READING: APPLIED KNOWLEDGE

Lasrt night whilst enjoying some Napa Valley cabernet (1992 Von Strasser for those of youse who insist on the specific) under the stars, the hubby and I were talking about, among other things, his recent read of a study that shows that ten books within a household makes a HUGE difference in a kid's academic success.  Ten Books?  I was appalled.  Later, I googled the subject and while I saw several references to this concept, the lowest number of books threshold I saw was 25 books.  Still.  25 books is not a lot, is it?  (And this was based on a very quick google so the threshold could still be the lower ten books).

So I looked at the hubby and asked, how many books do you think we have?  After thinking/estimating, he replied, "About 8,000 books ..."

See, a lot of people would think that's a lot of books (of which poetry is but a portion).  But I haven't had a sense that we have A LOT.  I've just been going through life reading what one is interested in and, you wake up one morning and suddenly you have 8,000 books! 

Studies show that it's not just the number of books, of course, but the culture that comes with it.  We've not been didactic on this issue with Michael.  But he obviously is growing up in a house with tons of books, seeing both Mom and Dad frequently read, and taking for granted that he's supposed to read ... and he does read himself to sleep every night now.  So, relatedly:

The other day, Michael and the hubby were discussing an English homework.  And Michael's class is apparently reading some Kurt Vonnegut novel about how the population is forced (?) to be exactly like their leader.  Like, if their leader is fat, everyone has to be fat.  If their reader is a redhead, everyone must dye their hair read (I am making up these examples because I don't know this Vonnegut novel).  So the hubby asked Michael what he thought of this Vonnegut story.  Michael replied, "It's like how Muslim women wear the same robes ..."

Blog Reader, I wept with happiness upon hearing of this incident.  Michael, of course, was referring to the burqa, though he didn't know to call it as such.  And I don't know how close is the linkage between the Vonnegut tale and the notions underlying the burqa.  But for Michael to have leapt from the Vonnegut story to something in current events displayed the leap from knowledge-acquisition to applied knowledge that has long made me suspect he is strong in the Humanities.  It's been complicated to assess this factor since so much is masked/affected by the fact that he's studying in a language (English) that he's been speaking for less than four years.  But what he's achieved/is achieving to date wouldn't even be possible without reading.

Another bonus for us, his parents?  We now know that the library that we'd been creating all our lives will go to a good home someday -- into Michael's life.  What a blessing, indeed!  It is such a kick to see a kid blossom. 

Actually, it is a kick to see any human being blossom ...

MICHAEL THE GREAT!

So blessed! This evening, I go to attend a welcome-to-new-families reception at what will be Michael's new school as of 8th grade this Fall. That's right! Michael, after just over a year of being in the U.S., was just accepted into one of Napa Valley's finest schools. Sniffle. He's had such a tough year--new family, new country, new language--and yet despite being woefully behind academically, he got to be a straight-A student in public school and now has been accepted into a much more rigorous academic setting.

It'll continue to be tough on him -- notwithstanding his A-average, he'll need extensive tutoring to catch up to his peers in his new, more academically-challenging school. But he worked hard for this opportunity and it's a blessing and an honor to be able to provide him this opportunity. I mean, when I think back to just his first summer here with us -- when he had to undergo daily math tutorials for three months from Moi who wasn't exactly in her element -- I'm just amazed he didn't do what most kids would have done in his shoes: fling up his hands, declare a strike from books, and demand to go skateboarding!

Here he is just a couple of months into being part of our family, with Mickey Mouse and a Disney hat and of course the dogs he nicknamed at the beginning "Puppy Monsters" because they are so big:



An institutional upbringing typically causes the kids to lag in development, and we'd been counseled it'd take at least a couple of years for Michael to catch up with his "peers" (he wasn't a real 13-year-old when we adopted him, which is why he could still have an affinity with a stuffed animal like Mickey). Well, it took less time than 2 years for him to catch up and even surpass his peers in terms of school. And am so delighted that he's also managed to grow psychologically as well physically--here he is recently with equally-proud Dad:



Can you compare the two shots and see just how much he's filled out and grown in the past year? If you click on the photos and compare his faces, you'll see how noticeably younger he was in the first photo. I remember that sweatshirt he's wearing--I got it for him in Bogota and, at the time, his sleeves were nearly a foot beyond the tip of his fingers. Now, it fits!

It's such a delight to see a human being blossom. Such. A. Blessing!

IT'S REALLY MICHAEL'S DAY!

One of the many pleasures from last night's SPT poetry reading was inflicting--ahem, I mean, sharing--Michael's first English language poem, "Tornados". But then, after the reading when Michael and the hubby came by to pick me up, guess what happened!

I was able to introduce Michael to Norma Cole who then proceeded to compliment Michael on his first poem. Talk about memory-making! How many 14-year-olds can say they they wrote a poem at 14, and then had it praised by Norma Cole! Woot!

And Michael deserves all the accolades. Because we are celebrating Mother's Day early by combining it with the hubby's birthday celebration tonight, given that said hubby has to leave tomorrow on a business trip. So, this morning, Michael came down with his gloriously-designed outfit:



And of course he didn't forget his Dad's birthday. When you turn him around, you'll see what the back of his t-shirt proclaims, and a happy father with Achilles inserting his mug into the happy action:



Then, he took a second photo with my father's photo because my husband and my father share the same birthday. Do you see Abuelita smiling in the background?



Michael is such a pleasure.

Yes folks Google Moi--OLDER CHILD ADOPTION WORKS!

MOI THORNS EMBARK ON THEIR WORLD TOUR

Yay. THE THORN ROSARY is now beginning its world tour. Boxes of moi thorns are now winging their way -- okay, scratch that: ... are slogging their way through the Pacific Ocean to its Philippine copublisher Anvil Publishing. Hopefully, the book will hit the archipelago in a month or two! Komusta!

And moi thorns also shall rear their perfumed tips in Chile, with a selection of poems to be part of an anthology of contemporary North American poetry to be published by Das Kapital in Santiago:

La alteración del silencio: poesía norteamericana reciente, Edited by Galo Ghigliotto and William Allegrezza

Muy bien!

*****

I read for the first time from THE THORN ROSARY at last night's wonderful reading at Books & Bookshelves. I only read one poem, but it was "Fairy Child Praying to the Goddess of Mercy Kuanyin Shaoling Kung-Fu Fist," the poem after which I'd named Meritage Press' imprint, "Open Palm Press," which is publishing the Hay(na)ku for Haiti series. I read the poems from the series' first 8 booklets penned by Jean Vengua, William Allegrezza, John Bloomberg-Rissman, Lars Palm, Nicole Mauro, and Tom Beckett. 'Twas interesting to mouth-feel all the varied ways that these poets responded to Haiti...

I loved the audience--even though they laughed at my incompetent attempt to mimic the Shaoling Kung Fu Fist, they did so affectionately! How lovely to see poets I haven't seen in as much as, we all realized, eight years: Susan Gervirtz, Norma Cole, even host David Kirschenbaum....and also lovely to meet poets for the first time whose names I've long known: Jill Stengel, Patrick Dunagan....I didn't have a chance to spend much time with most of the wonderful crowd as I had to leave early (it's schoolnight and I had to get back to wine country) but I could tell they knew their poetry from their, uh, blather. Thanks all for coming!

And I loved loved loved the venue! The concept of a store of "books and bookshelves" just makes sense! And proprietor David Highsmith is a faboo poet himself! Wonderful!

And because of writing this post, I think I'm also going to have a wonderful day and I hope you do too!

ANOTHER PLACE WHERE A BOOKLET LANDED

from the Hay(na)ku for Haiti series may be found HERE! Of course it's atop Whitman and Rumi and Salinger....grin.

FROM SMALL THINGS, BIG THINGS!

So far, we've raised $155 from the Hay(na)ku for Haiti Fundraiser. Given that each H for H booklet costs $3, that's a wonderful to-date result. Those three bucks add up! As chapbookpublisher.com editor Dan Waber notes,

"In the immortal words of Dave Edmunds: from small things, mama, big things one day come"

of which a visual metaphor might be one of Michael's holiday presents and new hobby: making rockets from scratch and launching them out into the universe!



Meanwhile, over in Sweden, Lars Palm does a sweet review of the first five H for H series. Hope that persuades you all to continue supporting this project. More H for H booklets from poets are forthcoming!

2009: WHEN MOI = MOM!

PRE-2009: A BOY VISITED AND TOOK OUR HEARTS!


"GOTCHA DAY!"
(Bogota, Colombia, March)


DOGS AND ABUELITA "WELCOME HOME"!


YOSEMITE


SAFARI PARK


DISNEYLAND


WITH JASPER JOHNS' FLAG at SF MOMA


POOLSIDE


WITH COLOMBIAN TUTOR JULIANA


POOLSIDE WITH ACHILLES


FIRST DAY OF FIRST U.S. SCHOOL


SCHOOL PROJECT


SOCCER CHAMP


HALLOWEEN


HALLOWEEN COSTUME


ST. HELENA ALL-STARS


NAPA VALLEY ALL-STARS


AT GIANTS-DODGERS GAME


A FRONTRUNNER


AFTER DECORATING CHRISTMAS TREES


CHESS WITH AJAX & ACHILLES


HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

GALATEA RESURRECTS' LAST EXTENSION

Still working on it. Mommying is a lot of time! But this is also to say that the last deadline extension for sending reviews for Galatea Resurrects will be this coming Monday, Dec. 7. Isn't that great that you reviewers have another weekend to attempt to finish yours?!

Meanwhile, here's Michael above and below with Achilles and wearing his brand spankin' new FRONTRUNNER t-shirt! What's FRONTRUNNER Toi asks? It signifies that he is now among the fastest-runners of a mile in his P.E. class! Isn't that special?! I think his latest time is something like 6 minutes, 27 seconds. That's quite an improvement because he began the semester 4 months ago running an over 8-minute mile!

It's just great to see a child blossom. Michael is a child who knows neglect. Now, he knows Mama Moi and moithinks he loves the experience despite my math tutorials! What a great kid! I need no Holiday Gift besides what I already have:

REAL THANKS

with a bow must be given to Allen Bramhall whose shopping meditations ("I usually wear men’s clothes but there are times that I wear men’s apparel.") have the same effect on me as Meryl Streep acting as Julia Child -- it just makes me

squeeeeeeeal

with bliss bliss bliss!

I've been feeling that Thanksgiving occurred in an eye's half-blink this year. Allen's Mall reportage -- more than the turkey we attempted this year in the pizza oven -- finally made me feel this particular holiday. Really: after Allen's post, no need to go out there and do Black Friday?!

CALLING OUT FOR SONGS!

Jemma Green, a creative writing student currently living in Cornwall, is the first to take up our invitation for songs extending the Original Girl’s global chorus. But as curator John Bloomberg-Rissman notes, the invitation is OPEN TO ALL!

Y tambien, mas interesante informacion AQUI.

ALL STAR DAY!

Here are this year's St. Helena ALL-STARS! (Yes, Michael's the sho..., uh, the kid in the blue shorts):



And here are all the players that made up his ALL-STAR Napa Valley game:



One of the best things I appreciate about these tween boys is when they show their thoughtfulness, as in Michael's goalie-friend deliberately bending his knees, perhaps so as not to emphasize Michael's slight stature....



Before the game had started, all the kids got ALL-STAR t-shirts. After the game, we went home, Michael took a shower, then put back that fabulous but now quite stinky shirt to wear again for the rest of the day! Mama Moi held her tongue and her nose!

As for who won the ALL-STAR game, now C'mon Peeps -- the score doesn't matter as long as you tried your best, right? (That's right -- you wusses betting on the score-results just got obviated by Moi for being in the wrong game.) I am happy to confirm, though, that Michael played his heart out...!

ALL-STAR = ALL-HEART!

AVANT THANKS!

Last month (wow: it's November already!), I had to decline with sincere regrets some lovely reading invitations from Sacramento, Tempe (AZ) and San Francisco. As Moi explained to one curator, I can't Superwoman my way to doing many readings when I live on a mountain with little back-up to take care of son, elderly Mom, two dogs and two cats. But I don't feel any sacrifice from having to pass on invitations for now (and I do hope you curators don't stop asking...) -- coz lookit what my son Michael did with his original Halloween drawing -- in a quite avant process, he xeroxed and then reconstituted the drawing to be



Life is good in moi obscure part of the woods.

I HAVE SOME FABULOUS NEWS

to share but need to await its illustrations. So check here again because...I have some fabulous news....

!

WAY BETTER THAN A THOUSAND VIEWS OF MOI

is this about-to-be-released 1,000 VIEWS OF GIRL SINGING!

...GIRL SINGING is global music produced, in many cases, among strangers from nearly 50 poets worldwide....based on a song, that is poem (inspired by a Jose Garcia Villa poem), I wrote when I was exploring poem-as-song back in the day. I certainly didn't know back then that the poem's desire for audience inherently means the poem-song is really a chorus (or, at a minimum, a duet).

There are poems who just talk the talk. Then there are poems who are lucky enough to find a reader who paused and paid attention for as long as that poem required to release its full blossoming, in this case, on the universal e-stage -- THANK YOU John Bloomberg-Rissman (if you click on John's blog-link, btw, you can see an encyclopediac -- gorgeously ambitious! -- hay(na)ku sequence in blossom-progress...)

Relatedly, much gratitude to Ernesto for his post about both 1,000 VIEWS OF GIRL SINGING and FOOTNOTES TO ALGEBRA. Ernesto's view is arguably the healthiest writing I've seen among the texts addressing the role of blogging in poetry. Do nota bene in particular his eloquence on the joy of sharing and collaboration!

I was also glad to see Ernesto's post because I was among that group of bloggers who began blogging before hordes of poets got into blogworld. Back then, it was a different zeitgeist...even as it's been fascinating to see what happens to the mix when more capitalist concerns (from selling books to selves) enter into the fray (tho, not to worry: Poetry not only survives everything, but it can blossom from anything).

OLD...AND ETERNAL... FAVORITE SONG

Thank you Mark for posting one of my absolute favorite songs of all time.

HERE where

I love you in a place where there's no space and time

FAMILY POETICS

Michael likes to pick up the snailmail and sort through it. He typically reads each recipient's name out loud from each piece of snailmail. So, a week or so ago, I mailed him some stickers as I thought he'd get a kick out of getting mail. He did! He raved and raved over receiving mail -- he still has the envelope on a cherished part of his desk, long after the stickers were used!

So I'm really moved and pleased that his new Uncle John and Aunt Eve of NYC have decided to start sending him mail. There is no other person out there who'd have a reason for mailing my son, except his Mom of course who observes him every day that he sorts through Galatea's mail ("What's Galatea Resurrects?" he once asked, making Moi grin).

Anyway, after receiving his first mail from John, Eve and Cerise, he drew them a Thank You drawing -- to wit, he drew the part of our house where Eve has four paintings hanging. Eve, of course, is the brilliant artist Eve Aschheim. Here's Michael's drawing:



Naturally, Moi preens on his behalf and nudges y'all: Ain't it brilliant?!!! The two thingies on the floor, btw, are Achilles' chewed-up frisbee and Gabriela's bone.

Followers of Eve's work might recall some of the images -- the paintings we have are from the time Eve was doing work like THIS LOVELY "PALE CLEAR". John, of course, is the FABULOUS POET HERE.

Family Poetics is hard to beat!

THE HAY(NA)KU IN THE WORLD

As a poet who believes in letting go of her poems, who believes poems are not the property of anyone including their author, I have enjoyed the hay(na)ku for having an ideal journey out there in the world. It spread through the internet, of course, swiftly leaving my loving hands. And it's appeared in journals and books viz authors who really can do this form way better than I can. (That others can do the form better than its so-called inventor is a significant part of my and the hay(na)ku's poetics, but that's a rambling discourse for another day...)

Now, the hay(na)ku continues my vision of a poem's ideal journey by leaving the "poetry world" and moving forward to the larger world (where I believe poems ultimately should find their way). To wit, I'm purrrrred to discover that a chained hay(na)ku (which will appear later in THE CHAINED HAY(NA)KU ANTHOLOGY) has appeared in a corporate newsletter! The form was taken up by the company's in-house editorial staff, then came to find its way onto said newsletter. If I told you the company's identity, it'd be a more impressive achievement but I, for a complicated reason, can't reveal said identity. But the hay(na)ku -- a poem -- has appeared in a corporate publication, complete with a footnote about the hay(na)ku form itself.

I love it -- poetry infiltrating the capitalist sector. May it brighten up some worker's day -- lighten the drudgery, make a Man relax his uniformed shoulder, ... mayhap make someone who otherwise ignores poetry read and even attempt this very inviting form.

*****



Speaking of the hay(na)ku, the big, burly men are back on the mountain. We are working on implementing a humongous fire protection system, among other things. The "other things" include installing a marble fountain that features statues of Achilles and Ajax playing chess (an image taken from one of the most famous Grecian black-figure vases, 530 BC). They plot and strategize their chess moves within an octagonal base. On each side of the octagon, a hay(na)ku is featured about some of Galatea's most beloved citizens: Achilles, Gabriela, Scarlet, Artemis, Michael ... and Galatea herself.

Well, yesterday, I happened to look out the window and became fascinated watching one of the big, burly men reading the poems. After he installed one of the bases along the octagon, he stepped back to read the poem. Then he began slowly circling the fountain to continue reading the other hay(na)ku. I held my breath, waiting for him to show some sort of bemused reaction -- like maybe raising a hand to scratch a sweaty brow or sumthin' that otherwise indicated he thought the poems silly. But, no, this big, burly man just kinda gave a brief nod to himself after he finished circling the fountain...and moved on to the rest of his day.

I am optimistic over his response which I interpret (or maybe misinterpret, but allow me my idealistic canoodling here) as receptiveness. Through his reading of the fountain slabs, I hope he'll remember in the future how, one day, off he went to work and ended up reading poems. Poems -- they should be part of everyday life...

!

"Mi Mama"

The new SPD catalog arrived today. So while perusing its many lovely offerings, I came across the page which mentions my two most recent books, NBE and TBCK. I showed the catalog to Michael who happened to be nearby.

Intently, he looked at the catalog, then looked at the reference to my books. Then he read out loud my name, as if to make sure I had written them. Then he said, "Mi Mama..." like he's proud of me...

I've noticed that when he's happy, he (unconsciously) inserts -- as if for emphasis -- the possessive before referencing me or his Dad. Well. I'm happy, too! Here is Moi son! Who can make me feel taller than a ... well, you know:

MOI SON, THE ARTISTE!

While going through the adoption journey in the past couple of years, we were exposed to a variety of children. Usually, the brief bios that came with their photos would try to share something of the children's interests. One day, I realized that every single child was being described as a natural artist! To wit, nearly all the bios mentioned that the child had an interest in art -- in drawing, painting, et al!

Well, how can everybody be a Picasso, Moi thought? I delved deeper into the matter and thus realized that many of the children whose profiles I was perusing lived in group homes or orphanages...where there often aren't enough caretakers to give as much attention to each child. And what is one of the opiates convenient for enabling children to be left on their own? Coloring pencils and paper, of course! Not quite as bad as plunking the children in front of a TV or a horror movie (happens, too) but done often enough...indeed, one of the tragedies of orphanhood is how the child's true interests may never be recognized and developed...

Thus, we as prospective parents learned to take the phrase "talented at art" with a bucket of salt. So imagine our delight to realize that Michael actually has immense natural talent. Hah! I'm writing this post, as a matter of fact, after just reading an email from his art teacher who was showing his *altered book* project (containing drawings) to the school principal and various faculty members! I preen on moi son's behalf as I emphasize that the word "incredible!" was used about moi son...!

Poetic justice! To have an artist-son given my and hubby's life-long interest in the arts (and, yes, I'm one of those who write poems only because I can't make paintings...)

I've already emailed the hubby, wondering if we should start using Michael's new nickname "Jesus"....

As I await the hubby's reply -- might be a long wait as it'll take him a while to stop rolling his eyes -- let Moi further entertain you please with a photo of the next Picasso in ... DISNEYLAND! Here he is from last weekend with Juliana, his tutor/translator; prior to seeing Juliana off to her return to Colombia viz LAX, we stopped off to see Mickey Mouse and friends. Naturally, he has on another lovely white shirt as we partook of the breakfast buffet at the Disneyland Hotel:

ON TOP OF THE WORLD

Here's Michael photographing Yosemite (as it turns out, he also turns out to be a talented photographer!).

And I'm also on top of the world because I just got my son's first report card: one A+, two As, one A-, and a B. Not bad at all, eh? He's been in sixth grade not even 3 months and before that was (artificially) categorized as 4th grade. Not bad at all! And, here's one of his stellar photos (check out the waterfall as it was the vaunted waterfall season in Yosemite while we visited):



Some of you are asking about my parenting strategies for "someone of his background." I don't want to claim I have a fixed strategy or that I even know what I'm doing. But the one thing about which I and the hubby have been hyper-aware for years is how human history shows how the difference between those in power and those who get abused is often the difference between being well-educated and not. And from a conversation I had with the kid last week, I told him, "You have a choice. You can aim to better yourself or you can make excuses for yourself because of where you come from."

My son knows exactly what I'm saying. Though, as a 13-year-old, he often lapses to age-typical behavior (like his adolescent sense of humor which leaves him clutching his belly in laughter while I just scratch moi head failing to see what's funny), he is also prematurely adult on many levels (I found out more details about his horrific past just today as family history is often incomplete for many orphans). Suffering resonates.

My son knows too much about too many wrong things. This means he shows strong empathy for the impoverished and the dispossessed. But it also means, he knows he needs to be the one to save himself. And as a parent, the last thing I want to do is contradict that wisdom.