Happy Thanksgiving! You know I try to subject you to as little of my actual poetry as possible, but since I wrote this poem a little while ago when a friend and I discussed keeping gratitude journals when we felt the most grumpy, and it seemed appropriate to the day, I thought I’d go ahead and post it:

Keeping a Gratitude Journal

For string beans, rubber bands, black cat calendars

green tea, green trees, tiny green frogs

envelope glue, mango lip balm, marabou

halter tops, high-heeled shoes, hair mousse

comic book heroes, Slavic jaw bones, cheese

scratching mosquito bites, the deep breath at the end of a swim

his face beneath your hands

your skin beneath a copper coin moon

your breath in and out slippery as fish

the can of sea glass half-full

that you still can applesauce by hand

that you can wake, one more morning, your one last chance.

There has been an interesting discussion going on in different blogs about poetry accessibility and whether or not poetry should be, in Billy Collins’ phrasing, “welcoming” or not. One blogger argued for difficulty in poetry, saying that poetry isn’t meant for “the masses” and that’s okay, and that one shouldn’t try to commodotize poetry, etc. I often hear this argument from poets whose poetry is difficult and experimental. The other argument, from those in the New Formalist camp, is that the masses want rhyming, metrical verse – and that most readers aren’t even aware of poetry written after 1950, because free verse has somehow turned them away from poetry.

Since I like to express opinions that make me unpopular, I’ll just say that neither of these arguments holds water for me. Why should poetry force people to climb a barbed wire fence? I am a poet, and spent time and money to study poetry, and I still won’t willingly read a book that gives me a headache. Well, maybe once, to see what the hoopla is all about. And I just don’t believe that people are staying away from poetry simply because they don’t like free verse. I know that if all I knew of poetry was the Tennyson, Keats, etc they taught us in grade school, I wouldn’t ever have picked up a poetry book voluntarily. Free verse can be done wonderfully, and anyone who doesn’t believe me should pick up something by Rita Dove, or Louise Gluck, or James Tate, or any poetry anthology that includes writers born after 1920. I think the reason most people stay away in droves from poetry is because a. they didn’t like the poetry (Tennsyon, Keats, et al) they learned in high school, b. they once went to a poetry reading that frightened them, or c. they simply think poetry is irrelevant. If they want to read, they read a historical novel, or crime fiction, not poetry.

I like to think of myself as a populist, and I try to write poetry that an average person could pick up and understand. However, I’ve been told (by both editors and friends) that a lot of my poetry contains too many references (to mythology, folk stories, etc) to be considered widely accessible. I’m certainly not referring to things in order to keep people out of my poems, but I guess it could have that effect. Is my poetry difficult? I don’t think so. But it does assume that a person either knows or might bother to look up a character, for instance, like Persephone, or Cinderella. Harumph. So am I a big hypocrite? I’m capable to writing direct poems that don’t include references, of course. And I know those poems might have a wider audience. But I only write those poems about 20 percent of the time.

I think there is space in the poetry world for difficult, experimental poetry, there is space for formal poetry, there’s space for every school out there. A book that might seem flat and dull to one reader might be exactly the thing another reader loves. I know as a reviewer that I don’t love everything I read – but when I review, I try to keep my mind open to the fact that other readers’ tastes might be different than mine. So I might say something like, “While this challenging work leans to the elliptical” which is code for “I don’t really feel like putting any more effort into what seems like self-aggrandizing pretentious nonsense, but I know that some people really get into this kind of thing.”

My family is full of intelligent people without MFAs who might actually read poetry for fun, so I like to ask them questions about poetry. They do things like research robotics, train corporate clones, program web sites, troubleshoot telecom networking, run medical scanning tests. My grandmother worked on a farm her whole life and retired with nothing more than a GED (which she completed by eighth grade) – but is more well-read than some of my professors have been, and can quote the Bible, Dante, and Coleridge by heart. These are people that work long hours, and want to be rewarded for their effort when they read. They don’t care about what school of poetry someone comes from, but they want to read something that grabs them, that moves them, that might take them from the familiar to the unexpected. They want someone who talks like they do, not with a lot of “fancy bullshit.” (Hey, my family has working class roots. Wanna make something of it?) I don’t necessarily always write the kind of poetry my family might want to read were I not related to them, but I hope that sometimes I do.

In the meantime, I like to read poetry that is mentally challenging, but not willfully obscure. Is that line hard to draw? Sometimes. Can poetry matter? Of course. It’s not like we poets should give up and say, well, no one’s ever going to read this anyway, so why bother trying?

To sum up in a jumble of pop culture references:

The audience is out there.

If we build the right poem, they will come.

Life is always a bag of mixed blessings, isn’t it? I’ve been struggling with an ongoing health problem (which I won’t go into here, suffice it to say it’s been making me very tired and cranky) but seem to be writing poetry at record rates. We finally found a cute little townhouse a bit cheaper than our current place to rent next year, which takes a weight off my mind – but it’s a long trip from the new place to visit all my poet-friends. I’ve been getting almost daily rejections this week – but also received two more acceptances from Pearl (who wrote a very sweet handwritten note) and American Poetry Journal which, along with the Iowa acceptance, I think makes a record for most acceptances I’ve ever gotten in one week. Then, sitting down with friends yesterday, I found out that a lot of them are going through really terrible times – losing jobs, loved ones, etc. So I am trying to think good thoughts for them and wishing that poetry could do more than it can – that it could magically alleviate money problems or health problems or grief or anything. Sometimes I wish good things would happen in vacuums – so that when they do occur, you could totally focus on the good thing and appreciate it. But instead, it always seems like any celebration is hindered by a hundred other problems. This seems to be an ongoing theme in my blog lately, hmmm – how to be grateful and positive in a world that seems daily to become more challenging to navigate. Like a lot of other people who write poetry, probably, I struggle with not getting so overwhelmed with the feeling that “these bad things are happening, and they’re never going to end.” Wintertime in Seattle is always a struggle. I’ve already started dreaming of the Arizona desert, all the cacti and hummingbirds and lizards, sun and sand. I have no trips planned to Arizona, just, you know, idle mental wandering.

I also started on The Best American Poetry 2004, finally, and just finished the two introductions by David Lehman and Lyn Hejinian (usually, sadly, my favorite part of the BAP series – the essays.) And I have a new stack of poetry journals to review for New Pages, and new goals to turn in for second semester of school, and an article for Seattle Woman Magazine that’s almost due. So back to work I go.

It is a day of many good omens. In the month of November, when the whole Pacific Northwest is usually drizzly and miserable, the blue sky is clear and bright, and when I went on my usual daily walk around the boat docks (I own no boats, but I enjoy being near them) I saw three – three – sea otters in the water, not ten feet away. And I got an acceptance from the Iowa Review, which was very exciting and encouraging (and did a lot to dispel the sadness from two rejections on the same day.) I’ve written a poem about bad and good omens coming in threes – three sea otters, three responses from journals, three…million dollars? years of perfect health? I can’t help but feel optimistic.

Still looking at places to rent for next year. Haven’t found anything yet. Ah the renter’s transient lifestyle, moving every year, constantly having to worry about missed responses and rejections and lost mail. But hey, if I wanted to be a homeowner, I would have stayed in Cincinnati. Or Richmond, VA. Or, really, anywhere but in the Seattle area, home to many Microsoft millionaires who enjoy driving up the prices of homes and groceries.

I am reading Marge Piercy and Margaret Atwood today, trying to write an essay for school and a chef’s profile for Seattle Woman Magazine at the same time. If I am lucky, I won’t mix them up and suddenly start writing about pumpkin gnocci in the poetics piece.

Thanks to all who sent me well-wishes and prayers. On this fall-sunshine-blue-sky day in November, I can tell you that my biopsy came back negative (sigh of relief inserted here.) So I am appreciating all the good things in life. Like today I had this great philly-style cheesesteak sandwich, which is (as you know if you ever lived in the midwest) hard to find in the Pacific Northwest. And the leaves are all turning, and the boats seem happy to be in the water today.

Had lunch with Colleen McElroy yesterday. It was good to catch up with her, and we talked about her new manuscript she wants to publish (which sounds fascinating) and how comic books provide feminist and multicultural role models, and how we like Joss Whedon shows (she’s a Firefly fan.) She said something wise to me about the anxiety that comes from sending out your manuscript and your journal submissions, about how we should look for people and editors who appreciate the kind of work we do. That’s good advice, I think. I ordered two books on the influence of pop culture heroines from Amazon yesterday. I am thinking I am going to do my big thesis paper on something like “The Female Hero in comics and other media and how they affect the voices of contemporary women poets.” What do you think?

Finally got to read through the new 88. Josh Corey has some quotes from a tongue-in-cheek essay there on poetry and the poetry biz at his blog. A couple of interesting things about this issue: one, that is has so many people from the blogging community in it, and second, that the editor states his preference for avant-garde and post-avant-garde poetry. Which surprised me quite a bit, since my poetry is not what I would label avant-garde. But maybe we are no good at labelling out own work. The poem of mine in the issue is called “Breathing In the Asthma Capital.” If you read it, let me know if you think this qualifies as avant-garde.

Finished up two big assignments, one on using XML in FrontPage, another on WS-Trust, WS-Policy, and WS-SecureConversation. Now, I only have “fun” work the rest of the year, like articles for Northwest Palate and Seattle Woman Magazine.

Now, to go out and enjoy a little bit of the November sunshine.

Remember last week when I was talking about putting things in perspective? Well, this point has been driven home even further. I have been having a bit of a health crisis this week which has culminated in me waiting for the results of a biopsy test. You know, a kind of “trick or treat” for the soul.
In the doctor’s office I was reading this terrific but not terribly cheerful book of poetry, Marie Howe’s “What the Living Do.” This book was chosen for the NPS award by another favorite poet of mine, the Canadian writer Margaret Atwood. Howe has a real gift for communicating about the dark side with understatement but also a lot of power.
I have been reading with interest in other poet’s blogs (Kelli Agodon, Jeffery Bahr, and Victoria Chang’s) the different approaches to first book contests for poets. I perceive that it is difficult to get around the contest model, for now, but that there are also good publishers who do accept unsolicited first book manuscripts. There is a lot of talk about the “prestige” of a certain prize. I think my tactic has been to submit to a few prestige contests and to a few small contests that I have a good gut-level feeling about – for instance, the Winnow Press people just seem fantastic, as did the editor at Steel Toe Books, although these may not be considered “prestigious” in my mind they would be valuable prizes for the opportunity to work with the people. It is a tactic I’ve also taken in previous years at my approach to work – sometimes I’ve worked at “big name” companies (ie AT&T, IBM, Microsoft) and often submitted a resume just because of the prestige – but some of my most positive work experiences have been with tiny, under-50-person companies. I am happy being a freelance writer, but I think if I ever went back it would probably be to a small, flexible company full of smart, fun-to-work with people. Maybe I’ve watched the Matrix and Office Space too many times, but the idea of going back to a big corporation now gives me the willies. “You have a choice, Mr. Anderson…” etc.
I was thinking about how my life right now is okay. I’m not fabulously wealthy, internationally known for my writing, or you know, living any version of the glamorous life, but I am actually some version of happy. Winning a poetry book contest would be icing on the cake, of course (crossing fingers, knocking on wood.)
Oh, and on Paul Guest’s blog the other day he asked for poetry relating to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, so if you have any, visit his blog. He posted a poem I sent there…check it out!
And think good thoughts for me this week…

Sometimes things happen that tend to put petty problems in perspective. Yesterday, I went out of my house to go to a dentist appointment, and there were about eight fire trucks in my and my neighbord’s driveways – my next door neighbor’s house and deck were on fire. Their house was saved and I don’t think anyone was hurt, thankfully, but still, quite the big deal. Then, I heard about a friend’s wife who was in the hospital on a respirator. She’s really young and has a small baby girl. Terrifying stuff.

So I was praying for my neighbor and for my friend’s wife in this hospital (because what else can you do at times like that) and being thankful for the good things I have every day and don’t notice. There’s a very apt line from Aimee Mann’s song “I’ve Had It” that goes something like “Cause when things are really great…it just means everything’s in its place…”

I am very thankful, thankful, thankful, for the health of my family, for their love, for the surplus of freelance work I’ve been complaining about but will make the holidays financially feasible, and for the good poetry news I’ve had lately, for all my supportive friends, for the sunny October days we’ve been having. I gave my husband an extra hug this morning.

And as for small good news, the new issue 4 of the poetry journal 88 is out today, with my poem “Breathing In the Asthma Capital” in it – the issue looks great, full of poets I admire. Here’s where you can read more about it and order it if you want: http://members.aol.com/hollyridgepress/88_4.htm

Putting together my reading list for the second semester of school as well, and I’m trying to come up with contemporary women’s poetry books, since I’m not well read after, say, the 1950s. Any suggestions? Please leave them in the comments section, it would be most appreciated. Here’s the kind of poets I’m thinking about including: Margerat Atwood, Joy Harjo, Mary Ruefle, Brigit Pegeen Kelly, Denise Duhamel, and Olena Kaltyiak Davis.

I knew that reading comic books would pay off for me someday…

My chapbook, “Female Comic Book Superheroes,” has been accepted for publication by Pudding House Press and will be out sometime early next year. So I will finally have something to bring to all my readings 🙂 The very cool people at Top Cow comics have given me permission to use a silhouetted version of my fave comic heroine, Sara Pezzini from Witchblade, for the cover art and I just wanted to say thank you thank you thank you. I wrote to another contest to withdraw the chapbook from consideration, and the very kind editor there wrote back and said the chapbook had done pretty well in their competition, too! Which was a nice pick-me-up. But since I would miss submitting to chapbook contests too much, I’ve put together a new one to start circulating to the presses.

Strangely enough, I was looking through an online mag called Pedestal Magazine, just browsing through the poetry in their political anthology, and found my name there – what a surprise that was! So I’ve put a link to the poem on my poetry page – but be warned: there may be irony ahead. In fact, I think it’s a very bad idea to write political poetry at all, unless there are liberal (no pun intended) amounts of irony. I make an exception for one or two really good non-ironic political poems (“Dulce et Decorum Est” is still one of my favorite poems about war.)

I really need to update my poetry page, maybe make it its own mini-site, but I just haven’t had time yet. Still busy with work and work and then reviewing and homework. And, for some reason, my voter registration has been caught in a terrible loop – first, for months they claimed they hadn’t received my registration, though I sent it in three months early, then, that they received it but it wasn’t signed (it was!) and that I’d have to make a hundred mile drive out to correct it, etc. I sent in an extra, completed, signed form last month, just in case, and I’m going to fax in a corrected version with extra signatures too. I’m determined, but it’s like the forces are working against me being able to vote! When I think of what a pain it is, I think of what must happen to people who are much less enthusiastic about the political process than I am. I mean, I’m enthusiastic about voting, not necessarily about the candidates. I really wouldn’t trust either guy with five bucks, much less the nation. Hey, when are we going to get some candidates who are neither stupid nor dishonest? I’d vote for that ticket…Vote for us – we are neither dumb nor evil! And when is there going to be a woman running for the big office, anyway? What are we, stuck in the fifties? political rant> Anyway, I’m used to this kind of bureaucratic problem – last year I happened to check my credit report before buying a car, and it turned out they had me listed as “deceased.” What a surprise that was for me, living and breathing! It took me six months to get listed as un-deceased. Six months of almost weekly, long, boring, repetitive telephone calls. Who says the system ain’t working?

Much to be thankful for, either way. Sun is shining over the island, I just had a friend (a terrific poet) land two poems in Prairie Schooner, and I have a wonderful husband and family – my little brother is the one helping me design the Top Cow cover art for the chapbook. Plus, pumpkins everywhere!

I am working simultaneously on an article on upscale bar food in Seattle for Northwest Palate, my homework, writing a review for NewPages.com, and trying to remember what I know about the Web Services Policy specification. Sometimes it seems I live in too many worlds at once. Did I mention I’m also doing ad copy for yet another company?

I’ve been reading Marvin Bell’s (my mentor this semester at Pacific U) book of essays and interviews, called Old Snow Just Melting. I’m enjoying it quite a bit. Sometimes reading books of essays about poetry can be just as inspiring as reading poetry. He has a great bit in there about Kierkegaard, who happens to be my favorite philosopher of the moment (not in the highest of highs, like Erasmus and Pascale, but still.) Every time I think of his name, though, I always flash back to that Monty Python sketch where the German philophers play the ancient Greek philophers for the philosophy soccer tournament. One of their best, I think.

Five rejections this week (they can’t all be three-acceptance weeks, I guess 🙂 but I’m still plugging away, trying to figure out where to send next. Have I mentioned how much harder, scarier, etc., it is for me to put my poetry manuscript in the mail to publishers and contest this year than last? Last year I was clueless yet optimistic. Now, I know a lot more, and therefore know my chances to be thin. I guess I should remember the old slogan, you can’t win if you don’t play.

Have to guiltily admit to reading Foetry again, this time a thread that argues the definition of Expansive poetry, which I am still trying to get a feel for. Do I write expansive poetry, I wonder? No, probably not. But still, it’s good to know these things, in case they come up in conversation with, say, okay, it probably won’t come up in coversation.

Nintendo seems to be doing a spate of hiring again. All you gaming fanatics, why not send your resume in?

All right, off to my Daily Show fix…

Well, the poetry gods must be smiling on me lately…not only did I get a copy of the new Pontoon 7 with my poem “The Taste of Rust in August” in it, but I received not one but two acceptences within one week – one from a journal called 88 for a poem called “Breathing In the Asthma Capital” and the other from Diner for a poem with the insane title “Allerlierauh Reveals Her True Self to the Prince.” This is the kind of a week that makes all of my stress over sending stuff out and all those evelopes licked and stamps stamped seem worthwhile. Plus, I attended an excellent get-together for the fine Washington publishers Floating Bridge, where I got to chat to a million fun poet-types, and I’m going to a reading tonight for Cranky magazine featuring my friend Natasha plus big-deal Ukrainian poet Ilya Kaminsky.

So, it’s been a poetry heavy week. It’s weird to get acceptances after what seemed like an endless series of rejections. Hopefully this trend continues. Here’s to thinking good thoughts…