Sherry Chandler

Passing on the text of an e-mail from Mick Kennedy down at ECTC:

Below is a list of winners and finalists for the 2006 Joy Bale Boone Poetry Prize. We received 567 entries from 23 states, quite an increase from last year. And I want to thank all of those who supported the contest and those who helped with performing the initial reading. Last Thursday, ECTC’s Morrison Gallery Poetry Series hosted our fourth annual National Poetry Month Celebration, which featured Lisa Williams, the judge for this year’s contest, and Sherry Chandler and Woods Nash.

It was an interesting evening, for a transformer somewhere in town blew out, and the attendees were left in darkness. But poetry can not be stopped! We utilized some pen lights and continued on. Some remarked that it gave the reading a medieval flavor, while others invoked Chaucer and Plato. The lights came on just in time for Lisa’s reading; I encourage you all to get her The Hammered Dulcimer, which won the May Swenson prize. We have a few signed copies in ECTC’s bookstore.

As for The Heartland Review, we are switching to summer/winter issues, for it is quite difficult to churn it out the last weeks of the semester. The upcoming issue will be worth the wait. My best to you all, and happy poetry month!

Cheers,

Mick Kennedy

First Place: Walking Taft Highway
Sherry Chandler
Paris, KY

Second Place: Van Gogh in Auvers, 1890
Woods Nash
Knoxville, TN

Third Place: Too Beer Bottle Smashed to Stop the Momentum
Christian Lund
New York, NY

Finalists:

Every Breath a Prayer
Sally Bingham
Santa Fe, NM

Something There Is &
Making Tomatoes
Trish Lindsey Jaggers
Smiths Grove, KY

Bemesha Swing
Woods Nash
Knoxville, TN

Bending Over
Rudy Thomas
Columbia, KY

Homeward &
Lacrosse
Frederick Smock
Louisville, KY

Prayer for a Competitive Ballroom Dancer
Teneice Delgado
Toledo, OH

Terrazzo &
Small Hours
David Cazden
Lexington, KY

Enigma
Carolanne Conerly Griffin
Louisville, KY

Mad Girl in Recovery
Allison Joseph
Carbondale, IL

OK Life
Dena K. Skees
Prospect, KY

At Bird Creek
Kathy Knuckles Barbour
Madison, IN

Soft White Petals
John T. Bensing
Louisville, KY

The Fire Bringers
Pamela Steele
Pendleton, OR

Irreconcilable Differences
James H. Bowden
Louisville, KY

By the way, I’ve been meaning to mention for some time that I’m not the only person in this conversation to do a page makeover lately. Gin’s Place has a new look, too. Very neat, with “everything in its place,” but also more obviously dynamic than her old page was. I love reading her creative journal for lessons in how a real artist works. Gin is very generous to share her process and so many nice photos, too. Check in often. The front page changes.

Jim Tomlinson’s page has changed, too. But what you really need to do is check out the advance blurb for his book of short stories, Things Kept, Things Left Behind , winner of the 2006 Iowa Short Fiction Award and due out in the fall. Jim talks about the publication process in his journal, which you’ll find here.

By act of the legislature, falls on Robert PennWarren’s birthday. I’ll not do much to mark the day. I’ve been active enough lately and going to work might be prudent. But a tip of the hat to our most illustrious poet.

Dead Horse in Field

In the last, far field, half-buried
In barberry bushes red-fruited, the thoroughbred
Lies dead, left foreleg shattered below knee,
A .30-30 in heart. In distance,
I now see gorged crows rise ragged in wind. The day
After death I had gone for farewell, and the eyes
Were already gone—that
The beneficent work of crows. Eyes gone,
The two-year-old could, of course, more readily see
Down the track of pure and eternal darkness.

A week later I couldn’t get close. The sweet stink
Had begun. That damned wagon mudhole
Hidden by leaves as we galloped—I found it.
Spat on it. As a child would. Next day
The buzzards. How beautiful in air!—carving
The slow, concentric, downward pattern of vortex, wing-glint
On wing-glint. From the house,
Now with glasses, I see
The squabble and pushing, the waggle of wattle-red heads.

At evening I watch the buzzards, the crows,
Arise. They swing black in nature’s flow and perfection,
High in sad carmine of sunset. Forgiveness
Is not indicated. It is superfluous. They are
What they are.

How long before I go back to see
That intricate piece of
Modern sculpture, white now,
Assuming in stasis
New beauty! Then,
A year later, I’ll see
The green twine of vine, each leaf
Heart-shaped, soft as velvet, beginning
Its benediction.

It thinks it is God.

Can you think of some ground on which that may be gainsaid?

— Robert Penn Warren, New and Selected Poems 1923-1985 (Random House, 1985)