Jan Steckel's Blog: Horizontal Poet Sings Bidyke Blues, page 5

Band of Poets

Monday night, July 18, I had a terrific time at North End Forum, a reading in the Ravenna neighborhood of Seattle. I can honestly call this one of the best open mics I've ever been to, and I've been to a LOT of open mics. This one, organized by singer, poet and guitarist Jed Myers, had as much music as poetry, and both were top-notch. The poets and musicians welcomed new Seattle resident Tracy Koretsky and me to read a few extra poems, and they received us convivially.

High points for me included (but were not limited to) the music of the Band of Poets, which consisted of the host with vocals and guitar; pediatrician Ted on the drums; Ted's wife Roseanne on the harmonica; and a very good female vocalist whose name I didn't catch. Later they were joined by a trumpeter named Philip, who also read very witty poetry. A singer-songwriter named Jacob played guitar like James Taylor and sang like Gordon Lightfoot, one of those basses you can feel in your chest like drums.

Early in the evening, a startlingly talented young poet named Chase Evans moved me to a standing ovation. Turns out he has a band named Slow Bunny and appears in Seattle slams. My husband Hew made everybody laugh with his poem "What Would Jesus Do?"

Tracy Koretsky, my friend from Berkeley who co-featured, knocked me back with her superb work, expertly delivered as always. She just gets better and better. Tracy and I also got to spend an afternoon writing together by a poolside. She really taught me a lot about craft.

Julene Tripp Weaver, a friend from this website, showed up and sat next to me! What a thrill to meet her in person. My only regret is that she had to leave at the break, before I could hear her read. I did manage to snag a copy of her new book, though, which I'm really looking forward to reading.

This trip to Seattle marked a milestone for me. It's the first time I've been physically able to travel that far in about six years. Colorado and Chicago, here we come!

If you live in Seattle or pass through, don't miss North End Forum (certain Monday nights at Bai Pai Lounge) and the remarkable Band of Poets.

A Cooler Kitchen

Hello, friends! Wanted to let you know that my creative nonfiction story "A Cooler Kitchen," about anorexia nervosa in my family, among other things, is now online at Connotation Press.

http://connotationpress.com/creative-...

Thanks to creative nonfiction editor Robert Clark Young for accepting it for publication.

Hope you enjoy it.

Yours,
Jan

A Poet Protests

My friend Cherise Wyneken was kind enough to publish and interpret my poem "Haditha" today on the Albany Poetry Examiner blog at

http://www.examiner.com/poetry-in-oak...

Hope you have time to visit. I think she gets a fraction of a penny for every time you pop over there. Whatever the female equivalent of mensch is, Cherise is it.

Cherise Wyneken

* Albany Poetry Examiner

Tired and retired from teaching and raising four kids, Cherise Wyneken turned to writing. She began by taking creative writing courses at South Florida universities. Selections of her prose and poetry have appeared in a variety of publications, two collections of her poetry, two poetry chapbooks, a memoir, novel, children’s audiocassette, and a children’s book. Her work for children continues as seen on givingbooks2kids.com. She lives in Albany and can be reached at: cwyneken@sbcglobal.net

June 10 reading postponed to August 18

Dear Friends,

Sorry to have to tell you that due to illness, my reading with Marc Hofstadter this Friday, June 10 at the Laurel Book Store in Oakland, CA, will be postponed until Thursday, August 18, at 7 PM. I have a kidney infection and Marc Hofstadter has a monster cold. He's watching baseball nine hours a day, and I'm lying down in the knee-high grass under the spunk tree in our back yard when I get dizzy. Getting to know the ladybugs, snails, little black spiders, butterflies, hummingbirds, mockingbirds, and the neighborhood cats really well. Still don't know what that little passerine bird with a triangular black head is called. Health to us and to all of you! Sorry for the inconvenience.

Warmly,
Jan

Would you help me win a contest?

Dear Friends and Family,

Hope you're well. I wanted to ask for your help in a winner-take-all poetry contest. Don Kingfisher Campbell, a SoCal poet and poetry promoter, posted my poem "Declaration of Independence" on his poetry contest blog at http://winnertakeallpoetry.blogspot.com/

If you have the time, would you visit his blog? Please scroll down to my poem: entrant #2, Monday, May 23. And if you like it, would you leave a positive comment there? Whoever gets the most positive comments wins, and I could really use the cash and the ego boost right now. If you have difficulty leaving a comment, you may have to register with Google.

Thank you!
Warmly,
Jan

"The Canary Islands Go to the Dogs"

My poem "The Canary Islands Go to the Dogs," about the seven Canary Islands off the coast of Spain, is one of six finalists in this month's Goodreads Newsletter Poetry Contest. If you like poetry, please go to http://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/4...
and vote for the poem you like the best!

I'm Reading March 12, 2011

Dear Friends,

Save the date, if you live in the SF Bay Area! I'll be among several featured readers at Works in Progress, an open mic for women. Good food, live music. NB: there's an admission fee. If you want to read, best to call Linda, the organizer (below), WELL before the reading, as the open mic list often fills up even before the show. Hope to see some of you women there! Though this is a lesbian-run reading, all women are welcome.

Warmly,
Jan


WORKS IN PROGRESS, An Open Mic for Women

Fireside Room, Plymouth United Church of Christ, 424 Monte Vista, Oakland

Saturday, March 12, 6:30-10:30 pm


Kimberly J. Miller is an accomplished vocalist who has performed across the United States, in England and on Russian Radio. She has opened for Chaka Khan, Chris Williamson, members of The Association and Three Dog Night. Her soulful, powerful performances have won her critical acclaim for a number of stage roles and well as for her concert “Salute to the Women of the Blues I & II” which were commissioned by and performed at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington DC.
Kimberly will be accompanied by the illustrious Karen Mullally and Shari Kline!

Other incredible lesbian performers who will knock you out include:

Celeste McCarty, Karen Thompson, Tyler Stanley, Patty Overland, Bev Jo and Jan Steckel..

$7-$10 Admission includes a raffle ticket for a chance to win one of six $25 certificates for fine dining at a local restaurant!

6:30 – 7:30 Pot Luck - BRING YOUR FAVORITE FOOD TO SHARE!!
7:30 - 10:30 Performance, Fireside Room

Hosted by Feminist Author & Poet Linda Zeiser, Produced by Linda Zeiser & Carolyn Stull. For information, contact Linda at (510) 701-1022, ZeiserpoetMC@aol.com.

Works In Progress is a creative space for women's art: Poets, Musicians, Comediennes, and Performance Artists. All are encouraged to share their works, completed or evolving. WIP is scent free and wheelchair accessible.

Lighting Up the Albany Bulb

The Albany Bulb is a spit of land north of Berkeley, California. It used to be a dump. Now it's a seaside dog park, an overgrown new wilderness, and an outdoor guerilla art gallery. -- Jan


Lighting Up the Albany Bulb

I smell it before I see it: fennel taller than we are.
Sea-salt air, and a breath of methane.
Dangling from a tree, a doll’s head,
and a black boot spray-painted orange
bearing the neatly written legend
“Not a skinhead anymore.”

A tumbledown crazy heap of giant children’s
concrete play blocks.
A castle on the bay
with a winding staircase to the roof,
where a plaque reads
“You have a heart of gold,
now live up to it.”

Pampas grass between the rebar,
coyote brush, blackberries, gulls and geese.
Porcelain doll arms wash up
in a trail like the crest of foam
or the wreckage of seaweed and driftwood
marking the high tide line.
Six-foot-long perch
grown monster-sized on industrial chemicals
blow bubbles in the surf.

At night, when the moon lights up the Bulb,
sitting men of Styrofoam pontoons,
standing men of rusting industrial junk,
a steel man riding an iron dragon,
a mermaid painted on a concrete tube,
an earthen woman in a sky-colored dress
reaching her hands to heaven,
all come alive like Golems.
They arise creaking and flaking,
swim, stride and fly across the water to the Richmond Costco
step on the roof, walk through the windows,
examine the merchandise.
They bring armfuls of lawn chairs and coolers
home to the Bulb
to fashion mates for themselves.

They couple madly to the barks of ghostly greyhounds
from the Albany track. Before the night is out,
they produce rusty babies
of old wire hangers and packing peanuts.

Later, when the icecaps melt,
and the Bulb is submerged again,
the giant perch still convene there,
among the painted concrete blocks.
They let their babies swim through the mermaid tube.
The big ones whisper in watery fish-language,
“Look on their works, ye mighty, and despair.”

Jan Steckel, 2007

First appeared in in San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly, No. 36, November 2007

Alameda in the Shutter-Click

Alameda in the Shutter-Click

From Ballena Bay to Crab Cove, pilings, tide lines,
orange-eyed night heron, cluster of sandpipers.
Every picture laid with transparency over
an older island, when the naval base boomed, or earlier,
when beaches swarmed like Coney Island or Roman baths.
Sepia-toned beribboned hats, ankle-length skirts for the surf.
1918. 1908. 1905. Long-dead bathing beauties balance,
boating and swimming. Neptune Beach, Surf Beach Park,
Sunny Cove Baths, Terrace Bath. New-built Painted Ladies
stand house-proud. Nineteenth century: Tall ships
at Grand Street’s foot, masts poking out of the palimpsest.

Just like place-names, pure sound now, hide Spanish meanings:
“Tree-lined Avenue.” “Bay of the Whales.” Surely it’s more
than poppies, snapdragons, marinas, sunset over San Francisco.
These names: “Yacht Club,” “Mariners Square,”
“The South Shore Beach and Tennis Club,” conceal
ascending aspirations, wavelet after rising wave of immigrants
lacquering over squalid beginnings. (We’ll be Americans too,
and rich, when we live in such place names as these.)

Duck and hooded merganser, coot and grebe.
Each bird only the part you can see.
How much is underwater, paddling madly,
just to look serene for one snap of the camera?
Do they lie high or low in the water, like tall ships,
barnacled bottoms silently scraping the pier?

From South Shore lagoon to the Alameda Estuary:
gulls descend on mussel-bound rocks, seaweed-sheathed,
just as slippery before tide-tables were printed here.
Species introduced, species extinct. Landscape changes:
landfills, dredging, tunnels. Posey Tube and Webster Tube.
Park Street Bridge and High Street Bridge.
Hello and goodbye: to draw a bridge
or to photograph a drawbridge.
The poet is a camera, click, click, click.
Get shutter speed right, correct focal length,
and what was hazy leaps into the clear.


(Winner of the 2007 Jewel by the Bay Poetry Award. First appeared in the Alameda Sun, Aug. 3, 2007)

Diamonds and Rubies

Diamonds and Rubies

Los Angeles, 1960.
Agapanthus and jacaranda.
Sam Raskin met Max Rosby
at their granddaughter’s garden wedding.
They sat on folding wooden chairs
in their best old suits.
Sam’s pants were a little tight in the belly,
and Max’s jacket a little loose in the shoulders.
Sam told Max
he’d changed his name
from Rassin to Raskin
when he got tired of being called
“Russian” and “Raisin.”
Max told Sam
“Rosby” worked out better for him in retail
than “Rosba.”
Sam knew of some Rosbas in Latvia.
As a boy, he told Max,
he once floated down the river
with his father and the logs
from Byelorus all the way
to the Riga lumber mill
owned by the Rosba family.
The lady of the great house
offered him a glass of water.
He stood at the doorway,
not coming in with his muddy feet,
peering inside at a home grander
than any he had ever seen.
Heavy oak and mahogany chests.
Dark red velvet runners on the stairs.
Leather-bound books in shelves up to the ceilings.
A chandelier dripping diamonds large as chestnuts.
The lady wore black satin,
and when she bent to hand him the glass,
he saw hung around her neck
a heart all of rubies.

Max looked down
at his legs stretched long
on the manicured grass.
His still-broad shoulders
sloped in his jacket.
“That was my mother,”
he said softly.
“She wore a garnet heart
that came from Prague.
The chandelier was crystal.”
“Well,” smiled Sam, shrugging,
hitching up his waistband a little.
“It’ll always be diamonds
and rubies
to me.”

Jan Steckel, 2005
First appeared in the online journal New Works Review, April-June, 2006