(S)linky Love

Coconut 13—with new poems by Rae Armantrout, David Lehman, Ariana Reines, Teresa K. Miller, Kate Colby, Carrie Olivia Adams, James Belflower, Anne Marie Rooney, Kristi Maxwell, Jason Zuzga, Megan Kaminski, Christopher Higgs, Nellie Haack, Claire Donato, Emily Anderson, Laynie Browne, Jonathan Doherty, Kathleen Jesme, Matina Stamatakis, Mike Young, and Terence Winch

*

Post No Ills Magazine

*

JOHANNES GÖRANSSON discusses Rauan Klassnik's Holy Land here and here

*

Collin Kelley's After the Poison is available for purchase here

*

First release from Orange Alert Press, Most Likely You Go Your and I'll Go Mine by Ben Tanzer is now available for order

*

Anne Gorrick's new book Kyotologic is available from Shearsman

George Michael gave a really good concert. Charlie met Tender Buttons and Tender Vittles. On the way out of the metro I picked up a copy of the Washington Blade to show Charlie's interview to TB and TV. They were all like "Omigod, we went to George Michael with a celebrity!"

Duh, he's hanging with me.

My ears are still ringing.

It occurred to me that the last concert I went to was Paul Anka. I think that officially makes me 104.


I would link to Charlie's otherwise insightful rundown of the evening if it weren't for some malarky about TB being the "dominant" sister. Whatever. I have pictures where I'm holding her in a headlock. As for who's the "smarter" sister -- all I gotta say is one became a lawyer and right now is sitting at a desk probably listening to some jackhole yammering on about who the fuck cares while the other just dropped off her little hobo-angel at speech camp and gets to lie down (and hopefully, eventually regain her hearing).

I'm officially 104, but today I feel 108. So speak up, sonny.

Oh yeah, TONIGHT!

Things have been skimpy here, sorry. Using all that genius last week over at the BAP blog and during the Joe Milford interview has pretty much left me spent. Right now I'm working on No Tell galleys and watching Earth Girls are Easy cause I have all that is Jeff Goldblum in my TiVO wishlist.

Today Gideon I walked to the nearby lake so he could play on pointy concrete playgrounds. It was all built in the late 60's when I guess people had a lot more children and didn't worry about one or two cracking their skulls. But these days it's regarded as sort of a series of mini-terrordomes where parents stand around nervously watching their children and crapping themselves. Or usually that's the case. This afternoon there was a couple not watching their three children under the age of 5. That's cause they were too busy making out. Maybe I'm pessimistic, but I think if you have three children under the age of 5, you should have worked that making out in public out of your system. I don't know, maybe those weren't their kids, maybe they were just crappy babysitters.

This Week at No Tell

Jordan Davis gets in the microphone with the soloist this week at No Tell Motel.

Reb on Joe Milford Poetry Show

You can hear me live today at 5 p.m. ET

Or you can be so yesterday and listen to it aftwards in the archives.

My Turn!

I discuss what I would do if I was in charge of the NEA and which contemporary poets I would cast in my version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer

I thought I was going to get to tag along with Chris and go to Dubai at the end of October. In fact I almost bought my non-refundable ticket last week (cause I was worried the price would quickly sky rocket), but thought better to wait for the official approval. Prudence was a good thing because Chris' travel budget at work just got slashed today and he won't be attending the conference. No city of the future for me! Someone throw me a pity party. I'm disappointed.

I'll Be on the Joe Milford Poetry Show This Saturday at 5PM, ET

The Joe Milford Poetry Show seeks to record, archive, and present readings from the sharpest minds in poetics today. Every week the Joe Milford Poetry show hosts poets from around the country in a live format via Blogtalk Radio. In tandem with the Jane Crown Show, the Joe Milford Radio Show can be found at janecrown.com or at http://www.blogtalkradio.com/search/Joe+MIlford. Go to janevrown.com especially for archived readings and interviews with renowned poets such as Donald Revell, Didi Menendez, Bob Hicok, and Stephen Dunn, just to name a few.

-------------------

Listen to it live, or whenever you get around to it.

Hear my funny Pittsburgh accent. It's a real hoot.

Ultra marathon runner PF Potvin explains why talent, good-lookingness and great-smellingness isn't enough to make one a famous poet

Bruce Covey tries to explain why his poems won't rot my son's teeth

Rodney Koeneke on Writing & Parenting

Jill Alexander Essbaum considers and discusses obsessed penis perverts

Gideon and I are watching May Sarton talk about poetry on Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood.

Speaking of Shafer

Nate Logan just reviewed Never Cry Woof in the brand spanking new issue of GALATEA RESURRECTS (A POETRY ENGAGEMENT).

Shafer Hall discusses my husband's very tall ass

Laurel Snyder explains why her poems make us all feel stupid

Oh and I had another poet dream last night. My first John Ashbery dream -- move over C. Dale! In this dream Ashbery was in bed talking about difficulty and complexity in art. I made an argument that there was room for both ease and difficulty in art, but he must have convinced me otherwise because then I made an analogy of how painful it would be to sit through a six hour broadway play, how predictable and dull it would be and Ashbery was all Exactly! Then he tried to teach Gideon how to play "Uncle" but Gideon insisted on making the other kid say "uncle" three times and it came off as unnecessarily aggressive. That's because Gideon already learned how to play "Uncle" from Hulk Hogan. I suggested Hulk wasn't so smart. Ashbery agreed.

Rebecca Loudon explains Navigate, Amelia Earhart's Letters Home for you simple folk

This Week at No Tell

Kathleen Jesme is on the serried edges of the self this week at No Tell Motel.

Hugh Behm-Steinberg writes a love poem for my husband.

It's the latest sensation. Tell us, which poets do you dream of?


Eduardo Corral

Daniela Olszewska

Blogging This Week at Best American Poetry

I'm blogging all week at The Best American Poetry blog.

The first post, a must read if you want to know if you made it into my dreams this year.

Gimme Gimme Gimme

Some people just always have to be in control.

So Gideon is in the middle of 6 weeks speech camp. This week's theme is pirates which means he's walking around the house going Argh. It also gives me the excuse to work in the word booty into a lot of sentences.

The other thing about speech camp is that it's made me self conscious about backpacks. Not self conscious enough to actually do something about it, but enough to develop an awareness.

See I misunderstood. We were given a list of things to bring on the first day -- most importantly a change of clothes for painting and pooping accidents. I assumed these things would stay at camp until they were used. So I packed everything up in a paper grocery bag. I'm the only parent who made such an assumption -- all the other kids had backpacks. For the first three days Gideon came and went to speech camp with all his things in a paper bag, just like a darling little hobo. The bag started tearing and getting pretty sad looking and something had to be done. OK, Gideon has a backpack, two in fact, but only one is big enough for what he needs to bring and we already have a use for that backpack --it's filled with toys and art supplies for daycare. I didn't think he needed a third backpack, but since the paper bag was on its last day he needed something better. So I got him a canvas bag. Out of my office closet. The black AWP Atlanta bag to be precise. I must have harbored some repressed potty training anger cause I figured him showing up to speech camp with a dorky, hideous AWP bag would surely get his ass beat and he'd be better for it, you know, toughen him up. I mean it's AWP, it's asking for a wedgie. Nope. Gideon doesn't care. The other kids don't care. If I was a kid at speech camp, I'd totally seize that opportunity to lay some smack down on the dork with the AWP bag. But I'm not one of the kids at speech camp.

I'm the mom who appears both incredibly cheap and goofy. The failed poet who failed so bad she couldn't even manage to get her kid a proper backpack and makes him trudge around the symbol of her no-contest-winning failure.

And that is my identity for the summer which I will embrace until September when I will take the toys out of his current backpack so he can use it for preschool.

Eat Your Heart Out Phoenix

Hey, I'm reading tonight at the Big Bear Cafe with Kyle Dargan and Adam Robinson. Performance by the Strip Mall Ballads. 8 PM

Details below (posted Tuesday).

Come out and see me. I promise to punch somebody in the audience if things get boring.

My guest spot is up at The Writers Center blog. It was written on short notice, so it's more or less an introduction.

Also, next week I'll be guest blogging at The Best American Poetry blog. All week long. I've been shopping two months straight for that.

Cheryl's Gone Reading on Thursday

So the hot pants and tube top must have made an impression, because I'll be guest blogging tomorrow at the The Writers Center blog. Charlie's welcome reception was a who's who of DC literati, an afternoon for the beautiful, glamorous poets to mingle with the wealthy, powerful fiction writers over cake and punch. The society page write-up is here.

The final installment regarding the Gurlesque is up at Delirious Hem.

Kirsten Kaschock on the Gurlesque.

This Week at No Tell

Neil de la Flor wonders where, Toto? as roosters cross the inner city this week No Tell Motel.

"So Many Literalists" by Molly Arden

Jill Alexander Essbaum's book, Necropolis (neoNuma Arts), is available for purchase.

Award-winning poet Jill Alexander Essbaum takes her reader on a three-day journey through death and grief. Filled with her trademark sensuality and humor, here Essbaum also addresses issues of faith, fiercely questioning God while also trusting in the promise of resurrection.

What the fuck am I supposed to wear to this?

Sorry for the unnecessary profanity, been needing to write "what the fuck?" all day.

I don't want to talk about it today.

Fat Lip

That's what I have from doing the potty celebration dance with Gideon. Things got a little carried away and he "accidently" head butted my bottom lip into my tooth. Ow.

You know, I read the books, listened to countless people's advice and nobody ever warned me about that.

Underpants shopping was successful. We selected Thomas the Engine and Speed Racer briefs and some non-advertisey boxer briefs, just like Daddy's.

He's upstairs "napping" in his underpants. He assured me he would not pee or poop his pants and wouldn't let me put a pull-up on him. This is a deadly, but inevitable situation.

And now the fear: when he becomes potty trained, what will I blog about?

Working out the details to give a publishing talk at the Marist Summer Writing Institute in August. Somehow that inspired this Matrix-like dream last night:

I'm at the Marist Writer's Institute participating in a discussion about publishing. I give my introduction. It's a good introduction. All of a sudden I'm hearing everyone on a five second delay. I'm the only one who seems to be having this problem. I start to panic. Finally _____ says she hears the delay too although she's the only one who admits to it. Then the delay goes away and its back to normal but I start to panic again. I yell "I'm still hooked up to the machine!" People try to calm me, tell me it's OK.

Then I wake and I discover that my head is wired to something, the machine, I suppose. There's little squares attached to my temples. I start to rip the cords off. Lex Luther (from Smallville) is there trying to hook my brain back to the machine. I attack him. Then I see a woman in a pretty dress. I'm angry because we were both promised dresses, but since I was hooked up to the machine, I probably missed my opportunity.

Ok, we're going underpants shopping.

Is it inappropriate for a mother to announce on her blog when her son makes his first #2 in the toilet?

Could that be one of those "things that scar him for life" situations?

Hmm, maybe. Ok I better not then.

I'm yelling Yippee cause the cat puked on the steps.

I'm lying.

The cat didn't puke on the steps.

I'm not very good at this not scarring your kid thing.

This Week at No Tell

Robyn Art has as of yet no names for this week at No Tell Motel.

Spooky Boyfriend #1

is live today.

Poems by: Peter Davis, Jennifer L. Knox, Dan Bailey, Amy King, Ken Baumann, Reb Livingston, Shane Jones, Betsy Fagin, Adam J. Maynard, Juliet Cook, Joey Minutillo, Shanna Compton, Stephen Daniel Lewis, Sarah A. Chavez

At the Tricycle Wash

Does anyone know of any scared straight programs for 3 year olds who keep filling toilets with entire boxes of facial tissues?

And don't suggest a higher shelf, Einstein. There is no shelf high enough.

I need a padlocked safe.

Items I would keep in a padlocked safe if I had a padlocked safe: Kleenex, vaseline, body lotion, deodorant, cosmetics, digital camera, checkbook and cat.

The Latest NTM Statistics

"Women don't submit work as much as men" is often stated as fact and the defending reason why certain poetry magazines regularly publish 70%+ male poets. I don't doubt that certain magazines do indeed receive fewer submissions from women. I have my opinions to why this is the case for them. (Short answer: If a magazine develops a track record/reputation of excluding/not being receptive to the work of certain writers, those certain writers take notice and send their work elsewhere). If you are unfamiliar and interested with my evolving thoughts (from 2004-2007) on this topic, you can read some of them here, here, here, here, here, here and here. I have nothing new to add to this discussion except the latest round of No Tell submission numbers.


During the month of May (only our reading period so far in 2008) the percentages were:

50% men
48% women
2% gender unclear

All of these submissions were unsolicited (aside from general calls on this blog and a few mailing lists).

Dear editors with woman poet submission deficits, take heart, somewhere out there are women both writing and submitting poetry. It's really not so hopeless. I don't know, maybe try some breath spray or something.

Oh and no, I have not responded to all the submissions from May yet -- still have 86 to go.

I'm going to a George Michael concert with the new director of the Writer's Center. Is that a good poetry career move?

Smart Career Moves

Like many of you, I recently read in the paper that "Death is often a good career move in poetry." That's news I can use.

Actually, no, it's not. As I stated here before, as a busy mom I don't have luxury to die for poetry, as much as my poetry may want me to.

I thought that maybe if I got involved in some high-profile sex scandal, maybe that would be a good poetry career move. I've been stalking Larry Craig in public restrooms, making moderately-priced propositions (in haiku) to Eliot Spitzer, but alas I have not been successful creating any scandals. This poetry career business is hard.

Are there any other good career movies for poets? Or do I have to show up to my next high school reunion as a failed poet?

When I do finally die, I want them to put "She lived a pretty good poetry career" on my tombstone. That's very important to my poetry.