Another Poem for the Saturday After Thanksgiving (2014)

It is raining. Hooray! California really needs the rain.

Self is taking the opportunity to go through her humongous Pile of Stuff.

Part of the pile is New Yorkers. And another part is The New York Review of Books.

One thing self has noticed in the two years she’s been subscribing to The New York Review of Books is: She really likes their poetry.

She encountered a nifty poem on p. 10 of the Nov. 6, 2014 NYRB issue. Here’s the first half:

LISBON, 1989

by April Bernard

The new year lurched
on a clamor of horns
trash cans and firecrackers
rising up from the harbor
over the window sills
into a hotel room where
civility had just died.
Next day we went for lunch
to a pricey restaurant
filled with leftover Nazis
and I was sick in the ladies’ room
where the walls were zebra skins
and the vanity stools mothed-up
leopard. So I left alone

Perhaps self finds the poem so resonant because of the novel she is currently reading: Hans Fallada’s mesmerizing novel of life in World War II Berlin, Every Man Dies Alone.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

This Poem, Saturday After Thanksgiving (2014)

POSTCARD

published in Bird’s Thumb, June 2014

by Ellie Francis Douglass

I live here now. I realized that today. What we heard
about Northwest dreariness is true, yet the store lights
and street lamps ricochet off rain drops clinging
to power-lines. They burn like candles in a dim church.

Read more great work at Bird’s Thumb, here.

Stay tuned.

“Jesters”: Disjointedness

This piece came out January 2012 in Used Furniture Review.

Self enjoys writing things that are disjointed.

She started “Jesters” in VCCA (the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts). The house she describes in the piece is the main house there. The books listed in the piece are books self found on the shelves in the main house. Here’s an excerpt:

There is so much weight here: the house, the barn, the chestnut horses in the field, the Chinese elms, the white porch, the brick path, the flowering oregano bushes, the Steinway grand, the porcelain vases, the shelves and shelves of books: Culture & Anarchy, Multilingual Lexicon of Linguistics and Philology, Cassell’s Italian Dictionary, The World and The Text. You run your hands over the dusty spines. You finger the books. You feel yourself melting, slowly.

You know what else self found on the shelves in the main house? A copy of the literary magazine Story, which was the first American magazine to ever publish her. The story was “Ginseng.” Actually, self didn’t find the magazine; another writer did, and showed it to her. Wow! Amazing!

Stay tuned.

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