Resonance & Revelation

Last year I was asked, along with 13 other small press editors, if I would like to contribute an essay to the 20th anniversary issue of The Café Review, which was scheduled to appear the beginning of 2009. I was honored and, since it was also the 20th anniversary year of Lilliput Review, it seemed a good time to take a look at what I had done, was doing, and hoped to continue to do for some bit longer. The parameters were specific enough to be interesting to the reader and broad enough to give an expansive horizon to the writer. Basically, the question to be addressed was how you, the editor, choose the poetry you select and why. Also, speak to the current state of American poetry, which I felt distinctly unqualified to address, so I chose to speak to the state of poetry itself, perpetually, as I experience it and how that affects my approach to selecting work for Lilliput. Since The Café Review's latest issue is just out, I thought I'd share the essay, which appeared in their Spring 2009 issue.


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- -Resonance & Revelation - The Café Review Essay

Poetry, in its creation as well as its appreciation, is first and
foremost visceral. It is almost precognitive: the moment of
seeing, close-up and in the wild, a peregrine falcon, or a pair
of mating garter snakes, or a painting before intellectualization
begins.

It is revelation.

Even though this is the single most important part of the
process, involving something beyond words, what follows is
almost as important: taking in the falcon, the snakes, the
Klimt, processing the images, the intent, and the resonance.
For these reasons, rarely do I accept or reject any poem on
first reading. Every poem is carefully considered two, three,
four times, and ones that spark a lyrical quandary are often
read many, many more.

Above my desk there is a note: “Clarity and resonance, not
necessarily in that order” and when I am queried about
what I look for in a poem, I pass this statement on (it has
been part of the entry for Lilliput Review in the Poet’s
Market for most of Lillie’s 20 year run). If you equate this
statement to the process described above, I’d have to admit
that it would be missing that single most important element.

Revelation.

In my mind, without revelation there is no poetry. Clarity
is specific to execution, but it also applies to vision, and so
we are back to the visceral and how it might best be
described. And really it is beyond description. Perhaps there
can be an approximation. There is, however, no definitive
answer or this selection of essays would be unnecessary.
One would have sufficed.

All great poetry mirrors life, in its entirety or in some aspect.
There is no definitive answer concerning life because, if there
was one, all the different religions, like these essays, would
be unnecessary. Good poetry rarely posits an answer: it is a
restating of the question. Good poems are a constant
rephrasing of the one unanswerable question. Ah, theory,
theory! But how is it done, how are poems selected, what
makes a poem worth including in Lilliput Review?

Emily Dickinson’s definition of poetry provides a glimmer of
an answer. “If I read a book of poetry and it makes my whole
body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry.
If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I
know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is
there any other way? ”

This certainly is what I have in mind when I speak of
revelation and, frankly, this is no theory.

Lillie is a magazine of the short poem. It is diminutive in size
by design, for a number reasons, but suffice it to say that
form reflects content. Guidelines ask for 3 poems, with a
maximum of ten lines each. These are the only rules. If
somebody has a 10 line sonnet, I’m ready. I receive nearly
a thousand batches of poems and publish on average 8
issues a year, generally 16 pages in length. On average,
there are 2 poems per page, occasionally one or three. I
use artwork so that reduces the page number to 13.
That’s 26 poems per issue, approximately 200 poems
per year out of a pot of 3,000.

Now comes the tricky part; Lillie is a one person operation
and has been for 20 years. So, really, how are the poems
chosen? Well, aside from what is noted above (and if my
colleagues are honest, they know the following to be true),
work is chosen that I personally like. In fact, I can look
back over the full run and see something of a mirror,
reflecting a body of selected work. It isn’t a poet’s
complete poems, but it is something like that. It is
something like a personal journal, a written artifact of a
life’s journey. In all its honesty, foolishness, pettiness,
courage … the full gambit of humanness. Folks often
comment on how issues seem themed but nothing is
pre-planned, though sometimes an issue taps into
something (insert “z” word here). Putting together an
issue is actually a creative act; this is where it all comes
together and this almost singly makes the endless hours
of detail work worth every single second.

So, er, what do you like, Don?

Well, I have a dedication to the short poem. In tone and
flavor, I’d say I have an Eastern predilection. I like
clarity, plain speaking, but I also like something that
resonates, and not necessarily etc., something that
suggests the many realms of possibility. I love Dickinson,
Whitman, Ginsberg, Olds, Issa, Oliver, Shakespeare,
Yosano Akiko, Franz and James Wright, Sexton … I could
go on, but you get the idea.

An example of the perfect Lilliput poem might be The
Jewel by James Wright. It does everything I’ve described
above and much more. Here’s a poem from a very early
issue of Lillie that is emblematic of the kind of work I look
for:

in a fold of
Balzac’s coat
spider eggs

William Hart

This poem, comprised of 8 simple words in 3 truncated
lines, says it all. What really is going on? Is it a Balzac
statue or an imagined episode in his life? It seems to
contain all the stories Balzac ever wrote and writer’s
block wasn’t an issue. There is something ominous,
possibly. Or it’s simply a naturalistic expression of an
imagined or seen event.

And it resonates like hell.

And that is precisely the point. It is all those things,
drawing the reader in and forcing her to participate
in the creation. It is the perfect melding of Eastern
sensibility and Western mind.

And, oh, did I mention – it’s under 10 lines.


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This week's selection from the Back Issue Archive arrives at #10, from February 1990. Here's two poems from that issue that still retain their sting. Enjoy.

Status Quo

My father, the stone,
rests in my heart
awaiting his completion
with a dry persistence.

I let him wait.
As all stones must,
he is learning patience.

Albert Huffstickler

Mercy?
Do you ask for mercy?

You will be given a toad
and a bucket of salt,
and nothing more.

Do not ask for more.
There is none.

David Castleman

humidity--
from beneath a stone
wildflowers

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

Café Review, Issa, and the New Yinzer

The new issue of Café Review, part of their 20th anniversary year, has arrived and it has been a long time in the planning. It is an all editors issue: 14 editors from a variety of small press publications, commenting on poetry. Here's what they were looking for:

The Café Review is planning a special Editors’ Issue — to be published in April, National Poetry Month — offering insights on what makes a poem publishable and examining the general health of American poetry today. The issue is part of a series of events in celebration of our 20th anniversary in 2009. The Editors’ Issue will feature essays from the editors of at least a dozen, well-respected poetry journals from across the country in which they tell readers what strikes them about a poem and of both the formal and informal criteria they use to judge submissions. In addition, the Editors’ Issue will discuss the state of American poetry. Is it still useful? Does it still have the power to move a person or change the course of public affairs? In short: Does poetry matter in the world right now? It’s an issue you definitely do not want to miss ...

You can see from the above cover, top right, that I was one of the 14 editors approached to share their thoughts and predilections. Since this is Lilliput's 20th anniversary year, it seemed an appropriate time, to both the editors and myself, to stop for a moment and take a look at the big picture.

In my allotted 1000 or so words, I chose to speak about "the poem" rather than the current state of American poetry, which I feel distinctly unqualified to comment on. All the essays serve as kind of extended guidelines and collectively give folks a deeper glimpse behind the scenes of particular mags, including what they are generally looking for (and, perhaps, what it's not). Lilliput is in some esteemed company here and I feel privileged to be included. The other mags included are Asheville Poetry Review, The Ledge, Beloit Poetry Journal, Rattle, Oak Bend Review, The Broome Review, Hunger Mountain, Measure, Calyx, Simpatico, The Spoon River Review, Free Lunch and The Café Review.

If you are interested, individually copies of the All Editors issue are available for $8, one year subscriptions (4 issues) are $28. A subscription might even be a better way to go. Why subscribe to Café Review? Well, here's a .pdf file of a sample issue that might give you a reason or three.



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Because I hate all talk and no action, I want to slip in a few poems from a book I hope to have more to say about in a future post: A Few Flies and I: Haiku by Issa, selected by Jean Merrill and Ronni Solbert, from translations by R. H. Blyth and Nobuyuki Yuasa. Merrill is an esteemed children's author and editor, best known for her classic, The Pushcart War. This is a fine, moving selection of translations from two excellent translators and the blend of their efforts makes for an interesting collection. Blyth's renderings are in 3 lines, Nobuyuki's in 4. Though ostensibly for children, I wholeheartedly recommend it to everyone. Perhaps it is Issa's great sympathy for and love of children and his own childlike vision and attitude, but this volume works for me in a big way. Here's a couple of poems to tantalize:




------At the flower-vase,
The butterfly too seems to be listening
------to the One Great Thing.

On the bridge
In the thick evening fog–
The horse pauses
A few steps before the hole.

------The child sobs
"Give it to me!"
------The bright full moon.

The Buddha
Smiles
And points his finger
At a stink worm.

The first and last of these, by the two different translators, are stunning in their simplicity and power. The last is the perfect example of Issa's childlike vision, a poem that speaks directly on a child's level (who farted?) with humor, and a poem that succinctly captures the entire mystery of the universe in a mere 11 words.




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On another, even more personal note, the new yinzer's new issue is up on the web and you can find 10 of my poems there.

Thanks, Jay.



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by itself
my head bows...
peony!

Issa
translated by David Lanoue

best,
Don

Talking, Writing, Teaching, Spewing, Loving: Another Week of Poetry

Cover art by Wayne Hogan

Though off from "work" this week, I've been busy with things Lilliput related, which include getting issues #'s 163 and 164 out in the mail to subscribers. Also on my plate, has been wrapping up an interview for Poet Hound, which covers a wide range of questions about the history of the mag, its focus, and how I go about doing what I do. Since Lillie will be celebrating its 20th anniversary in 2009, it was a good thing for me to sit, think about the journey, and what's ahead. The interview should be appearing at PH sometime around the end of the month. I'll keep you posted.

Dovetailing nicely with that project, I was also asked to write an article for Café Review, for their 20th anniversary issue, about how I select poems for Lillie. I'm working against a deadline, so that has kept me considerably occupied. The article is scheduled for January, but the deadline looms large. More on that in the future.

Two other fall projects that are gobbling up time like twin black holes are two sessions concerning poetry I'm working on. The first is an Osher lifelong learning one-shot class on poetry appreciation and this is the second year I've been asked to conduct it. The second is a new poetry discussion group I've put together with a fellow staffer at the library entitled "3 Poems By ... ." The idea is to have a poetry discussion group similar to typical book discussion groups, only focusing on 3 select poems by a given poet for an hour long session instead of an entire book of poems. The first session will be on Emily Dickinson, with future sessions on e. e. cummings, Sharon Olds, Mary Oliver, and others. We also will be doing one session entitled "3 Poems About," the subject being time, handled by 3 different poets. Both of these projects will be in the first two weeks of October and the clock is ticking.

When the Near Perfect Books of Poetry list hit the 100 milestone, Ron Silliman picked it up for his blog and this page got mighty busy, mighty fast.

As noted in previous posts, Acres of Books has lost its battle against closing (though gallantly championed by Ray Bradbury) to the Long Beach, CA, city fathers. Now, unbelievably, they have turned a jaundiced eye to the Long Beach Main Library and once again Mr. Bradbury has risen to the occasion. Maybe the mayor of Long Beach, the honorable Bob Foster, needs to hear from you.

Since I'm expelling angst, I might as well make a confession: I hate baseball poetry. Let me be clear: I love baseball, it's baseball poetry I hate. I've tried. I can't help it. It's just one of those things. But Jonathan Holden's poem, How To Play Night Baseball, from a recent posting at The Writer's Almanac, has put the lie to any type of definitive statement I was reaching for. This one's a beaut.

One final note before turning to this week's featured work from the Lillie archives; Jill Dybka at the Poetry Hut Blog has pointed to a nifty list, put together by Amy King, of Movies with Poetry. Check it out and if you can think of any that were missed, just add it in the comments section. I did.

Over the last couple of week's, I've been skipping around a bit in the archive and this week is no exception. The following selection is from issue #157, from August 2007, a year ago this month.

gentle,
the wish of not to wish

Sean Perkins

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just squeeze into
----hollow sycamore
---------& close my eyes

John Martone

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#374
Lying with my lover,
From the bed I see
Through the curtain
Across the Milky Way the parting
Of the Weaver and the Oxherder stars!

Yosano Akiko
translated by Dennis Maloney

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Be Still
This shall be the unspeakable:
Long after you've grown old
You will be the breath
Of a lion,
A basket of blue tears,
Landscape of dry reeds.
Your life shall float
Past the warm,
Slow river, skirting banks
Of black mud and straw

Jeffrey Gerhardstein

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"nowhere & nothing" from the tao of pooh

time
patience
drift

one
flower/poem
after
another

Marcia Arrieta

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Till next time,
Don

PS The Wayne Hogan cover above is supposed to be grey. Every now and then the scanner craps out. It is now.