Date of Visit: 28 June 2023

Mountainburg, AR

88º (feels like 95º), bright sun all day, excessive heat warning, nevertheless, she persisted

Park 4 of 52 AR State Parks: 52 Poems was Lake Fort Smith. When I began this project, I worried that visiting so many parks in such a short time would result in the visits all blurring together; however, that hasn’t been the case at all. Each park has such unique features that I find my slew of pictures, pages of squiggly notes, and the ephemera of trail maps and park brochures all serve to bring back the individual details of the experience. The three standout details of Lake Fort Smith State Park are these: 1) Westward Expansion by European-American settlers, 2) the 1930’s WPA, and 3) the Ozark Mountains Ecoregion.

Oh, and one more. It was hot!

No matter the size or shape of the park, my first stop is always the Visitor Center where I talk to staff, read/view all of the display materials, and make sure my water bottle is full. The Visitor Center at LFS has a lot of information on Euro-American settlement, as Fort Smith, AR was considered “the gateway to Oklahoma” for the late 19th century land rush. The display begins with the statement that “Arkansas wasn’t originally on the direct route for pioneers” because of our terrain: mountains to the north, rivers and swamps to the east and south. Therefore, “for a long while, Arkansas was considered terra incognita–a perfect pioneer mystery.” Wow. That phrasing gave me pause. How easily we label something non-white as a “mystery.” For goodness sakes, there were thriving communities of indigenous peoples living within our artificial borders at the time. The display does note, “Early Arkansas inhabitants included the Osage, the Quapaw, and, later, the Cherokee.”

As I read about the materials that were important to survival for homesteaders (some examples: salt, saws, & guns), I struggled to reconcile the brutal facts of our history of the genocide of indigenous peoples, and the exile from their homelands for those who survived. While it was fascinating to contemplate the hard choices of resource management (I am an obsessed Stardew Valley player after all), there was a bitter grief underlying my admiration for the tenacity of those people who made the journey. As I begin working on the poem drafts for most of these parks, I continue to circle the question of what I owe to the people who came before me in these preserved places.

Another complicated history at LFS is the human stewardship of natural resources. I learned that Lake Fort Smith was first created in the early 1930s by the Works Progress Administration (WPA) to provide clean drinking water to the growing community of Fort Smith. This was done by damming Frog Bayou, and my one regret of my visit was that the heat prevented me from hiking down to the bayou and the dam. As with my visits to parks with large Civilian Conservation Corp footprints, I appreciated the education provided by park staff at LFS. As Lake Fort Smith serves as the water source for Fort Smith and surrounding towns, it is a highly protected lake. Here, I wondered about human influence on the environment. My always present concerns about global population growth and climate change destruction simmered beneath my admiration for the technology and human willpower at play in managing water resources. This has already begun to show up in my drafting for this park.

For the hikers out there, LFS is known as the launching point for the 175-mile Ozark Highland Trail that leads east and then northward into Missouri. Later in the day, I attended a trail talk on the first bit of the OHT; however, I found hiking the shorter Warren Hollow Trail to be more manageable for my day visit. This trail took me through the standard Ozark woodlands of flowering dogwoods, hickories, all the oaks, sweet gum, and various maples. I saw several deer, and no matter how many times I see them in all of these various parks, I’m still awed by their beauty.

At the trail talk, an amazing park interpreter got into the geology with me and I was thrilled. I learned that the Ozark Mountains are not technically mountains at all, but erosion created plateaus. In scientific terms, mountains are created by plate tectonics or by volcanos. As neither occurred in the Ozarks, they are misnamed. This took me back to the question that came up at Pinnacle Mountain State Park: who gets to decide what a mountain is? This, too, circles the issue of human stewardship of our natural environment. What does it mean to name, both the animate and the inanimate? What relationship does that naming create?

It was a hot day, but an enjoyable one that gave me plenty of material to play with on the page. Next up: Devil’s Den State Park.

61º ~ hazy sun after days and days and days of rain and clouds and below-normal temps ~ water-sodden but enjoying the extra open-window season as temps refuse to rise

Excerpt from an old, untitled collage.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve learned, again, that putting creativity first is hard. It is hard because I give 100% to almost everything else in my life that I label “work,” and I worry about letting others down before I worry about letting myself down. As a result, when I do have time to put toward my own creativity, I am too burned out to lift brain or pen or images. Without thinking, as each day unfolds, I choose to prioritize the work of teaching, of advising & supporting my students, of coordinating a creative writing program, of directing a conference. Here’s what the voice in my head always says, “Just get this grading done, this newsletter written, this curriculum form filled out & submitted…and then you can write with a clear brain.” But it never works that way. Instead, I expend valuable energy and time on a project that saps my desire to do anything afterward but turn on Netflix and succumb to streaming.

Shifting habits, shifting paradigms, shifting brain patterns, all require mindfulness, given how quickly the brain snaps to certain decisions based on years and years of conditioning. Mindfulness means creating a pause before starting on any task. It means “waking up” and “checking in” at various points of the day to assess whether or not I’m living my values.

Now that the pressure cooker that is the end of the semester has let out all its steam and cooled, I am, again, resolved to shift. Over the last few days, I’ve created one new collage (although it isn’t glued down yet) and fleshed out two drafts of poems that have been languishing in my journal for a week. I also sent a batch of poems out to a journal for consideration. For these acts I congratulate myself.

In the coming days, I hope you, reader, find the time and the means to prioritize your core values, whatever they may be.

61º ~ partly sunny, spring continues to be kind ~ the cats and I delight in having our windows open ~ birds abound: 2 male & 1 female Baltimore orioles at the hummingbird feeder outside my window (maple syrup and crushed fruit now deployed)

From March 27 – April 27, my life has been aswarm with creative events. Here’s a glimpse.

March 27 – March 30: AWP (the annual conference of the Association of Writers & Writing Programs)

AWP was in Portland this year, and over 12,000 writers of (mostly) literary works converged on the convention center for 3 days of panels, readings, and the most wonderful book fair I know. These are my people, and, finally, after 10+ AWPs I have made myself comfortable with the overwhelming options available to me.

I was fortunate to be on two panels this year, one on teaching comics and one on teaching & workshopping poetry in a politically divisive America. After 10 years of having various panels I proposed rejected, I was thrilled that the political poetry panel (the one I organized and proposed) was accepted. While at AWP, I also attended a panel on the “Ecstatic Ekphrastic,” which featured poets and writers doing interesting things at the intersection of text and image. I gathered many ideas for not only my own work, but also for my students in illustrated narrative. I attended an amazing offsite reading by the latest batch of poets to have books out from the University of Wisconsin Press. Following the reading, I had dinner with my AWP sisters, Molly Spencer and Sally Rosen Kindred (they are the highlight of any AWP I get to see them). On day 2, I went to a panel on “Trauma in the Writing Classroom,” and jotted down a few helpful exercises for building empathy and community so that when difficult content appears the students are prepared for the discussion. And on day 3, I spent almost all of my time passing up and down the aisles of the book fair, stopping to visit with editors & readers at lit mags and publishers that know me and pausing to check out those with whom I was unfamiliar. Through all 3 days, I doubly loved those spontaneous moments of running into friends I only “see” in the virtual world the rest of the year.

April 9 – April 10: AiR (Artist in Residence) Bonnie Jo Campbell

For a day and a half, I was lucky to play host to novelist & short story writer Bonnie Jo Campbell during her visit to UCA. Not only a spectacular writer, Bonnie is also a wonderful teacher, as demonstrated by her master class with our grad students and her craft talk with our undergrads. I’m so fortunate that I get to be a part of these conversations, which are always teaching me!

April 19 – April 21: NAR50 (a conference to celebrate 50 years of the North American Review at the University of Northern Iowa)

When a friend urged me to submit a proposal for this conference, I couldn’t say no, given the fact that UNI is located smack dab in the middle of where I grew up and only 30 minutes from my mom and my sister. (And Mom puts me up for free! Thanks, Mom!)

This conference carried the overall title of “The Open Space of Democracy” and featured Terry Tempest Williams as the Friday night keynote. Another nod toward the idea of social justice as an offshoot of literary works was a stunning panel by the editors of Bullets into Bells, who were joined by gun control advocates from grassroots organizations in Iowa. The conference also showcased the redesign of this venerable lit mag, and I have to say both the print edition and the new website are stunning.  While at the conference, I had the great opportunity of attending a workshop with Joyelle McSweeney on the necropastoral (and of hearing her perform her poems…there’s no other way to describe it). I also attended panels & readings on regionalism in American poetry, the “resurgent sonnet,” voices of the heartland, and I was able to participate in John McCarthy‘s workshop on using landscape and region in similes as a way to expand the language of a poem. I wrapped up the conference by reading from my song series, exploring how pop songs of the 70s and 80s influenced my idea of gender and sexuality. I was paired with Elijah Burrell, a poet new to me, but now someone I hope to be reading for a long time to come. I was thrilled to be able to see old friends like Trudy Lewis, Allison Joseph, Aliki Barnstone, John McCarthy, and Greg Brownderville. And, of course, the fact that I got to spend time with my family was a huge bonus.

April 27: ALF (Arkansas Literary Festival)

If you’re still reading, we are almost done! Yesterday, I got to enjoy having a writing festival in my own backyard, a quick drive to the River Market and I was enveloped in words. I started the day by attending a reading by Jericho Brown and Geffrey Davis. Having heard both of them read separately in the past, I wasn’t going to miss this, and they did not disappoint. In fact, knowing each other before being paired on the program, they spontaneously decided to read back and forth, putting their poems in conversation in a way that was beautiful and haunting. After lunch, I attended a panel featuring Liana Finck, Charles Forsman, and Adam Smith, authors of graphic novels and comics. This was another chance for me to gather information for my illustrated narrative students. My day ended with another poetry duo; this time Ruben Quesada and Andrés Cerpa. Their reading was as stunning as Brown and Davis’s, and I went home with a smile on my face and four new books of poetry in my bag.

Oh, and all throughout this amazing month of literary adventures, I’ve been teaching and wrapping up the semester, while trying to watch as much Cubs baseball as I can fit into my days. Once finals are over and end-of-the-semester admin work is finished, I may sleep for three days straight. Then, then, there will be days and days of writing time.  Looking forward.

82º ~ bright Midwestern sun stretching for the whole, wide horizon

On the UNI campus, note The Campanile in the background.

This is me enjoying 16 mph winds on the campus of the University of Northern Iowa, where I’m attending and presenting at the North American Review Writing Conference, celebrating NAR’s 50th year at UNI and the magazine’s new re-design (both for the print magazine and the website). The day before I left Arkansas, the forecast said I might be lucky to see upper 60ºs. Instead, Iowa turned on the charm for the first time all season. I’ve had to shed all my layers, and I’m happy.

I’ve been up to my ears in family and poetry and social justice for three days, and just before I left Little Rock, I attended a reception with a small group of women featured in Erin Wood’s new book from Et. Alia Press, Women Make Arkansas: Conversations with 50 Creatives. At the reception, I was surrounded by painters, jewelry makers, writers, bakers, chocolatiers, and more.

In other words, I haven’t let this blog down. I’ve simply been swarmed with actually DOING all the creative things. Expect a fuller update tomorrow when I have a 6-hour layover in O’Hare!

53º and sunny ~ trees are halfway through the leafing process, all the world is yellow-green and fluttering

Postcard, Mailed & Gone

Using this blog to hold myself accountable is good. I was about to follow my normal pattern and throw myself headfirst into schoolwork and conference work this Monday morning. Instead, I remembered two dear poetry friends, Molly Spencer and Sally Rosen Kindred, and my resolution to put creativity first in my daily life.

Molly recently posted a reminder to “do your own work first” on her lovely blog, and at AWP she, Sally, and I had a chance to talk about it. I was beating myself up for putting UCA and the C.D. Wright Women Writers Conference before my “own work” of writing, revising, and submitting. While I came to see, through their eyes, that the conference had been my work during the building of it, I also came to renew my desire to make the craft of poetry my own first work. In other words, while I believe mightily in the conference and its mission, I don’t want to be an administrator first, and I know I don’t want to be an academic first, although I love my students and am fulfilled by our work together. These are important, but if I value creativity in my life, I need to put my poetry work first.

And so, instead of launching into administrative emails and commenting on Game Concept Documents (writing for video games), I picked up my notebook and worked on the fragments of a poem I started last Tuesday. I’m proud of myself for keeping my BIC (butt in chair) and slogging through the work of drafting. Sure, the initial stanzas were easy because I had my notebook with many of the lines nearly “there.” However, today, I was faced with the challenge of taking it further, with fleshing out the heart of the poem. Many times in the last hour I questioned myself and the worth of this draft; many times I wanted to get up and get a cookie, a cup of tea, a cat to snuggle. Nevertheless, I persisted (and we must honor every time we do) and I now have a fledgling draft. It might not be quite ready for independent flight, but its a helluva lot closer than it was, nascent in my notebook.