Rob Mclennan's Blog, page 37

some Thanksgiving, Sainte-Adèle, etc.

Another weekend, another Thanksgiving [see also; two years ago], at mother-in-law's cottage, Sainte-Adèle, up in them Laurentides (roughly an hour's drive north of Montreal, if that situates you a bit better). Christine, myself, our two young ladies and irritable cat, Lemonade, hosted by my most favourite mother-in-law. I think this is only our third weekend up here this whole year [see also: labour day weekend], unable most weekends due to the array of child appointments: ukulele lessons, choir practices, ringette, German language school, etcetera. What have we done to ourselves?

We saw no deer on this trip, but there was wind. And squirrels, running up and down the side and the back of the building. As ever, I attempt these get-aways as marathon reading sessions, most of the weekend focusing instead on poking through the larger manuscript of my ongoing "the green notebook," recently subtitled "a writing vigil" [see a variety of excerpts of the project at my substack], as well as putting the final touches upon my essay on Christine's new book, Toxemia (Book*hug Press, 2024), thanks in no small part to an assist by Kim Fahner [see the final essay here] (I think at least half the time up there was dedicated to that particular essay). I might have poked at the beginnings of a short story, also. I'm not sure yet. Otherwise, Rose and I did get part of an evening of chess (her eldest sister and I played a great deal when she was roundabout Rose's age, also): we're already rather evenly-matched, so we keep landing into positions where we've almost no pieces left, simply chasing each other around the board into uselessness, but we enjoy it enormously.

Still, there's a whole mound of material I'm attempting to get through. Did you see the new Stephen Cain poetry title? The new Leonard Cohen biography? The new Ashley-Elizabeth Best poetry title? The stacks of brilliant items produced through Lost & Found: The CUNY Poetics Document Initiative? I mean, holy crap: previously uncollected or unpublished works by Bobbie Louise Hawkins (what I was most excited about, honestly), Adrienne Rich, Diane Di Prima, Muriel Rukeyser (some very cool things in there), Edward Dorn, etcetera. Have you seen the collection Other Influences: An Untold History of Feminist Avant-Garde Poetry that Marcella Durand and Jennifer Firestone edited? I've been recommending it to everyone. I spent the weekend working up many notes on many things. A flurry of notes, and then the final morning as I woke completely wiped out, unable to do much of anything (Christine did the driving en route home, due to my brain-fog), confirming Covid-positive once we landed back in Ottawa (today is day five: second day the kids out from school), which is very irritating. So the past few days have been fallow: those notes, as of yet, are still only notes.

And the young ladies have been requesting I minimize photos of them in this space, but here's the youngest during a walk we took down the road, on our final evening there. The tower in the background. The slight pink-purple of sunset and encroaching dusk.

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Courtney Bates-Hardy

Courtney Bates-Hardy is the authorof Anatomical Venus (Radiant Press, 2024), House of Mystery(ChiZine Publications, 2016), and a chapbook, Sea Foam (JackPine Press,2013). Her poems have appeared in Event, Vallum, Room,PRISM, and the Canadian Medical Association Journal, among others. Shehas been included in The Best Canadian Poetry 2021 and nominated for thePushcart Prize. She is queer and disabled, and one third of a writing groupcalled The Pain Poets.

1 - How didyour first book or chapbook change your life? How does your most recent workcompare to your previous? How does it feel different?

My first book,House of Mystery, was proof that I could do it, I could write a book andget it published, and people would even read it. My second book, AnatomicalVenus, was different from the first because I really wanted to take my timewith it and be picky about the poems I included in it. House of Mystery wasvery inspired by fairy tales and the ways I could mix them with stories from mychildhood and young adult years. Anatomical Venus became much moreconcerned with the chronic pain I was experiencing after being in several caraccidents and I started to write about disability and pain through the lens ofmovie monsters and anatomical art.

2 - How didyou come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?

I can’t recallif I wrote a poem or a short story first when I was young, but I kept goingwith poetry in a way I didn’t really with fiction or non-fiction. It’s muchmore difficult to find sustained amounts of time for fiction and non-fiction,so I’ve stuck with poetry. I love poetry and what I can do with it that I can’tdo with fiction or non-fiction, and my brain tends to think in poetry-sizedchunks, so it works out pretty well.

3 - Howlong does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writinginitially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear lookingclose to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?

It reallydepends on the poem. Some poems come quickly and appear looking close to theirfinal form, some need more notes before I even start writing and go throughmultiple drafts, and other poems change completely from conception to finaldraft and might not even look like the same poem.

4 - Wheredoes a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that endup combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book"from the very beginning?

Typically, Ihave an overarching idea for a book in mind but it might shift and change as Istart writing the individual poems and do more reading and see what comes up.

5 - Arepublic readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sortof writer who enjoys doing readings?

They should bemore a part of my creative process. I try to read my poems out loud while I’mediting to get a sense of them but reading them for an audience gives moreinformation about how the poems are landing—what lines are working, what partsare funny, which poems resonate. But there are always some poems that I’llnever feel comfortable reading at a public event, if I feel they’re toopersonal or too emotional to read though. I enjoy doing readings, although I doget nervous. I’m always happy to hear from the audience about what resonatedfor them, even if it’s just in the “hmms” and “aahs”.

6 - Do youhave any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions areyou trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the currentquestions are?

In AnatomicalVenus, I wanted to answer the question about disability posed by AmandaLeduc that I included as the epigraph to the book: “What sort of happy endingcan be found in constant struggle?” The final poems in the book are my responseto that question.

7 – What doyou see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Do they evenhave one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?

I writebecause I enjoy it and because I like to create meaning and art out of my lifeand my interests. If other people read my work and feel that I have capturedsomething that they have felt or experienced, that makes me happy. If they readmy work and it shows them something they haven’t felt or experienced before,that also makes me happy. I’ll leave the question of the Role of the Writer inModern Society to the philosophers and greater writers than I.

8 - Do youfind the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (orboth)?

I find itessential. I need an outside eye to tell me what they see in the work and whatthey don’t. Sometimes I need that extra little push to put something on thepage that I’ve been dancing around in a poem. I worked with Jennifer LoveGroveon Anatomical Venus, and her feedback was immensely helpful.

9 - What isthe best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?

My supervisorfor my Master’s thesis was Kathleen Wall, and she told me that if I ran into aproblem or a block in my writing, to put it in my back pocket (figurativelyspeaking) and let my subconscious work on it for a while before returning. It’sserved me well.

10 - Whatkind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How doesa typical day (for you) begin?

I don’t have aregular writing routine. Work takes up a lot of my time and energy, which iswhy it took eight years to finish and publish my most recent collection. Iwrite when I can, when inspiration hits, when I go to writers’ retreats, and wheneverI can type something into my notes app.

11 - Whenyour writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of abetter word) inspiration?

My reading.I’m always reading something, so I’ll turn to other books for inspiration or tolearn more about something I would like to write about.

12 - Whatfragrance reminds you of home?

The smell ofmy girlfriend’s hair, my cat’s fur, and good food cooking on the stove.

13 - DavidW. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any other formsthat influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?

Absolutely,you name it: visual art, film, tv, nature, science, music, ballet, on and on. Someof the inspiration for poems in Anatomical Venus came from the tv showsPenny Dreadful and Hannibal; monsters from Godzilla, Hellboy II, The Bride ofFrankenstein, The Blob; and anatomical art by Ercole Lelli, Eleanor Crook, JaquesFabien Gautier d’Agoty.

14 - Whatother writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your lifeoutside of your work?

Oh mygoodness, so many. Amber Dawn for her queer poems, Amanda Leduc for her writingabout disability and fairy tales, Joanna Ebenstein for writing about thehistory of the anatomical Venus in the first place, Sandra Ridley, Katherine Lawrence, and Jennifer LoveGrove for helping to shape the collection atdifferent stages in the process. I’m also endlessly grateful to my writinggroup, The Pain Poets.

15 - Whatwould you like to do that you haven't yet done?

I’d like to goon a writing retreat at Banff, I’d like to be guest editor for a literarymagazine, and I’d like to publish some of my non-fiction someday.

16 - If youcould pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately,what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?

Considering myfull-time job is in marketing and communications, I don’t know that I would bedoing anything else except writing. I thought about other things: teaching,publishing, library sciences, but they all circled around writing or reading insome way. If I could write full-time for myself, that would be a dream cometrue but that will have to wait until I can maybe, someday, hopefully retire.

17 - Whatmade you write, as opposed to doing something else?

I loved anykind of art growing up, but writing drew me in because I felt like I was betterat it than things like drawing or painting. I had a poem published in theschool newsletter in grade one, and that was it, I’ve been chasing that highever since.

18 - Whatwas the last great book you read? What was the last great film?

I recentlyread Jes Battis’ forthcoming collection of poetry, I Hate Parties, andI’m very excited to read at their launch in September. It’s a beautifulcollection, so tender and meaningful, all about growing up queer and autistic. Ialso loved Joelle Barron’s new collection, Excerpts from a Burned Letter (historicallesbians!), Emily Austin’s Gay Girl Prayers (queered Biblical poems!),and Kayla Czaga’s Midway (stunning poems about complicated grief).

I just watchedAlien: Romulus in theatres, and I loved it. I’m a big fan of the Alienmovies, so I was pleased to see a new Alien movie that was so much fun to watchand paid tribute to the previous installments. Monkey Man with Dev Patelwas another great one I watched recently that was a total surprise.

19 - Whatare you currently working on?

I’m working onmy next collection of poetry, which doesn’t have a working title yet. So far,it’s about my experience of coming out as queer and polyamorous and reckoningwith the religious trauma of my past while also celebrating the joy and care ofhaving two loving partners. I’m doing a lot of reading on queer and lesbianfigures from the past that I think will come into the collection in ways thatremain to be seen. It’s a fun stage to be at and one of my favourite parts ofthe creative process.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

four recent (short) essays: Anne Carson, Sheila Heti, Stuart Ross + Christine McNair,

As part of a work-in-process, "reading in the margins: a writing diary," I've been posting short essays on the works of prose writers on my enormously clever substack for a while now, with recent pieces posted over the past couple of months on the work of Canadian writers Anne Carson, Sheila Heti , Stuart Ross , and Christine McNair . Part of the thinking of these pieces was a way to explore prose writers who have affected my own thinking, and my own writing. While I've a small handful of further essays currently in-progress, you can also check out prior pieces in the same series, on the work of Jean McKay, Gail Scott, Joy Williams, Ernest Hemingway, Bobbie Louise Hawkins and Kristjana Gunnars. Where might it go next? It is one of but a handful of threads I've been exploring through substack, which I've been attempting to treat like a kind of weekly column: "the genealogy book," a non-fiction book-length genealogical project exploring some of these newly-discovered biological threads, counterpointed with the genealogical threads I was raised into; "the green notebook," a kind of day-book of writing and thinking; "little arguments: stories," a sequence of short short stories, possibly as a follow-up to The Uncertainty Principle: stories, (Chaudiere Books, 2014); and an ongoing flurry of short stories, including what might be a follow-up to my new collection, On Beauty: stories (University of Alberta Press, 2024). There are also a couple of other projects/threads in there, but I won't give away everything here (this is where the curious might explore the site to see what might be, across the last two years of my weekly postings). It is free to follow me there, although I'm posting every third or fourth piece for paid-members only.

Spotlight series #102 : Gale Marie Thompson

The one hundred and second in my monthly "spotlight" series, each featuring a different poet with a short statement and a new poem or two, is now online, featuring North Georgia poet and editor Gale Marie Thompson .

The first eleven in the series were attached to the Drunken Boat blog, and the series has so far featured poets including Seattle, Washington poet Sarah Mangold, Colborne, Ontario poet Gil McElroy, Vancouver poet Renée Sarojini Saklikar, Ottawa poet Jason Christie, Montreal poet and performer Kaie Kellough, Ottawa poet Amanda Earl, American poet Elizabeth Robinson, American poet Jennifer Kronovet, Ottawa poet Michael Dennis, Vancouver poet Sonnet L’Abbé, Montreal writer Sarah Burgoyne, Fredericton poet Joe Blades, American poet Genève Chao, Northampton MA poet Brittany Billmeyer-Finn, Oji-Cree, Two-Spirit/Indigiqueer from Peguis First Nation (Treaty 1 territory) poet, critic and editor Joshua Whitehead, American expat/Barcelona poet, editor and publisher Edward Smallfield, Kentucky poet Amelia Martens, Ottawa poet Pearl Pirie, Burlington, Ontario poet Sacha Archer, Washington DC poet Buck Downs, Toronto poet Shannon Bramer, Vancouver poet and editor Shazia Hafiz Ramji, Vancouver poet Geoffrey Nilson, Oakland, California poets and editors Rusty Morrison and Jamie Townsend, Ottawa poet and editor Manahil Bandukwala, Toronto poet and editor Dani Spinosa, Kingston writer and editor Trish Salah, Calgary poet, editor and publisher Kyle Flemmer, Vancouver poet Adrienne Gruber, California poet and editor Susanne Dyckman, Brooklyn poet-filmmaker Stephanie Gray, Vernon, BC poet Kerry Gilbert, South Carolina poet and translator Lindsay Turner, Vancouver poet and editor Adèle Barclay, Thorold, Ontario poet Franco Cortese, Ottawa poet Conyer Clayton, Lawrence, Kansas poet Megan Kaminski, Ottawa poet and fiction writer Frances Boyle, Ithica, NY poet, editor and publisher Marty Cain, New York City poet Amanda Deutch, Iranian-born and Toronto-based writer/translator Khashayar Mohammadi, Mendocino County writer, librarian, and a visual artist Melissa Eleftherion, Ottawa poet and editor Sarah MacDonell, Montreal poet Simina Banu, Canadian-born UK-based artist, writer, and practice-led researcher J. R. Carpenter, Toronto poet MLA Chernoff, Boise, Idaho poet and critic Martin Corless-Smith, Canadian poet and fiction writer Erin Emily Ann Vance, Toronto poet, editor and publisher Kate Siklosi, Fredericton poet Matthew Gwathmey, Canadian poet Peter Jaeger, Birmingham, Alabama poet and editor Alina Stefanescu, Waterloo, Ontario poet Chris Banks, Chicago poet and editor Carrie Olivia Adams, Vancouver poet and editor Danielle Lafrance, Toronto-based poet and literary critic Dale Martin Smith, American poet, scholar and book-maker Genevieve Kaplan, Toronto-based poet, editor and critic ryan fitzpatrick, American poet and editor Carleen Tibbetts, British Columbia poet nathan dueck, Tiohtiá:ke-based sick slick, poet/critic em/ilie kneifel, writer, translator and lecturer Mark Tardi, New Mexico poet Kōan Anne Brink, Winnipeg poet, editor and critic Melanie Dennis Unrau, Vancouver poet, editor and critic Stephen Collis, poet and social justice coach Aja Couchois Duncan, Colorado poet Sara Renee Marshall, Toronto writer Bahar Orang, Ottawa writer Matthew Firth, Victoria poet Saba Pakdel, Winnipeg poet Julian Day, Ottawa poet, writer and performer nina jane drystek, Comox BC poet Jamie Sharpe, Canadian visual artist and poet Laura Kerr, Quebec City-area poet and translator Simon Brown, Ottawa poet Jennifer Baker, Rwandese Canadian Brooklyn-based writer Victoria Mbabazi, Nova Scotia-based poet and facilitator Nanci Lee, Irish-American poet Nathanael O'Reilly, Canadian poet Tom Prime, Regina-based poet and translator Jérôme Melançon, New York-based poet Emmalea Russo, Toronto-based poet, editor and critic Eric Schmaltz, San Francisco poet Maw Shein Win, Toronto-based writer, playwright and editor Daniel Sarah Karasik, Ottawa poet and editor Dessa Bayrock, Mahone Bay, Nova Scotia poet Alice Burdick, poet, writer and editor Jade Wallace, San Francisco-based poet Jennifer Hasegawa, California poet Kyla Houbolt, Toronto poet and editor Emma Rhodes, Canadian-in-Iowa writer Jon Cone, Edmonton/Sicily-based poet, educator, translator, researcher, editor and publisher Adriana Oniță, California-based poet, scholar and teacher Monica Mody, Ottawa poet and editor AJ Dolman, Sudbury poet, critic and fiction writer Kim Fahner, Canadian poet Kemeny Babineau, Indiana poet Nate Logan and Toronto poet and editor Michael Boughn.
 
The whole series can be found online here .

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Kevin Gallagher

Kevin Gallagher is apoet, publisher, and political economist living in Greater Boston.   His most recent book is And Yet it Moves(MadHat, 2023) and recent books are The Wild Goose, and Loom. Hispoems and reviews have appeared in the Partisan Review, Harvard Review,ArtsFuse, Green Mountains Review, and beyond.  Gallagher edits spoKe, a Boston area annualof poetry and poetics.  He works as apolitical economist at Boston University.

1 - How did your firstbook change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous?How does it feel different?

I started identifying as a poet when Iwas twenty, but didn’t publish a book until I was forty.  I had publishedpoems in the Partisan Review and the Harvard Review a decade earlier but inthose earlier days I spent more time focusing on publishing the work of othersthrough the magazine compost Ico-published.  When I turned forty I published two chapbooks,  Isolate Flecks withGloria Mindock’s Cervena Barva press and Looking for Lake Texcoco withMark Lamoureux’s Cy Gist.  When I held those collections in my hands theypropelled me with affirmation and inspiration.  Now And Yet it Moves,published by Marc Vincenz’ MadHat Press, is my eighth book—my fourth fulllength book.

And Yet it Movesis quite different than my last book, The Wild Goose publishedby Paul Marion.  The Wild Goose was (largely) written when I was a poet inresidence at the Heinrich Boll cottage in Achill, Ireland for two summers. I’ma quarter Irish if my last name didn’t give it away and my father had recently passed. That book is an exploration of Ireland, my life with my father andbeyond.

And Yet it Movesis a pandemic book.  I was shaken by the denial of science and reason inthe United States but like Seamus Heaney during ‘The Troubles’ I saved mydescriptive rage for the kitchen table but wanted to engage differently as anartist.  As I say in my introduction, this was not the first time we livedin such an era.  I delve into the Medici era in this book, a poeticjourney of the rebirth of wonder followed by its denial manifest by Galileo’simprisonment.  The book is a series of poetic monologues of that time,telling that story.

2 - How did you come topoetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?

Our mother took us to the libraryevery weekend and we had to get books.  I read mostly fiction and wastaken by Orwell, Thomas Wolfe, Mark Twain.  I read poetry in school butwould never pick it up on my own—until I heard Bob Dylan and it was all over. Wow did he fuse the ‘raw and the cooked’ into one inside and out with anew post-modern sensibility but a meter that sang on its own.  From DylanI worked backwards being most struck by Williams, Levertov, Rexroth, Patchen,PAZ, Seamus Heaney, O’Hara, Walcott, John Brooks Wheelwright, Muriel Rukeyserand Charles Olson and others before I hit a wall in the early 20th Century. Then I time machined to Homer, Virgil, and Catullus.
 ThroughRexroth I entered the world of Tu Fu, Li Bai and Japanese poets too. Non-fiction is another story.  I’ve written nine books on the globaleconomy.  Let’s save that for another day.

3 - How long does it take to start any particularwriting project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slowprocess? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or doesyour work come out of copious notes?

There are two kinds of poems I write. The first are those that just hit me, I’ve referred to those as‘lightning bolt’ poems.  Something happens or I see something or reflectand then comes what David Hinton calls ‘contact’ and boom I start writing andyeah perhaps 80 percent of what happens when the lightning hits my tree stayson the page in the end.

The other kind of poetry I write aremore ‘projects’ as you say.  My first book like that was LOOM,also published by MadHat.  That book, in method, is the most similar toAnd Yet it Moves because it is an exploration and conversation with a historyto make sense of the present—an ‘archaeology of mourning.’   The older andbusier I get—rhyming ain’t the day job—the more important these projects arebecause they are always there for me.  At this point in my life I’mdodging a lot of lightning bolts.

4 - Where does a poemusually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combininginto a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the verybeginning?

To finish where I left on the lastquestion I guess, for the lighting bolts I end up collecting those in loosebooks.  The ‘projects’ are seen as books.  My book Radio Plays publishedby Dos Madres is somewhere in the middle.  It is a collection of shorterset pieces many of which were lightning bolts—or short storms!

5 - Are public readingspart of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoysdoing readings?

A poem doesn’t work for me until I’veread it looking into a pond of eyes and seeing if I can connect.  Readings are essential for me.  I don’t think I’ve published anything Ihaven’t read in public or at least walking around my house beforehand.

6 - Do you have anytheoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are youtrying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questionsare?

I think we are all asking who are we,where are we, what are we doing, what are we being.  Like Duncan and OlsonI see poetry as an open field for these questions.

7 – What do you see thecurrent role of the writer being in larger culture? Do they even have one? Whatdo you think the role of the writer should be?

The poet is the point of contact witha reality revealed in the creation of the poem and shared.  

8 - Do you find theprocess of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?

Most publishers and editors I haveencountered either don’t like the book and won’t publish it or like the bookand largely publish it as is.  Actually, And Yet it Moves is an exception. The poems were originally all fairly straight sonnets but Vincenz helpedme hone them a bit more to true projective verse and they are now more likethose of Ted Berrigan and Bernadette Mayer.  Since they evoke the ruins ofthe Roman Empire in Renaissance Italy I am calling them ‘ruined sonnets!’

9 - What is the best pieceof advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?

Don’t try to be someone else. Sing your own songs and most importantly in your own voice. Everyone’s is unique and each person is equally incredible.

10 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep,or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?

I work full time.   For the pastfive years I have had the privilege to be a poet in residence each summer for afew weeks but I use that to take things to the finish line.  In my case Iturn off the work laptop at around half time of the Celtics game with the soundoff and start working on my poems.  If the game is close I stop the poemsand bleed green.  If not I can go on very late sometimes or hit a wall andgo to bed.

11 - When your writinggets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word)inspiration?

As I said earlier, the longer run‘projects’ are what I move to.  I also write reviews, most recently forthe Arts Fuse and Harvard Review… That can help.

12 - What fragrancereminds you of home?

The robust smell of my GermanShepherd, REXROTH!

13 - David W. McFaddenonce said that books come from books, but are there any other forms thatinfluence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?

And Yet it Movesis all of the above—triggered by science, but there are poems in there aboutMichelangelo, Vasari, Botticelli.  In the background the New York paintersof the 1950s and slapping away on a big canvas above me when I write.  Onmany levels I am engaging with climate change in this book, so nature is there.  In The Wild Goose I evoke Dr. John playing his piano and Desolation Rowis always playing in the background.

14 - What other writers orwritings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?

I listed a bunch earlier in ourconversation.  I go back to those the most but am always on a new quest tolearn something new.  Homero Aridjis is the poet I have been diving intothe most lately, as well as Cid Corman.  I’ve been reading plays a bitmore than poetry though, particularly Brian Friel and August Wilson.

15 - What would you liketo do that you haven't yet done?

Play for the Boston Celtics!

16 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt,what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended updoing had you not been a writer?

NBA Basketball Baby!  But that’sa joke, I’m five foot nine.  That said one of my best friends’ grandma wasthe Red Auerbach’s secretary and I majored in Physical Therapy for a fewsemesters thinking I’d be the trainer for the Celtics.  Poetry brokethrough.  

I should say that part of themotivation for all this is a social justice.  The poetry can go in oneway, action in the other.  In my day job I work as a political economisttrying to get the institutions of global economic governance to align with thegoals of financial stability, human wellbeing, and environmentalsustainability.

17 - What made you write,as opposed to doing something else?

I played instruments when I wasyounger.  My mother had us in art classes all the time too.

18 - What was the lastgreat book you read? What was the last great film?

That’s new?  I just read RonPadgett’s DOT, Bernadette Mayer’s Milkweed Smithereens, and thenew selected poems of Larry Eigner edited by Jennifer Bartlett. Best bookthough I’d say has been Homero Aridjis’ new Self Portrait in a Zone ofSilence.  Wakefield Press has just come out with an incredible crop of Max Jacob in translation that I recently reviewed for Harvard Review. Great film?!  My son and I had a blast yesterday watching The Instigators.  Was great to know every neighborhood it was shot in!

19 - What are youcurrently working on?

I am almost finished with anotherarchaeology of morning, perhaps in some way it is a prequel to the book LOOM Idiscussed earlier in our conversation.  This book deals with the Tempestof the settlement of Massachusetts, the translation of its land and people tothe West, and to the final battle that confirmed colonization.  A truththat lies in the names of so many roads, rivers, and streams here, but is neverdiscussed.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

Maria Hardin, Cute Girls Watch When I Eat Aether

 

GLOSSOLALIA

the bees are dying—can youfeel it? i want
to press my tongue gentlyagainst green mesh i want
to bite softly into asponge of any color i want
to rip & chew &spit that sponge bit out of my mouth
when it becomes small& hard & no longer satisfying the rose
is a rat the rat is arose
saturn is rising in the 8thhouse

Self-describedon the back cover as a “hallucinatory debut” by Swedish-American and Stockholm-based artist-poet Maria Hardin is Cute Girls Watch When I Eat Aether (Notre Dame IN: Action Books, 2024), a collection of sharp scalpelcuts through the short lyric. Hardin writes dreamscapes and dream scrapes, playfullyquick, goth and gestural, savage and sketched. She writes with a swagger,minimal and explosive; her poems might be short, but she manages to physically pullthe lyric apart, piece by piece, whether dismantling lines or words or all ofthe above simultaneously. “abstracting this girl / self follows me to iDeath,”she writes, to open the short poem “HEART OF LIGHT,” a reference most likely citingease and possibility, and not, say, the post-apocalyptic commune setting “iDEATH”from the late Richard Brautigan’s classic novel In Watermelon Sugar (1968).“an exquisite corpse / trembling in narrative,” she writes in the poem “NAISSANCEDIARY,” “i / unwrite my body / x / x [.]” Her sketches are less point form or densitythan the achievement of hammering lines and lyrics until they actually shatter.

 

 

 

Toronto International Festival of Authors’ Small Press Market (part four, : Charlotte Nip, Jesse Eckerlin + Ayaz Pirani,

[left: Ken Norris + Jay MillAr in conversation ; see part one of my notes here; see part two of my notes here;see part three of my notes here] Here are some further notes from myrecent participation at the Small Press Market that Kate Siklosi and Gap Riot Press organized and hosted through the Toronto International Festival of Authors. I am frustrated I missed last weekend’s fair through The Ampersand Festival! But there will certainly be other fairs, I’m sure (and Christine dida fine job running proxy at the above/ground press table). And don’t forget the thirtieth anniversary of the ottawa small press book fair is November 16, yes?

Vancouver BC/Toronto ON: The chapbook debut byVancouver poet Charlotte Nip is Acne Scars (Toronto ON: Gap Riot Press,2024), an assemblage, the author notes at the end of the collection, was a“decade in the making [.]” Nip’s poems offer themselves as a sequence ofcollage-sketches, observations, first-person commentaries and scattered lines,held together as a kind of scrap-book lyric accumulation. “Eliot said it wasthe cruelest month,” she writes, to open the poem “April,” “but he lied. It’swhere I find / myself again, and again, and again. I never get lost becauseApril / births like a malignant tumour. I turn 24.” There’s something intriguingabout watching this particular emerging writer feel her way through lyric form,from first-person descriptive commentary and observation and staccato phrases,composing pieces leaning closer into prose poems, more traditional open lyricand even hand-drawn lines connecting thought to thought. Or, as the poem “Persimmons”begins:

we are
a soft bird
a man
with no taste

Montreal QC/Toronto ON: From Montreal poet JesseEckerlin, following We Are Not the Bereaved (2012) andThrush (2016), comes ALMOST NOTHING (Toronto ON: Anstruther Press,2024), a sequence of a dozen short, dense lyric bursts. The chapbook-lengthsequence opens with a couplet on the first page—“Fire in the province— // A carwithout brakes”—and continues along that same slow unfolding, offering preciseand specific language. Each self-contained koan offers a sheen of haiku,composed of lines that might connect but on the surface seem, potentially,disconnected, allowing the reader to fill in certain spaces. “Chisels in my mouth,”the third page/section reads, “Extracting the wisdom teeth // Your lost disciple[.]” There is a certain clarity provided by these poems that is quiteintriguing, offering small twists and turns, some more effective than others, butenough that I am intrigued to see what and where Eckerlin lands next.

Conversations like rooms

filled with empty musicstands

Toronto ON: The latest from Tazmania-born and California-based Canadian poet Ayaz Pirani (an expat poet comparable to KenNorris, who also spent years publishing predominantly or even exclusively inCanada while living and working in the United States), following thefull-length poetry collections Happy You Are Here (Washington DC: TheWord Works, 2016), Kabir’s Jacket Has a Thousand Pockets (Toronto ON:Mawenzi House, 2019) and How Beautiful People Are: a pothi (Guelph ON:Gordon Hill Press, 2022) [see my review of such here], as well as at least onechapbook, Bachelor of Art (Anstruther Press, 2020) [see my review of such here], is the chapbook NECROPOLISBOROUGH (Toronto ON: AnstrutherPress, 2024). NECROPOLISBOROUGH is made up of eight short first-personlyric narratives, offering a plain speech of uncomplicated language woventhrough narrative wisdoms. “Even the ones I didn’t reach.” he writes, speakingof teaching and being taught, attempting to mentor and being mentored, acrossthe poem “Beloved Infidel,” “Perhaps not reaching them / reached them and / waswhat they needed.” There’s a quiet power to and through Pirani’s lines, and onecan’t help but be charmed by the opening line of “Smart Car,” that reads: “My cardrove away honklessly / to live with another family.”

Camus’ Door

My door is plainspoken
without if or but
or doubt. No squeak oryawn.
Puritan by nature
my door is best wide open
or fast shut.
Ajar is too fanciful
for my door.
Door-pain is real
and there’s loneliness
finding yourself
two-sided. Grief too
in the phallic bolt.
My door hangs on
ancient purpose.
A look then a lock
between yes and no.
Swing then swing
between right and wrong
is my door’s fate.

And,according to the author biography at the back of this small collection, Piranihas a collection of short stories forthcoming with Gordon Hill Press, which ispretty exciting.

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Gitz Crazyboy

Gitz Crazyboy M.Ed (he/him/his) is a Siksikaitsitapi (Blackfoot) and Dene father and Indigenous Educator from Mohkínsstsisi (Calgary). Gitz’s passion and purpose is helping, guiding and most importantly, learning from the next generation, and he has held many positions within the youth education profession.

As an activist, Gitz is known for his leadership and participation in establishing the Bear Clan Patrol in Calgary, as well as organizing with the Idle No More movement. He has spent most of his life learning and living with different Indigenous Nations around the world. His travels have taken him to Germany, Ecuador, Guyana, Puerto Rico and sacred spaces all over North America.

Currently Gitz resides in Calgary and is actively reconnecting with his Siksikaits-itapi roots. He believes the truth of who we are can be found in the beautiful things our ancestors carried—riddles, mysteries, ceremonies, songs, medicine, love, life and laughter.

1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
My first book was a challenge, the idea, the vision and the support was all over the place at all times. I had to confront a lot of self-doubt and discover the discipline to not only start but complete a book.  Not completing a story, whether it's a novel, novella or short story, is a trap a lot of us fall into. It was cathartic to finish it. When it was done and finalized, you have to let it go and however the world accepts it they accept it.  Thankfully, people loved it enough they wanted me to write more.

My most recent work is similar in that, I am writing stories in the celebration of our people.  I love stories about journeys, I love the thick and thin of walking pathways, getting lost and hopefully finding yourself.

This is a different kind of journey and a different kind of story, based loosely on a Siksikaitsitapi boy dreaming about becoming a Doctor.  There was so many parallels I found that our people endure and go through in their academic careers. And I just love that so many people now are identifying with the main character or the characters found throughout this story.  When people say, "That was me or this person reminds me of my uncle" It really hits home.

2 - How did you come to fiction first, as opposed to, say, poetry or non-fiction?
Back to the Future and Ferdinand really impacted me. They were the first real fiction stories that transported me into a different world with rules and mythology. I remember thinking I could have been one of Marty McFly's peers or an audience member watching Ferdinand the bull. But you know, Bull fighting from a Siksikaitsitapi perspective is such an insanely sad and tragic story and in this world there is this Bull who'd rather love then get violent, always spoke to me.  Where do we find these moments of peace and create these space of love when were at the mercy of a world we didn't construct.

3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?
The start takes as long as it does, which can be very long or very short and it all depends on my attitude and enthusiasm. Sometimes the idea for the story is a moment inspired by a song, thought, turn of phrase, poem, movie, memory or where ever ideas come from.  Sometimes I see the ending and am inspired of how a character would get there or sometimes its the middle of the story and I wonder both how they got there and where they're going. Writing can be slow and it can be fast, the hardest thing to do often is just sit infront of the computer or have your writing utensil in hand and just put down letter after letter or word after word.

Drafts are drafts, try not to get too married to the ideas because some are great and others aren't.  In the flow of telling a story, just write it out see where it goes and if it works it works and if it doesn't, let it go and put it in the memory box you can return to later on in a different part of this story or a completely different story altogether.  Sometimes when I am discovering or shaping a character and their motivation, I'll write an extra scene that isn't ever intended to go into the actual story but it something for me to draw upon when I am wondering what my character would do or should do or cannot do. I do have a drawer of B-stories and scenes or things i call five minute adventures.

I do know one thing, your story gets better with each draft and then at some point it starts becoming worse. You have to know when to write and when to stop and that comes with a few people who know stories and whom you trust.

4 - Where does a work of fiction usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?
Fiction begins in moments of life where I hit a line of possibilities that I cannot move forward on or imagine is happening. The stop light is red, what happens if I took a step forward, would a portal open up, would i get hit by a car, would the vehicles suddenly be repelled by me, what if this was the moment of realization that everything was an illusion, theres almost an infinite possibilities of what would happen if I took a step and also if I didn't take a step. I'm also sure, every guy has put himself in the shoes of, "What would happen if this bank was robbed, and I as a customer was stuck in it, what would I do?"

I have scenes and moments I write out and hope they fit in a story and if not, they go into the drawer.
I love getting stuck when writing, I'll think about it, re-read it and then something happens, I have no idea what it is but a light turns on and I have a way out or a way to move forward.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I love to engage with people, I love hearing the responses and I love doing readings.  I think mainly, there are some amazing insights people share with you. It's this exchange of words and whatever it is that ignites in their brains.
 
6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questions are?
Things generally don't age well, and I wonder where and when that moment will be for the things I've created.  When things become dated and with that the nostalgia of the time, and then even that fades as it becomes a fairy tale word.

I don't know if I'm necessarily answering questions, its more of an explanation or exploration of ideas and themes.

The current question if there is one, is how these characters endure and get through it or they dont and how does the world respond, if it does indeed respond at all.

7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture?
We tell stories, we tell truths, we tell lies, we hold up a mirror and sometimes we do a great job holding the mirror and sometimes we do a terrible job. Whatever you are meant to see, you see and if we can evoke your imagination and get you to at least wonder what lies within the darkness or within the light, then weve done our job.

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
It's a challenge, but at the foundation of it must be trust. I love who I worked with, they were God's blessing. The relationship is key and they can push you to do better or at least a little clearer about what you're trying to say. A good editor will challenge you, a terrible editor will tell you everything is beautiful as the ship is going or gone down. Who would you rather have, the person helping you to right the ship or the person too afraid to tell you a terribly high waterfall is coming.

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
100% of the time, when someone tells you there something wrong with a specific part of the story, they are 100% right.

100% of the time, when someone tells you exactly how to fix a specific part of the story, they are 100% wrong.

10 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
I write better at night and I wish I could write throughout the day. (I say this as I am writing well into the dusk meeting dark hours)

11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
Experimental music that's not quite jazz but also doesn't follow any rules of verse, chorus, verse. I like movies that break rules of storytelling (Adaptation from Charlie Kaufman,  Stranger than Fiction or something brilliant from different cultures Sanjuro, Sword of Doom)

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Stew and Bannock

13 - David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any other forms that influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?
We are oral storytellers, our creation stories, ceremonies, song, victory, medicines is ongoing and infinite encyclopedia of knowledge. Everything is an influence and everything is trying to communicate with you.

14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
Helen Knott, Tasha Spillett, Richard Wagamese, Mark Tilsen, Tanya Tagaq, Tommy Orange and even the writings of students I've worked with, or cousins and family who havent shared their beautiful stories with the world.

15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Write a movie, A tv show, a video game, start a band, purchase a house, and make peace with some folks that I'll never see eye to eye with.

16 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?
I mean, writing is my side hustle. I love being an Artist Educator. If I could pick another profession than that, I would have continued to be an outdoor guide.

17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
I am making the stories I've always wanted to read as a kid, as a teen and now as an adult.

18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
The Shadow of the Wind - is amazing.

Frybread Face and Me - Indigenous royalty.

19 - What are you currently working on?
Something super top secret ;)

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

Touch the Donkey : new interviews with Levy, Brown, Wilkins, Moseman, carisse, Nash + Praamsma,

Anticipating the release next week of the forty-third issue of Touch the Donkey [a small poetry journal], why not check out the interviews that have appeared over the past few weeks with contributors to the forty-second issue: John Levy, Taylor Brown, Grant Wilkins, Lori Anderson Moseman, russell carisse, Ariana Nadia Nash and Wanda Praamsma.

Interviews with contributors to the first forty-one issues (more than two hundred and sixty interviews to date) remain online, including: Michael Harman, Terri Witek, Laynie Browne, Noah Berlatsky, Robyn Schelenz, Andy Weaver, Dessa Bayrock, Anselm Berrigan, Alana Solin, Michael Betancourt, Monty Reid, Heather Cadsby, R Kolewe, Samuel Amadon, Meghan Kemp-Gee, Miranda Mellis, kevin mcpherson eckhoff and Kimberley Dyck, Junie Désil, Micah Ballard, Devon Rae, Barbara Tomash, Ben Meyerson, Pam Brown, Shane Kowalski, Kathy Lou Schultz, Hilary Clark, Ted Byrne, Garrett Caples, Brenda Coultas, Sheila Murphy, Chris Turnbull and Elee Kraljii Gardiner, Stuart Ross, Leah Sandals, Tamara Best, Nathan Austin, Jade Wallace, Monica Mody, Barry McKinnon, Katie Naughton, Cecilia Stuart, Benjamin Niespodziany, Jérôme Melançon, Margo LaPierre, Sarah Pinder, Genevieve Kaplan, Maw Shein Win, Carrie Hunter, Lillian Nećakov, Nate Logan, Hugh Thomas, Emily Brandt, David Buuck, Jessi MacEachern, Sue Bracken, Melissa Eleftherion, Valerie Witte, Brandon Brown, Yoyo Comay, Stephen Brockwell, Jack Jung, Amanda Auerbach, IAN MARTIN, Paige Carabello, Emma Tilley, Dana Teen Lomax, Cat Tyc, Michael Turner, Sarah Alcaide-Escue, Colby Clair Stolson, Tom Prime, Bill Carty, Christina Vega-Westhoff, Robert Hogg, Simina Banu, MLA Chernoff, Geoffrey Olsen, Douglas Barbour, Hamish Ballantyne, JoAnna Novak, Allyson Paty, Lisa Fishman, Kate Feld, Isabel Sobral Campos, Jay MillAr, Lisa Samuels, Prathna Lor, George Bowering, natalie hanna, Jill Magi, Amelia Does, Orchid Tierney, katie o’brien, Lily Brown, Tessa Bolsover, émilie kneifel, Hasan Namir, Khashayar Mohammadi, Naomi Cohn, Tom Snarsky, Guy Birchard, Mark Cunningham, Lydia Unsworth, Zane Koss, Nicole Raziya Fong, Ben Robinson, Asher Ghaffar, Clara Daneri, Ava Hofmann, Robert R. Thurman, Alyse Knorr, Denise Newman, Shelly Harder, Franco Cortese, Dale Tracy, Biswamit Dwibedy, Emily Izsak, Aja Couchois Duncan, José Felipe Alvergue, Conyer Clayton, Roxanna Bennett, Julia Drescher, Michael Cavuto, Michael Sikkema, Bronwen Tate, Emilia Nielsen, Hailey Higdon, Trish Salah, Adam Strauss, Katy Lederer, Taryn Hubbard, Michael Boughn, David Dowker, Marie Larson, Lauren Haldeman, Kate Siklosi, robert majzels, Michael Robins, Rae Armantrout, Stephanie Strickland, Ken Hunt, Rob Manery, Ryan Eckes, Stephen Cain, Dani Spinosa, Samuel Ace, Howie Good, Rusty Morrison, Allison Cardon, Jon Boisvert, Laura Theobald, Suzanne Wise, Sean Braune, Dale Smith, Valerie Coulton, Phil Hall, Sarah MacDonell, Janet Kaplan, Kyle Flemmer, Julia Polyck-O’Neill, A.M. O’Malley, Catriona Strang, Anthony Etherin, Claire Lacey, Sacha Archer, Michael e. Casteels, Harold Abramowitz, Cindy Savett, Tessy Ward, Christine Stewart, David James Miller, Jonathan Ball, Cody-Rose Clevidence, mwpm, Andrew McEwan, Brynne Rebele-Henry, Joseph Mosconi, Douglas Barbour and Sheila Murphy, Oliver Cusimano, Sue Landers, Marthe Reed, Colin Smith, Nathaniel G. Moore, David Buuck, Kate Greenstreet, Kate Hargreaves, Shazia Hafiz Ramji, Erín Moure, Sarah Swan, Buck Downs, Kemeny Babineau, Ryan Murphy, Norma Cole, Lea Graham, kevin mcpherson eckhoff, Oana Avasilichioaei, Meredith Quartermain, Amanda Earl, Luke Kennard, Shane Rhodes, Renée Sarojini Saklikar, Sarah Cook, François Turcot, Gregory Betts, Eric Schmaltz, Paul Zits, Laura Sims, Stephen Collis, Mary Kasimor, Billy Mavreas, damian lopes, Pete Smith, Sonnet L’Abbé, Katie L. Price, a rawlings, Suzanne Zelazo, Helen Hajnoczky, Kathryn MacLeod, Shannon Maguire, Sarah Mangold, Amish Trivedi, Lola Lemire Tostevin, Aaron Tucker, Kayla Czaga, Jason Christie, Jennifer Kronovet, Jordan Abel, Deborah Poe, Edward Smallfield, ryan fitzpatrick, Elizabeth Robinson, nathan dueck, Paige Taggart, Christine McNair, Stan Rogal, Jessica Smith, Nikki Sheppy, Kirsten Kaschock, Lise Downe, Lisa Jarnot, Chris Turnbull, Gary Barwin, Susan Briante, derek beaulieu, Megan Kaminski, Roland Prevost, Emily Ursuliak, j/j hastain, Catherine Wagner, Susanne Dyckman, Susan Holbrook, Julie Carr, David Peter Clark, Pearl Pirie, Eric Baus, Pattie McCarthy, Camille Martin and Gil McElroy.

The forthcoming forty-third issue features new writing by: Lisa Samuels, Tom Jenks, Nate Logan, Henry Gould, Sandra Doller, Kit Roffey, Leesa Dean and Scott Inniss.

And of course, copies of the first forty-one issues are still very much available. Why not subscribe?

Included, as well, as part of the above/ground press annual subscription! Which you should get right now for 2025!

We even have our own Facebook group. It’s remarkably easy.

Jessica Laser, The Goner School

 

Edward Thomas

Sometimes I read you foranger
To see in your face

The confines of a medium.
What wouldn’t I think

To be a thought in yourhead?
The youngest and mostbeautiful

Love no one, but still I love
Everyone I’ve loved.

“I love roads”

Unlike a governmentalbody,
Mine can be shot

In the street in thebroad
Daylight of democracy

I’d leave this country
But democracy loves me.

Thelatest from Los Angeles-based, Chicago-born poet Jessica Laser, following Sergei Kuzmich from All Sides (Seattle WA: Letter Machine Editions, 2019) [see my review of such here] and Planet Drill (New York NY: Futurepoem, 2022) [seemy review of such here] is The Goner School (Iowa IA: University of IowaPress, 2024), a book constructed via five numbered clusters of poems, stretchedacross some curious distances and divides. The first section, which holds thetwelve-part sequence “Berkeley Hills Living,” offers, as part of the fourthsection: “My ancestors / did more than flee the Tsar, sell used clothes / onMaxwell Street. The whole time, they were / praying me into being. That I live/ is the sign of their success.” There are such long distances, long stridesand stretches, across this particular assemblage of poems, one that offersstrobe and sage, commentary and concern, across cultural, interpersonal andpolitical spectrums. The poems provide a window upon the world while composedwith an intimacy of self, and of friends; a community, even through or despitethe resounding chaos of a warming planet and other crises. “Eliot touched myface and told me / I would live into my nineties.” she writes, to open thetwelfth and final section of the poem “Berkeley Hills Living,” “I ate some creamof mushroom / soup Eve made. Michael drove home / while I navigated, recitingall the poems / I’d ever known to stay awake.” She writes of attempting toexist and move forward across into an uncertain future, while simultaneouslyworking to best live in the world as an ethical thinker, human and cohort. Toclose the title poem, as she writes: “I always said what kind of person I was /I was that kind of person [.]”