Crisis Mode, My review of Oceanic up at the Rumpus, Redactions New Issue, Lit World Gender Representation, Crisis Mode Again

Purple iris in Willows Lodge back garden

Crisis Mode

Hey guys, it’s beautiful outside but I’ve been in crisis mode since my last post. My Dad’s been in the hospital with pneumonia and he hasn’t been let out yet. It’s tough – I’ve had pneumonia a bunch of times, so I kind of know how it goes, but he’s older and has never had pneumonia before, so it’s all new to him. It’s also the fact that I’m stuck here while he’s across the country but MS makes it tough to travel. Dang.

Also, of course, the heartbeat of tragedy in our country as young children are put into cages and ignored and lost. This cannot be ignored.

What can I do about either situation? It feels like very little. Not enough.

Oceanic Review in The Rumpus and New Issue of Redactions

In good news, my review of Aimee Nezhukumatathil’s newest book from Copper Canyon, Oceanic, is up at The Rumpus. Oceanic is a wonderful book to read right now – both intense, crisis-minded and hopeful.

The newest issue of Redactions is out – and several friends are in there with me, including Steve Mueske and Kelli Russell Agodon. My poem, “Grief Language,” was about trying to put into words my feelings about the terminal cancer diagnosis I received eighteen months ago. Here’s a picture of Sylvia, my kitten, a vase of sweetpeas, and the new issue, all together.

I’m still waiting to hear from several presses about my latest book manuscript, which deals with the cancer diagnosis and then the MS diagnosis, along with apocalyptic news and weather events. I’m hoping my sixth poetry book finds a home soon. And the VIDA numbers just came out this year, which actually made me feel depressed this year – not enough representation for women, for women of color, for the disabled. Come on, literary community – you need to do better. I’m thinking about where I’m spending money on lit mags and books more carefully these days – who am I supporting?

More Crisis Mode

So, it’s been beautiful but hot here – record-breaking heat across most of the country, which is very bad for MS patients, who are warned to avoid heat. So I’ve been dutifully going to specialist appointments every day this week and last week, trying to avoid going out during the beautiful sunny days as much as possible, not stress out about the state of the country or my Dad’s health (because stress also brings on MS symptoms – whoops!)

It makes me think about how Americans deal with the moral crises going on in their country now, how close we are to creating new internment camps like America did in World War II for the Japanese-Americans, like the Germans did for the folks in their community who were too Jewish, too Catholic, or just didn’t fall in line enough. Remember no one really put up a fuss in either situation. Who knows how ashamed they were afterwards? I think now might be a good time to put up a fuss. We still have freedom of speech and we should use it. Call your congressperson, or write to them, and don’t let your Trump-voting friends get away with parroting lies about how they’re “just carrying out the law” or how the Bible justifies it (I’m a former Sunday School teacher who knows the Bible back and forth, and I can saw without the equivocation that it does not. And a lot of Christians agree with me.) It’s unacceptable. And who are we as poets if we don’t agitate at least a little? I mean. It’s sort of our job. We are supposed to remind people of souls, empathy, human capacity for good or evil.

In this body, which has become increasingly fragile as I age, I worry I can’t do enough – for others, for my country, for my dad. What can my contribution be? Well, I can at least not stay silent. I can at least let my politicians who care about my vote know where I stand. I can let my Dad know I’m thinking of him with care-packages and advice. I feel like I’m on the verge of yelling or crying almost all the time these days. None of it is enough. I can write my way through it – probably the only thing I feel competent to do right now.

How do you get through Crisis Mode? How do you take care of yourself and still help take care of the world? How do you, as a poet feel we should respond?