a student just how inept his Mom is at cooking? Michael's already learned that lesson very well!

DOGGONE POETICS

For whatever reason, I've been beset of late for Calls to participate in critical readings/analyses of poetry. These editors long for my critical side, something that I tossed aside years ago, indeed, last century (I don't consider my "reviews" in Galatea Resurrects to be criticism, at least criticism in the conventional sense).

Aren't my poems good enough for you people, she sniffs!

Actually, maybe the Calls exist because I've observed that part of the academic-ation of poetry is the rise of the poet-critic's influence. It can't be enough to write a "good" poem since there's no uniformity in that standard. But if you're in a position of analyzing what's good or bad ... or at least interesting and possibly worth reading, you get an imprimatur that writing poems alone might not give you. At least in the short run.

The poet-critic's rise in popularity is not only because of the rise of academic-ation, of course. But I cite such as some of the Calls I get are for texts to be published by university presses -- clearly, with the rise of writing programs come the increased demand for textbooks.

How ... boring. (On a side note, I've read several such anthologies recently populated by the writings of contemporary poets -- no doubt they'll assign the books in their classes, but it's kind of like spinning the wheel for spinning the wheel's sake, which is the dark side of Art for Art's sake...)

But, hey, I'm not here to diss. So after rejecting one Call after another, I gave a 50% acceptance recently to an Invite (primarily coz I like the particular poet-critic-editor-academic who came a callin' for a new critical anthology). Well, and that he observed that "it could be fun" for someone like irreverent Moi to engage in specifically "academic criticism". My immediate response was that it'd be a TOTAL DISASTER.

And because of that immediate response, I said I'd go for it.

I wish Moi wasn't so perverse...or that she left her perversity for sex. Ah well: let's see what happens.

Such of course is one of my primary operating modes for poetry-creation: to see what happens, another being...to amuse Moiself!

And if I happen to save the world along the way, it won't be because of McCrary (wink). Having said that, Jim, these photos are for you:

WHOOOOOOO...?! WHERE ARE YOOOOOOOO...?!

Ever hospitable, Moi also constructed three owl houses on Galatea's mountain--that's recent visitor Rhett above with one of 'em. But everytime I pass them, there's no mound of small animal bones beneath them that would prove an owl is IN THE HOUSE!

What do I need to do to get my hospitality reciprocated? They're painted, with a perch and all that! Sheeesh! Don't tell me Moi has to cook for you, too!

Speaking of which, in one of Michael's recent assignments, he was told to describe a favorite person. Naturally, he wrote about Moi, and he said things like

Mom does this (I'm saying "this" as can't remember what he said about me)
Mom does this
Mom does this
Mom does this
Mom does this
Mom tries to cook
Mom does this
Mom does this
...etc

Sheesh again! Lest we forget, I cook books all the time!

(IRS--that's a metaphor; go away.)

TOWEL OFF WITH MOI!

One of my most special birthday presents this year, from Barbara and Sandy McIntosh, was a set of hand towels embroidered with a hay(na)ku sequence I penned a few years back. What a fabulous idea, and here 'tis!











I love it! And this manifestation also goes hand in hand with an installation I'd always wanted to -- a clothesline where what's clipped onto them are poems. Please do imagine me hanging out the towels to dry and they then provide a poem to a passerby...!

REDECORATE MOI, WILLYA!

First, here's part of the poetry section of Galatea's library:



Here's a close-up:



Now, most of the books you see in the above close-up are review copies for Galatea Resurrects. Notice how many of them ARE ON THE FLOOR!

Okay. You know what to do. Send your love over and ask to review a poetry book for Galatea Resurrects. Info about available review copies and how to review is HERE. Deadline for next issue is Nov. 1, 2010.

Get cracking' pleaze! I got BIG DAWGS and they need more room to walk down that pathway! Woof!

SQUASH MOI!

It's a lovely squash blossom, yah? 'Twas moi breakfast centerpiece last weekend. The problema, though, is that it's just another bit of evidence that I don't know when to time my garden harvests. Apparently, I should have harvested squash blossoms when they were slightly larger than my large thumb! Ah well. But I just got the first of the peaches in...and the figs look to be bountiful this year! Yay.

Here's my latest Recently Relished W(h)ine List:

SPRING/SUMMER/FALL HARVEST:
1 stalk of "miner's weed"
110 stalks of green onion
99 strawberries
2 artichokes
2 cherries
19 zucchini
4 stalks of scallions
37 summer squash
14 cucumbers
718 tomatoes
67 figs
16 bell peppers
75 leaves of basil (Michael "harvests" them leaf by leaf)
15 cucumbers
3 squash blossoms
260 chives
27 jalapenos
18 bunches of house grapes
10 stalks of thyme
3 squash blossoms
2 peaches (a bit unripe; our first of the season!)


PUBLICATIONS
OVERTIME: SELECTED POEMS by Philip Whalen, Ed. Michael Rothenberg

THE MS OF M Y KIN, poems by Janet Holmes (in addition to its intelligent conceptual underpinnings, the resulting poems are really effective. Well done!)

FORCE FIELDS, text by Andrew Joron; art by Brian Lucas (lovely, resonant project)

2ND NOTICE OF MODIFICATIONS TO TEXT OF PROPOSED REGULATIONS, REGULATION AND POLICY MANAGEMENT BRANCH, CALIFORNIA DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS AND REHABILITATION, poetry by John Bloomberg-Rissman

THE PACKAGE INSERT OF SORROWS, poetry by Angela Genusa

THE LEDGE, poems by Michael Collier

ARCHIPELAGO DUST, poems by Karen Llagas (Very SPECIAL RELEASE OFFER through Sept. 30)

THE CHAINED HAY(NA)KU ANTHOLOGY, hay(na)ku collaborative poem anthology curated by Ivy Alvarez, John Bloomberg-Rissman, Ernesto Priego and Eileen Tabios (Very SPECIAL RELEASE OFFER through Sept. 30!)

STAYING TRUE, memoir by Jenny Stanford

CHERRIES IN WINTER: MY FAMILY'S RECIPE FOR HOPE, memoir by Suzan Colon

THE PRICE OF STONES: BUILDING A SCHOOL FOR MY VILLAGE, memoir by Twesigye Jackson Kaguri with Susan Urbanek Linville

MOVING HEAVEN & EARTH: A PERSONAL JOURNEY INTO INTERNATIONAL ADOPTION, memoir by Barbara U.Birdsey with George Canwalader

THE BABY BOAT: A MEMOIR OF ADOPTION by Patty Dann

OUT EAST OF ALINE: AN ADOPTION MEMOIR by Rex L. Wilson

ADOPTING ALESIA: MY CRUSADE FOR MY RUSSIAN DAUGHTER, memoir by Dee Thompson

CHILDREN OF DREAMS, memoir by Lorilyn Roberts

DOUBLE JEOPARDY, novel by William Bernhardt

PART OF THE BARGAIN, novel by Linda Lael Miller

TO WED AND PROTECT, novel by Carla Cassidy

CRUSH ON YOU, novel by Christie Ridgway


WINES
2005 Molly Dooker "The Boxer"
2003 Dutch Henry Chardonnay
2008 Chappellet chardonnay
2004 Bruno Colin Puligny-Montrachet La Truffiere
1990 Fredric Esmond Gevrey-Chambertin Estournelles Saint-Jacques
2004 Trevor Jones Barossa Valley Shiraz
2005 Schramsberg Blanc de Blancs
2005 Peter Michael "Point Rouge"
1990 Paoli Scavino Bric del Fiasc (magnum)
1960 Grahams port (best port tasted from the 1960s)
2005 Favia pinot noir (outstanding!)
2005 Volnay
Kistler Dutton Ranch chardonnay
2005 Chablis (details tbd)
1991 Navarro Correas Coleccion Privada

MI CASA ES SU CASA

A house can be the world...the local can be global...

Yep, ten years of construction. I can see the light! And it'd better be this month because in three weeks I host a wedding! What a fabulous way to celebrate a house's completion!

Meanwhile, here is the front door to the beehive constructed on Galatea's mountain. See the three bees below entering their casa?



Home: it's more than a street address!

DANCING WITH MICHAEL!

                  --for Leny, who loves to dance!



Michael just attended his first dance when his school, together with two other schools, held a 7th and 8th grade dance. Apparently, the staff at his school counseled the students on appropriate behavior et al for a dance. Something got lost in the translation as Michael heard the guidelines as, quote,

"If a boy wants to kiss a girl or a girl wants to kiss a boy, don't do it at the dance. Take it outside."

What? Heh. Well, Michael didn't try to kiss a girl though I think he would have been tickled if a girl tried to kiss him. Anyway, he had a fantabulous time, which was such a relief to me--I didn't know what he could handle and, initially, I wasn't planning on having him attend the dance. Nor did he show much interest innit. I found out later, though, from one of the teachers that he apparently started showing interest when the school started discussing dance guidelines and they mentioned the above Kissing rule. Oh, and the teacher said, "Yes, some of the kids make-out! And that's when the parent-volunteers start wading in yelling, 'Make way for Jesus!'"

Well, the other two schools with which Michael's school does social events are Catholic, but that still cracked Moi up! Wade in and part that Red Sea!

Anyway, Michael apparently asked two girls to dance and they both said, Yes!!!! Unlike his buddy, X, who apparently had to ask four girls to get two girls to dance with him--or so Michael reported with much glee. That's moi handsome boy!

Actually, he said he asked "two-and-a-half" girls to dance. The half was when he asked one girl to dance, then did a double-take as he looked at her, then asked suspiciously, "What grade are you in?"

When the girl said, "6th grade," Michael then scoffed, "Nope. Too young!"

I don't know what that sixth grader was doing there, but if she sneaked in maybe the incident will give her pause in the future...

Anyway, I am so lame. So I'm enthusiastically torturing him for more details by asking, "What did you dance? The tango...?"

He replied, "Mom, that is for old people!"

Oh.

He kindly elaborated, "Hip hop. Some Lady Ga-Ga..."

Okay. Whatever. But I also now have a new type of leverage over Michael. Anytime he looks to misbehave, I now threaten him, "If you do that, I'm going to volunteer at the next school dance!"

Woot! The first time I threatened that, he got such a SCARED look on his face I lost five pounds laughing.

"WHY MOI IS NOT A PAINTER"

For me, visual art methodologies are a great source for teaching about poetic form. As such, I inevitably tried my hand at painting. Well, I recently stumbled across four paintings I did years ago after a residency at the Ucross Foundation. Ucross is in Wyoming and, while there, I met some cows. So I thought I'd paint their (full-frontal) faces! Here they are lined up on a bookshelf, applying what I believed I knew about minimalism and abstraction--do you hear them Mooooo...? :



And that, my Dears, is why Moi is a poet, not a painter.

Nonetheless, cough, let me share what many visual artists often say about reproduction's effect: "Naturally, they look better in person ... "

PRESS MOI FLESH...TOPPED BY A ROSE!

For my official birthday dinner this weekend, the hubby organized a get-together at one of the best restaurants in the Bay Area: Press St. Helena. You can tell it was a great time by the photograph above of the aftermath, taken by pro photographer and dinner guest Rhett Pascual who's shown below with his choice from the manifestations of Press' food philosophy:



The dinner did have a bump when the special bottle the hubby brought presented a deteriorated cork. Here's the sommelier working it out:



Fortunately, said special bottle survived its 50-year cellaring because it is the best port we'd all tasted from 1960:



It was so yummy that poet-raconteur Sandy McIntosh delivered the following poem in response:

First taste of this Port, 1960 Grahams,
and I'm taken elsewhere:
A curtain rises and behind it,
a dark girl, rose in hair,
familiar somehow, crowded with life,
turning in dance, glistening eyes,
whispering something -- what?

In summer, we love fireworks
Rockets in flight invite us to believe
we dissonant folk might finally agree
about something.
We share whatever that pleasure until
scent of gunpowder,
contrails of exhausted avatars
sinking into the river:
the end of such public intimacy.

But this wine
is private. I've tasted it,
found this young woman,
her scene, suspended for fifty years,
premiered tonight--roiling
on my private, personal tongue-stage,
until, show over,
her intimacy dissolves
in sugar contrails.

Wooo-hooo! Ultimately, the Chatelaine's birthday would not have been complete without ... a poem! Thank you Sandy! And thank you all, weekend guests:

WANNA PEEK AT MOI EGGS?

Books? As usual, Moi is pregnant. And Moi will deliver EGGs this coming January--PEEK HERE! Then a gorgeous Napa Valley summer Author Page HERE!

Hope that makes y'all curious about moi SILK EGG: COLLECTED NOVELS 2009-2009, about which ADVANCE WORDS include:

"Reading Silk Egg,I suddenly feel myself becoming more perceptive, fantastical, mordant, impassioned, and artful. Just like the book itself. Read it, and the same can happen to you."
—Barry Schwabsky

Heh. Heeee-larious!

A book of collected novels from one year of writings....sometimes, I amuse moiself so much I nearly fall off the mountain...!

SENORA BROUGHT SENORITAS AND THEN...

The good thing about friends visiting for a birthday celebration is that they extend the celebration. Here were pals slaving away this morning to provide Moi with a faboo breakfast that incorporates thingies freshly harvested from the garden!



Here's the gorgeous result!



In addition to which Michelle brought over some "Senoritas," yummy Filipino sweet rolls. Here's a senora with said senoritas, one for each of my age years (yes, you can note the construction-related plastic tarp in background):



Thanks dear friends!

BIG BURLY MEN UPLIFT BIRTHDAY!

Uplift--pun intended! I've been in construction for ten years! I'm about two months away from finishing, and here's a photo essay where the Big, Burly Men gave me one of my favorite birthday presents: four palm trees in the conservatory! A tribute to the gorgeous atrium of the World Financial Center before it was bombed on 9-1-1 -- as much as anything, I will always be a New Yorker.

This "Spider" crane entered through the doors as an oversized suitcase, before expanding into a huge crane. It reminded me of Louise Bourgeois' arachnid sculptures:


Gabriela waiting impatiently by one of the slots for its tree:


The first successfully implemented tree!



How many men does it take to assess the lean to a tree trunk?


The hubby is a satisfied customer--he was also the planner of a fabulous birthday weekend--thank you Dear!


Why bring trees inside the house? Because I, too, am a nature poet! I strive for no division between my "I" and the World...

FOR BIRTHDAY, MOI IS A NEO-MODERNIST!

Well well what a wonderful morning I've had so far! Several more birthday wishes, including one who gave THIS LINK as his birthday present (laugh), wherein Ron Silliman is interviewed by Anish Shivani in The Huffington Post and is quoted as saying:

Have American poets betrayed the great legacy of modernism? One might make this argument for those poets who write as if modernism itself never existed. But with friends like Ezra Pound &/or T.S. Eliot, modernism hardly needed enemies. I've often thought that the real question here is what would happen if we went back and actually attempted to answer the great questions of form & function that literary modernism asks. In that sense, I tend to think the best current writing isn't post-modern, but rather neo-modern. The work of Linh Dinh, Prageeta Sharma, Tao Lin, Tan Lin, Eileen Tabios, Hung Q. Tu, Mytili Jagannathan, Tsering Wangmo Dhompa, Brian Kim Stefans, Pamela Lu, Bhanu Kapil & other younger writers who excite me all strike me this way.

Well, so thank you, too, Ron!

And Sandy and Barbara made Moi and family a faboo brunch! The picture above is of eggs poaching for the main course in this menu:

Eggs Benedict with chipotle hollandaise sause over arepas (instead of English muffins) and Canadian bacon with oregano and paprika. Arepas are a Colombian staple so it was really thoughtful of the McIntoshes to consider Michael in the menu planning.

Also on the table were papas con chorizo and "quick pickled fig salad". The lovely all of it enhanced by mimosas with some 2005 Schramsberg Blanc de Blancs from the hubby's wine cellar. Fabulous! Here are the final results



and this morning's chefs:



Last but not least for now, Happy Birthday as well to Jim McCrary! And yes, Jim: this

Pat the doggies, pat the kitties, hug em all. kids and hubby. (does that ryhme?)

rhymes!

More later for one of my favorite presents yet involving a whole crowd of Big, Burly Men!

BIRTHDAY BUZZ

Favorite gifts include donations on moi behalf to

Make A Wish Foundation

and

Heifer International

These poet-friends clearly know me well, and I heartily encourage you to support these organizations as well. As regards Heifer, the donors wrote, "...we've donated honeybees and tree seedlings. We figured we should start replenishing the trees that have been used to print your books. And you're always as busy as a bee."

Isn't that a sweet buzz! The bees of Galatea agree! Here's one of 'em!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MOI!

I'm the birthday gal this weekend! It began with a lovely surprise: Sandy McIntosh and beautiful wife Barbara on my doorstep this afternoon. All the way from New York! Now, normally, it wouldn't be a welcome surprise to get an unexpected visit from Sandy (heh). But it became a lovely because Sandy cooked dinner for us: a yummy saffron chicken with mushrooms, chipotle in adobo sauce, wine, red onions and butter fit for Julia Child over buttered (more butter!) pasta topped with Italian parsley and parmesan cheese (geez: what's not to like, shouted my ecstatic arteries)! Tis an original recipe from this poet-chef!

Thanks to everyone for your lovely wishes, including this:



That's the perfect birthday card for Moi! The celebration continues through the rest of the weekend. Apparently, the hubby set up several things in store ... and more poets are visiting!

But earlier tonight, here was Sandy cooking in my apron (I wouldn't normally have an apron but another friend gave this to me a few years back for its slogan: "W.I.N.O.S. ... Women In Need of Sanity"):



And here's the saffron chicken bubbling away:



More to come!

MOI GOT A VISA INTO INSECT COUNTRY!

To wit, Sawako Nakayasu's installation, Insect Country C, will be constructed at LACE from August 27-September 19; more info below. But as part of such installation, Sawako had canvassed the universe with the question of "what are ant-sized objects". The answers -- very intriguing -- can be seen HERE. Moi is No. 77 of the so far over 400 responses.

I often enjoy Sawako's work -- check it out, Los Angeles!

Sawako Nakayasu | August 27-September 19 | INSECT COUNTRY C.
This work is an extension of an ongoing investigation and tutelage under the auspices of the universe as lived by insects, mostly that of the ant variety. Works produced, conducted, performed, committed, or documented thus far include around 100 poems, several performances, a collaborative book defacement, an open poetry studio, two chapbooks, the naming of a non-collective, and numerous other plans. This current incarnation will consist of several ant poems painted or installed on the walls, along with two related performance events.

Upcoming:
Friday | September 10, 2010 | 1:30 p.m.: Artist/Writer talk with Sawako Nakayasu.

Sunday | September 12, 2010 | 2-4:30 p.m.: Improvisational Insect Performance.

Sunday | September 19, 2010 | 4-6 p.m.: Performance featuring Sawako Nakayasu, Marco Antonio Huerta and Christine Wertheim

DESPITE "KNUCKLEHEADEDNESS"...!

So Michael has to commute to his new school. In the mornings, he participates in a carpool twice a week. But for the other three mornings, he has to take a bus. To wit, Michael's bus:



But of course I was there during his first day taking the bus and surreptitiously taking photographs for memorializing the moment into eternal grace!

*****

Meanwhile, Rebecca posted this recently:

Lists of all kinds give me comfort and add gravity to a world that sometimes feels a bit wonky.

I empathize and love the above statement...

...and lists really can be autobiographical. Michael, in a further attempt to boost his English, now has a school project goal of learning at least 900 new words by the end of the schoolyear. These are the first words in his 900-WORD LIST OF NEW WORDS:

Lawsuit
Unreasonably
Quotas
Prior
Abduct
Script
Knuckle

And you betcha there's going to be a List-based Poem here by Mama Moi!

Not sure how he got the first five words -- could be from reading books or newspapers. But I was there when he learned "script" as it came up when he asked me how to handwrite his name. Yes, though he knows his letters, he hadn't been sure how to handwrite (isn't this a 3rd grade lesson of sorts...but his formal elementary schooling was spotty).

And "knuckle" arose from jokingly bandying "knuckle-head" when he did something ... knuckleheadedly.

Anyway, it is a blessing to watch Michael blossom ... especially as he gets such JOY from learning! This boy is really a gift, notwithstanding his occasional ... knuckleheadedness!

THE AGONY AMIDST THE ECSTASY

I've been reading my Mom's book manuscript this week as I format it into book-form for sending to a copy editor. I've been surprised to glean the pain underlying what is otherwise a wonderful project that combines memoir-narratives with her Master's Thesis.

And I've been surprised--and pained--that I inadvertently caused some of the anguish.

That is, while Mom has been generously joyous at whatever I've accomplished as a writer, witnessing my progress over the years apparently also made her feel every so often ye olde immigrant blues. In a new Preface to her Thesis, there's this section:

I wish Dr. [Edilberto] Tiempo were alive today to read this. He and Mrs. [Edith] Tiempo would be tickled to read about my daughter’s reaction when I mentioned their names to her. My daughter sent me a copy of one of her earliest poems. I read and re-read it and I liked it more and more. I called her right away. I praised her poem and gave her a short literary criticism like the universality of her poem, the concrete images, etc. My daughter interrupted me with “Mom, how do you know how to approach the poem?"

Naturally, I was irritated as well as amused ...

“Hey, I had good mentors. Mr. Edilberto Tiempo of Silliman . . ."

“You know the Tiempos? Them Tiempos!” She said incredulously, interrupting me.

“Of course I know ‘them Tiempos,’” I said and proceeded to regale her with stories of my life in Silliman University. That was one time I scored with my daughter and I relished it.

Here's the thing: this incident, this conversation, never happened.

My mother was a student of the Tiempos (who also was her thesis advisors) but we never had this conversation that she recalls. But this conversation did occur in a short story, a fictitious short story, I wrote in the mid-1990s and which was published several times in the Philippines. My nearly 81-year-old Mom obviously read the story, but her memory of it now is that it is a true story. Specifically, for Mom, it is a true story illustrating how I didn't respect her because I hadn't known of her past achievements as a scholar/literary critic prior to our family immigrating to the U.S. where she mostly worked as a secretary (to folks whose grammar she often had to correct whilst typing their letters).

Mom's (and Dad's) stories are not actually atypical for immigrant Filipinos, or other immigrants. When countries cannot support their brightest talents with jobs, those people go elsewhere for often more lowly positions than work for which they'd trained -- aka, the "brain drain."

Or, it's possible that Mom's witnessing me live my dream as a poet also reminded her of old dreams that she never managed to attain. (I remember that shortly after we arrived in the U.S., she'd tried to attend law school but the schedule of doing that while parenting four children and finding reasonably-paying jobs forced her to give up on law as a career. In the Philippines, her mother had discouraged her from being a lawyer as, to my grandmother, being a lawyer was not a "ladylike" profession.)

Anyway, so I'm a bit flummoxed as to how to handle this incident. It's presented as reality in Mom's book, but it actually arose from a work of fiction I wrote years ago.

For now, I'm leaving it as is. I think I'd rather avoid the pain of addressing the matter with Mom. And, for sure, the angst and anguish and sense of loss (at her own aborted potentials earlier on in her life) are certainly True.

I'm just devastated that one of my own writings enabled this situation -- at a minimum, a different take on that saying about Life writing itself...

POETRY RECESSION: AN OXYMORON

Poets, you know, are always drinking in bars; I’m not drinking in bars; I’m at home reading, working, writing — that’s a modern poet. The modern poet is the poet that is involved with health, work, discipline, and which does not deny the fun of living. We are all very complex beings, but we have to be serious about the discipline of what we do. And I defend publicly and privately poetry as health, poetry as a lucidity that also depends on sweat and hard work, and a lucidity that depends on persistence.
--Jose Kozer

Cuban poet Jose Kozer has written 51 books! I'm such a slacker: after 14 years, I've only managed 18 (print) books! No. 19 and 20 are scheduled....but 51? I need to up moi game!

Who'd read so many books by a poet? That's a poetry economics question, which is to say, not that relevant.

Especially nowadays? To wit, perhaps moi version of this Great Recession is that August is the first month in 2010 where nothing got purchased from the Amazon account I set up for, among other things, Meritage Press' books. Well poop.

Which leads me to my modest antidote -- my latest recent Bought Poetry List, naturally headed by Jose Kozer's book. This Bought Poetry List tracks my purchases of not just poetry books but books in other genre by poets (moithinks I need to up this game, too!):

STET by Jose Kozer

HISTORY OF THE PHILIPPINES: FROM INDIOS BRAVOS TO FILIPINOS by Luis H. Francia

MORE FROM SERIES MAGRITTE by Mark Young

OVERTIME: SELECTED POEMS by Philip Whalen, Ed. Michael Rothenberg

ARCHIPELAGO DUST by Karen Llagas (Special Release Offer HERE)

HARD TO PLACE: ONE FAMILYS JOURNEY THROUGH ADOPTION, poetry therapy memoir by Marion Goldstein

POETICS

Opened a new book of poetry today by X and noticed the book epigraph was a poem-excerpt by a poet-acquaintance....which is how I know that X misspelled the name of the poet she quoted.

I have to confess I mostly chuckled. Doesn't misspelling the epigraph author's name mean that X just liked the poem she was quoting? All well and good, yah, for this lack of coterie-poeticizing? For a good poem usually transcends its author anyway...?

Or it could just be a typo?

Naah...no such thing as typos in poetry....

VISUAL LYRICISM

It's been a while since I posted a drawing by Michael. So here's his latest -- one of this "thank you drawings" for Dan and Mari who hosted us in New Hampshire, along with their dawg "Lady"!



Here's the brooding artist with his work:



And a snapshot from their days together:



I love the above shot -- it's one of those golden days of summer kind of pics: visual lyricism!

BAMBI POETICS

Yes dears. I continue in my farming incompetence by not knowing when to harvest. Look at those cucumbers! Too big, and so they will be left in a certain place on the mountain to feed the deer. Don't tell my vintner neighbors. They tend to shoot the deer since deer also love to munch on their grapes.

Anyway, the big harvest news this year is that my tomatoes are a success, versus last year's "crop". Domestic Goddess here even learned to make Italian bread salad which is, after all, very difficult. You mix the usual tomato, basil and mozzarella with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. To make it into a bread salad, you then take a hunk of bread, tear it into little pieces, and include it in the mix where it lovingly soaks up the yummy juices. Very nice. Yes dears, do come to this blog, too, to learn about cooking.

And now, here's my latest Recently Relished W(h)ine List:

SPRING/SUMMER HARVEST:
1 stalk of "miner's weed"
110 stalks of green onion
98 strawberries
2 artichokes
2 cherries
16 zucchini
4 stalks of scallions
18 summer squash
14 cucumbers
560 tomatoes
17 figs
11 bell peppers
53 leaves of basil (Michael "harvests" them leaf by leaf)
11 cucumbers
9 squash blossoms
160 chives
19 jalapenos
15 bunches of house grapes


(Right below also is my usual list of PUBLICATIONS -- just to clarify since one of youse asked the other week, this is not a list of books that I receive or buy (the latter having its own BOUGHT POETRY posts). This is a list of PUBLICATIONS that I've actually read!)

PUBLICATIONS
ARCHIPELAGO DUST, poems by Karen Llagas (newest release from Meritage Press. Very SPECIAL RELEASE OFFER here)

THE CHAINED HAY(NA)KU ANTHOLOGY, hay(na)ku collaborative poem anthology curated by Ivy Alvarez, John Bloomberg-Rissman, Ernesto Priego and Eileen Tabios (Very SPECIAL RELEASE OFFER here!)

INSTRUCTIONS TO A MAP: A SELECTION OF MY SYLLABIC VERSE by Bill Knott

VERTICAL ELEGIES: THREE WORKS, poems by Sam Truitt

WINGS WITHOUT BIRDS, poems by Brian Henry

ARCTIC POEMS by Vicente Huidobro, trans. by Nathan Hoks

HARD TO PLACE: ONE FAMILY'S JOURNEY THROUGH ADOPTION, memoir/poetry therapy by Marion Goldstein

HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY: AN ADOPTION STORY, memoir by James Derk

LOVE IS THE BEST MEDICINE: WHAT TWO DOGS TAUGHT ONE VETERINARIAN ABOUT HOPE, HUMILITY, AND EVERYDAY MIRACLES by Nick Trout

FALLING APART IN ONE PIECE, memoir by Stacy Morrison

THE CHRISTMAS DOG, novel by Melody Carlson

COOCH, novel by Robert Cook

ADAM, novel by Ted Dekker

CAPITOL BETRAYAL, novel by William Bernhardt

CAPITOL MURDER, novel by William Bernhardt

MURDER ONE, novel by William Bernhardt

CAPITOL CONSPIRACY, novel by William Bernhardt

SEEING RED, novel by Susan Randall


WINES
2003 JP Belle-Terroir
2004 Teusner Albert Barossa Valley
2004 3Rings Shiraz Barossa Valley
2004 Dutch Henry cabernet
2006 Dutch Henry merlot
2009 Dutch Henry sauvignon blanc
2007 Dutch Henry zinfandel
1995 Condado De Haza Alenza
1995 Togni cabernet

WANNA KNOW WHAT PEEPS ARE TALKIN' 'BOUT?

THE CHAINED HAY(NA)KU PROJECT anthology has garnered some interesting responses to date:

--from Amazon Top Ten Reviewer Grady Harp

--from Allen Bramhall

--from Ariadne Unst

--from Ernesto Priego

--from Jean Vengua

Of course, moi backchannels only reflect lots of love for the project. Check it out through a discounted SPECIAL RELEASE OFFER, and be hip to the hop!

Ah, ye hay(na)ku! How you amuse Moi! To think your inspirations also include a Filipino nursery rhyme: Isa, dalawa, tatlo! Ang Tata'y mo kalbo!

Which loosely translates to: One, two, three. Your dad is ... bald!

Poetry: it can be about anything so it's good you have a sense of humor.

THANK YOU, VIKI HOMES

I appreciate

"...for poetry I return to Eileen R. Tabios' I Take Thee English, for My Beloved. Eileen is one of our Not A Muse poets, and has long been an inspiration for my own work"

all the way from Hong Kong! Boy, I'd love to travel as much as moi poems! Way to go, BRICK!

Learn more about interesting publisher Haven Books and the Not A Muse anthology HERE.

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL (8TH GRADE)!

ham sandwich
bag of Cheetos
banana
grapes
can of Sprite
packet of apple juice

It's an untitled List Poem coz I say it is! To wit, today is the first day of school for Michael as he begins 8th grade (sniffle)! And that is the first bag lunch I've ever packed for Michael or ... anyone!

Here's one of his home-made rockets taking off this summer:

Dearest Michael, may you have many highs in your life...!