30 Poems in 30 Days: Joining the Community
September 21, 2007
This is Day 18 of 30 Poems in 30 Days
Take your Place
One of the great things about this poetry project so far is that we have started to develop a community. We have regular contributors, occasional contributors and readers. A sense of community is important in poetry. Because the market for poetry is so small compared to the fiction market, it needs constant support to keep going.
There are many benefits to joining or creating a poetry community. You gain the support of your peers. You have the opportunity to compare yourself with and learn from other poets. You encourage each other to keep going. You meet the people who can help you down the road.
The people who publish other people’s poetry do it because they love it. There is no great financial benefit, and it is certainly easier to make money publishing something else. The best way to get noticed by these people is to get out in the poetry community and start introducing yourself. Attend poetry readings. Take poetry classes. Attend open mic nights and poetry slams. Get up on stage if you can. Support other people’s poetry by buying their books and magazines. The more you support poetry the more it will support you.
Today’s Assignment
Include the words “formal” and “casual” at some point in your poem.
Today’s Recommended Poetry
Rather than pick a single poet today, I am going to include a list of poetry magazines. I have linked to their submissions guidelines because I know that is information you will want to know, but I don’t just want you to consider submitting to them. I want you to read them. Subscribe to at least one or two of these magazines. Help keep them alive.
- AGNI
- The American Poetry Review
- Bellingham Review
- Conjunctions
- The Hudson Review
- Indiana Review
- Island
- New American Writing
- The New Writer
- The Paris Review
- Poetry
- Poetry Flash
- Poetry New Zealand
- Ploughshares
- The Threepenny Review
- Thorny Locust
- Tin House
- TriQuarterly
Nice to see Island on the list!
Equity
She did not want a formal service
So they slipped her away on her birthday
Carrying her urn to the beach in East Hampton
Estraged father and son, casually ambling through the sand
To the tune of Little Wing
Derick and the Dominoes, was it
Not really, I know she was hearing
Stevie Ray at Stubbs, from wherever
She has gone
The night she sang center stage
After hours and her voice
Echoed off the cinder block building
Wearing that black Tam and the knit sweater
Never taking off the signature
Dark shades that hid her tears
But not her heart
Split between the big red apple
And cowtown Texas
Tuesday Morning
We talk to each other over the gray walls
Lori announces that she is not here
We are not to talk to her
She won’t be in until noon
And so she is not here
Casual realities form around us all the time
We imagine we are elsewhere
I have photos of the Indian Ocean
And lakes at sunset
Palm trees at odd angles
A Zen water fountain
By which I mean dry
Though I imagine the water flowing
Across the rocks
Down the steps
Through the five round holes
In the false gray bottom
I take part in conversations
Without formal invitation
Adding nonsequitors
Insinuating myself into everything
If I must hear
Then I should take part
But I imagine
Picture
Invite
The moment when I will disappear
Will not take part
Wander away
It can happen at any moment
Or at least I tell myself that
As I fight the fluorescent headache
Behind my eyes
Closing my eyes and listening
Listening to the endless rattle of activity
Papers getting stapled
Keyboards being beat down
Chairs creaking and popping
The long eye of the copy machine
Feeding on the paperwork
That runs the company
As the women down the aisle
In ever increasing cadence
Discuss Dancing with the Stars
It goes on
John - you just described the office I worked in (after years of not having worked in an office) while I was pregnant! Talk about culture shock.
MICROCOSM / MACROCOSM
I take this plate before me on the table.
It’s round, it’s white, the rim is slightly raised.
The tiny, feathery flowers around the edge
look like waratahs or fleur de lys.
The china shine reflects the ceiling shadows.
One one side, near the bevel of the rim,
lies a casual dollop of Tadziki dip.
It could be cream – white, unidentified.
Light from the window forms a triangle
reflecting on the section opposite me.
All these white on white divergent shades
of grayer or brighter white, opaque or gloss!
The green around the edge is dull, shaded,
formal patterns of light and dark in sequence:
the dark leaves fanning out symmetrically,
the lighter sometimes fanning, sometimes flat,
and sometimes shaping fractal curlicues.
Dotted among them, minute flowers form stars.
He introduces us…
Now at the bar,
while he greets friends and fellow artists,
you make a casual inquiry
into my formal education,
into how I make my living,
and my face shutters
as yours did
when you saw me walking toward you
on the candled city street
and he said hello
and your grip tightened
on his arm.
I know your kind
but I recite
a hollow resume for you
while you resent me for the flower
in my hair.
And you have no more conversation,
so I turn my attention
to the stranger at my left
while you stare at
anaglypta on the walls.
Later, at the table,
with your pretended inattention,
with your eyes drifting, seeing nothing,
with your nothingness to say,
you sit, say nothing,
while all his people, strangers,
discuss art and film and music
until his name is called
and he accepts his award
and then returns and your grip tightens
on his arm.
I know your kind
but I, polite,
try to include you in our talk
while you resent me for the flower
in my hair.
___________
Not an entirely successful poem. I think it will require editing and re-writing.
It kind of reads a little juvenile to me - too direct, telling instead of showing. But I need to sit on it a while.
[...] 18th assignment for 30 Poems in 3o Days: Joining the [...]
Oh, I wouldn’t have called it juvenile! The crafting is too assured for that. And the only telling I can see is “I know your kind” and the word “polite” - but the first of these is a kind of showing, as to me it reveals more about the narrator than the woman referred to.
And yet, it does feel as though there’s something missing. I think it’s one detail only - how did the speaker know “him” before this occasion? Student, fellow artist, ex-lover??? It needs just a word or two of back story.
I just love, “while you resent me for the flower / in my hair.”
Hmm. I just read over it again and think the 3rd stanza should be removed entirely or developed further. - the use of the word stranger in 3rd & 4th stanza becomes confusing. Also, would like to develop the idea of the speaker’s (ie; my) perception of being bluntly asked “what do you do for a living” alongside the resentment issue. The back story is old, dear friend.
Has potential but needs much work.
Dinner Party
Later, dinner served,
your eyes drift across her
with casual possession,
and I see the host blanch,
recognizing at last
that no formal vows
block attraction.
Saul Nadatas last blog post..Dinner Party