Juliet Cook's Blog, page 132
June 22, 2014
A poem of mine in the new diode! (Love Can Be a Chokecherry)
"She knows another nightmare is coming
when the bird sounds turn into dark moans.
Mounds of wings torn, ripped, pitched
until she wonders when did wings even exist?None of this is real, so why give birth to more?
Somebody will sea the shells, but not the birds
tiny fetuses stuck on concrete, dripping beaks,
ants crawling in and out of the cracked necks."
from my poem, "Love Can Be a Chokecherry", now up at diode
Very excited and delighted to have a new poem published in a new issue of diode, which has been one of my favorite online literary magazines for years.
Read more here - http://www.diodepoetry.com/v7n2/content/cook_j.html
when the bird sounds turn into dark moans.
Mounds of wings torn, ripped, pitched
until she wonders when did wings even exist?None of this is real, so why give birth to more?
Somebody will sea the shells, but not the birds
tiny fetuses stuck on concrete, dripping beaks,
ants crawling in and out of the cracked necks."
from my poem, "Love Can Be a Chokecherry", now up at diode
Very excited and delighted to have a new poem published in a new issue of diode, which has been one of my favorite online literary magazines for years.
Read more here - http://www.diodepoetry.com/v7n2/content/cook_j.html
June 20, 2014
NEW Review of House on Fire by Susan Yount (Blood Pudding Press, 2014) at Cleaver Magazine
A NEW review of House on Fire by Susan Yount (Blood Pudding Press, 2014) is now up at Cleaver Magazine.
Thank you to Carlo Matos for writing this excellent review.
Here are some parts of it:
In “House on Fire,” which is set apart from the other poems by its reddish, flame-colored print, the speaker says, “The house is kindling . . . The house is a pyre . . . The family aflame . . . Her father, a devil . . . Your house ablaze, get out.” These simple declarative statements capture much of the desperation of a family being held hostage by a father who has become a force of destruction.
and
In the prose poem, “Notes on Despair” we begin to deal with the aftermath of these traumatic experiences, with guilt and/or blame. The speaker says, “She never worked as hard as her sister. Maybe that’s why it / happened . . . His teeth. His hands. His fist. His dick. She is feeding them. She is ten. She cannot tell.” The “she,” as I mentioned earlier, is the narrator herself, who is trying to rationalize why her father targeted her. She fears it might be punishment for her lack of industry as compared to her sister. But in “Almost Dark” there are no rationalizations, only anger: “and I squat thinking of ways / to kill him.” But by the time we get to the final poem, her feelings have become a bit more complex—blame and guilt seem to be beside the point: “I’m not sure what is more pathetic you trying to decide if the poem is blaming you / or her and you and I and you or I again can’t remember things or don’t care” (“Spontaneous Symmetry Breaking”). And the syntax is such that it is quite difficult to pin down just who “you” is. Clearly, “you” can be the father, but “you” could also be the speaker—a self-incrimination designed to force her to move beyond the past, to “Stop writing / about your father” (“The Oracle”).
Read the whole review here - http://www.cleavermagazine.com/house-on-fire-by-susan-yount-reviewed-by-carlo-matos/
And get your own copy of House on Fire here -https://www.etsy.com/listing/177826146/new-house-on-fire-by-susan-yount-2014?ref=shop_home_feat_4
Thank you to Carlo Matos for writing this excellent review.
Here are some parts of it:
In “House on Fire,” which is set apart from the other poems by its reddish, flame-colored print, the speaker says, “The house is kindling . . . The house is a pyre . . . The family aflame . . . Her father, a devil . . . Your house ablaze, get out.” These simple declarative statements capture much of the desperation of a family being held hostage by a father who has become a force of destruction.
and
In the prose poem, “Notes on Despair” we begin to deal with the aftermath of these traumatic experiences, with guilt and/or blame. The speaker says, “She never worked as hard as her sister. Maybe that’s why it / happened . . . His teeth. His hands. His fist. His dick. She is feeding them. She is ten. She cannot tell.” The “she,” as I mentioned earlier, is the narrator herself, who is trying to rationalize why her father targeted her. She fears it might be punishment for her lack of industry as compared to her sister. But in “Almost Dark” there are no rationalizations, only anger: “and I squat thinking of ways / to kill him.” But by the time we get to the final poem, her feelings have become a bit more complex—blame and guilt seem to be beside the point: “I’m not sure what is more pathetic you trying to decide if the poem is blaming you / or her and you and I and you or I again can’t remember things or don’t care” (“Spontaneous Symmetry Breaking”). And the syntax is such that it is quite difficult to pin down just who “you” is. Clearly, “you” can be the father, but “you” could also be the speaker—a self-incrimination designed to force her to move beyond the past, to “Stop writing / about your father” (“The Oracle”).
Read the whole review here - http://www.cleavermagazine.com/house-on-fire-by-susan-yount-reviewed-by-carlo-matos/
And get your own copy of House on Fire here -https://www.etsy.com/listing/177826146/new-house-on-fire-by-susan-yount-2014?ref=shop_home_feat_4
June 11, 2014
Six Collaborative Poems by me & j/j/hastain at ALTPOETICS
Is the place in which you are engaged
full to you? Or are you another never
ending cascade? Bright red, dark red.
from The healing potion explodes, one of six collaborative poems by me & j/j hastain, now up at ALTPOETICS
here - http://altpoetics.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/six-poems-by-juliet-cook-and-jj-hastain/
full to you? Or are you another never
ending cascade? Bright red, dark red.
from The healing potion explodes, one of six collaborative poems by me & j/j hastain, now up at ALTPOETICS
here - http://altpoetics.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/six-poems-by-juliet-cook-and-jj-hastain/
June 6, 2014
NEW June Thirteen Myna Birds! - "raindrops fall like sugar skulls - down the swan-neck of a bottle"
The NEW Thirteen Myna Birds skull swan song flock has arrived! Offering poetry by Alex Stolis, Maureen Alsop, J. Strife-Burgos, John Thomas Menesini, David Rutter, and Tori Schuh all here - http://13myna.blogspot.com/
the crash of breaking glass - the sound the world makes when it stops spinning - straining pulleys - between the waters the river invented then erased - silvers and grays - weird angles everywhere - sunlit swan, the arms our words imagined - raindrops fall like sugar skulls - down the swan-neck of a bottle - the rain keeps drumming inside my skull
the crash of breaking glass - the sound the world makes when it stops spinning - straining pulleys - between the waters the river invented then erased - silvers and grays - weird angles everywhere - sunlit swan, the arms our words imagined - raindrops fall like sugar skulls - down the swan-neck of a bottle - the rain keeps drumming inside my skull
Poltergeist Infested Pig Blood Tirade
AM I DYING? AM I DYING? WHY
are they laughing as I'm bleeding to death?
http://www.menacinghedge.com/spring2014/entry-cook.php#sequins
are they laughing as I'm bleeding to death?
http://www.menacinghedge.com/spring2014/entry-cook.php#sequins
June 4, 2014
Keep it secret or express it (which way will make it last longest?)
A few poem lines of mine from a long time ago suddenly popped out of my head. Lots of stuff from the past has been popping into and out of my head lately; I don't know why.
I could think of lots of lines from the old poem of mine, but not its title - and I felt compelled to take myself to the point of finding its title. So I spent a long time searching through my computer poem stuff and paper poem stuff with no luck, until I finally realized I could probably just type in a line from the poem and my computer would find it that way and it did.
But in that overly long, oddly obsessive feeling process, I also happened upon other paperwork from the past, in my semi-organized, semi-unorganized paper land. Why did I find a past (special) letter from a past (special) someone in the POETRY section of my computer? I guess it had seemed as important to me as poetry, in the past.
I read part of it and started feeling weird about the ongoing past/present/future, emotional letter after letter after letter from people and times and experiences and mental connections that seemed significant, important, and meaningful for a time, but not anymore. Various people who seemed really meaningful in my past are now people I barely or NEVER talk to anymore. That's the case for everyone, right? At least in semi-romance land.
Which is why I'm pretty sure that nothing involving another individual will be meaningful forever (at least not in person - maybe in unorganized papers, unorganized boxes, unorganized computer files, or bits of unorganized brains that turn it into something different). Even if something seems extremely important in the present, it won't last. It's all going to end in one way or another.
Of course some things last longer than others. Like poems.
It is now after 2:00 P.M. I haven't eaten breakfast (or lunch) or started coffee yet. Finally found the old poem title though - "BOY/GIRL ORDER".
Here are a few lines from that old poem, starting with the three that suddenly popped out of my head.
The declawed kitty gets the heavy petting. You don’t want to be a sick cat, spitting your hairballs in public. Just smile and purr, hide the evidence in your purse. Keep your transformation a secret, a pretty riddle in a little pink pouch.
I could think of lots of lines from the old poem of mine, but not its title - and I felt compelled to take myself to the point of finding its title. So I spent a long time searching through my computer poem stuff and paper poem stuff with no luck, until I finally realized I could probably just type in a line from the poem and my computer would find it that way and it did.
But in that overly long, oddly obsessive feeling process, I also happened upon other paperwork from the past, in my semi-organized, semi-unorganized paper land. Why did I find a past (special) letter from a past (special) someone in the POETRY section of my computer? I guess it had seemed as important to me as poetry, in the past.
I read part of it and started feeling weird about the ongoing past/present/future, emotional letter after letter after letter from people and times and experiences and mental connections that seemed significant, important, and meaningful for a time, but not anymore. Various people who seemed really meaningful in my past are now people I barely or NEVER talk to anymore. That's the case for everyone, right? At least in semi-romance land.
Which is why I'm pretty sure that nothing involving another individual will be meaningful forever (at least not in person - maybe in unorganized papers, unorganized boxes, unorganized computer files, or bits of unorganized brains that turn it into something different). Even if something seems extremely important in the present, it won't last. It's all going to end in one way or another.
Of course some things last longer than others. Like poems.
It is now after 2:00 P.M. I haven't eaten breakfast (or lunch) or started coffee yet. Finally found the old poem title though - "BOY/GIRL ORDER".
Here are a few lines from that old poem, starting with the three that suddenly popped out of my head.
The declawed kitty gets the heavy petting. You don’t want to be a sick cat, spitting your hairballs in public. Just smile and purr, hide the evidence in your purse. Keep your transformation a secret, a pretty riddle in a little pink pouch.
May 27, 2014
Gagging Out Bloody Heart Bites
Gagging Out Bloody Heart Bites - One of a Kind Original Painting/Collage Art/Mixed Media Textural Hybrid Creature (now available for perusal and/or purchase within the Blood Pudding Press shop here -http://www.etsy.com/listing/190939947/gagging-out-bloody-heart-bites-one-of-a)
May 21, 2014
Mini Tornado Collage Art
This completed mini painting/collage hybrid has now been added to the Blood Pudding Press shop for a mere $7.00 (same price as most Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbooks) - Haunted Baby Hair Tornado -http://www.etsy.com/listing/190395266/haunted-baby-hair-tornado-itty-bitty?
This completed mini painting/collage hybrid has now been added to the Blood Pudding Press shop for a mere $7.00 (same price as most Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbooks) - Mini Doll House Tornado -https://www.etsy.com/listing/190402557/mini-doll-house-tornado-itty-bitty?ref=listing-shop-header-0
This completed mini painting/collage hybrid has now been added to the Blood Pudding Press shop for a mere $7.00 (same price as most Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbooks) - Mini Doll House Tornado -https://www.etsy.com/listing/190402557/mini-doll-house-tornado-itty-bitty?ref=listing-shop-header-0
May 14, 2014
Misshapen Cocoon of Caterpillar Brain Waves
Misshapen Cocoon of Caterpillar Brain Waves - One of a Kind Original Painting, Mixed Media, Textural Hybrid - Different Colors and Textures, available here - http://www.etsy.com/listing/189528121/misshapen-cocoon-of-caterpillar-brain?ref=listing-shop-header-0
Googly Eyed Horror
Altered Art - Vintage Baby Shoe Painted and Designed into GOOGLY EYED HORROR Ornamentation, available here - http://www.etsy.com/listing/189425261/altered-art-vintage-baby-shoe-painted?
