Showing posts sorted by relevance for query mccaffrey. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query mccaffrey. Sort by date Show all posts

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Issa's Sunday Service, #14







For this week's Issa's Sunday Service, please turn your hymnals up to 11, that's the hard rock setting, and let it rip: it's Willie Dixon's classic You Can't Judge a Book By the Cover, as done by the criminally neglected band, Cactus. Some fine harp, scorching guitar, sweet bass, and a possess'd vocal.

Sometimes, a singer/songwriter just won't do.

This week's poem from the archive comes from Lilliput Review #26, November 1991. Other poems from #26 were featured in a recent post. This one is a long-time favorite.




Like A Rose
Marcia,
like a rose
had to leave us

but Marcia,
like a rose
still remains
Daniel J. McCaffrey









even the willow
is lonely...
rose of Sharon
Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue






best,
Don

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Susan Diridoni & Vibeke Laier: Wednesday Haiku, #223

 Photo by Aedallou

 

sans pearls summer peaches
          Susan Diridoni


 

Photo by Mike McCaffrey



summer moon
how tenderly waves
touch paper boats

      Vibeke Laier







the katydid
in the paper bag...
still singing

Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku 

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

"A Single, Singular Vibratory Surface"



Cover by Bobo

Ran across an interesting quote from Rene Char on the Counterpoint Press page for his book, Brittle Age and Returning Upland:


When Gustaf Sobin arrived in France at the age of twenty-seven in 1963, he befriended the poet René Char, who, as Sobin writes, "taught me my trade." "René Char taught me, first, to read particulars: that the meticulously observed detail, drawn from nature, could provide the key to the deepest reaches of the imaginary. One and the other, the visible and the invisible, were but the interface of a single, singular, vibratory surface: that of the poem itself."



This, it seems to me, touches the heart of things.

Equipped with this most essential of truths, here's a couple of places you might want to try out your own new work. First. a call for submissions for Simply Haiku:



Simply Haiku-call for submissions:

Submissions are now being accepted for the Autumn issue
of SimplyHaiku. Each member of our editorial staff accepts
submissions forhis or her own genre/section of the journal
which includes haiku,senryu, tanka, haibun, renku,
traditional and modern haiga. Please read the detailed
submission guidelines and selection criteria in our current
issue:

http://www.simplyhaiku.com

and on Facebook at:

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=77136979537



Next, a revised schedule, for the tanka journal, Atlas Poetica:

ATLAS POETICA TO PUBLISH THREE TIMES A YEAR IN 2010

17 June 2009, Perryville, MD, USA

Atlas Poetica : A Journal of Poetry of Place in Modern
English Tanka will be going to a 3x a year publication
schedule in 2010. For the first two years of its existence
it was published 2x a year, but continued growth in
popularity with readers and poets has justified the
increase. ATPO publishes tanka, tanka sequences, tanka
prose, book reviews, announcements, and resources of
interest to tanka poetry of place readers under the
editorship of M. Kei.

ATPO will continue to feature fine art covers drawn
from the galleries of 'Earth as Art', 'Visible Earth,' and
other satellite image galleries produced by NASA, the
USGS, and other US governmental agencies. Each of
these high quality satellite photographs was originally
taken as part of scientific surveys of the Earth but was
deemed to have significant artistic merit in addition to
scientific value. Previous covers have featured the Anti-
Atlas Mountains of Morocco, the Dasht-e Kevir of Iran,
Gosses Bluff, Australia, and the Taz and Yenisey Rivers,
Russia.

ATPO will continue to publish in an 8.5 " x 11" format
and in order to present as much tanka and related
material as possible in 72 pages. The new publication
schedule takes effect for the 2010 year, and full and
updated guidelines are published at the website.
Potential contributors should be aware that ATPO
normally seeks first world English-language rights,
and publishes in a triple format of printed journal,
e-book, and free online version.

The new publication schedule is:

#5, Spring 2010 – Submit Nov 15, 2009 - Jan 31, 2010.
Publishes March 15, 2010.
#6, Summer 2010 – Submit March 15 - May 31, 2010.
Publishes July 15, 2010.
#7, Autumn 2010 – Submit July 15 - Oct. 31, 2010.
Publishes Nov.15, 2010.

Non-fiction contributors of reviews, articles,
announcements, resources, and other materials
may contribute at any time.

Atlas Poetica : A Journal of Poetry of Place in Modern
English Tanka is published by Modern English Tanka
Press of Baltimore, Maryland.

Modern English Tanka Press
P O Box 437171
Baltimore, MD 21236 USA
Telephone: 443-802-1249
Email: dmg@themetpress.com

M. Kei
Editor, Atlas Poetica
A Journal of Poetry of Place in Modern English Tanka
Published by Modern English Tanka Press, Baltimore, MD


AtlasPoetica.com
ModernEnglishTanka.com
AtlasPoetica.blogspot.com




A note for Brautigan fans out there (and you are legion - ok, so maybe there is 2 or 3 that read this blog): the talented young British novelist, Sarah Hall, has selected Revenge of the Lawn as a Book of a Lifetime in the ongoing UK Independent series. Running across the book in her youth, she describes herself as "a troubled reader, full of north-west rain and rural loneliness." Her article perfectly captures what arrested her in the work then. More importantly, she absolutely nails why this often derided poet and writer is important and why he is still with us today:

What appealed to me then appeals to me now. Brautigan is a folk-artist, a master storyteller, and a master rule-breaker. He isn't coy or transparent. He is enormously ambitious and because of this, occasionally falls off the wire – with exuberant, random metaphors that don't quite work and sentences employed simply to justify a previous whimsy.

But I don't care. I like heart and imperfection. And because of it, the stories never loose their freshness. Revenge of the Lawn remains vibrant, radical and generous: 25 years after his death, Brautigan is still, like his poverty-stricken Oregon typist, "pounding at the gates of American literature".



Thanks, Sarah. It seems there is still hope in "a world gone sad," to quote an old friend and Chicago poet, Steven Doering.

Finally, in the news and info department, troutswirl has pointed us to a fine site of modern haiku, Gendai Haiku. There is much excellent work here to be dipped into. Here's a couple of poems from Ônishi Yasuyo:



Within a pillar of fire
---my station





My bones and cherry blossoms
--reach full bloom







And two from Saitô Sanki:






---at Kohan Tei
scattering hairpins
-fragrant lightning








-embracing, making it
there in the soil
--a sweet potato swells





And one by Hashi Kageo





-------a tendril of
morning glory completes
--the circle of gluttony







Gendai Haiku is a fine site for contemporary haiku and it is well worth a look-see.

There have been some discussions about putting together a 20th anniversary anthology of Lilliput Review and so that, along with two other projects, have put a great deal of strain on the time I devote to, well, everything else. Working on the manuscript has given me a long view of what has gone on here over the years. That, along with the weekly archive postings, daily Twitter tweets (approximately 100 poems posted already since beginning in April), and Issa's Sunday Service selections has really forced me to look very hard at the arc of publications since 1989. I've said in interviews in the past that, in some ways, the mag itself has served as something of a personal journey, almost a personal journal; I believe it has chronicled my own growth as an editor and person, mapping a transition in taste and an overall maturation. The further back I go, the less I find that "holds up," if you will. The core is still there and was, right from the beginning; a poem or two with that certain flash (see Monsieur Char, above), a certain something, but also lots of groping in the dark (which, as we all know, isn't a bad thing per se). This, of course, is no reflection on any of the poets, it is simply a question of a novice editor finding his feet. As a result, I find occasionally only a single poem or two or, in some cases, none at all in any given issue and all this certainly would impact any collection from the first 20 years. Still, I feel I've found an approach to take to the anthology which combines the thematic strength of individual issues with a chronological veracity, giving a solid overall feel and resulting in, hopefully, an enjoyable reading experience.

Translation: I'm going to divide the full run into roughly four chronological periods (i.e. issues 1 to 50, issues 51 to 100 etc.) and edit each chronological section thematically, as I would an issue. It gives me a chance to approach the work anew, re-segueing things to bring out tones and highlights I might have missed previously.

All this is a long, windy (as opposed to winding) way to introducing this week's archive selection from #23, July 1991. Enjoy.




Don and Jean "true love forever" over
sodas at some long ago five and dime,

quiet years quickly passing, evenings
an aging ritual of brown bottle fever,

like the hopelessness of a spider trying
to sting itself in mirror on moonless
nights.
t. k. splake





Nature Poem
As a mountain,
I must stand forever.

As a river,
you must wear me down.
Daniel McCaffrey







fear

--the root
--of all prophecy
Charlie Mehrhoff







blown to the big river
floating away...
cherry blossoms
Issa
translated by David Lanoue





best,
Don

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Issa's Sunday Service, #10






This week's LitRock number on Issa's Sunday Service is the Beatles's I Am the Walrus, which takes the title character from Lewis Carroll's "The Walrus and the Carpenter" poem from the Alice book Through The Looking Glass. There is also the reference to Poe and the infamous fadeout ending with a recitation of King Lear courtesy of a BBC broadcast that happened to be on sometime during the recording sessions . Lennon was hitting all the stops on this one. Here's the lyrics.

This week's featured poem on the count up from Lilliput Review #1 comes from issue #16, October 1990. Enjoy.





A Short Poem
A short poem
should reach
at least
the left hand of God.

Daniel McCaffrey











from this year on
in my left hand, umbrella-hat
in the right, knapsack

Issa
translated by David Lanoue






best,
Don

Thursday, November 20, 2008

William Wharton and Sharon Olds



It's come to my attention that one of my favorite writers, William Wharton, has died recently. Wharton is best known for his first novel Birdy (possible spoiler alert), an eccentric, moving, emotionally charged novel about the relationship of two young men growing up in the 50's and 60's. Birdy is obsessed with birds, his love at times going beyond what can be safely described as psychologically healthy. Al, his best friend, recounts his life and the story of his attempt to bring him back from the brink when he is damaged
seemingly beyond repair during war .

Even more relevant for me personally was his second book Dad, which I read while my own father was going through a long, painful process of dying. It was a comfort and revelation, as sometimes only a book can be. A novel doesn't have to be by a Tolstoy or Proust to move us to the point of changing our world. This book did that and it's impossible to say how grateful I was.

Wharton himself lived a wonderful, tragic, eccentric life. I intend to post about him in some depth at the blog, Eleventh Stack, that I contribute to at my job and so will notify folks when that goes up. Though all the obituaries internationally praised him (oddly, he was beloved in Poland, having a number of works recently translated from English to Polish, including a sort of sequel to Birdy entitled Al, without ever having been published in English), he is one of those authors I believe will rapidly slip into obscurity.

I'd like to deliver one blow against the darkness for him before it finally descends.

This week is the birthday of Sharon Olds, one of the best mainstream poets writing in America today. Much of her work is intensely personal but, like all great authors, she manages to universalize the details so they resonant powerfully for her readers. Here is a poem that at once contains elements representative of her work and yet takes a somewhat different stylistic approach. Here the particular seems literally universal and there is a humor on display more overtly than is usually the case.




Topography

After we flew across the country we
got into bed, laid our bodies
delicately together, like maps laid
face to face, East to West, my
San Francisco against your New York, your
Fire Island against my Sonoma, my
New Orleans deep in your Texas, your Idaho
bright on my Great Lakes, my Kansas
burning against your Kansas your Kansas
burning against my Kansas, your Eastern
Standard Time pressing into my
Pacific Time, my Mountain Time
beating against your Central Time, your
sun rising swiftly from the right my
sun rising swiftly from the left your
moon rising slowly from the left my
moon rising slowly from the right until
all four bodies of the sky
burn above us, sealing us together,
all our cities twin cities,
all our states united, one
nation, indivisible with liberty and justice for all.
Sharon Olds




Cover Art by Harland Ristau




This week's issue from the Lilliput archives is #65, from February 1995. To put things in gentle perspective, on February 23rd, 1995, the Dow Jones average closed at 4003.33, the first time it ever closed over 4000. Poetry, at that time, may also have been a tad more innocent, though I'm not sure if you can tell from the following. Enjoy.



------------------------------------------------------


Icarus

And I saw it through the barred
window, your hand with bits
of light in it. I licked them like a horse
and grew wings no sun can kill.
Ali Kress


------------------------------------------------------


Dialectician

The
entire
leaf
he
shoulders
has
roots
elsewhere
Gregory Vincent S. Thomasino


------------------------------------------------------



Paint Sadness

floating
down a
river

catching
on tree
roots

swirling.
Suzanne Bowers


------------------------------------------------------


Elegy

He would have to tell this one to Dad.
He started to pick up the phone
and dial the number,
smiling all the while.

Then he remembered.
When everyone asked him
who he was going to call
he was afraid to answer.
Daniel J. McCaffrey



------------------------------------------------------




Guardrail Graffiti (A Found Poem)

DICKNOSE
FUCK YOU
I LOVE DRUGS
Bart Solarcyzk



------------------------------------------------------


Bird Haiku #14

Wings extended across the ground
a dead sparrow
flies into eternity.
David Rhine


------------------------------------------------------



In memory of Suzanne Bowers and Harland Ristau.



best,
Don