Jose Angel Araguz's Blog, page 42

* new poem up at asterix journal!

Just a quick post to share the news that my poem “La Llorona at the Saloon” is now up at Asterix Journal in their “Asterisms” section!

I love the image they selected to go with my poem! Special thanks to editor Angie Cruz!

See you Friday,

José

* moody mooning with stafford & gilbert

If you were a scientist, if you were an explorer who had been to the moon. . . What you said would have the force of that accumulated background of information; and any mumbles, mistakes, dithering, could be forgiven . . . But a poet – whatever you are saying, and however you are saying it, the only authority you have builds from the immediate performance, or it does not build. The moon you are describing is the one you are creating.  From the very beginning of your utterance you are creating your own authority.

(William Stafford)

Last Friday, I had the pleasure of talking at Foy H. Moody High School (Go Trojans!), the high school I graduated from in Corpus Christi, Texas. My talk was structured around the above quote from William Stafford and the idea of writing as performance. Along with reading poems about the moon, I provided students with index cards where they could try their hand at describing/creating the moon. Here’s one that a student, Ashley, was kind enough to allow me to share here:

It makes me want to swallow

my tears, it makes me believe

I can forget my fears.

It gives me hope.

One of the things that moves me about this young poet’s lyric is how it reaches out to a similar sentiment as the Izumi Shikibu tanka I shared last week. Both lyrics set the solitary figure of the moon against the solitude of the self and work out of that tension a feeling of hope. Truly inspiring!

As part of my visit, I donated copies of Corpus Christi Octaves, Reasons (not) to Dance, and Everything We Think We Hear to the library. As I made my way through readings from Reasons and Everything, I found the moon popping up over and over again in the poems, serendipitously chiming along with the framework of my talk. It was one of those happy accidents that happen while teaching that, in a way, show your intuition paying off.

When a student asked why I thought the moon came up in the poems so much, I surprised myself again by sharing that it might have something to do with having shared a room as a child with my mother. She would work late nights, and often I would stay awake in bed staring out the window. And most nights the moon was there; when not, then the stars.

Looking back on this moment, I can’t help thinking about the following poem by Jack Gilbert, where he gives his own moon-reasoning:

Secrets of Poetry – Jack Gilbert

People complain about too many moons in my poetry.

Even my friends ask why I keep putting in the moon.

And I wish I had an answer like when Archie Moore

was asked by a reporter in the dressing room

after the fight, “Why did you keep looking in

his eyes, Archie? The whole fight you were

looking in his eyes.” And old Archie Moore said,

“Because the eyes are the windows to the soul, man.”

* mirrors to the sol *

Another “wish I could back and share” thought: It completely slipped my  mind that in the Octaves I have the following poem where I riff and hold conversation with the Stafford quote. I share it here in the spirit of belatedness:

The moon you are describing is the one you are creating

– William Stafford

How many moons between us, friend?

I meet you under circumstances

bad and good: bad, because you’re not here,

good, because I get to listen

and hear the moon you’d have me see.

Moon of my own efforts: where to start?

My questions? What are questions? Tonight,

the moon is in the shape of one.

*

Special thanks to Simon Rios and Melissa Yanez of Moody for helping set up the talks! Thanks also to Ashley, Marcos, and all the other students who participated in the talk about the moon!

Happy lunaring!

José

 

* short lyrics: (pre)spring mix

As I am on the road – in Corpus Christi, Texas promoting Everything We Think We Hear to be exact – I thought I would do a short, fun post of some seasonal short lyrics. Could be that the winters in Cincinnati are tough that I’ve got spring on my mind already.

I’d like to say a special thanks to everyone who made it out to my readings this week. Thank you for braving a rather stormy week in Corpus Christi. A very special thanks as well to Alan Berecka and Tom Murphy for the opportunity to read at Del Mar College and TAMUCC, respectively.

Below are poems by Kay Ryan, Issa, Izumi Shikibu, and Edward Thomas. The Shikibu tanka is an old favorite of mine. I ran into it almost ten years ago in an essay by its translator, poet Jane Hirshfield. In writing about doing the translations for her book The Ink Dark Moon, Hirshfield’s essay broke down how in five lines Shikibu is able to present an image of enlightment (“moonlight”) reaching through to even the most materially impoverished life (“ruined house”).

Enjoy!

***

Spring – Kay Ryan

It would be
good to shrug
out of winter
as cicadas do:
look: a crisp
freestanding you
and you walking
off, soft as
new.

*

*

*

    The snow is melting
and the village is flooded

    with children.

Issa*


*

*

*

Although the wind
blows terribly here,
the moonlight also leaks
between the roof planks

of this ruined house.

Izumi Shikibu**


*
*
*

The Cherry Trees – Edward Thomas

***

The cherry trees bend over and are shedding

On the old road where all that passed are dead,

Their petals, strewing the grass as for a wedding

This early May morn when there is none to wed.
*
*





*
Happy (pre)springing!
*
*
José
*
*
*translated by Robert Hass

**translated by Jane Hirshfield & Mariko Aratani

* new interview & video

Just wanted to share my my recent interview with Speaking of Marvels.

Here, I open up about The Book of Flight as well as my other chapbooks: The Wall, Naos, Corpus Christi Octaves, & Reasons (not) to Dance.

Also, check out this clip of me reading “Hangman Ode” earlier today at Del Mar College. Looking forward to reading as the featured poet tonight at their open mic (7pm, Del Mar College White Library, Room 514).

Thanks to everyone who made it through the rain to see the reading!

See you Friday!

José

* walking ash with bert meyers

The Poets – Bert Meyers

There he sat among them

(his old friends) a walking ash

that knows how to smile.

And he still dreamed of a style

so clear it could wash a face,

or make a dry mouth sing.

But they laughed, having found

themselves more astonishing.

They would drive their minds

prismatic, strange, each wrapped

in his own ecstatic wires,

over a cliff for language,

while he remained to raise

a few birds from a blank page.

* spot the heart & ohio in the ash *

This continues to be one of my favorite Bert Meyers poems. Not only does it contain the characteristic Meyers’ eye for images capable of performing their own narrative while adding to the poem’s (“a walking ash/that knows how to smile”) but there is also something prayer-like to the focus of the lyric.

Through telling the story of one of “the poets,” the poem presents two sides and approaches to poetry. One side is that of the “he” who “dreamed a style/so clear it could wash a face,” while the other side is that of the other poets who “drive their minds/prismatic.”

In describing both sides, the speaker speaks in the clear manner that is dreamed of by the “he,” and does so with the effortlessness that is the opposite of the “prismatic” poets. When the poem gets to its last line, I can’t help but believe in the “few birds” rising from the poem before me.

Next week will bring me to back to my hometown, Corpus Christi, Texas for readings at Del Mar College and Texas A&M University-Corpus Christi. I’m really looking forward to these readings. It’ll be the first time in over 10 years that I’ll be reading in my hometown and I’m excited to share the work I’ve done so far. I’ll be reading from Everything We Think We Hear along with selections from the chapbooks. Here’s the info:

*)Wednesday, March 9th 2016 Del Mar College, White Library, Room 514: Reading & Book Signing 11am

*)Wednesday, March 9th 2016 Del Mar College, White Library, Room 514: Open Mic feature 7pm

*)Thursday, March 10th 2016 Texas A&M University Corpus Christi: Opening Reader for Laurie Ann Guerrero 7pm

I’ll also be spending the afternoon doing a talk/reading at Foy H. Moody High School the Friday of next week.

I’ll be reaching out to folks on Facebook but feel free to contact me if you have any questions: thefridayinfluence@gmail.com

*

Happy ashing!

José

* new tanka at a hundred gourds!

Just a quick post to share some new tanka in the latest issue of A Hundred Gourds! My tanka can be found on page 4 and page 14, respectively.

This issue is filled with great work by Janet Lynn Davis, Claire Everett, and Chen-ou Liu among many others. Check it out here!

Thank you to Susan Constable for including my work!

*

Also, I wanted to share a recent post I did for the Cincinnati Review blog highlighting a poem from the latest issue. Check out my reading and interpretation (including connections to Janus & Fight Club!) of Joshua Coben’s “Antechamber.”

*

Lastly, here are the dates again for next week’s readings in Corpus Christi, Texas:

*)Wednesday, March 9th 2016 Del Mar College, White Library, Room 514: Reading & Book Signing 11am

*)Wednesday, March 9th 2016 Del Mar College, White Library, Room 514: Open Mic feature 7pm

*)Thursday, March 10th 2016 Texas A&M University Corpus Christi: Opening Reader for Laurie Ann Guerrero 7pm

I’ll also be spending the afternoon doing a talk/reading at Foy H. Moody High School the Friday of that week.

*

See you Friday!

José

* going with rodney gomez

From the first words on, a poem begins to perform itself, establishing a logic and vision as you read. Like someone you bump into on the street, a poem wants you to go with whatever kind of interaction is happening at that moment. Sometimes it’s small talk; sometimes it’s carrying furniture out to a car and could you get that end, thanks! However it plays out, a poem wants a reader to go with it, the payoff being that you end up somewhere different than you were.

This week’s poem, “The Hand” by fellow CantoMundo poet Rodney Gomez, asks the reader to go with a story about a severed hand and its fabulistic travels. Each turn in the hand’s narrative charges the overall meaning further. From sugar cane fields to a highway of hands, the hand builds as a symbol of work and want.

This poem also made me think of the Yasunari Kawabata story “One Arm” from House of Sleeping Beauties. In that story, a young woman removes an arm and gives it to her lover to take care of for the night. This removing of self only to return to the self stranger is an act undergone repeatedly in daily life as we live in varying roles at work, at home, with others in general. Art has a way of slowing down the process of living, so that it’s understood for the life it consists of.

 

The Hand – Rodney Gomez

Midnight some time ago, I severed my hand & let it loose in the sugar cane fields outside my home. The next morning, being so drenched with want, I remembered how much a good hand is worth & went to find it. It was panting at a nearby well, next to a neat row of baskets filled with cane. Thinking it would easily reattach, I pressed it against my wrist – but strangely the hand didn’t fit. It scuttled away & I followed, arriving at a city of cardboard in the brush where a highway of hands flowed, swollen & tired. My true hand was there, struggling to pull a time clock into a tattered shoebox. Under the lid was a bleeding pinpoint – glowing hot, too bright for my eyes – accepting into itself all our loveless works.

from Mouth Filled with Night, winner of the Drinking Gourd Chapbook Poetry Prize

***

I also want to share news of some upcoming readings next month in my hometown of Corpus Christi, Texas. At each of these, I will be reading from Everything We Think We Hear as well as Reasons (not) to Dance and other chapbooks:

*)Wednesday, March 9th 2016 Del Mar College, White Library, Room 514: Reading & Book Signing 11am

*)Wednesday, March 9th 2016 Del Mar College, White Library, Room 514: Open Mic feature

*)Thursday, March 10th 2016 Texas A&M University Corpus Christi: Opening Reader for Laurie Ann Guerrero 7pm

I’ll also be spending the afternoon doing a talk/reading at Foy H. Moody High School the Friday of that week.

Happy handing!

José

 

* new work at tinderbox poetry journal & new audio!

Just a quick note announcing the release of the latest issue of Tinderbox Poetry Journal which includes my poem “Todo for Nada.”

Along with being a subverted villanelle, this poem is from a sequence entitled “The Nada Poems” in which two characters, Todo y Nada, play out a relationship (check out another Nada poem: “Zero Flirts With Nada”).

This issue of Tinderbox also features an array of stellar writing including work by Nancy Bevilaqua, William Fargason, and two stunning pieces by Sun Yung Shin, one that incorporates elements of tarot.

Thanks to Jenn, Molly, and everyone at Tinderbox for their support!

*

Also, I wanted to share the news that the good people of RHINO Poetry have released the audio of my reading “Joe” on their site. Thanks to Valerie Wallace for the update!

*

See you Friday!

José

* wide awake with svetlana cârstean

This week’s poem, “Insomnia” by Svetlana Cârstean, goes out to all of  you who suffer the title’s malady. I know several people who are afflicted at various levels, from occasional nights of sleeplessness to chronic sufferers, all of whom have my sympathies. Cârstean’s poem uses a horse metaphor to take the reader into what it feels like. While there are several poems about insomnia (Billy Collins has three, I believe), what moves me about this one is how it plays off expectations of usual sleep/dream metaphors. The voice of the speaker also carries the poem into the peculiar sense of reality of sleeplessness, where the  world appears to be simultaneously blurred and crystal clear.

*

Insomnia – Svetlana Cârstean



Between yesterday and tomorrow

I ride

this mare that doesn’t belong

to me, a mare I don’t comb

or feed.

She’s a stranger to me,

from somewhere other than this city,

and we share no common memories,

but she’s kept me on her back by force

all the night that’s gone by

and the day not quite ready to come.

The dream spat me out

with vigor

with venom

the way you’d spit out a fruit pit

or an unwanted child.

And I arrived here on this horse’s glossy back

where I slide

as if on mud

but don’t fall.

The night clings to me,

it’s a breeze with little teeth

that sink into my skin and remain there.

The pain’s mild, but it continues on and on.

My heels don’t yet stick in the asphalt,

the trams don’t slice the cold air,

tomorrow’s facts still are ripening,

they’re draped beneath big bed sheets,

exhibits that have never opened.

At night, salamis are removed from the shop window

and stored in a secret location.

At night, the world and its salami slices

are moved elsewhere.

The same with the pastries that are my soul.

I too have to be in another place —my body—an empty carcass

a shop window emptied every evening,

a container no one

absolutely no one

wants to steal.

But the dream spat me out.

I’m here

between the day that was and the one still to come.

The dream spat me out

like a hard, bitter pit.

Let it be.

It was an ugly dream.

Or I was the ugly one.

Between yesterday and tomorrow is a narrow space

as between the dresser and the wall.

I stand with my back

to yesterday’s sun,

to yesterday’s fear,

face to face with something that doesn’t yet want to open.

On this horse’s slick back until

the trams, the heels, the workers get a green light

and start going.

translation from Romanian by Claudia Serea

Happy maring!

José

p.s. For more poems by this poet check out this issue of Apple Valley Review!

* new work up at salamander magazine!

Just a quick post to share my poem “Odin and the Runes” recently published and made available by Salamander Magazine!

I have several “unofficial” sonnets throughout my manuscripts, but this one is one of my favorites due to how I came to write it. I was reading heavily into Norse mythology at the time and came across the story of Odin who willingly hung himself from a tree for nine days only to come back with the rune alphabet. I spent hours afterwards on the running trails of Eugene, Oregon standing under large trees and looking up, trying to imagine what nine days of only branches and sky must have felt like.

See you Friday!

José