Recently, one of my girls, Lilly, reminded us that her favorite sound is high heels on a hardwood floor—
the sound of a powerful, confident woman walking. Lilly is going to put the smack-down on this world throughout her whole life, I have no question. She is a force to be reckoned with.
I bet Lilly would love the sound of the boots that Texas’s Poet Laureate, karla k. morton, wears. She wears ass-kicking boots as she strides from event to event, inspiring cancer survivors as well as high school students she’s made sure are writing. I knew I had met a powerful woman when I saw a video of her reading one of her poems and sipping wine while reclining, fully clothed—complete with cowboy boots, of course—in a newly-installed bathtub. The poem ended with her flipping the bird at someone who slighted her. But that’s not all there is to Ms. Morton; power sounds hollow unless it’s based on inner strength, and Karla’s poetry evidences that strength. It’s often gentle, the narrator merging with nature introspectively and, though softly, also joyously. Karla’s poetry and interview show her desire to share her story and the inner source of her power with the world so that she can help empower others. That’s a beautiful thing to see.
Associate Editor Monica Mankin brings us two strong poets this month. Monica writes:The poems of Cindy Hollenbeck and Luke Hankins may seem utterly different from one another in terms of their subjects and formal qualities, but both of these poets excel at intertwining the narrative and lyrical modes of poetry.
In each of her three poems, Hollenbeck condenses through metonymy and metaphor the varying experiences of young girls who come of age through haunting circumstances, yet she never loses the narrative threads of their stories. Hollenbeck speaks in depth about the themes of these poems in her interview this month.
Luke Hankins’ five poems are playfully musical in terms of both theme and formal arrangement. Yet, Hankins also tells the stories of the amateur musician, the preacher, and the choirmaster, all the while reminding us, “…If you can sing, sing. / If you can only croak, croak like you’ve never croaked before.”
Associate Editor Nicelle Davis also brings us two great poets this month. She writes:The poetry of Juliet P. Howard and Melanie Huber reminds me of the abstract paintings by Howard Hodgkin. Like Hodgkin, Howard and Huber are able to capture the feeling of an object; their works become an inventory of what really matters—Hodgkins paints mud like a streak of childhood, Howard enacts heart break as a series of line breaks, and Huber asks questions the way innocence stacks wonderment like playing blocks.
It seems almost unfair to call their work “abstract” because they are able to directly express the relationship between the viewer and the observed. By abstract I suppose I mean that they are able to present feeling before form, without compromising form.
I feel very privileged to have experienced their work and hope that you too will enjoy reading these poems.
Let the singing begin.