You'll Know You're Famous When Your Words are Carved in Stone

Every so often I like to take my country self into the city - Boston, that is - and tool around with my urban poet friends. On my last visit, as I walked into the Stony Brook stop on the orange line, I stopped to read words that I saw carved into a triangular granite pillar. I'd recently returned from a trip to the Pacific Northwest, and I was still in tourist mode - stopping to look at and read everything.



I was expecting something historical, something mainstream and maintaining the status quo - such are the words I've often seen carved into rock. But these words were more lively: two poems, by Martin Espada and Rosario Morales told an alternate history of immigrants, injustice, and working class heritage.



Apparently there is literature carved into such stones all over Boston. Like this author, my friend and guide through Jamaica Plain had walked by these solid monuments to literature on a daily basis before noticing them. It always helps to see your own city through the eyes of a tourist.



Thanks to KL Pereira for the photos.

Poetry off the Page

One of my friends is teaching poetry in her son's elementary school, as a community service. She had a book called The Adventures of Dr. Alphabet: 104 Unusual Ways to Write Poetry in the Classroom and the Community. Many of the exercises in this book have the class write poems on objects - chairs, foam heads, etc.

I love poetry best when it's performed or read aloud. That's when the words truly come alive - when they are embodied. This allows a connection to occur between two or more individuals - and that, to me, is the essential different between poetry and prose. I'm happy to read a novel alone, curled up in my favorite chair. I'll also read nonfiction that way. But poetry is so much better when I read it to someone or someone reads it to me. Poetry is music, is performance. Performing poetry - through the voice or via a physical object - gives it a temporal, momentary, golden quality.

One of the best writing workshops I ever attended was based on the creative practices of John Cage. One thing the leaders did was give us various objects on which to write - coffee filters, cash register receipts... changing the surface changes the writing, and pushes the creation into more of a performance space.

A class at the University of Auckland in New Zealand is doing some cool things in this realm: the realm of poetry off the page. Check it out - then grab a napkin, or a matchbox, or some duct tape, and create!

Fresh Young Voices

Last night I went to hear Paul Muldoon read at the Smith College Poetry center, and was pleasantly surprised to learn that we would also be hearing from the winner and runners up of the 3rd annual poetry prize for high school girls. Check out their really great poems here. My favorite line: "all things backwards, wrong, and beautiful".

Fresh is a word that's thrown around often during the teaching of poetry, yet at the same time is difficult to describe or define. It's the kind of thing where you know it when you see it. These poems are fresh, juicy, shimmering with dew.

Great Month for Poetry

Despite what TS Eliot wrote (“April is the cruelest month”), I think April is a great time for National Poetry Month, especially for those of us who are committing to do some extra writing during these 30 days. At least in the Northern Hemisphere, since spring is inspirational and symbolic on so many levels.

I won’t say what my plan is, because I’ve found that making too formed of a writing plan kills the project before it’s born—but I will say that I’m doing something, hopefully around a certain theme and experience. 30 days is great time frame to develop a current project or generate a new body of work.

Are you in need of some added inspiration or direction? Both the Poetic Asides blog and Poets & Writers are posting daily prompts this month.

Working and Writing

Yesterday, in the course of a conversation, I told a friend that I nearly went into landscape architecture instead of writing. “Why?” she asked. So I had to ask myself—why did I abandon several years of experience in landscaping and horticulture to “start over” on a new vocational path?

I’ve had times in my life when my paid work was gardening or landscaping, and writing was a hobby. I’ve also had times when my paid work was writing or something to do with writing, and gardening was a hobby. I found that I prefer the latter state of being—it feels more flexible and filled with artistic possibilities.

My grad school advisor Rachel Pollack said that the best job for a writer is the one that allows you to do the most writing. My current day job now is great because it’s interesting and I interact with intelligent people, but it’s not all-consuming and doesn’t take up an undue amount of mental space.

Writing is a net that can be thrown over anything, incorporating all of the author’s varied and unusual interests. Currently I edit the newsletter of the Ecological Landscaping Association (a great nonprofit that educates professionals and homeowners about how to work with nature instead of against it in the landscape). The folks there told me it’s rare to find a writer who also has landscaping experience. If you are a writer and have other passions or experience (as all writers do), I encourage you to try find out how you can put them to good use—someone will value your background.

The other thing about jobs is that—just like all those failed relationships—everything is material. I have been an usher in a concert hall, a park ranger, ice cream maker, farmer, and after school teacher, just to name a few of the positions I’ve held over the years. As Pat Schneider wrote, “Live your life thoughtfully, empathetically. Listen, and watch. Write. From these practices will come the most important things you need to know in order to create good fiction.” Or good anything.

Poem of a Certain Place and Time

So I logged onto the Writer's Almanac today as I often do, and found a poem by James Tate entitled "Suburban Buffalo." What are the chances that I have seen those same buffalo? I have seen them. James Tate teaches (taught?) at UMass Amherst, which is a short trip down Route 9 away from the bowling alley in Northampton, MA. On that two-lane strip of wannabe highway in Hadley stands (stood?) the Longview Bison Farm, the land of which has been sold and will soon be a Lowe's.

Tate's poem is a wonderful portrait of a surreal moment in real time, which concludes with a fanciful depiction of deconstructed farmers. It seems even more poignant when you know that the buffalo in the poem are no longer there and the poem has become an inadvertent memorial.

Write ye poems while ye may
old Time is sure a-flyin'
the same subject matter that's there today
tomorrow may be bulldozed

Vessels of Words

There are different stages
to this process:
throwing poems
letting them dry
trimming them
glazing them
sometimes smashing them
and starting again.