Lesley Jenike's Blog, page 6
March 16, 2011
March 15, 2011
Lying flat on my back sick this weekend, I got caught up ...
Lying flat on my back sick this weekend, I got caught up on a few good films (much like a few good men, apparently hard to find): Fish Tank and Winter's Bone. It's incredibly gratifying to find two young female protagonists who are honestly written and honestly portrayed, without, say, the Coen Brothers' ironic comment on "how to make an excellent Western" in the good but too-slick True Grit. In these real gritty, neo-New Wave, low(er) budget films, material limitations open up new possibilities for characterization and textual nuance. Winter's Bone is stark and beautiful, but my favorite has to be Andrea Arnold's Fish Tank. I'm a believer in British film again. (Full review forthcoming in Btchflicks sometime this month.)
March 12, 2011
It's that time of year again. Below you'll find a poem by...
It's that time of year again. Below you'll find a poem by my absolute favorite younger poet (at least for now), Sinéad Morrissey from Belfast. You can find this poem in her book Between Here and There (Carcanet, 2002) and it's the one I like best, probably because it's so endlessly confounding. Why that ending? Why? I think I have a lot to relearn about endings.
"In Need of a Funeral"
Even though no one has died and there is no oneto touch the coffin the way my brothertouched the dead-man relationwhose name we didn't know, whose features furrowedlike sugar set and whose black nails shone--I have need of a funeral.
Even though death is not where I wish to go to, down the wet green road through the straight black gate--I have love in the morning, a candle, a radioand a child's smile blooms over my fireplace.If I don't walk to the river the river is by my window--I have need of a funeral.
It came to me the day I stole communion in the cathedral,not knowing what to do and squinting wildly, that I had need of a funeral. Something the man said as he tipped wineand crushed bread felt helpful. He said sometimes a linebetween what was and what is can be visible,
which is why we eat flesh and drink blood. Kirie. I took flowers, an Oxfam veil, a bottle of Scotch, a speechand made it to the sprawl of Milltown Cemeterywhere I littered a hill with old shoes and milk teeth.
There was a pattern to the pattern my breath made on the airas it extended towards the motorway.
-Sinéad Morrissey
"In Need of a Funeral"
Even though no one has died and there is no oneto touch the coffin the way my brothertouched the dead-man relationwhose name we didn't know, whose features furrowedlike sugar set and whose black nails shone--I have need of a funeral.
Even though death is not where I wish to go to, down the wet green road through the straight black gate--I have love in the morning, a candle, a radioand a child's smile blooms over my fireplace.If I don't walk to the river the river is by my window--I have need of a funeral.
It came to me the day I stole communion in the cathedral,not knowing what to do and squinting wildly, that I had need of a funeral. Something the man said as he tipped wineand crushed bread felt helpful. He said sometimes a linebetween what was and what is can be visible,
which is why we eat flesh and drink blood. Kirie. I took flowers, an Oxfam veil, a bottle of Scotch, a speechand made it to the sprawl of Milltown Cemeterywhere I littered a hill with old shoes and milk teeth.
There was a pattern to the pattern my breath made on the airas it extended towards the motorway.
-Sinéad Morrissey
March 9, 2011
It's time get back on that horse. A student of mine wrote...
It's time get back on that horse.
A student of mine wrote a terrific poem about riding a horse during a thunderstorm--one of those Ohio summer storms that pop up out of nowhere and scare every critter in the vicinity out of their gourds. You know those.
I told her the same thing happened to me once. I was riding Genie, a high-strung little bay mare, in the arena at Red Fox Stables, and we had the big doors open for cross-ventilation; summers in Cincinnati can be so brutal.
The storm came up quickly. Rain pinged the roof and a huge gust of wind knocked over the big cardboard recycling bin we had standing right in the doorway. Genie saw it out of the corner of her eye and started to buck and spaz and work herself up, jerking all over the arena like a kid having a temper tantrum. She was so stressed she tripped over her own hooves and fell. Naturally I fell too--and was THIS CLOSE to getting crushed by her body.
Even at fifteen I knew I could have just been very seriously hurt. I was shaking badly. We got Genie back up, then my instructor held her head and said, very matter-of-factly, "Well, let's keep working." So I climbed back on--
which leads me to some good news about the Iron Horse Literary Review: one of my Charley Harper poems will published in the NaPoMo issue, plus I tend to work well in the spring, so I just need to keep working. Spring's nearly here.
A student of mine wrote a terrific poem about riding a horse during a thunderstorm--one of those Ohio summer storms that pop up out of nowhere and scare every critter in the vicinity out of their gourds. You know those.
I told her the same thing happened to me once. I was riding Genie, a high-strung little bay mare, in the arena at Red Fox Stables, and we had the big doors open for cross-ventilation; summers in Cincinnati can be so brutal.
The storm came up quickly. Rain pinged the roof and a huge gust of wind knocked over the big cardboard recycling bin we had standing right in the doorway. Genie saw it out of the corner of her eye and started to buck and spaz and work herself up, jerking all over the arena like a kid having a temper tantrum. She was so stressed she tripped over her own hooves and fell. Naturally I fell too--and was THIS CLOSE to getting crushed by her body.
Even at fifteen I knew I could have just been very seriously hurt. I was shaking badly. We got Genie back up, then my instructor held her head and said, very matter-of-factly, "Well, let's keep working." So I climbed back on--
which leads me to some good news about the Iron Horse Literary Review: one of my Charley Harper poems will published in the NaPoMo issue, plus I tend to work well in the spring, so I just need to keep working. Spring's nearly here.
February 25, 2011
The new Birmingham Poetry Review is kinda like a family r...
The new Birmingham Poetry Review is kinda like a family reunion! Thanks again, Manny.
January 26, 2011
HERE'S an interview via the fabulous 32Poems and Serena M...
January 22, 2011
Maggie and I saw Sharon Van Etten last night at the Wexne...
Maggie and I saw Sharon Van Etten last night at the Wexner Center. She's quite a talent--Cat Power without the weird tantrums, Feist without the R&B.
The track below is from Van Etten's album Epic. Of course there are some nice videos of her live performances, but I like this song a lot and you should hear it.
Columbus-ites, don't forget that Maggie Smith will be reading poems at the Rumba (2057 Summit) this coming Monday (1/24) at 7 pm.
I've got some very important stuff coming up in the next few weeks, so if I don't update this silly blog again until mid-Feb., don't fret, fretters. I'll be back.
The track below is from Van Etten's album Epic. Of course there are some nice videos of her live performances, but I like this song a lot and you should hear it.
Columbus-ites, don't forget that Maggie Smith will be reading poems at the Rumba (2057 Summit) this coming Monday (1/24) at 7 pm.
I've got some very important stuff coming up in the next few weeks, so if I don't update this silly blog again until mid-Feb., don't fret, fretters. I'll be back.
January 18, 2011
School starts today! It should be an exciting semester an...
School starts today! It should be an exciting semester and, believe it or not, National Poetry Month is just around the corner. So get ready, CCAD students, for the terrific Erika Meitner
and the the fabulous Steve Fellner, a dazzling array of readings across the city, and maybe even a class visit from Maggie Smith and Cynthia Arrieu-King. I sure wish Terrance Hayes would stop by too, but we can't have it all, can we?
December 31, 2010
Update: Black Swan is a freak feast, in a semi-good way. ...
Update: Black Swan is a freak feast, in a semi-good way. It actually has more in common with The Red Shoes than I had anticipated EXCEPT for the revolutionary, sensational and down-right brilliant dance sequence which is, frankly, the best part of The Red Shoes. But there is this moment (below) that stuck with me.
and, finally, what happened, Barbara Hershey?
and, finally, what happened, Barbara Hershey?
December 30, 2010
We're back from our holiday rambles and now I'm looking f...
We're back from our holiday rambles and now I'm looking forward to tomorrow night with just Josh, and maybe Andy Cohen's New Year's Eve bash on Bravo, definitely some "shampain." I hear a wig drops instead of a ball. That's right up my alley.
So here's the part where I tell you about all the good stuff I got for Christmas, after which I'll tell you (to make us both feel better) about the positive feelings Christmas inspires in me, etc., etc. Or maybe I won't.
First, Josh's parents got me a Garmin Forerunner which is a watch that connects to satellites so as I'm running I can tell how far I've gone, how fast, and for how long. I ran with it for the first time today because it was pretty warm out and the ice had melted just enough. While I was running, I saw a bunch of blackbirds screaming at a hawk to get out of their tree. Hmm.
I got a bunch of books too. Josh gave me a fabulous book about Jefferson and wine. I've already learned that he preferred whites. Double hmm.
My dad gave me Stephen Sondheim's book of lyrics and essays called Finishing the Hat. I've already learned Richard Wilbur wrote the lyrics for nearly all the songs in Candide, the Musical. Triple hmmm.
In order to get MORE books, I cashed in some gift cards today at B&N: Zapruder's Come on All You Ghosts (everybody's doing it), Kathleen Graber's The Eternal City (anything having to do with Rome is good) and, last but certainly not least, HBO's mini-series John Adams. I'm a geek.
Pile on Cindy King's People are Tiny in Paintings of China, and I have on my hands a veritable feast for the senses!
Speaking of which, to celebrate a poem taken by Sou'wester today (my goofiest and best loved poem): frozen yogurt with sprinkles.
Tonight: Black Swan with M and Som. I'll tell you all about that later.
So here's the part where I tell you about all the good stuff I got for Christmas, after which I'll tell you (to make us both feel better) about the positive feelings Christmas inspires in me, etc., etc. Or maybe I won't.
First, Josh's parents got me a Garmin Forerunner which is a watch that connects to satellites so as I'm running I can tell how far I've gone, how fast, and for how long. I ran with it for the first time today because it was pretty warm out and the ice had melted just enough. While I was running, I saw a bunch of blackbirds screaming at a hawk to get out of their tree. Hmm.
I got a bunch of books too. Josh gave me a fabulous book about Jefferson and wine. I've already learned that he preferred whites. Double hmm.
My dad gave me Stephen Sondheim's book of lyrics and essays called Finishing the Hat. I've already learned Richard Wilbur wrote the lyrics for nearly all the songs in Candide, the Musical. Triple hmmm.
In order to get MORE books, I cashed in some gift cards today at B&N: Zapruder's Come on All You Ghosts (everybody's doing it), Kathleen Graber's The Eternal City (anything having to do with Rome is good) and, last but certainly not least, HBO's mini-series John Adams. I'm a geek.
Pile on Cindy King's People are Tiny in Paintings of China, and I have on my hands a veritable feast for the senses!
Speaking of which, to celebrate a poem taken by Sou'wester today (my goofiest and best loved poem): frozen yogurt with sprinkles.
Tonight: Black Swan with M and Som. I'll tell you all about that later.
