With but an hour left before poetry month completely passes me by (with the whirring noise of work and presentations), I thought I would do one small thing to commemorate it. That small thing is to share with you a poem I once wrote.*

Ahem.

Meditation on our existence upon this spinning blue marble called Earth

Gummi bear
On the floor,
All alone.
It was red.

*I have written more than one poem since exiting that particular phase of teenagerdom. I am not proud of this fact. I am proud of the fact that every poem since then has been funny.

I have missed nearly half of National Poetry Month. This would be a perfect time to ramp up the posts about Poetry That Doesn't Suck, but at this particular moment I have been distracted by no fewer than a dozen other things. To celebrate poetry I point you to the past which you can browse here. Some of these poems will likely be featured in future PTDS instalments! It's like a sneak peek.

This has been an intense semester, and every week I think that life will let up a little next week. It never does. I don't mind, except it means that some things fall through the cracks, like the this blog and things I want to do with it. I won't say that in a few weeks life will let up a little, becuause simply by saying that I would guarantee that the opposite will happen. In the mean time, I will leave you with three facts:

1. I work at Borders and it is enjoyable.
2. I am not sure if I love the new Peter Bjorn & John, but I definitely like it. (On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I love the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs.)
3. I am flying into Waco on My 14th and out again the 19th, and if you are there when I am, I almost definitely want to see you. (It being graduation weekend was a bit of an accident.)

Welcome to another edition of "Poetry that doesn't suck." In this installment, we are focusing on a fruit whose season has recently ended, but whose juice can be enjoyed at any time of the year. I hope you are ready for this.

“Pomegranate” by D. H. Lawrence does not suck for several reasons, not the least of which is its colorful references to things like ancient Venice, royalty, and broken hearts. And anyone who can use “integument” sensibly while talking about how beautiful a broken heart can be deserves a second look.

As a member of that elite group known as “Masters of both prose and poetry,” Lawrence cannot rightly be ignored, even if you think he’s naught but that so-called dirty mind behind Lady Chatterly’s Lover.

I admit, the first reason I bothered paying attention to this poem was its apparent subject matter, because pomegranates are wonderful, tough outside with a hidden trove of jewels. Delicious jewels. If you do not like pomegranates, this poem may be less effective for you.

Pomegranate
D. H. Lawrence

You tell me I am wrong.
Who are you, who is anybody, to tell me I am wrong?
I am not wrong.

( ...if you dare, the fissure! )

--
*This is where things get confusing. I think the book this poem comes from just falls into the public domain, as best I can tell, so I have no qualms about posting the poem here. If I'm wrong, I'm willing to be corrected and fix this post-haste. Etc etc disclaimer disclaimer.

Oh goodness. It's been a while, hasn't it? And here I'd promised you D. H. Lawrence. Well, in the time since I threw that story into the ether and made that promise, life has intervened. I have (1) started a bookstore job, (2) been reminded that it's internship season, and (3) had more to do over spring break than I expected. So D. H. Lawrence will make an appearance by the end of the week.

Not the actual Lawrence. That would involve necromancy, and I don't have time for that.

Anyway, shiny happy people, I have a proposition for you. It's another Facebook meme, only it's one that I'll actually bother to do, because it's neat:

The first five (5) people to respond to this post will get something made by me. You can comment here then send your mailing address in a private message if you must.

Coming soon to a theatre near you: Why a certain D.H. Lawrence poem does not suck. I'm sure you can't wait!

But you'll have to. In the mean time, if you have a few moments I have a small story for you. It might give you a chill. If you desire a bit of a shiver down your spine, I suspect that reading this with the lights low and a nice cold wind rattling branches outside your windows will help with that effect. If you meditate on the accompanying photograph, that will likely aid as well.



This is only available as a free (hooray!) download so I kind of wish Lulu had a "Get it now" button instead of a "Buy it now" button I could use. Oh well!

Get it now!

Once again, you can go to my Lulu storefront. Remind me some other time to talk about how I feel about the term "Lulu storefront." And the photograph is courtesy of Frank Slack.

Every time I think I've found a sane statement about eBooks from the publishing world, I come to find I was mistaken.

Oh, Robert Mize in today's Shelf Awareness, you started out so strong. You're absolutely right to say that the comparison of eBooks to mp3s is a weak one! Books aren't like music. How clever, how wise! And the reasons you outline as to why certain people like eBooks*, why, that's within earshot of accurate!

But like the clever kid who suddenly reverts to his true age, thinking only within his specific knowledge of the world as though nothing could be outside his realm of experience, Mize, you take a bad turn**.

Let me tear this apart in a brief and ordered fashion:

"At music stores, you went to get what you had already heard or your favorite artist's newest album. At bookstores, you go to see what is available by both your favorite writers and other writers whom you have never heard of and to see books of local interest. A well-informed staff is of little use in a music store and rarely available at corporate chains. The well-informed staff is the greatest competitive advantage that independent bookstores have."

1. People who love music do not, in my experience go to a music store to get only what they already know. Like you in a bookstore, we music lovers seek out music which is familiar, new, and local, all at once.

2. As to the "well-informed staff" that you feel is so important to bookstores and so lacking in music stores, my god man! Have you never seen High Fidelity? That's not (entirely) a fantasy, you know. That exists.

3. Of little use? Of little use?! Bah, I cannot teach such a fool.

--

*Commuters, jetsetters, heavy readers, those with medical issues, techno-junkies, and for textbooks. I fall into three of these categories yet I'm not sure I want a Kindle/Sony Reader.

**And that's sidestepping the fact that you pull out that old gem of a logical fallacy, "Readers love curling up with a book! You can't take it to the beach or into the bath!" Yeah, 'cause no one takes technology to the beach, and tons of people still take baths.

There are specific reasons why certain poems do not suck. However, it can be difficult (unless you are an expert on the subject or pretending to be) to identify these, as they often change depending on the poem.

This assertion makes sense.

“Locking Yourself Out, Then Trying To Get Back In” by Raymond Carver does not suck. Being in the second person, rather than sounding whiny or accusative as is often the case in these matters, makes it familiar. The poem seems to be a story related to you by a friend. “You know how it is,” the poem says. “You simply go out and shut the door / without thinking.”

“Oh sure. Been there,” you say.

When the poem’s speaker looks in at his room and talks to inanimate objects, it is charming. (Because everyone speaks to inanimate objects whether one admits to it or not. Familiarity!) But most of all, there's a dry description of the scene and of the speaker’s efforts to re-enter, mixed with sudden insights into the speaker’s thoughts, which pushes the poem beyond not sucking to being quite good. In fact, the complete normal every-day-ness of the descriptions is what make the poem stick with you. Several simple lines stand out in the poem as if they were bolded. "This is not like downstairs, I thought."

In a few days these lines will come back at a different angle and you will see that hidden behind the phrases that seemed so familiar is an entire other level, and perhaps another behind that one. Though in high school we all hated trying to find the symbolism behind the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg, nowadays we can all appreciate a good bit of nuance, particularly if no one is grading us on how quickly we figure it out.

Luckily, even with the multiple levels in this poem, Carver is not a poet for the pretentious, which means he and I are quite a good fit.

If you go here, you can not only read but also listen to the poem.

Excerpt:

You simply go out and shut the door
without thinking. And when you look back
at what you’ve done
it’s too late. If this sounds
like the story of a life, okay.

This meme has finally reached the right people, and Friday alone I was tagged three times.

Stupid Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged*. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

*See #18. I'm only tagging those who tagged me

25 things!

1. I am, and have always been, a city girl. For a while I lacked a city, though.
2. I do not have a driver's license.
3. Until about 6th grade, I did not listen to anything but oldies/classic rock and Christian music.
4. I want to go back to Spain, please.
5. I used to hate politics, because it made me angry and depressed and cynical. None of this is true now, except sometimes I still get angry about politics. I think that's healthy.
6. I name most significant objects in my life, usually after someone.
7. My new phone doesn't have a name. I thought about naming it Anderson. Guess why.
8. I love food more than most people might realize.
9. I have a random bump by my left ear that is completely baffling. It's been there all my life.
10. I enjoy making lists as a way to express myself, especially with subsets.
11. Recently I understood why someone might not go away for college, but instead go somewhere most of their friends went, because now I'm here in a great city but my best friends are scattered across the country.
12. I used to want to be an artist. Then I realized a word processor is cheaper than art supplies. (Sentence #2: Not the actual reason, though it is true.)
13. I tried to teach myself French one summer. It lasted three weeks. I'll try again.
14. I don't think I care if I ever get published or make money as a writer, so long as someone's reading it.
15. My family is pretty much the best one could ask for.
16. I want my own darkroom. I love the smell and the time I spend in them.
17. For the past year, I've enjoyed reading nonfiction far more than most fiction. I'm sorry, fiction. I'll come back someday.
18. I'm naturally contrary.
19. I really never expected to get accepted into Emerson.
20. People don't believe me when I tell them I verge on being a hermit, but I really do. I have no problem with (and in fact sometimes arrange things so that I have) a day where I see and speak to almost no one.
21. But I really like people.
22. I have never broken a bone or had to get stitches, am rarely sick, and am only allergic to penicillin-based medicines (theoretically, as I haven't had reason to take much medicine since kindergarten).
23. I have no idea what the next ten years might hold for me, but I'm pretty stoked about it.
24. Even if I don't fully believe them, it completely makes my day when someone says something nice to me.
25. I just got a package! I love mail.

I meant to post this some time ago, but I have been distracted by, appropriately enough, money matters. Which I won't go into, because you don't care.

So I have this short story that's been languishing on my hard drive. I finished it after some time, and even had a friend who is smarter than I am edit it. I could, of course, send it off to some magazines or a literary journal. I could even send it to the journal I'm technically working for. But being keenly interested in What Technology Can Do For You, I thought I'd do something else. Plus, this is more immediate and interactive. And fun!

I've thrown the story into a pdf, added a cover, and put it on Lulu. What's Lulu? It's where you can self-publish. I've always been skeptical for various reasons, but there's no reason not to have a little fun.



"Sing heav'nly muse" is not nearly as pretentious as it sounds. This is a story about Jake, who thinks he knows more than he does; Eve, who thinks the world is slightly worse than it is; and Jane, who is pretty normal despite all her protestations.

You can get this story as a hard copy for $6. It gives me $0.94 and gives you something pretty and entertaining. I thought about setting it slightly higher, but I then discovered that Lulu adds shipping costs.

Or you can get it as a free download. And if you like it, you can still get the hard copy for $6 after that.

In any case:


EDIT: Now in Kindle format!

Your turn. Tell me, what do you think? (Of the story, of the idea of Lulu, of the weather...)

Note: Feel free to spread this around if you so desire.

Why bother pointing out poetry that doesn't suck? you ask. Can't people do that themselves? Who are you to say this poem doesn't suck, and what if someone disagrees with you?

Well, imaginary reader, I am a former English major. Along with the superpowers, fame, and wealth that this brings, it means I've had to read a lot of poetry, amateur and professional. In the long run, this may mean nothing, but for now it means that I have opinions, including the belief that 90% of all writing is terrible. Possibly more! I haven't read all of the blogs on the web yet, so I can't be sure.

As to your second point, well, yes. They could. But people are lazy, myself included. I wager that most people stopped reading poetry long before they finished their last literature class. Surely it is a public service to point out the poems that are worth reading? Perhaps a few more people will come to have a favorite poem that didn't come from a chain email or Hallmark card. It is too much to hope that people will stop e-mailing each other cliches or moralizing rubbish disguised as free verse, I know, but I have my optimistic moments.

And finally, what do I care? Disagree all you like. I like a good disagreement once in a while.

That said:

The most obvious reason the poems that I plan to feature do not suck is that they were written by good writers. This is to say that the writers are not self-obsessed whiners who just got dumped and need to express their pain. There is nothing wrong with expressing extreme emotions, but as a general rule one should not do so for public consumption, particularly in any sort of verse, or without running a good spell-checker.

To be fair, some of the good poets may well be whiners, and all of them are likely self-obsessed (as is the nature of the scribus poeticus in its native habitat) but rather than harp on about this in verse form, they allow the importance of the words themselves to supersede the need for the poet to be the center of attention.

The inability to do this is why most poets remain amateurs.

Please stay tuned for our first poem, after a short commercial break. As an enticing preview, I will let slip that the writer will either be Raymond Carver or D. H. Lawrence.