Two New Poems up at Cold Mountain Review and Picturing the Oregon Coast

 

Haystack Rock and Giant Sand Dune at Sunset

Visit to the Oregon Coast

Just returned from the Oregon Coast – Pacific City, to be exact – where we had this review of a giant sand dune and Haystack Rock each morning and evening from our balcony. Pacific City – which can be reached only with a five and a half hour drive, the last hour of which was a hairpin turned, one-lane bridged mountain road driving – complete with washed-out roads and steep drop offs – almost reminded me of driving through the mountains in Tennessee only to wind up in California. The rocky dunes and steep cliffs, the scrub brush, the surfers –  definitely echoed the beaches in northern California. Maybe a little like Big Sur – the lush growth of mountain trees, ending in a spectacular stretch of beach.

Egret in flight

Even the birds – when we went through town, which was a bit modest and even seedy in spots – on the river reminded us of California. We saw our share of herons, but we were really excited by a sighting of a great Egret – which we hadn’t seen since we left Napa. We went to a wildlife preserve, where we saw the only flowers we saw in Pacific City. We didn’t encounter the rare butterfly they were trying to protect, but we did run into several deer, which were plentiful just like they were in Port Townsend, Washington, another mostly touristy, small beach town. These little coastal towns are fascinating to me: the people, the landscapes, the jobs, the houses. What are daily lives like when the pace is so different than, say, Portland or Seattle? There are a ton of these little pockets all around Washington and Oregon. You can definitely see the appeal of escaping here.

Last sunset on the Coast, our balcony

It’s easy for us to forget that we live so close to so many amazing landscapes – mountain ranges we rarely visit, a roaring ocean we don’t see often enough, a whole different menagerie of birds and butterflies. One of the benefits of taking these kinds of road trips is re-familiarizing yourself with the area you live in, the microclimates, the tiny different ecosystems. Also, we listened to almost the full book (and I finished when I got home) of Yoko Ogawa’s depressing with very salient The Memory Police, about the dangers of succumbing to authoritarian governments without too much resistance. (And also the very Japanese emotion of aware – the sadness and beauty of things that disappear – in this case, memories.) We try to get through one book on every road trip. Glenn said it would be easy to do nothing but watch the sea – as the light changes, as the birds go up and down the beach, watching various vehicles get towed off the beach after getting stuck in the sand.

Glenn and I on the windy beach, where it was really hard to walk with a cane!

But I remain attached to Woodinville – the abundance of flowers, especially, and hummingbirds, which were missing in our beach visit. I think of myself more as a tree/forest/waterfall person than a true beach lover. I love the shade rather than sunning. I like the shapes of the leaves overhead. But it is nice to remind ourselves of what is out here. Also, for disabled people, the beach is hard to have fun on. As I discovered quickly, canes sink quickly in the sand, and the person trying to navigate the beach in a puffy-wheeled wheelchair had a really hard time. As it was, I took a few steps towards the water, got my feet wet, and then jumped back into the car (which yes, though it had all-wheel drive, got stuck on the sand, but instead of being towed, we were pushed out by a volunteer gang of teenage volleyball players. I’ve never been so relieved to be surrounded by teens! They cheered as we successfully rolled away, and Glenn and I could not stop laughing.)

Here’s a snapshot in pictures: a cabinet inlaid with slices of geode from the Rowboat Gallery, a friendly deer, the scrub flowers at the wildlife preserve, and us:

Two New Poems up at Cold Mountain Review

Thanks to the new Spring/Summer 2019 issue of Cold Mountain Review, which has two of my new poems in it. The whole issue is beautiful, so check it out. And here’s a sneak peek at one of my poems, “Self-Portrait as Migration,” what I write while I was preparing to go into chemo and reading about the disappearances of poisoned snow geese. Snow geese are one of the birds I had never seen before moving to the Northwest, and they are amazing. Wishing you a quiet and peaceful transition into September.

My New Review up on The Rumpus, Spending Time with Poet Friends, and Unexpected Downtime

 

cat with book

Kitten Sylvia posing with Tsunami vs the Fukushima 50

New Review up on The Rumpus

Happy to have my new review of Lee Ann Roripaugh’s excellent and timely Tsunami vs the Fukushima 50 up at The Rumpus today. Check it out! Sneak peek:

“In Tsunami vs. the Fukushima 50, a book that crackles with imaginative language and mythological retellings that represent real-life disaster, Roripaugh offers the audience a new way to think about nuclear and natural disasters and the remnants and ghosts that remain in their wake. Worth a close reading just for the sonic skills displayed, this book manages to weave a larger message for the reader inside poems that are at once playful, plaintive, and foreboding.”

I really do believe that reviews are part of staying a part of the “giving” part of the poetry community, and I hope that reading this one 1. brings you joy and 2. causes you to look up this book, because I’m very enthusiastic about it.

Natasha Moni and Jeannine Hall Gailey, being poets

Spending Time with Poet Friends

Speaking of poetry community, I had the chance to spend some time catching up with my poet friend – or should I say, doctor/poet friend – Natasha K. Moni. She has just opened up her practice in the South Sound, and we talked publishing, book sales, balancing being a writer and a doctor (she also offerings book “doctoring!” – ie editing services!) I mean, that’s a lot going on!

One thing that will always make you feel a little less frustrated and alone in the poetry world in spending time with other writers. Every one of us has good news and bad news, good days and bad days, figuring out this whole “living life as a writer” thing. We have to help each other celebrate and mourn, fight the good fight, etc.

Glenn and I at Carillon Point

Unexpected Downtime

The fun of having a kind of crappy immune system is that one day you feel fine – see above re: socializing, and the picture of me enjoying some sunshine and flowers at the edge of Lake Washington – and the next, you’ll have to cancel all your appointments and are forced to take some unexpected downtime and go to the doctor instead of doing something “useful.” That was the case for me this week when I caught one of the stomach bugs going around. Mostly it meant lying around groaning (I’m not good with stomach stuff, though I’m pretty tough at this point about most health things) and extra sleep while playing classic movies in the background (the news was much too terrible to contemplate even on a very empty stomach) and it reminded me again that we have to appreciate the good days when they happen, and be gentle on ourselves on the bad days. I used the downtime to order a new Yoko Ogawa novel and peruse some poetry journals which had been lying next to the bed, and decide to grade Audrey Hepburn movies from best to worst (My favorites remain Sabrina and Paris When It Sizzles because writer satire on the latter and Paris featuring in both, plus I would definitely date William Holden and marry Humphrey Bogart.) Funny Face is a distant third, only because Fred Astaire just didn’t seem to have good chemistry with Audrey, but at least it has some nice scenes in a bookstore.

Our society really pounds in the point that we’re only to be valued if we are of use, and that is a negative lesson. Human beings – including myself – have value even if they’re not being “productive” or “turning a profit” or “making widgets.” One thing poetry does is teach people to slow down and evaluate their world (and worldview.) If the news says the world is burning, it may be, and what does that mean? And what can we do about it? That’s why the kind of poetry book I reviewed (link at the beginning of the post) is important – not just that it examines a huge cultural and environmental catastrophe of our time, but that it really makes us thing hard about why these things happen and how we are involved. And maybe even more valuable than the things you plan to do is the unplanned downtime that gives you time to ponder. Even if that downtime is the kind that leaves you moaning in bed.

Well, I’m hoping to post a healthier post next week, but until then, enjoy the last of August before September is upon us. Remember to eat a popsicle and run around barefoot and smell at least one flower before it’s over. I will do the same.

Plath Poetry Project Feature Today, Facebook Memories from Three Years Ago, Publishing and Writing Under Stress,

 

Lavender Field

Plath Poetry Project Feature Today

I want to start this post by thanking the Plath Poetry Project, where my poem “Hospital Room in Spring” is the feature today. It was inspired by Sylvia Plath’s poem, “Tulips.” Today’s blog post talks about writing under the stress of health issues, and publishing under that pressure as well, so the poem is thematic!

Here’s a peek at the poem:

From the Plath Poetry Project

Glenn and me last weekend

Facebook Memories from Three Years Ago

I had a very jarring experience. Facebook Memories put up a picture of me from three years ago. I had just gotten my hair cut short in preparation for chemo and I made the public announcement that I had cancer. At the time, three different doctors, including an oncologist, believed I had six months or less to live. I had fourteen tumors of varying size in my liver that they couldn’t treat with radiation or surgery.

I’ve kept the short hair, and the tumors haven’t gone anywhere, although now they are being classified as “benign or at least indolent.” Of course, we have to have MRIs every six months to make sure they don’t grow or turn into cancer. I have the stubborn desire to survive. To persist.

 

Pic from August 2016, from Facebook Memories

Since that time, you may know if you’ve been following this blog, I’ve gotten diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, was hospitalized with “flares” twice (both time also in August,) wrote two books – one about being diagnosed with terminal cancer and then MS, and the other weather aberrations, fireproof girls, and the political culture since 2016. I am hoping to get them published before anything else happens to me. I believe in the #writetolivelivetowrite motto. It has been a rough three years. I listen to more Beyoncé than I used to. The word “Survivor” is in a lot of my playlists.

I am very thankful for the support given to me by my husband Glenn, who has been there for me every second of the last three years, and my friends, far and near, who sent flowers and cards and reminded me that I was loved. I had very good health insurance which ensured I could see doctors for second opinions and more out-there treatments. I had two friends with similar diagnoses – both younger than me – who passed away in the last three years. So I know that I am lucky. It may not always feel lucky, but there it is.

I posted a short message about this Facebook memory on social media, and was overwhelmed by 1. supportive messages and 2. the number of friends who had no idea what the last three years had held for me. It’s a reminder that when we feel lonely and that no one cares, maybe a lot of people care, but they just didn’t know what’s going with us. You might not know just from looking – you might see that my hair is shorter, or that I use a cane – but our surfaces rarely reflect our real struggles.

Sylvia with all my books

Publishing and Writing Under Stress

So the one thing I didn’t stop doing when I thought I was dying was writing. I’d finished the first draft of my sixth manuscript in six months. And I really didn’t stop doing most things – although  it was certainly interrupted by a lot of unpleasant tests – but I signed the mortgage on my house, I brought home my re-homed delinquent kitten Sylvia (who to this day I call my “cancer-curing” kitty.) Here she is posing with all my poetry books to date.

Then I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I spent months learning to talk, walk, and swallow normally(ish) again after the damage the brain stem had sustained. This changed the book – it began to contain this disorientation, that I may have survived my cancer diagnosis, but now I had a different, incurable, debilitating disease. I lost words, often. But I still wrote. The book also contains documentation of the sheer weirdness of the weather and solar events of the past few years. It seemed like my body and the weather were misfiring at the same time.

Then, after Trump’s election, I felt an increased urgency – probably like many poets – to write poetry that was more political. For me, that meant writing about women that were survivors – and also women that had been oppressed, suppressed, raped, and literally burned at the stake – and what our future as women might look like. If women are going to survive the violence of men, we must change.  As I write this, by the way, the news is reporting a Bellingham college student murdered, shot by an ex-boyfriend in her home.  I continue to write poems. Writing under the stress of health issues, of the oppressive political climate, under the stress of  in the hopes that maybe these poems will make things better for others.

I am now sending both books out to publishers. I am hoping to get a great publisher, with great distribution, with more marketing firepower, who sends books in to the big prizes (you may not know this, but many poets from very small presses don’t have a shot at the big prizes because they can’t afford the fees or the copies.) I want to get these books out into the world soon.  The urgency my health struggles has given me about publishing has never let up. I want to get them out in my lifetime, which lately, has seemed sort of a fragile ideal, or at least one I can’t count on 100 percent. It’s been almost exactly three years since my last book of poetry, Field Guide to the End of the World, came out. Even if a big publisher decided to take one of my books tonight, it almost certainly wouldn’t be out for another year.

And getting published in a tough business. Poets right now are sending out their work, paying contest and reading fees of up to $30 a pop. Lots of them. I know some of them, and they are great poets. There is so much great work out there, so many poets hoping to be read. You just have to send out your work and hope it speaks to a publisher at the time you’re sending it. No one is guaranteed anything in the poetry world. I hope my work finds its way to a publisher and an audience. Today I will send out my books again. I will continue to hope.

 

Poetry News in August, Fiolet & Wing and Poetry Prompts Contributor Copies, and Night Zoos, Birds, and Roses

 

Goldfinch on red sunflower

Poetry News in August

For a week I spent mostly sick in bed with a summer virus, watching birds from my window, like this goldfinch that ate from my collapsed red sunflower and my little yellow sunflowers, hazily watching the mostly terrible news – multiple mass shootings, crazy weather reports from Shanghai and Europe,  a nuclear missile leak incident in Russia, the Epstein scandal – I had a surprising amount of positive writing news. I got an acceptance of two poems at one journal (paying!,) and another accepted for the Plath Project. I also had a pitch accepted for a health-related article so I’m working hard on a draft of that now (which pays money too!) So after a summer of doldrums writing-wise, and a summer of too much generally bad news, it was nice to get a little good news. And some paying work!

Sylvia posing with the anthology of domestic fabulism, Fiolet & Wing

Contributor Copies: Fiolet & Wing

This week I also got two contributor’s copies. First was the anthology of “Domestic Fabulism,” Fiolet & Wing. (See Sylvia pose with it at left.) It contains a ton of great poems and I recognized a lot of poetry friends (including Emily Rose Cole, Kelli Russell Agodon, and Jenn Givhan) in the collection. I’m thankful to be included in the company. Here’s a sneak peek at my poem, “Serendipity,” from the anthology:

Sylvia posing with Poems for the Writing: Prompts for Poets

Contributor Copy: Poems for the Writing: Prompt for Poets

Next I received my copy of Poems for the Writing: Prompts for Poets. (See Sylvia posing at left.) This book of prompts included two of my poems under the “Superhero” prompt, “Dirge for a Video Game Heroine: On Dying Again,” and “Female Comic Book Superheroes II: When Catholic Schoolgirls Strike back,” both from Becoming the Villainess. It’s a really fun collection of inspiring ideas for poems, great for August if you have some time on your hands and you’re looking for something to perk up your writing game. It’s really fun to think of my poems being used as poetry prompts! Thank you to the editors for including me.
Here’s a sneak peek at one of those poems:

Superhero poetry prompt

 

 

Glenn and I in the rose garden at twilight

Night Zoos, Birds, and Rose Gardens

So, yesterday I finally felt well enough to get out of the house, and the Woodland Park Zoo had special night hours. We missed seeing the otter babies, but we did see a frisky brown bear, some very active penguins and flamingos, wolves and the red panda adult (since the babies have been relocated.) We were there so late that the zoo actually closed without us getting out – we had to bang on the door of one of the last employees emptying the cash register at the gift shop to make our escape. Glenn was joking we probably could have spent the night if we wanted – it was getting a little chilly after dark, and there were some very brave rats who got up on their hind legs and made eye contact with me, so I was just as happy to make a getaway to the neighboring rose garden.

 

Great blue heron at twilight

I took a bunch of pictures of roses at twilight with a flash, and got really interesting results. The best nature picture we got was this great blue heron at the penguin exhibit, and we got a flyby by a bald eagle on the way in to the zoo, too. There’s also a patch of wildflowers inside the raptor exhibit. We also had a close encounter in our own driveway with a great horned owl, which hooted at us with much urgency from a neighbor’s pine tree! Too bad no picture of that guy – it was definitely too dark by then. The garden smelled amazing at night – something beyond the roses must be a night-bloomer. The rose garden, usually almost done by August, was still in full bloom thanks to the little bits of rain we’ve gotten this August, in between the wildfire smoke and blazing hot days we’ve been having. Like the garden, in August, I’m definitely better at nighttime, out of the sun. Glenn always jokes that I’m really a vampire (I am allergic to garlic, the sun, and hate mornings) but there is something – biorhythms? poetness? – I am always at my best after dark.

August is usually my “down month” so I am wishing you all rest and restoration, unexpected good news in your week, and renewed energy for August.

 

Taking the Fall, A Few Thoughts on that Utne Poetry Essay, and Poetry Reviews, Sales, and Empowerment

 

Orange Sunflower

Taking the Fall

Welcome to August, everyone! A beautiful time for flowers (dahlias! sunflowers! last roses!) but not a great time for me. MS symptoms like to act up in the heat, and I’ve spent time in the hospital the last two years in August. This last week we’ve had temps up to ninety degree, and on one of the hotter days, getting in and out of the car on the way home from physical therapy, I lost my bearings and fell hard into the sharp edge of the car door, which banged up my arm pretty good from shoulder to hand. Glenn and my physical therapist both also mentioned that I’ve been shaking uncontrollably in the hands, feet, and face. Not good.

New Hair and Hot Girls Pearls

But I try to learn lessons. For instance, a low-slung sedan with limited trunk/back seat space is probably not a great car for someone with balance problems, vertigo, and a wheelchair. So Glenn and I will be trading in our old sedan (2010! How is my car nine years old already?) for a car more appropriate for someone like me. Sigh. It hurts to acknowledge the changes in your life you make to accommodate disability. I’m “too young” for a wheelchair (does that even mean anything?) but still, with MS sometimes I need one and I need a car that can fit, say, a cooler and luggage and a wheelchair if I want to make any car trips. I don’t like having to stay inside on hot days, or days with wildfire smoke (currently from wildfires in Siberia – 7 million acres of forest on fire – and Alaska and Canada  – 100,000 acres on fire.) I don’t like basically having to go into hibernation in August. On the plus side, I did find these cool “Hot Girls Pearls” (in picture) that keep you cool for thirty minutes while you’re out and about, which allowed me out long enough to do errands (or get my hair done.)

In the name of praising the beauties of summer in the Northwest (despite my increased MS symptoms,) here are a few more pictures of flowers around Woodinville:

A Few Thoughts on that Bob Hicok Poetry Essay in the Utne Review

So, I posted a couple of observations on that Utne reader Bob Hicok essay on Facebook (if you are interested, you can read the threads here) and thought I might develop further here. This is not just to pile on to Bob’s racist/sexist/privilege issues but to discuss other issues his essay brings up. I think he’s missing a few larger issues in publishing, book sales, and mindset.

  • Bob has won two (!!) NEA fellowships and a Guggenheim, as well as a pretty cushy teaching gig, and has published ten books. I just, sorry, don’t feel like weeping for him because I (and most of my friends) have never had any of those things. Never been in Poetry or the New Yorker either. So, you know, he needs to check his privilege before he gets whine-y. Lots of poets have never been the flavor of the month, but Bob has had a lot of time in the sun. So it was an insensitive essay in more than one way.
  • My friend Kelli is always talking about “scarcity mentality” in poetry – the feeling that because someone else gets something, you get less. She points out that it is not true, even if it feels true, and not only that, it’s destructive. I wrote a little last week about poets cheering on other poets and how important that is. It definitely makes being the poetry world more rewarding. Helping others – by mentoring or reviewing or publishing – will increase your happiness, I guarantee. Everyone feels hurt when their book doesn’t sell or get reviewed or their book or grant gets rejected – but that hurt can be mitigated.
  • What Bob is lamenting – that his books sell less, that he gets fewer reviews – has nothing to do with poets of color, LGBTQ writers, or women getting more air time. It has to do with the landscape of publishing. The print book market is very fragmented, and I’d bet that most poets are selling fewer books and getting fewer reviews because there are so many books out there now. Gen Z have their own book buying tastes and habits – very different than his generation. Instagram poets, for instance. It’s not bad, just different, than it used to be. I’m sure, say, Billy Collins is still doing fine. Book publishing in general is changing. Book reviewing is in flux, too.
  • Also, it seems strange to talk about how all these troublesome non-white-male poets are taking up space when most of the prestige poetry presses and journals ARE STILL RUN BY WHITE MEN. I was trying to name the poetry presses run by women and people of color – can you help me? Are they the ones most poets want to be published by with, or get good distribution? (People have mentioned: University of Akron Press, Mayapple Press, Alice James Books, Sundress, Two Sylvias Press. as presses led by women..I’d love to hear more (especially presses run by people of color?)
  • Most tenure track teaching jobs are still given to men. In academia in general, women have much less chance of being offered tenure, and I’m sure poets of color and poets with disabilities could talk more about their experience with this. You’ve already lucked out if you’re an older poet with a tenured teaching job.
  • I don’t know about other reviewers, but there’s a reason I like to shine a spotlight when I do reviews of poets of color, women, LGBTQ poets, and poets with disabilities. In general, these poets are more vulnerable to prejudice, so I think it’s more important that their voices are heard above the crowd.
  • What am I missing? Anything else to add to the discussion?

More About Poetry Reviews, Poetry Sales, and Empowerment

So, I have been told by more than one person at a major poetry publisher that poetry reviews, Twitter followers, and such don’t always translate into poetry sales. So Bob feeling neglected may have nothing to do with his lack of book sales. I personally choose to review books that resonate with me – and because I have always felt like a little bit of an outsider, that often means books by women, poets with disabilities, LGBTQ people, and poets of color resonate more with me.

If you review books of poetry – and most poets don’t, but I consider it one of the things I can do for the poetry community – you probably want to amplify work you think is great and people that you think are great. Sometimes those things blend into each other. For instance, I probably won’t review a poet that has a reputation for being a jerk, because there’s enough of that in the poetry world, isn’t there? And there are so many kind, generous, not-terrible-human poets out there who just aren’t getting any attention. At all. They’re not winning grants of fellowships. Maybe they’re a little older, or live outside New York City, or write outside the mainstream in some way. But they’re writing interesting, accomplished work. I want to shine a light on them.

Of course, to avoid hypocrisy, I want to say I do care about winning grants, or getting into certain journals or getting books published – of course I do! Most poets don’t write so that their work can sit in obscurity. But PR for Poets was written to help poets channel their frustrations about their books not getting enough attention, or selling enough copies, into something positive – some kind of action. I wanted poets to feel empowered in a process – and a world – that can often seem disorientating and powerless to the participants. It’s best to focus on things you can control – whether we’re talking about MS symptoms or the poetry world – than things you can’t.

What do you do to feel empowered rather than peeved by the poetry world? I’d love to hear from you in the comments!

Summertime Blues, Poems for Replicants, Game of Thrones Poetry and Other Mysteries in the new Pine Hill Review, and Poets Cheering for Other Poets

 

Mt Rainier over wildflowers

Summertime Blues?

Is this a thing for you? The heat wave that slammed most of America finally hit us here in Seattle. We’ve had days in the high eighties and even low nineties in the last week, which means I’ve wilted and napped and generally felt out of it. I’ve been the opposite of productive. Even my sunflowers were wilting! I snapped this on a day Mt. Rainier was out (some days it was too hazy to appear) and the wildflowers looked so bright and beautiful. In Seattle, we don’t have that many sunny days, so you do feel guilty for “missing out” or cancelling plans (I had to cancel almost everything this week, but most of my things were medical tests, so really, I’m not really missing it!) You feel guilty for not windsurfing or paddleboarding or hiking a mountain. I didn’t take on any editing gigs and couldn’t do even menial mental tasks. I think summertime for some people comes with an opposite sort of seasonal effective disorder. You may not know this about me unless you see the secret codes in my poetry, but I am truly allergic to the sun – hives, fever, the whole bit. (Hence my extraordinary amount of pallor! I call my foundation shade “Corpsey.”) And MS symptoms are worsened by heat. I have to make peace with some amount of down time in the summer as a type A person with these problems. What about you? Do you embrace the summer heat or does it slow you down? Personally, I am counting down the days til September!

Daenerys with dragons

Game of Thrones Poetry and More Mysteries in the New Issue of Pine Hills Review

I am very happy to have three poems in the new issue of Pine Hills Review, which the editors included some cool associated art work. I have written a series of poems about Daenerys (often associated with Joan of Arc mythology) and this includes one of them, as well as a poem tribute to a SyFy original murder comedy movie. So, see? Aren’t you curious? The whole issue is really fun to read, and a little offbeat, which I have to say is welcome in the poetry world Here’s a sneak peek at my Daenerys/Joan of Arc/with a little bit of me poem:

From Pine Hills Review

Origami Unicorn, Blade Runner

Poems for Replicants

This week saw the death of another icon of my childhood, Rutger Hauer, who played the main villain (a sympathetic replicant/robot) in Blade Runner, the villain in the Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie, the love interest in Ladyhawke, among other roles. The SFPA had put out a call for haiku on replicants in June, and I happened to find out I received the SFPA President’s Pick Award for my little scifiku. I have a little origami unicorn pin to remind me of the genius of the original Blade Runner and its source material, Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? So I thought it would be a good time to post my little piece:

Replicant Haiku

Poetry reading with friends

Poets Cheering for Other Poets

I was talking to a couple of poet friends lately about women poets, in particular, supporting other poets. I think I have a bunch of very supportive poet friends. I was talking to a friend about reading the complete letters and journals of Sylvia Plath and Virginia Woolf this year. (Um, one of my friends suggesting my reading material and the blues might possibly be related? Could be!) But I did learn something from both women – both truly talented and accomplished writers who did take their own lives – about some secrets of success. Virginia Woolf – who struggled with both physical and mental health issues her whole life – was most productive around my age – her late forties. That’s encouraging in a society that often focuses on “thirty under thirty.” I mean, she was struggling, but she wrote like a fiend, some of her best work.

Part of Virginia Woolf’s success certainly came from a strong circle of artistic friends – she was famous for it – and I was talking to a poet friend today about the importance of having other writers to bounce our good news, bad news, new writing, or just general life things off of. We need someone who understands the particular despair of a bad review or a long cycle of rejection, or the elation of a good review or a particularly exciting acceptance. I was also buoyed by her marriage, strangely enough – though she was famous for writing her husband a rejection letter so cold – admitting her lack of physical attraction to him – but it seems that the marriage was one that worked, despite affairs (mostly on her part) – that she and her husband absolutely loved each other throughout thick and thin, sort of an antidote for the more bleak tale of Sylvia and Ted Hughes’ terrible marriage. And by the way, if Virginia Woolf left you cold in college, I suggest re-reading as an older reader, particularly in tandem with her journals and letters. I found them so much more enriching this time around, and think I understood not only her methods of writing but why she chose to write about the characters she did.

Poetry reading at Open Books, 2011

Anyway, I think that the old “writer is an island” myth is just that – a myth. Writers thrive with the support and help of other writers, and the support and help of spouses and family members and friends. I hope I help other writers and support their work with friendship, or reviews, or maybe even just liking an Instagram post. All of us – every one of us – will need encouragement and support at some point in their life. So if we can build a circle of artists, and musicians, and yes, other writers that we trust and that we support, it might not only enrich your life but your art.  No matter how famous (or not) a writer gets, they could all use one more positive word, slap on the back, a little support. Let’s build a kinder artistic world when we can.

New Poem “How Not to Die” in Eye to the Telescope, a New Review of The Tradition in Barrelhouse, a Poetry Reading and Birds, Butterflies, and Birthdays

 

Painted Lady on mint flower

Summertime Birds, Butterflies, and Birthdays

This week has been busier than we originally planned! It was Glenn’s birthday so we went out to listen to live music and stroll around the gardens at Willows Lodge. We’ve had two visits by a bobcat to our back porch this week, as well as new blooming “cherry rose” sunflowers, always elusive-to-the-camera goldfinches, and an infrequent visitor, the Painted Lady butterfly. I’ve also had a poem and a book review published AND went to a poetry reading by one of my favorite poets!

New Poem in Eye to the Telescope

I was pleased to have a poem in the new issue of Eye to the Telescope. This theme was “infection” and I share the issue with my friend Karen Weyant. My poem is “How Not to Die,” a subject I happen to know a little about. Here’s a link – you have to scroll down to read all the poems, but here’s a sneak preview:

“How Not to Die,” from Eye to the Telescope’s Infection Issue

A New Review in Barrelhouse of Jericho Brown’s The Tradition

I also have a new review of Jericho Brown’s excellent new book, The Tradition, in Barrelhouse. So happy it found a home there! Here’s the first sentence: “Jericho Brown’s third book, The Tradition, is his most powerful, and his most technically accomplished, yet. Brown attempts to interrogate mythology, the news cycle, police shootings, racism, and the vulnerability of his body in this stunning collection.”

Dana Levin and I

A Poetry Reading at Hugo House with Dana Levin and Natalie Scenters-Zapico

I was so excited to be able to attend a poetry reading at the new Hugo House where Dana Levin (one of my long-time favorite poets) and one of her friends/former students, Natalie Scenters-Zapico (who recently moved to the area.) I’m still not used to the starkness of the new Hugo House – hang some art, people! It would really improve the space – and the absence of places to sit and socialize (the old Hugo House had little tables clustered around the bar, which the new one lacks) and the lighting is still not very flattering. But I loved seeing these two poets read. Natalie read from her new book, Lima :: Limón, and Dana read some apocalyptic poems from Banana Palace as well as some new work. Overall an inspiring night of poetry!

One of the results of all this celebration is I am much more tired than usual and needing to sleep in more than usual. The combo of MS and anemia (yes, I’m taking iron and b12 supplements religiously) can really take the wind out of your sails. But the summer has been mild here – even, some might say, gloomy! It’s raining right now. But I like having a break from soaring temps and high sun. I can walk around my garden (and the surrounding gardens Woodinville has) without worrying about feeling beaten up afterward. I saw a family of deer with two fans and a plethora of rabbits on my street. And did I mention I’ve had two bobcat visits to my back porch (caught by my Ring) this week? So, even though I’ve felt a little discouraged poetry-wise (I even took a week or two off from submitting, I felt so bombarded with rejections) I feel that nature has been extra kind to me this July. Sometimes it’s okay to take a break and just read and write and recharge your batteries – and the rain gives us the perfect excuse to spend a little extra time at the library or bookstore. Wishing you a little time to recharge and some good news in your Inbox (and maybe a bobcat visit!)

 

A 25th Anniversary with Waterfalls and Mountains and How MS Can Limit Your Hiking (But Not Your Love of Nature)

Glenn and I at Snofalls Lavender Farm

25th Anniversary with Mountains and Waterfalls

This year for our Silver Wedding Anniversary (!!) we decided to spend it in one of my favorite places, Snoqualmie Falls and Ollalie State Park. We drove up, stopped by the Snofalls Lavender Farm on the way up, spent the night at Salish Lodge so we could hike to the big falls, stop at some Twin Peaks spots, go up to another State Park and waterfall and come back and watch the sunset AND moonset over the Snoqualmie Falls. It was beautiful, and it was raining immediately before and after our stay, so we felt really lucky.

How MS Can Limit Your Hiking (But Not Your Love of Nature)

One of my “secret” beautiful spots in Washington State – because any Twin Peaks fan knows about Snoqualmie Falls – is the Weeks Falls at Ollalie State Park, just a few miles up the road. It has a beautiful forest trail with gigantic trees along the Snoqualmie River. Almost no one is ever there when we visit, so you feel like you’re totally alone – sure, it can feel a bit like “I could be murdered in the woods or eaten by a bear and no one would find the body for a while” but there’s also something wonderful about being alone in nature.

Vertical picture of gigantic evergreen tree at Ollalie State Park

Now, the last time I was there I hadn’t yet started to have my major MS symptoms, and I remember it being a fairly easy stroll from the parking lot to the hiking trail and then to the waterfall. This time, I definitely needed a cane – and then, my “off-road” wheelchair to make it to all my favorite spots. It occurred to me how accessible Snoqualmie Falls is – there are lots of stairs, but also lots of ramps – compared to most of the beautiful mountain spots in Washington. Being around trees and waterfalls helps my soul feel happy – and I wanted to share that it took some additional modifications (ahem, off-roading wheels added by my husband to my wheelchair) and a little more work – but I could still literally hug a tree and watch the river jumping with fish while the spray of the waterfall hit me.

I think it’s easy, when you have MS, to not go out in nature as often because it takes some advance planning and some help. But for me it’s worth the effort. Being in the woods brings me more clarity. I like taking time off from technology for a bit and thinking about life and milestones around a roaring river and old trees. It’s a great place for deep thoughts. There’s no way you can’t feel happier around trees and waterfalls. It’s a fact. It’s the kind of place where you start bursting into song like a freaking Disney princess.

Field of Lavender

So, all in all, an inspiring and romantic escape in between the rain that’s been surprising newcomers to Seattle (in the old days, July was always a little dreary.) I was happy I could still get into the forest and fields of flowers and the various waterfalls and celebrate 25 years of marriage in a fantastic setting. The night we stayed over, the moon glowed a pinkish orange, and it set at about 1 in the morning, and we watched it go down, and the stars were so bright. Pretty magical.  I’m lucky to be married to someone I’m still happy to be around after 25 years, in a place that’s filled with some of the best scenery in the world. So I’ve had some health issues recently, and I’ve felt a little discouraged about PoetryWorld, but I can’t deny feeling a little sunnier and a little more hopeful. I’ll have to rest for a day after all this activity, but it will have been worth it, and I feel I’m leaving the forest with more perspective.

New poems in Summer 2019’s Spoon River Poetry Review, Butterflies, Kittens, July 4 and 25th Anniversaries

Sylvia with the Summer 2019 issue of Spoon River Poetry Review

Four New Poems in the Summer 2019 Issue of Spoon River Poetry Review

I am very excited to share that I have four poems from my newest manuscript in the Summer 2019 issue of Spoon River Poetry Review. Here’s Sylvia posing with her copy and a peek at one of the poems, “My Life Is an Accident.” The sunlight turned it blue!

 

From Spoon River Poetry Review

Swallowtail on verbena

Kittens, Swallowtail Butterflies, July 4, and 25th Anniversaries

Hey, you guys feeling the Fourth of July this year? Yeah, me neither. Instead of grinding our teeth over 45 spending millions on tanks (and taking it away from our parks) in our capital, let’s take a moment to enjoy the wonders of summer all around us. Swallowtail butterflies! Kittens napping next to roses cut from garden!

Sylvia asleep with roses from the garden

And if you want to do something positive on July 4, consider donating to RAICES, which helps unaccompanied children and detained immigrants seeking asylum in the United States. And plant a tree and some milkweed. Feed your hummingbirds. Say hi to a neighbor. Little things that can make our country better.

Glenn and I have something to celebrate next week as well – our 25th (!!) Anniversary. We’re not doing anything that big, but it’s important to celebrate the positive things in our lives as much as mourn the bad stuff. I try not to let MS keep me from everything fun in the world (although sometimes it feels that way.) We’ll try to get out and listen to some music and have cocktails, maybe head out for a day trip to one of the lovely areas around here and get out into nature and bring a picnic. Like real people. Like we did when we were first dating.

Glenn and I after our wedding

So, we have to remember to celebrate the beauty, the kindness, the love, and the poetry in our lives. Here’s a little picture of Glenn and I twenty five years ago. They threw rose petals instead of rice. I’ve been growing roses every since.

And here’s a little Fourth of July song to cheer you up by Aimee Mann: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vOYI85anqmQ

 

Jeannine Hall Gailey

Jeannine Hall GaileyJeannine Hall Gailey served as the second Poet Laureate of Redmond, Washington and the author of Becoming the Villainess, She Returns to the Floating World, Unexplained Fevers, The Robot Scientist’s Daughter, and winner of the Moon City Press Book Prize and SFPA’s Elgin Award, Field Guide to the End of the World.  Her latest, Flare, Corona from BOA Editions, was a finalist for the Washington State Book Award. She’s also the author of PR for Poets, a Guidebook to Publicity and Marketing. Her work has been featured on NPR’s The Writer’s Almanac, Verse Daily and The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror. Her poems have appeared in The American Poetry Review, Poetry, and JAMA.

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