Sherry Chandler

Thanks to I See Invisible People for the link to Halloween Hangman.

As Terry says, it takes a while to load so be patient. But it’s a blast to play. Except…I used to be good at Hangman. I think I’m showing my age.

The Cat and the Moon

THE cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For, wander and wail as he would,
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood.
Minnaloushe runs in the grass
Lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
When two close kindred meet,
What better than call a dance?
Maybe the moon may learn,
Tired of that courtly fashion,
A new dance turn.
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
From moonlit place to place,
The sacred moon overhead
Has taken a new phase.
Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
Will pass from change to change,
And that from round to crescent,
From crescent to round they range?
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
Alone, important and wise,
And lifts to the changing moon
His changing eyes.

— William Butler Yeats, 1918 (from Selected Poems and Two Plays of Williams Butler Yeats, Collier Books, 1962)

and will be giving us a sneak preview of her novel-in-progress, which is set in Lexington, at the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning on Tuesday evening, November 1 at 7:30 pm.

A reception afterwards and Lynn will sign her 2002 novel, Ruby River.

Admittance free, no reservations required.

What better way to celebrate All Saints Day? Or to chase away that dreary November of the soul?

There is, of course, compelling front page news this week – enough to bring to mind the supposedly Chinese curse “May you live in interesting times.” But down here on the ground, us little folk have to keep on living, earning money to provide Exxon its $10 billion third quarter profit. And so I give you links to a few things I’ve noticed this week:

Figures Reveal Dynamics of Disaster Giving by Stephanie Strom in NYTimes

If You Don’t Eat or Drive, Inflation’s No Problem by Daniel Gross in NYTimes

Pharmacies’ Choice Removes Women’s Options at I See Invisible People

Frankfurt Is Still Publishing’s Main Event by Edward Wyatt in NYTimes

Bumper sticker seen on a Lincoln Navigator: “Don’t let the car fool you, my real treasure is in heaven.”

AND one more thing I’ve been meaning to highlight for some time. Over at Have Coffee Will Write, Jeff Hess is suggesting a toothpaste-specific boycott of Wal-Mart for those of us who have no choice but to shop there but would neverthelss like to make a statement about their policies.

He calls it the Little Wal-Mart Toothpaste Buycott and it’s based on the assumption that everybody can afford to buy toothpaste somewhere else. [Art by Tony Montana.]

And finally, some needed advice in this quote that a reader sent me a while back:

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, “WOW! What a ride!

[Late addition: A Word to the Wise in which Lance Mannion discusses meanness in the Bush administration. This mean spirit, the ruling humour of the Bushes, is often winked at as playing the game. But I fail to see how anything positive is built on such negative foundations.]

Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes

‘Twas on a lofty vase’s side,
Where China’s gayest art had dyed
    The azure flowers, that blow;
Demurest of the tabby kind,
The pensive Selima reclined,
   Gazed on the lake below.

Her conscious tail her joy declared;
The fair round face, the snowy beard,
   The velvet of her paws,
Her coat that with the tortoise vies,
Her ears of jet and emerald eyes,
    She saw; and purred applause.

Still had she gazed; but ‘midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,
    The Genii of the stream:
Their scaly armour’s Tyrian hue
Through richest purple to the view
    Betrayed a golden gleam.

The hapless nymph with wonder saw:
A whisker first and then a claw,
    With many an ardent wish,
She stretched in vain to reach the prize.
What female heart can gold despise?
    What cat’s averse to fish?

Presumptuous maid! with looks intent
Again she stretched, again she bent,
   Nor knew the gulf between.
(Malignant Fate sat by and smiled)
The slippery verge her feet beguiled,
    She tumbled headlong in.

Eight times emerging from the flood
She mewed to every watery god,
   Some speedy aid to send.
No dolphin came, no Nereid stirred:
Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard.
   A favourite has no friend!

From hence, ye beauties, undeceived,
Know, one false step is ne’er retrieved,
   And be with caution bold.
Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts is lawful prize;
    Nor all that glisters gold.

— Thomas Gray

Jason McDonald of The Big Idea asked me to pass this information along to you all:

Bombay Gin is the literary journal for The Jack Kerouac School (where I am getting my MFA). The school was founded by Anne Waldman and Allen Ginsberg in 1974. Bombay Gin publishes the likes of Amira Baraka and Lawrence Ferlinghetti (two of my favorites) and many others.

I have been talking up a storm to the editors about the quality of literature coming from Kentucky. I hope you all will send in something.

The theme for this coming issue is diversity and multitudes. Here are the guidelines:

Submissions for Bombay Gin may be submitted between Sept. 1 and postmarked no later than Dec. 1.
Submissions must be previously unpublished and will not be returned. Include a SASE so we can respond to you promptly once selections have been made in March.

Include:
Cover Page with contact info
1-3 pages of poetry
1-8 pages of prose
Translation rules are the same as for the original work in that genre
3-5 art pieces submitted on CD
Limited to one submission of poetry or prose. Do not include name on any submission pieces.

Jason has been keeping a great journal of his experiences at Naropa. I recommend it for good reading. Try, for example, this entry about Naropa’s Small Press & Journal Fair in which he talks about meeting Brandy Vickers, now a reader at Houghton Mifflin, who got her start at Joseph-Beth. All roads lead to Kentucky, I tell you.

The Lexington History Museum’s multimedia exhibit on Kentucky’s Holocaust survivors, This Is Home Now, opened in May and runs through January 12, 2006. Much of this exhibit is the work of Arwen Donahue who, with the support of a grant from the Kentucky Oral History Commission, recorded interviews with 14 Halocaust survivors now living in Kentucky.

On November 10 and 11, the Kentucky Historical Society and the Kentucky Oral History Commission will host a symposium on Kentucky’s Holocaust survivors at the Lexington History Museum (the old Court House at 215 West Main Street). This event offers panel discussions with the survivors and noted historians and a keynote address by Joan Ringelheim, director of oral history at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum and Neenah Ellis, special consultant for the Holocaust Memorial Museum’s post-Holocaust interview project.

For the opening reception, Ouita Michael of Holly Hill Inn will prepare Jewish delicacies inspired by the book In Memory’s Kitchen: A Legacy from the Women of Terezin.

But of most interest to the poets among my readers, Carolyn Forché is coming for the November 10 session. She will speak at 2:30 on the subject “Writing Poetry of Witness in Relation to Historic Events” and she will read at 7:00, with a book signing to follow.

You can sign up for the entire first day, including the reception, for $20 ($10 for students). The fee for both days is $30 ($25 for students and KHS or LHM members). For more information, contact Joanie DiMartino at the Kentucky Historical Society at (502) 564-1792 ext. 4467 or joanie.dimartino@ky.gov.

I know there are Carolyn Forché fans among my readers, so get your registration money in. Deadline is Wednesday, November 9.

Mona Lisa

Yon strange blue city crowns a scarpèd steep
No mortal foot has bloodlessly assayed:
Dreams and illusions beacon from its keep,
But at the gate an angel bares his blade;
And tales are told of those who thought to gain
At dawn its ramparts; but when evening fell
Far off they saw each fading pinnacle
Lit with wild lightnings from the heaven of pain;
Yet there two souls, whom life’s perversities
Had mocked with want in plenty, tears in mirth,
Might meet in dreams, ungarmented of earth,
And drain Joy’s awful chalice to the lees.

— Edith Wharton

If you have an interest in seeing just who is out there blogging in the poetry world, well, Billy the Blogging Poet is profiling 100 Blogging Poets in 100 Days, one of those ideas I wish I’d thought of.

A good way to discover who’s out there and how they approach this notion of a poetry blog.

Billy also brings us Poetsaurus, another good way to see what’s out there.

Disclosure: I’m #45

Feeling sort of down in the mouth today – a mood that a dear friend once described as inconsolable but it’s probably just a major pout, a delayed reaction to all the cold mist and falling leaves of the last few days. But hey! the sun is out today and I got a smile from this link.

I got there through at Kinemapoetics by way of Heraclitean Fire.