Crammed In

We poets don't get any respect around here, as we were displaced from the community room last night in favor of the Riverway Storytelling Festival. When questionned in advance, the diehard poets insisted they did not want to cancel our meeting so we crammed ourselves into the VPL director's office for our session. Fortunately only eleven of us showed up, as that was plenty crowded, even with Edie overflowing into my office. Mike Burke thoughtfully brought two sets of his poetry day pictures so we could each have a photo of ourselves to keep and a set for the "archives". Someone (it was NOT me!) got the two sets a little mixed up, so I will straighten them out for next time.

Tim mentioned that Dan Wilcox had his own report on the brunch posted on his blog. Look it up. By the way, Mark's blog is looking great so visit there, too - there is a link on our site - and Mark read a wonderful poem last night.

Art Willis is back and made an intriguing comment about Turner sneaking into galleries to repaint his masterpieces after they had been sold and were hanging. I intend to look up a bio of Turner now. The discussion began when I asked Paul for permission to post one of his poems (he had another winner about his "dear love') and he refused me, saying his copyright would be comprised, as well as his freedom to revise the poem at a future time. That led to Art's remarks about re-painting, etc. Rarely satisfied, I have been revising my old poems for forty years whenever the spirit moves me, and I guess I am not as concerned about the legalities of it as I could be.

Dennis and Art and I all wrote about our mothers and fathers. I really liked both of theirs, mine not as much. Art's was a particularly strong portrayal of the man his father was, with a haunting question left unanswered. Good stuff. Mike gave us something to argue about with his use of a word I can't put on the website (it begins with p). It was again a poem with a kicker at the end, and some felt that the repetition of the p word detracted from the force of the kick. If that makes any sense.

Alan had the best title of the night with When Mayberry Swallowed Pottersville and I was very fond of Tim's opening three lines about leaving the cinema. Mimi was just about word perfect with The River Stout (wide oak boards and bards, sweet nutmeg embrace) and Ally painted pictures with the taste and sight of brilliant red cherry preserves (orgasmic). Edie made a point about roadside trash "flowers". BTW, Timmy was a little confused tonight. We had to help him out.

We kind of popped out of Gail's office like corn in the microwave and I skipped Grey's Anatomy in favor of a cheeseburger at Smitty's with the guys. Additional conversation there included Dennis' report on the Lark Tavern open mike and my tale of chasing my empty Cruiser as it motored out of the driveway without me.

Glory Days

A few of you remember them - back when VPL was packed with poets reading Patterson and Tom and Larry Rapant and I were on the road with our poems about state workers and the Altamont Fair, with Tom and Brian Kennedy providing musical backup. Well, Saturday felt like a glory day again, didn't it? There were some lean years in between - when there were just six of us for Poetry Day reading to each other. This is infinitely better. I had a great time. I appreciate our poetry. I appreciate the way we all have grown. We write a lot of good stuff and are striving to get better. Thank you all for being good writers and good friends.

Steve, Amy and Tim from Comhaltus, made the day very special. I loved the good music, Tim's fascinating instrument, Amy's red hair and Steve's commentary. Thanks totally to all of them.

Thinking about good friends, I am glad that Dan was with us on Saturday and that Carol Graser came for the first time to check us out- Carol's image of the stripes peeling from the flag is still with me - and the writers from the Bethlehem group. Dan always wins my heart with his politically oriented slant on things; this one was particularly good. I missed Larry and Susan Riback and Ryu and Mildred, but was happy to have relative newbies like Alan and Catherine and Tim with us. I saw Ron Pavoldi slip in at the near the end of things but didn't get to chat with him.

Thanks, Tom, for remembering the Tall Poet. We miss you, John Rankin. Mike B. read two award-winning poems, one of his own and one that his granddaughter Morgan wrote about the beach. I really liked Alan's selection of poems and tribute to Kurt Vonnegut. I loved Mark's hat and Ally's costume. Her headpiece was gorgeous, and her rendition of Billy Collins' candle hat appropriate and funny. Timmy wore his anthology shirt. I was wearing my pajamas, by the way - black satin with red hearts. I guess my Prelude to Love (spinach and croutons) piece was a laugh and my ruminations on death and war pretty depressing in an otherwise happy day. I found my old copper-turn-your-arm-green POW/MIA bracelet from forty years ago and I have been wearing it and contemplating young men dying. (Don't go pc on me. I have two sons and five grandsons, so I am always thinking young men.)

The ten-year-old grandson was there early with his mother helping with the kitchen coordinating and setup. Thank you to both of them and to Mike Burke who lugged chairs and microphone, etc., to all who helped with clean up, and the significant others who made supportive appearances. To judge by the consumption, the food was fantastic - I think we need to incorporate eating into more of our interactions. It certainly drew a crowd. Maybe obeedude's chocolate chip pancakes.

Some of us finished up the day at Smitty's. I missed Ally, who was too tired to join us. I managed to pack away a root beer, then went home to take a nap myself.

Sepia

What an odd word to turn up in two poems on the same night, both of them good poems. Joyce is going to do some work on hers; it was moving but not as clear as it could have been. Tom brought the crowd to action with animated conversation about full-habited nuns. Loved it. And Mike cracked us all up (or appalled us) with a gut punch about a dead dog. Mark seems to have abandoned his "truncated" lines and transitioned into a lyrical Irish storyteller, well, almost. I forgot to ask permission to reprint, but I will ask Paul if I can use his poem for the blog as I loved the junkyard with the bathtub Madonna. Alan dedicated his toy poem to Matchbox Tim who was not there to hear it. Dan Lawlor from Delmar visited us and brought a rhyming poem about conflicts with the local Smokies.

Most of the ladies trailed in late. Ally Cat wrote a charming blast on pagan rituals as opposed to Easter and did it in BIG print which was very helpful. Does anybody know the plural of crocus? Catherine dreamed about Louis Armstrong. Mimi had some really great lines about a cadaver. BTW, Mimi will be reading at the Social Justice Center next Thursday. If anyone wants to go, contact her for details.

Next weekend is the Lark Tavern poetry blowout which quite a few of us signed up for.
Our next meeting here is April 26 and there is a conflict with the community room that night, so if you can't find the group, look around for us.

We went over the final details for Saturday. Will someone please bring a camera besides me? Mike said he will come early to help me with setting up the room. Mark is making pancakes!
I might wear my pajamas.

Are We Ready?

I don't know about the rest of you, but I've been having a really busy week and still have tons to do. I am trying to curb my late night habits and get some sleep. I haven't gotten much writing done. I have talked to many of you - got yelled at by Tom (joke), had lunch with Mike and Larry, which is always a pleasure. I hope some of you are bringing hot dishes to share on Saturday. I am bringing a frying pan to cook sausages. We have an oven to keep things warm. I will be at the lib when it opens at 10 a.m. and will need some help setting up the room if anyone can come early. Some of you have asked about getting together after the program. Tom offered his house, but we decided that Smitty's was a better option in case we were all too tired to continue talking. We do have several signups from people who have seen the flyers. Please make an effort to talk to the people who show up that we do not know and make them feel welcome, including the musicians. Dennis will be back from Florida, but Art will still be out of town this weekend. All of the rest of you, I assume will be there! We have set up a display table with poetry books you might want to check out. I had a lovely Easter with my son and his family from NYC, thank you. See you tomorrow night.

Late Night (and I am not sleeping)

Anyone who did not attend the Batt Burns storytelling evening at the lib this week missed an interesting evening. Burns is handsome and charming and funny. His wife accompanied him playing some old Celtic tunes, and he recited Keats who is one of my favorites. I spotted Joyce and Steve and Mike Burke and obeedude. I indulged myself in a massage this week with Mary Panza. I highly recommend her if anyone is looking for masseuse. Did I spell that right? Her studio is in Delmar and you can catch up on good poetry gossip. Someone showed up for poetry this Thursday. I don't know if it was one of the regulars or a new person. It is always confusing when there are five Thursday in the month, as in March. We have all been passing out flyers for the brunch and I am hopefully anticipating a crowd. Mike's granddaughter won a poetry prize recently at school (she is five) and I asked her to come and read it for us. If anyone is talking to Susan Riback or Larry, please encourage them to come too. Jill Crammond (remember Jill?) left a comment here on the blog. Mimi had a problem trying to log in to comment. If anyone else is having trouble, let me know. Or ask Mark, as he has done it successfully. The lib has a couple of new poetry videos I have here to watch this weekend. I have poems for the new anthology from a couple of people. Send them in, folks, so this does not drag on forever like the first edition. There is only one more meeting before the Event, so I will see you on the 12th. Somebody bring a camera in case I forget. We need some new pictures.
Lily Alys

Talking Heads

I'll say right off the top, I did not accompany the drinking contingent to Smit's last night so if anything significant happened after the meeting, I was not part of it. I'll start with legitimate announcements and proceed to the gossip.

Because of the five-week month, there is only one meeting before the brunch on April 14. Bring food. Suggestions for the food impaired: Dunkin Donuts, fresh fruit, juice. I will bring a large skillet to brown sausage - someone else should bring some, too, please. There is a small oven here to keep egg dishes, casseroles, quiche warm. VPL will supply coffee, plates, etc. Steve Schreiber and two friends are joining us with some music. (We can dance.)

I passed out PD flyers. Tim took some to distribute at open mics. I have more if anyone wants them. Tom and Dennis and Tim and I went to the Night Sky Cafe this week to hear Don Levy and Mary Panza and announced the brunch there. There seemed to be some interest. Thom Francis assured me he was linking our blog to the Albany Poets site (which is a good site to visit if you haven't already.) Bring as many poems on the 14th as you want. Reading time will depend on how many people we have. If it is just us we will drone on to each other until we are dazed and stupified.

Some of us signed up to read at the Wordfest at the Lark Tavern on April 20. It is an annual Albany event and if anyone else wants to go, we can carpool. It is a Big Deal; you should sign up now at albanypoets.com.

Okay, on to our anthology - it was unanimous that we should use the money we have to produce a new edition rather than reprint the old. It will, obviously, not be ready for the poetry day. You may all start emailing me poems - send five or six, not all of which will live to be in print. Send only your very best. I am raising the bar and will be ruthless in my editing. I spoke with Tom this morning about the title. If you have brilliant suggestions, you may submit those, too, or we may just go with more Poetry Don't Pump Gas.

BTW, the blog now has a sitemeter which counts the number of "hits" we get (people who visit the blog), so visit often and run that meter up!

Joyce and Dennis both brought the Poetry publication of translations. Joyce has more copies if anyone didn't get and wants one.

Mimi has brochures for Pyramid Lake women's writers week.

Last night's poems:
Paul scored another hit - with a childhood remembrance of eluding the "cops".
Tim is attracted to Italian men; Tim's poems get better and better.
Mimi presented a numbered stanza poem on Hillside Themes, beginning and ending with a Sound of Music reference.
Ally was at the Ocean in Winter, burying her feet in the warm sand and making me jealous.
Mexico Mike was alone at the airport, with his trademark twist at the end.
The Rock Lady Joyce had a second installment about waiting for spring to work on her wall, which initiated an argument about the spelling of arugula - one "r" is correct according to Merriam online.
Edie was looking through a super-microscope, hearing the trees scream at being made into paper. Sorry, I thought it was squashed bugs screaming, which is another idea altogether.
Dennis made us laugh with an irreverent Tale of Urgent Love, along with another small packet of read-later poems.
Jamey Stevenson was back with a poem that inspired a lot of conversation. It was a work in progress and, hopefully, we gave him constructive criticism. The bones of the poem were strong, particularly the first verse, which I really liked a lot.
The "talking heads were trampolining on the spongy bed of my brain with their tiny Addidas". I may bring this again because I do have a question I didn't ask.
The late Mr. O'Brien quickly read us a Glebe Homie poem which we will talk about next time.

It was good to have Jamey back and good to see Ally taking a short break from her oxygen. Catherine came with a boyfriend, but no poem. Missing: Art did not have his wife to help him get ready, there was silence from Ryu and Alan, Tom was doing his Hana thing and we watched for Ron outside the window to no avail.

I know this is a long one - I just get chattier and chattier.
Lily Alys

THE BOOK TOUR by Dennis Sullivan

The Book Tour (for Frank O’Hara)
by Dennis Sullivan

when i wrote a book
with my friend larry
a socialist anarchist thing,
publishers said nice
but no can do,
can you work a little state
and oppression in?

but we said no can do
and they said there, over there
there’s the door, get out.

not ones to cave
we headed next door and knocked,
told the publisher we had a book
on people’s everyday life struggle
to make it in the world
as cooperative beings

but the chief guy there said
cooperation’s out, passé—
though it never was in—

and life went on like this
for more than you can imagine
until we thought, hey
love compassion understanding
do not sell

which still holds true
love compassion understanding
do not sell
that’s why people keep buying
those halloween masks.

oh yes there was one publisher
who said he’d buy the book
if we included masks to wear
halloween or otherwise
he thought there’d be a market
he said he’d pay us

to wear masks for the book tour
the love compassion understanding
failure book tour,
the brought down by masks worn
masks paid to be worn book tour,
promising us in no time
we’d no longer know
when we wore the mask
and when we took it off.
he said it’d be like driving into town
and seeing a big painted sign saying
Welcome to America!


It's all about Dennis today. He is looking for recruits to attend the poetry day at the Lark Tavern on April 21. Several of us have expressed an interest... me, Tom, Timmy...if you want details, visit the link to Albany Poets. Dennis has also graciously succumbed to my pleadings to post THE BOOK TOUR on the blog and I am doing so. Poet O'Sullivan is one of the supporters of the appearance at VPL of Batt Burns, an Irish musician and storyteller who will be here on March 28. The performance is free and open to the public. If you have any interest, please come. Traveler O'Sullivan has also arranged a display of pictures and cards from his Irish experience in the library display case for the month of March.

I saw an announcement that Jamey Stevenson, who visited us about a month ago, is appearing at the Social Justice Center. It included a poem that I liked, so I emailed him and received a reply telling me that he had enjoyed the meeting he attended (with us old farts) and found us to be "supportive and challenging". Maybe we will see him again.

Mimi and Joyce and I are in the Peace Walk downtown on Sunday. We will be carrying signs with the name of a war casualty. My soldier is Lori Ann Piestewa, who was the first woman killed in the war in the skirmish which involved Jessica Lynch. Lori Ann was a 23-year-old Hopi mother of two very young children. The organizers are aiming for 3000+ walkers to represent all of the war dead. There is still time for you to join us.
Lily Alys

Chicken Wings

First off, we consumed a considerable number of chicken wings and fries at Smitty's after last night's meeting. (Kathy could retire to Ravena on her tip.) The root beer was icy and delicious. I don't know what the other end of the table was drinking.

THE BLOG
At the meeting, we talked about the blog, now up and running which, if you are reading this, is obvious, and discussed how to pick which poems to post. Anyone can nominate one of their own or someone else's but the ultimate decision will be mine...THE BLOGMASTER!!! Blog poems will have to be emailed to me as I don't want to retype. I will not publish any without the author's permission. Dennis pointed out that any poem posted here could be considered "published" and the writer would lose the distinction of submitting it as an unpublished work.

Also, if anyone wants their short bio on the blog changed, I can do so. I have already fixed a couple this morning and added a link to obeedude's new blog, which is terrific - check it out.

THE POEMS
Dennis produced the masterpiece of the night called The Book Tour which encouraged a little social anarchy. My personal favorite. Tim gave us insight into his childhood with Matchbox Cars. At Tim's urging I read Peaches Jubilee about having dinner last week, but did not bother to take criticism because I knew it was doggerel (which is really bad rhyming poetry). I found myself amusing, tho.

Gary regaled us with a redo of the golf epic he recited at Christmas. Because of its length, we decided to look it over at home this week and bring our suggestions to the next meeting. Joyce had two short cats poems, one particularly elegant. Philomena did spiders in the bathroom, Tante Catrine did two-year olds, Art did a rumination on an old house.

Tom was back after many questions about his absence, and did his own thing with a line I liked about "brown bagger's leftovers smoldering in the heat". Paul continues in a new vein with a really good driving poem complete with Nascar references. Mimi had a winner, too, in Occupation, which was fine the way it was, but inspired some suggestions. Alan took the most heat from Mark who brutally told him his "This is How to Love Me" was full of cliches. We are a tough bunch.

APRIL 14 and misc.
You should all be thinking about what your personal contribution to poetry day will be (besides a breakfast item). I encourage you to "perform" at least one piece, bring props, wear a costume, go wild, etc. Joyce's husband Steve has graciously agreed to bring some musician friends to play. We must practice Art's performance piece. Bring lots of poems. Let's not be boring.

I forgot to mention there is a stack of old poetry magazines on the counter in my office which are up for grabs. Feel free to take any or all.

Mimi and Joyce and I are marching in the Peace Walk at the Capitol on March 18. If anyone wants to join in, talk to one of us. We need company.

BTW, I brought my gavel last night and only had to use it a couple of times.

Now post some comments, guys.

OPENINGS by Tom Corrado

The impastos and gouaches in the small gallery
on the third floor, the long-limbed bronzes
crowding the poorly-lit hallways, the after-hour
departures rehung as an homage to the lives
of the long coats and wide-brimmed hats
that filled the spaces between the shows
and now daily wait for the commuter train
and the safety of the suburbs, are not unlike
the visitors who drift through, stopping
occasionally for a closer look at the work
of the brush or painting knife, the blending
of color, the play of light and dark, scribbling
their lives, page after page, revision upon revision,
against the collage of trees in the courtyard
with their empty limbs moving to the rhythm
of the wind amid the color fields of the seasons
and their unmet promises, their table settings,
their half-filled water glasses.

Welcome to our blog, guys. It is still under construction, but I wanted you to get a glimpse of it. I haven't quite worked the kinks out. I love this blog and want to make additions to it with pictures and comments from you.
Be sure to go all the way to the bottom.
Lily Alys

Tom Corrado

The Orbmaster