Beginnings and endings run in the same gang. The ocean begins where the river ends. The soil ends where the daisy stem begins.
It’s a constant cycle, and all the big players are involved – one thought ends and makes way for another; one life ends and the world begins again without; a sunny day storms over and a reservoir fills; one body ends and another begins. And on and on. This poetry column is the first of the new year – 2012: a big one, heavy with prophesies – and we celebrate also the end of 2011 and the end of the Poet Laureate series. Endings always make me a little sad, or at least reminiscent. But we forge bravely ahead into whatever’s beginning, and I have high hopes for 2012, given my top-notch team of editors, our varied and wonderful contributors, and all of our readers – whether they’re dedicated writers, passers-by, or anything in between. Thank you so much for joining us, and get ready for some great poetry and knock-out interviews.
Associate Poetry Editor J.P. Reese brings us three poets this month and a stellar interview with Marc Vincenz. Ms Reese writes:Marc Vincenz agreed to a wide-ranging interview with me this month, and I'm so pleased he did. His personal and professional life has been interesting and varied. Born in Hong Kong, lived in the US, Europe, and now safely ensconced in Iceland, I envy Marc his lived experiences. What wonderful fodder for the written word! His poems are both lyric and narrative in style and reach into the corners of existence to expose a world both apocalyptic and hopeful in turn. Lines like " ...beyond, out in the distance/torn billboards still intrude with their ambition, with their vivid eyes/& the buildings beyond in the deserted desert city fold & creak in the wind /..." suggest a rapid escalation of entropy, but then others like "... and the birds,/ again,/ making toward heaven..." offer hope, even in a cynical time like ours. Marc is one of those rare people who seems equally at home in both his right and left brain, which makes his writing all the more interesting. I was unsuccessful in pinning Marc down about his favorite place of all, but after reading his poetry, I think everyone will agree Iceland is a fine muse for this world traveler/poet.
Robert Vaughan's trilogy, "An Occupy Trifecta" is an examination of a pressing imperative of our times, but each poem in the set examines protest with a unique gaze. I was particularly drawn to "The rain is a thousand nightclubs," with its lovely lines like "...a circus in the night, an uprising of outcasts," and "...No one is anyone in the rain." All three poems explore the struggle of people on the fringes to become relevant, their multiform beliefs meaningful in a world that insists people assume a clear, ideological stand or remain mute. The single poem in this foursome, "The World Wakes Up," is simply a love poem insisting that "...Everything is the beginning of something."
Walter Bjorkman's poem "night approaches" offers readers a blending of images including the natural world to mirror the sadness that comes of a relationship severed. In only a few lines, the poem addresses the human condition in a way that's both ageless and new. This short poem has an almost mythological underpinning in its fine fusion of imagery and idea.
Associate Poetry Editor Mari L’Esperance also brings us two outstanding poets this month. Mari writes:This month I’m very pleased to bring you four new poems by Bay Area poet Erica Goss, whose poems, to me, are embodiments of Chase Twichell’s wise instruction: “Tell the truth. No decoration. Remember death.” In their spare, plain, quiet way, Goss’s poems speak to mystery, to loss, to what it means to be human in a life lived close to the Earth. Goss writes of two of her poems: “‘Love in a Mist’ is actually a companion to ‘Feverfew.’ Both are the beginning of a series of poems I’m working on about plants that have weird names, or names that appeal to me.” In an accompanying interview, Goss talks, among other things, about her involvement in the San Francisco South Bay’s poetry community, putting together a chapbook manuscript, poetry book reviews, and raising backyard chickens in the redwoods of the Santa Cruz Mountains.
Nancy Reddy’s poems are audacious and vulnerable, ferocious and tender, sassy and wise. Fueled by potent images that throw hot sparks and language that snaps and smokes on the page, these poems skip the kindling phase and go straight to blazing. Reddy laces her lines with successions of one-syllable words that ignite like little bombs, leaving small craters of feeling in their wake that build upon one another over the course of the poem. These are poems uttered by a strong female voice, a voice that pulls no punches and is shadowed by the dark, devouring archetypal feminine. Enter at your own risk, hang on tight, and keep a fire extinguisher handy: “It’s just as the old women whispered, / their tails lashing the cookfire’s embers: / women first deceive, then kill.”
Associate Poetry Editor Nicelle Davis brings us two great poets this month, both with interviews. Nicelle writes:What I love about both the poems of Jane Olivier and Joe Mills is how they are always aware of the partnership between absences and presences. Just as a visual artist navigates positive and negative space and a musician carves music from notes and rests—Olivier and Mills craft beautiful poems out of an empty violin case or an occupation unoccupied. Their poems use metaphors to capture an emotional experience. Their poems record the process of “living,” and for that I am grateful.
Also, this month, we bring you the last of the Poet Laureate series. We won’t be featuring one per month as we have for a long stretch, though I’m sure we’ll publish more Poets Laureate in the future. Irene McKinney, Poet Laureate of West Virginia, I still have my sights on you! Just because the series is ending, don’t think I’ve given up on trying to publish your work!
I’ve enjoyed getting to know the poets that the states have chosen, interviewing them, learning about their varied and colorful experiences and thoughts, and reading their work. The poetry and interviews have taken me all over the country and the world; to secret meetings, delicious dinners, and coal mines; to music and mosaics; to bathtubs, aquariums and RVs. To cap off the series, let me introduce you to Bruce Dethlefsen, Poet Laureate of Wisconsin. Dethlefsen gave us a lovely poem, “December,” that is a fitting ending for the Laureate series. In his interview, Bruce talks about his craft and his other loves, including music and juggling. I hope you’ve enjoyed this series as much as I have.
And now, to the beginnings. May yours be the best yet.