Tania Rochelle just announced the publication of her second collection, to be published by Snake Nation Press. I know Tania from her days as a beginning marathon runner. She and my sister were neck and neck in the Atlanta Thanksgiving Day Marathon back in the mid eighties. Over the years we would run into each other at the grocery store and the gym, and admire each others’ children. Tania would always ask about my sister, who went through breast cancer (and is now five years out.)
I found out Tania was a poet, and a damn great one, by surprise, when we met up at the Walt Whitman reading Rupert Fike organized this summer. I immediately bought her book, Karaoke Funeral, and fell in love with her poems. She writes with a keen eye, a deep well of honesty, and a healthy sense of humor. Congratulations, Tania!
There’s a fine line between excitement and anxiety – adrenalin can either make us soar, or gnaw at our innards. Now that I have week one under my belt, I’m feeling more like embracing the challenges rather than wanting to take a road trip and never come back. Thanks to all of you who’ve encouraged me. It means a lot.
I’d say the hardest part of this new venture is the commute. For the week of conferences and meetings I took MARTA, our transit system in Atlanta, but the trip took over an hour… . I’ve decided to be one of the lazy polluters and drive into town, which takes only 30 minutes, and even less in the early morning before rush hour. I intend to record the poems we’re studying so I can listen to them during the ride. At least I drive a subcompact. Let’s hope the Hummers out there don’t squash me. Such brutes.
My English Composition class is full of polite, eager young men and women. On the second day I had them do a free-write in which they introduced themselves to the class as a sandwich. I wrote right along with them, which was fun. They’re each going to keep a blog for the class, and we also will have discussion forums. Lots of writing for all of us.
My literature course is 20th-Century American Poetry with Dr. Leon Stokesbury, a highly-regarded scholar and poet who knows his stuff. We’re reading Robert Frost first, a poet whose work almost all Americans have read starting in grade school. The beauty of Frost’s poems is their multiple layers – he truly was a genius. The professor told us that “Frost loved to play the role of the genius poet, the taciturn New England codger.” He said, ‘“undergraduates loved it when Frost would contradict their professors. Frost told the students that when he wrote about mowing hay, that’s all the poem was about, it was right there on the surface.” But anyone who has read Mowing or any of his other great poems knows Frost’s claim isn’t true.
It’s obvious I’m going to learn a lot about writing in the poetry workshop. The professor, David Bottoms, has written several volumes of poetry, and is the founding editor of Five Points, a longstanding literature and art magazine. He guides us into a careful, critical reading of the poems, and maintains a respectful but honest tone. And he’s not afraid of giving praise where it’s due. I submitted a brand-new prose poem, and as soon as the copies circled the table I wanted to snatch them back. It’s my very first poetry workshop in a formal setting. I wanted to say, ‘wait, it’s just a joke! I have much better poems than that one, really!’ Too late. I’ll let you know how it goes after they’ve given me their feedback.
The other hard part of going ‘back to school’ is my age. Usually I don’t think about the number of years I’ve spent on the planet, and if I do, I’m extremely grateful for almost all of them, but when I see that some of my classmates were born the year I graduated college, I start to wonder what the hell I’m doing there. Is there something ridiculous about a middle-aged woman wanting to ‘be a poet?’ Isn’t poetry supposed to begin with the passion and longing of youth? Doesn’t narcissism prod the earliest of poems, and if so, what does that say about me? I just keep going back to the thought that I want to spend the rest of my life doing what I love. Like Polly in the film “I’ve Heard the Mermaids Singing,” I do it for the kicks.
Last night I attended the launch of Collin Kelley’s novel, Conquering Venus. (Vanilla Heart Press, 2009). The event took place at Outwrite Books in Atlanta, a perfect setting for the reading because of the intimate arrangement of the seating, the streamer and balloon art installation, and the store crammed with books. Collin read the prologue and the first chapter, keeping us entranced the entire time. He reads with a lot of expression, undoubtedly because of his long experience as a poet. It was a treat to hear his interpretation of the characters – the dialogue is snappy, witty, and irreverent, especially the exchanged between Martin, the protagonist, and Diane, his middle-aged friend.
Afterwards Collin answered questions about how much of the novel is true, what his writing habits are, whether or not there will be more poems in the sequels he is currently writing, and if writing the novel has interfered with his poetry writing. If you’re curious about the answers to these questions, go to one of his many scheduled readings. There will also be a virtual tour in September for those of you who live outside the US.
To read more about Collin Kelley’s novel, visit the blog for Conquering Venus. There’s a video trailer and a preview selection from the novel.
On a personal note, at the reading I saw several poets and writers I’ve met through Collin Kelley: Karen Head, Rupert Fike, Cleo Creech, Megan Volpert, and others. I also had the chance to meet in person the lovely Lisa Allender, whom I had known only through facebook and her blog, Lisa Allender Writes.
Lisa and I spoke with Karen Head about her experience on The Fourth Plinth in London’s Trafalgar Square. We were both impressed with her poise under fire, and her direction of the event. Stay tuned for an article in Time about Karen’s international twitter poetry writing.
It was gratifying to be in a room of writers and readers who so obviously adored the reading. Through his art and his charm, Collin Kelley has the gift of gathering like-minded people together.
I ended up skipping a yoga class to make a collage and write a poem.
The collage centers around Emily Dickinson, but the poem is more about my desire for a return to innocence. In a way, Emily Dickinson represents for me a kind of purity, both artistically as well as spiritually, a kind of purity or innocence I’ve lost.
Trying to learn all my new responsibilities at the university feels like wobbling on a tightrope. My mantra for today, in between pangs of anxiety, is ‘one moment at a time. Breath by breath.’
Yesterday I received a beautiful postcard poem with a print of an abstract painting by Diana Ong on the front (not this one pictured here). The poem had such wonderful images that I thought, yes, that’s exactly what I wish I had said, yes, I understand this meaning entirely. I love it when I read a poem and I get that ‘aha’ moment, like when I understand a dream.
Last night I dreamed of flying, like superwoman. Always exhilarating. If only I could keep the feeling while I’m awake!
Can you hear it? It’s the satisfying pop of champagne corks around the world as readers find their pre-ordered copies ofConquering Venus (Vanilla Heart Publishing, 2009) on their doorsteps. It’s the fabulous debut novel from award winning poet and playwright Collin Kelley.
Stay tuned for his virtual book tour, which will be making a stop at Balanced on the Edge. Congratulations to Collin Kelley for this stunning new work of art.
While doing some research for a poem I came across this photo. Do you think this couple just met each other? From here they’re off to get married….. Don’t you love speculating on their lives?
Her outfit is the star of this pic. She was ahead of her time with the spandex leggings. The Keds are cute.
The guy in the background looks like he just got off the night shift, and now he’s heading home for a stiff drink.
I’ve been so busy writing a syllabus and planning my English Composition course that I didn’t have much time yesterday to write a poem. It was one of those days when I wrote the poem in my mind. At the post office I stood at a table, quickly sketched out a draft, and then copied it onto the postcard. Signed, sealed and delivered in ten minutes.
My desk, with today’s card and my journal on top of my laptop.
Balanced On the Edge 