Tragedy of the Leaves

You can hear Charles Bukowski read his poem "The Tragedy of the Leaves" today, the hump of the week, and maybe it will help you get over the hump of this particular cold, cold week. I found it via the Best American Poetry Blog, its "Hump Day Highlights," which led to PA (aka PoetsArtists), edited by Didi Menendez, and an interview by Grace Cavalieri with Linda Lee Bukowski, the poet's widow, conducted for PoetsArtists back when it was called Oranges & Sardines. What a roundabout journey! (By chance, I am also interviewed in the new PA, with 3 of the Claudel poems attached. As you know, I love chance.) I love the simplicity and quiet, funny sorrow of the Bukowski poem. I see the leaves. I hear the landlady.

The interview reveals a bit of the tragedy of the roots, Bukowski's sad childhood. Hence, my favorite turnip, by Jonathan Koch, who also painted the tangelo and its bright leaves. And if you need some more brightness, as I did this week, here is a review of Jannett Highfill's chapbook, A Constitution of Silence (Green Fuse Poetic Arts, 2013), in the EIL Blog, containing 2 of her subtle sonnets. "Scintillation" contains pictures of fantastic light installations by Lee Eunyeol. The world is full of wondrous things, and is lit from without and lit from within.

Fever Dream

Claudel at Columbus Dance Theatre this past weekend was a grand success, and I love how the reviewer, Tim Feran, called it a "multimedia fever vision." Yes! Camille Claudel knew herself and once said, "Of the dream that was my life, this is the nightmare," and we saw that nightmare onstage, as well as the joyful dream. I hope it's OK to show you these production photos by John Ray, so you can see a bit of the "fever vision," too.

What a privilege and joy to have been part of this art collaboration! You could feel the excitement during and after every performance. One woman wept uncontrollably after the show on opening night. Others gathered in the lobby, eagerly discussing Claudel and Rodin or vowing to learn more. Dance students praised the dancers. Area musicians hailed the return of members of Carpe Diem String Quartet who live now in Washington and Colorado but reunited for this.

My sister's colleagues from Otterbein University got to see her rich, gorgeous depiction of the older Claudel, turned to gold in the asylum where she lived the last 30 years of her life. It was a "Wowie wow wow wow!" event, as Junie B. Jones would say. Here is Chris as Claudel confronting (in memory and dance) Rose Beuret, Rodin's early model and mistress, then common law wife. The costumes, by Liz Hopkin, were amazing, evoking period clothing and marble purity, as needed. Turns out Liz was inspired to become an art historian by the works of Camille Claudel! How lucky she also became a costumer in time for Claudel at CDT!

I did remember to pack shoes for this trip to Ohio!

But I failed to pack boots. And there was a lot of snow. Fortunately I inherited some (kinky) boots, left in a closet, for the trip home.

The Red Shoes

I'm packing. To head out of town. But I won't be going anywhere warmer. I'm headed to Columbus, Ohio, for the world premier of Claudel, the dance-poetry-theatre-music collaboration I've been obsessed with lately!

Here's an article about it in the Columbus Dispatch. Congrats to Columbus Dance Theatre for the lovely preview, and thanks to Bill Mayr for writing it. (There's a great photo at the link, too!)

So I am packing up to go, taking:

--80 copies of the book, Interior Sculpture (Dancing Girl Press, 2014) to sell in the lobby
--reading matter, including A House of Many Windows, by Donna Vorreyer, and The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths, by Sandy Longhorn
--writing materials, including journal and dream journal (wacky dreams lately = possible poems)

Wait! What about jammies, toothbrush, and stuff to wear to the performances?! Mmm, yes, must pack those. Earrings. Shoes, don't forget shoes.

Will they be red high-tops?

More thanks, too! To Dulce Maria Menendez, who publishes Poets and Artists Magazine, for this interview, with 3 more Camille Claudel poems in it, including the one with evidence of her paranoia or psychotic break, whatever it was. But after 30 years in the asylum, Camille Claudel wasn't crazy anymore, and pretty much everybody knew it.

Which reminds me of New Zealand author Janet Frame, and Jane Campion's film trilogy, An Angel at My Table. Does it seem like I am procrastinating on the packing? Could be. But really I am doing all the laundry, and I am between loads, but ready to fold now, and, following that, to pack! Socks.

Not Somewhere Else

So. Tired. Of. The. Snow. And the wind, and the cold. Everybody predicted a hard winter. They were right. I was out in it today to 1) avoid cabin fever 2) get groceries 3) mail a couple chapbooks to people who helped me with it 4) get a new planner-style calendar with Christmas gift card to Barnes & Noble, plus 5) the newest Best American Poetry anthology, to continue my lifelong learning.

Before that, and before I was kicked off the Internet*, I posted the new poetry feature at Escape Into Life--Mia Avramut (poet/physician), with art by Luca Bartolato.

*So. Tired. Of. Getting. Kicked. Off. The. Internet. (See how that's kind of like thinking in winter boots?)

While on the Internet, I also saw the cover of Not Somewhere Else But Here: A Contemporary Anthology of Women and Place, Sundress Publications, forthcoming in February, but you can pre-order it now, if you want. Poetry and prose, and the link also shows you The Men of Sun(dress), a marvelous monthly calendar I have hung on the door to the downstairs bathroom, where my son, on a recent visit home, stood patiently flipping through all the wacky and wonderful photos of men in sundresses. He liked it.

So. Do. I.

Pineapple Still Life, Jonathan Koch, 2014, and Magnolia, 2013.

Too. Much. Snow.

Teal Blues

Ah, Monday. Or Blue Monday, as we say in the blog... The sky, an actual bright blue this morning, has faded to a pale gray blue. Google has a coral and teal blue graphic in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. A box of 99 copies (eh? where's the other one?) of my new chapbook arrived on Friday, with a deep teal blue color cover (a little greener blue* than the blue that turns up in the Internet images here and here). I love it and am so grateful to have the book out there in time for the dance/theatre production in Ohio.

And both kids came home for the weekend, so I am a little blue at the farewells: one this morning, and one yet to come, tonight. My son had to go back to work, though he didn't have to teach this morning, so he had sunshine for the drive back to Chicago. We had a lovely time just hanging out together this weekend--watching movies, playing Pictionary and cards, sharing meals. It extended the winter holidays a bit. And now...the blues.

But I've had a surprising number of winter poem acceptances, so I'm off to a good start in 2014! And there's plenty of good news for others in my poetry circles: one won a major book award, another was named state poet laureate!

Plus, for breakfast, mini-blueberry turnovers. So maybe my mood will turn over, too!

*Ah, bluegreen was one of my favorite Crayola Crayon colors. And now there's also a teal blue.