This morning has been a true delight in the reading arena. I finally picked up Rachel Contreni Flynn’s first book, Ice, Mouth, Song at AWP in Chicago. I say “finally” because for awhile this book was listed on Amazon on the Blood Almanac page under “Customers who bought this book also bought…” (It looks like they did away with that feature…or I just couldn’t find it today.) So, there has been a connection for several years I think. I discovered another connection by way of Flynn’s bio. Although she was born in Paris, she grew up in Indiana and lived at the time the book was published (2005) in northern Illinois. (Ice, Mouth, Song won the 2003 Dorset Prize and was published by Tupelo Press.)

In any case, after reading the book, I’m left in awe of Flynn’s images and her ability to weave mystery into these lyrics that build into a haunting narrative. The book begins with a preface poem titled “Fine,” which sets the mood for the entire book. Here are two excerpts:

“In the lake
there’s an inch
between frozen

and not yet.”

later

“This is childhood
in three pieces:
ice, mouth, song…”

Here’s another favorite excerpt from “Poem on the Road to Depose.”

“Purified by diesel
and the long gray bone
of the sky,

I am limb-caught and swallowed
by the monstrous laws of the dead.”

Flynn is expert at one of my favorite poetic devices. She writes from the point of view of the first person, but she transforms what is biographical into amazing lyrics that never reveal too much. I’ve said this of other writers in posts similar to this, but Flynn does it exceptionally well. Here’s an example from “Sleep.”

“I’m sick in my sleep — a curl of caulk in the sheets —
I sleep mercury, tarot cards, ginger ale.
Over again, I sleep

lavender, camphor, hands.
(Her yellow dress full of strawberries? I sleep them.)”

Justin Evans over at Hobble Creek Review accepted a poem for future publication. Yay! If you haven’t heard of this online journal yet, it is devoted to poems with a sense of place. Lots and lots of lovely work there. Thanks, Justin.

As I started to write this post, I was haunted by something I read recently on another poet’s blog. Honestly, I can’t even remember which blog it was, but the poet said something along the lines of this: “I don’t usually post about acceptances…” In a vague way, I felt some criticism against those who do post about their acceptances on their blogs. (This could have been completely in my own mind, by the way.) I got that unnervy feeling of “Oh no, am I not supposed to be doing this?” So, I’ve been mulling it over. Here’s where I am today.

Yes, I do like to celebrate my accomplishments, especially because the publishing side of the writing life can be so deflating. However, I post about my acceptances for more than just self-congratulatory reasons.

As an author with a book published by a small, independent press, much of the PR/Marketing of my work falls on me. I knew this would be the case no matter where my book landed, as this is even becoming common with larger presses. Whether we like to acknowledge it or not, if we want an audience, we must engage in the business of poetry. So, I post my publications to contribute in some small way to the continued marketing of my work.

I also post for the sake of the journals themselves. Whenever anyone tries to tell me that poetry is dead, I gasp. Do you know how many journals there are out there? It’s an immense number. Every month I discover presses and journals that were unknown to me until I read of another author’s publications. I like the idea of helping spread the word about journals I admire, especially when many of them have shrinking PR budgets or no PR budgets at all.

I may yet change my mind about this topic, but for now, I’ll continue to let you all in on any good news that comes my way.

Also in the current issue of Poets & Writers is an article on audio recordings of contemporary poetry and the joys therein. So, I thought I’d give you all a chance to hear a few of mine.

Long: Here’s a recording of my reading at The Warehouse in Tallahassee as part of Florida State’s reading series in the fall of 2006. This was part of my Florida tour set up by Anhinga when Blood Almanac was newly released. I read with fiction writer Todd Pierce, whose story is awesome if you have time for the whole recording.

Short: Here’s the recording I did of “On the Fabric of the Human Body” for The Dirty Napkin, an awesome online journal that incorporates audio files of poems as read by the authors.

Short: Here’s a link to the Linebreak archive, where you can hear fellow poet Maureen Alsop read my poem “Honor Thy.”

Enjoy.

Reading the new issue of Poets & Writers, I discovered an article about Better World Books, an online bookseller of used & new titles. Better World Books supports literacy movements in the US and abroad, and from what I’ve read on the website so far, they may become my number one choice for buying books. Here is a blurb from their site:

Better World Books collects and sells books online to fund literacy initiatives worldwide. With more than two million new and used titles in stock, we’re a self-sustaining, triple-bottom-line company that creates social, economic and environmental value for all our stakeholders.

They even have two copies of Blood Almanac!

Alison Pelegrin
“Blue Roof Blues”

I’m a lost soul standing where my house used to be.
Said I’m lost–where the seafood place used to be
Is nothing–no dumpster, no pilings, no speck of debris.

No Spanish moss to be found in a chain-link fence–
Instead of moss, you find sea grass woven in the fence.
In broad day, the shape of things doesn’t make no sense.

Floodwaters left a stain on my shutters and doors,
On curtains and Sheetrock and shutters and doors.
The lucky ones can live on the second floor.

There’s a crop of blue roofs in some neighborhoods.
Rebuild or abandon–it depends on the neighborhood.
For a hint of the loss, drive the length of the flood.

The blue tarps blanket rooftops where holdouts waited.
Their attics weren’t high enough, so they axed out, waited
For days, their names spelled with shoe polish just in case.

Yesterday I crossed the Mississippi to my mama’s side.
Whole way over, blue roof blue in the corner of my eye.

from Big Muddy River of Stars, 2007, The University of Akron Press
Winner of the 2006 Akron Poetry Prize

New issues of Crab Orchard Review and The American Poetry Review. Combine these with diode and that’s 3 new journals just in time for the weekend. Woo hoo!

I joined ReadWritePoem a few days ago. If you’re already there, friend me. If not, check it out.

diode
volume 3, number 1

Featuring:

Craig Beaven
Mary Biddinger
Kara Candito
Bruce Cohen
Lewis Robert Colon Jr.
Juliet Cook
J.P. Dancing Bear
Neil de la Flor, Maureen Seaton and Kristine Snodgrass
Oliver de la Paz
Heather Derr-Smith
Alex Dimitrov
Susan Elbe
Roselyn Elliott
Brent Goodman
Bob Hicok
Sean Patrick Hill
Ada Limon
Sandy Longhorn
Sabrina Orah Mark
Nick Martinez
Clay Matthews
River Montijo
Amy Newman
John Pursely III
Patty Seyburn
Jay Snodgrass
Elisabeth Workman
Theodore Worozbyt

I am amazed and honored to be in such good company. I hope you’ll check it out.

So, we have two cats now and one of them is only a year old. What does this have to do with poetry? Well, sometimes the cats believe they are more important than my writing time. They like to chase each other across my desk or try to knock pens and magazines to the floor or to just sit at my feet staring at me forlornly causing me to feel guilty for ignoring them.

A giant thank you to friend, James K., who taught me the secret of the subscription card cat toy. It’s brilliant. Take all the unused subscription cards that flutter out of magazines all over the house. One card at a time, ball them up and toss them out onto the hardwood floors for the cats to chase. The one-year-old particularly loves this game.

At the moment, I’ve got my pockets stuffed with ammunition and am developing a rather nice throwing arm.