I was lucky enough to attend the Poetry Society of Texas Annual Awards Banquet again this year. It’s a lot of fun chatting with other Texas poets and hearing most of the wining poems being read. I was more than happy to take home three awards this year for my poems “ring” (that explores the symbolism of the wedding ring), “two towers twenty-three years” (about 9/11), and “the film” (about the movies, of course!) While 98% of the poems I send out to journals and contests were written in the last five years, I have a few still strong poems from my graduate days that I include. “The film” is one of those few poems. So happy to have it rewarded! It really reinforces the idea that there is an audience out there for all good art. Often you just have to find the right one.
reading
Praise for Sparks from the Anvil
I just read Sparks from the Anvil, a wonderful book of interviews conducted and assembled by Christian McEwen, all from visits to Smith College. The book covers interviews with sixteen different poets, from those earlier in their career to some of those we consider canon (like W.S. Merwin, Rita Dove, Maxine Kumin, Yusef Komunyakaa, and others). I want to pull out a few quotes from the book to give you a flavor of what you can expect.
McEwen asks terrific questions and some of those questions are in search of advice from these poets whether for students or other writers. The poet Matthew Dickman has a great suggestion for those of us who know and love the art form to “…go out and get a book of poems or print up a couple of poems that you really like, and send them to someone who doesn’t read poems. Because they need them, more than you know, and more than they know.” I’m definitely inspired to do just that.
Many of the poets in this book speak to the increasing noise that our culture generates, and their concern that people, poets and otherwise, are able to find space for quiet reflection, the importance of that. Edward Hirsch tells us, “I feel that a certain kind of sustained reading puts us in touch with our interior lives. And that’s endangered in our culture because you need to be alone with yourself, you need some presence, and you need to be able to give yourself up to the experience of absorption.”
In the interview with Jane Hirshfield, Hirshfield discusses much of how her Buddhist practice often informs her writing. I love this passage from her as it applies to how we can create poems that breathe and allow the reader time for discovery. “This is how we change, by letting go of the past, by letting go of the status quo, the reified thought. I think this is why we require sabbath in our lives, and silence in our words: because nothing new can come unless there’s a space for it to enter.”
Lastly, I love how Chase Twichell speaks to the ability of poetry to capture, or at least direct us to, some of the more ethereal of human experiences. “It has been my experience that there are states of mind and kinds of human perception and consciousness that are simply not translatable into language. But language can point at them.”
Tracy K. Smith’s American Journal
Every book lover knows the feeling when you come across a book that you didn’t know you needed until you saw it and/or read it. American Journal: Fifty Poems for Our Time was one such find for me. The poems in this book, published by Graywolf Press in 2018, were selected by Tracy K. Smith, former U.S. poet laureate. Of writers that have emerged in this fledgling century, Tracy K. Smith is my top pick. And to find a selection of some of her favorite work was pure delight.
I’d like to call out my three favorite poems in this book as a sampling.
First, there is “My Brother at 3 AM” by Natalie Diaz. I have been very interested in the pantoum form lately, and this poem is a superbly haunting execution of it. The line “Stars had closed their eyes or sheaved their knives” was so powerfully poignant in the context of the poem. Diaz uses the repetitive nature of this form to great effect.
On the very next page is Matt Rasmussen’s “Reverse Suicide.” In this poem, Rasmussen experiments with a time reversal mechanic. And he uses that technique very effectively here. I think those last four lines, which create an image of hope and rebirth, give a heartbreaking lens into the processing of grief.
Lastly, I’ll call out Kevin Young’s “Crowning.” This poem is just a brilliant, sensory depiction of birth that is sheer joy to read.
So thank you Tracy K. Smith for providing the world with yet another book to challenge and delight us.
Listening, Lunching and Meeting With the Poetry Society of Texas
Recently, I got the chance to attend the 2023 Annual Awards Dinner for the Poetry Society of Texas for this first time. It’s always great fun to hang out with fellow poets. I met several writers from the Denton and Mockingbird chapters and got to hear a lot of great poetry.
All of the first place winners in attendance were asked to read their winning poems. I read my poem “what one can see in the dark,” which won The Susan Maxwell Campbell Prize. The name of this prize changes each year and is judged by the previous year’s winner. So next year, I’ll have the opportunity to judge The Corbett Buchly Prize! How fun is that? All of the winning poems will be published in the Poetry Society of Texas Book of the Year.
I thought the best poem of the night was by Diane Glancy, who I now know has had a wonderfully successful career writing and teaching poetry. Of course, I had to buy one of her many books. I’m looking forward with excitement to that arriving. And I look forward to next year’s Poetry Society of Texas event.
Recent Public Readings
I recently got a chance to do a few public poetry readings. First, was the annual poetry reading at the Richardson Public Library by the Richardson Poetry Group. Six of us read for about 20 minutes each. It was a great turn out and great to be reading in our own community. Second, was the launch party for the journal Havik, published by Las Positas College. They’ve put out a great 2023 issue, chock full of great work. During the event, they had several authors read their work via Zoom. At one point, they asked where we were from, and they got responses from all over the country, and also Mexico.
Scissortail Festival 2023
I had the opportunity in early April to attend the Scissortail Festival in Ada, Oklahoma. I drove through some rural country to get to this small town, at one point barreling down an unlit two-lane highway at night. But despite its somewhat remote location, this festival, hosted by East Central University, featured an impressive slate of poets reading their work in 20-minute sprints, with each day’s featured reader being given an hour.
I had the opportunity to discover such unique and talented poets as Tina Carlson, a soulful poet with poems full of stunning and haunting imagery; the expressive Karla K. Morton and her arresting poem that paralleled the death of a friend with the consumption of a frail quail dinner; Paul Juhasz, with his careful blend of pop culture and moments of surprising gravity; and David Meischen, and his compelling tales of growing up as a gay youth in a small town environment. I already knew Alan Gann and Ann Howells from the Dallas poetry scene, and of course, they both gave wonderful readings. But there were so many more wonderful poets that I haven’t listed.
The first night’s featured reader was Major Jackson, and he did not disappoint. Among many others, he read one particularly fascinating poem in which his two halves/selves interacted with each other. I thoroughly enjoyed his reading and have already had the chance to tune into several episodes of his podcast, The Slow Down. It’s quite good, featuring a single poem a day by other poets.
I also got my chance at my 20 minutes to read my own poems. I hadn’t had the opportunity to read in public since before the pandemic, and it was wonderful getting those real-time reactions from my work (especially from such a warm crowd). So many people I spoke with were surprised that I didn’t have a book for sale. Believe me, I am working on circulating that manuscript. Perhaps my favorite aspect of this experience, though it’s hard to choose, was getting to meet and chat with so many poets. There is something to be said for getting into conversation with others who share your passion, an opportunity I don’t seem to get as often as I’d like. I sincerely hope that this may seed a few friendships.
The Nakedness of the Non-Fiction Memoir
Although the biggest portion of what I read is fiction, I’ve been reading a few non-fiction books lately. I was struck with the idea of how well we get to know an author who’s writing about her personal life. There are so many details and nuances we experience in the reading that we would probably never encounter even if were close friends. Details about holiday traditions, internal dialogues, various mannerisms, mundane events and so on. I would have to think that authors that put these kind of memoirs out encounter fans that feel they know them, even though they’ve never met. It can be a very brave thing I think to write about your life in such a way, even if you still keep your biggest secrets locked away.
Don’t Get Stuck Reading 100% of the Same Genre
Choice for the modern individual has evolved far from what it once was. Consider that major publishers in the U.S. alone publish about 300,000 books each year. Essentially, whatever your favorite genre of choice, you’ll never run out of good books to read.
And I think that’s dangerous. Books help us escape, certainly. But they also help us grow and better understand the word and the people around us.
Read outside your genre. Discover subjects and ways of thinking that you wouldn’t ordinarily consider. Be open.
Are you primarily a reader of science fiction and fantasy (like me)? Read a biography, or a memoir, or a book on wine tasting.
Here’s my suggestion, for every three books you would normally read, make that fourth book one out of your usual wheelhouse.
The Inevitable Impressions of Good Writing
How often has this happened to you? You’re working on a novel, and simultaneously you’re reading a good book or story. And as you’re reading, you start thinking, “Hmm, maybe I should do something like that in my story.”
It happens to me constantly. I’m considering changing the entire genre/sub-genre of my novel just because I read a couple of good short stories. It’s crazy, right?
My excuse his time is that I’ve never read this particular genre/sub-genre, but still, it seems a bit drastic. Of course, I usually advocate drastic, so I’ll do it.
I never plagiarize, but I do tend to zero in on emotions, moods and character relationships. I was just reading a story about this group of friends who were a team with one, aristocratic leader. It was done very differently from what I was used to reading, and I became inspired.
Here’s a completely different thought I had recently. The word “unspeakable” is horrible, isn’t it? Because it’s non-specific, it calls on the worst possible thing you can think of, which is, of course, horrendous. It very much reminds of Lovecraft, who often referred to things so dark and horrible that to just know of them would drive a man insane.
Corbett Buchly 