Dreaming in Iambic Pentameter

July 31, 2007

Poetry Update

Filed under: Poetry — Anna M Evans @ 7:03 pm

Today I received my contributor’s copies of the excellent local journal Exit 13, which has two of my poems and a plug for my chapbook Swimming. (Just a reminder: if you’d like to purchase a copy you can do so from Maverick Duck Press for the bargain price of $5.)

I also had a very nice email from former Barefoot Muse contributor David Landrum, the Editor of Lucid Rhythms, a new online journal which is due to appear at the end of August. He’s taking three of my formal pieces including the triolet “Criss Cross.”

Current Barefoot Muse featured poet T.S. Kerrigan is guest editing an upcoming issue of the Raintown Review and solicited some work from me. (I do like it when that happens–it’s so civilized compared to the slush pile free for all!) I sent him six poems and he replied very positively, so I hope to see at least two in his final selections.

Finally, there’s a short piece about my Carriage House Poetry Reading from June, currently available online here.

Of course, none of this is exactly breaking new ground for me in terms of the prestigious mainstream literary journals, but it’s better than a slap in the face with a wet fish, as we say in Staffordshire.

July 29, 2007

Birthdays & Books

Filed under: Family Stuff, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun — Anna M Evans @ 5:06 pm

I turned 39 last Monday, although the main celebrations occurred the previous day–seven hours reading the new Harry Potter book and a family BBQ featuring our lovely neighbors the Gs, the Fs and the Ps!

Due to some poor (forgive the pun) family planning, my daughter Becky’s birthday arrives a scant five days after mine. So yesterday, for her tenth birthday celebration, I took her and four of her friends (two school, two gymnastics) to Six Flags Great Adventure for a day out. Now I like Amusement Parks, as this entry will attest. Being the responsible adult in charge of five excited ten year olds, however, is quite another matter. We managed okay, but one of the gymnasts hit her head quite badly on Rolling Thunder and we spent a jolly half an hour in First Aid. Although we were released eventually I continued to be concerned she might have sustained a concussion and we ended the day early, with me piggy-backing the exhausted child out of the park.

Needless to say she perked up when we got home and insisted on staying for the sleepover, for which we were joined by two more of Becky’s friends.

Demonstrating my enviable talent for shutting out screaming children I spent the evening reading another excellent book, Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro, (better known for the book/movie The Remains of the Day,) which Keba had given me for my birthday (along with the Complete Poems of Langston Hughes.)

I think the last time I read a book which moved me in a similar way to this beautifully written, understated yet frightening, barely science fiction novel, I was twelve and the novel was Brave New World. The social issues it brings into focus are highly relevant both from a moral standpoint, and from the perspective of anyone concerned that no group of humans should suffer prejudice because of their origins or circumstances. I recommend it highly.

Now the house is peaceful once more, with Keba and the children at the Simpsons Movie. My fortieth year. Time to think.

July 20, 2007

And Now for Something a Little Different…

Filed under: Poetry — Anna M Evans @ 10:31 am

I often feel that e-zine editors, myself included, don’t sufficiently exploit the advantages html publishing provides over traditional print media. A change of mindset is required, perhaps, and until we achieve it fully, e-zines will typically be perceived as the country cousins of print journals.

But today I’d like to bring your attention to a new site which IS utilizing the powers of web publishing in a fascinating and innovative way.

That site is Quick Muse, a poetry site run by Ken Gordon that has been online for a little over a year. The ethos is that well-known poets are invited to compose poems on the spot, on a chosen theme. Here’s the fun part: their composition process is recorded, and using the play back function, readers are able to observe the process of writing the poem as it occurred in real time.

One of this week’s poems is by Major Jackson. So, go to QuickMuse and/or click on Play Back the Piece to follow his methodology. The given poem subject was Kurt Cobain and whatever eco-friendly products he would have liked his music to be represented by!

 

July 18, 2007

Title Changed Due To Spam Attack

Filed under: Family Stuff, Poetry — Anna M Evans @ 10:26 am

I just drove Becky to Gymnastics. Regular readers of this blog will not see anything unusual in this, and yet there was something unusual.

Yesterday I popped back after running an errand to watch her train for an hour because I hardly ever see her do anything other than stretches and conditioning exercises. While I was there the head coach, an athletic East European called Miss Iulia, came out to see me. This in itself is intensely odd as most of the coaches run screaming when parents approach them.

Becky was doing really well, Miss Iulia said. In fact, there was a rather wide range of abilities in the Level 6s (this I knew) and Becky was very much at the top. Would it be possible for her to start coming on a Wednesday in addition and train with the Optional girls? (For those who don’t know, Levels 4,5 and 6 are known as the Compulsory levels because the routines are all set for them, while Levels 7, 8, 9 and 10 are Optional levels because they get to choreograph their own routines.)

I checked that Miss Iulia had asked Becky how she felt about this, (excited,) and then okayed it. The only thing that Becky was concerned about was her flute lesson, which I duly rescheduled.

This morning when we walked out to the car, the only sign that anything was different was that Becky got into the front passenger seat without asking if she could. (I struggle with enforcing that particular malum prohibitum, which isn’t even a law in most of Europe.) I guess she figured if she was old enough to train with the Optionals she was old enough to sit in the front seat.

She said nothing on the drive, but then, she rarely does. She hugged her knees and stared out the window. I had no idea what she was thinking. How does it feel to be singled out for something like that at age 9? My brave little soldier. The girl who astonished her kindergarten teacher by, on being told she had to see the principal on a discipline offence (almost unheard of in kindergarten,) simply squared her shoulders and headed off down the corridor to his office.

Her only sign of nervousness was right outside the gym. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to go,” she said. Mom’s job. I buttonholed a sweet looking girl who I knew to be an Optional Level.

“This is Becky,” I said. “She’s a Level 6, but Miss Iulia asked her to come in and train with you guys today. Please could you take her under your wing and show her what to do.” And they disappeared across the floor of the gym, Becky looking tiny beside the statuesque teenager.

I’ve just finished reading Savage Beauty, Nancy Milford’s biography of Edna St Vincent Millay. Millay was the poster girl for modern love between the wars. She had hundreds of lovers of both genders and an open marriage. She had two abortions before that marriage, and proclaimed she would never have children, as she couldn’t possibly spare the time away from her creative processes.

She was the first woman to win the Pulitzer Prize. She wrote some of the best sonnets of the twentieth century.

But she didn’t create anything half as amazing as the two human beings I helped create.

July 13, 2007

I Don’t Usually Do These But…

Filed under: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun — Anna M Evans @ 3:38 pm

I’ll make an exception for John, just this once.

The Rules: “Each person posts the rules before their list, then they list 8 things about themselves. At the end of the post, that person tags and links to 8 other people and then visits those peoples’ sites and comments letting them know that they have been tagged, and to come read the post, so they know what they have to do.”

  1. Continuing the tea theme, I have an impeccable relationship with tea. Not only do I drink around 5 cups a day of the stuff, without sugar (never taken it), but also my husband is Vice President Sales & Marketing for Twinings USA. Anyone fancy a cuppa?
  2. I can walk on my knees in the Lotus position. I guess Becky-the-gymnast does owe some of her flexibility to me after all.
  3. Both times I was pregnant my linea nigra eventually got right up to my breastbone. Both babies were girls.
  4. I’ve been fired twice. The first time was from the waitressing job I had at 17, officially for allowing champagne to freeze (but actually because I was having an affair with the Head Chef.) The second time was constructive dismissal and I walked out.
  5. I learned how to sign the deaf and dumb alphabet in Brownie Guides and I’ve never forgotten it. Of course, since the European one is different to the US one it’s not much use to me over here.
  6. I’m currently simultaneously reading Savage Beauty (Nancy Milford’s biography of Edna St Vincent Millay) alongside her Selected Poems (which I had to buy a new copy of recently.) I’m also reading Dante’s Purgatorio (the W.S. Merwin translation.) However, on July 21st I will be dropping everything to read the new Harry Potter.
  7. Despite the fact that I have had three different family names (Gray, Hagen and Evans) my signatures under all three are indistinguishable.
  8. Whenever I worry that I am becoming too Americanized I console myself with the fact that I have not yet attended a Baseball game. Or an American Football game. Or a Basketball game. Or an Ice Hockey game. (And yes, I went to cricket and football matches in the UK, but that was in another country, and besides, the wench is dead.)

OK. Clearly I need to tag Rachel, Don, Kendall, Andrea, Bruce, Jaime (you know why), Fee (checking you’re still out there, young lady) and, hmm, why not, Keba.

July 10, 2007

Good News!

Filed under: Family Stuff, Poetry — Anna M Evans @ 5:13 pm

My mother-in-law is on her way to the airport as we speak. I do love her, but she is hard to take in doses of, hmm, more than 24 hours? I hope that a really nice Kosovan sits next to her on the plane…

I should also note that the nice people at DMQ Review saw fit to feature my poem “The Lap Swimmer” in their “From the Archives” slot, so do visit there and read the current issue.

And I got a rejection from Poetry! Why is this good news? Well, a) because I expected it and b) because I still have time to send them another submission during this period when they are only reading work from poets they haven’t previously published. And since the last submission I have written a poem I really like. Yes, I have an aggressive submissions policy. It goes like this: if a journal ever sends you more than a form rejection, submit again as soon as practical unless told otherwise, and if there is a journal you really want to appear in submit as often as practical until you do (again, unless their guidelines expressly forbid such.) At the bigger journals it’s unlikely your second submission will even be read by the same screener as your first one.

OK I’ll get off my soapbox now. It’s time to walk around my house and luxuriate in the silence.

July 8, 2007

Ignorance Is No Excuse

Filed under: Citizens at last!, Family Stuff — Anna M Evans @ 9:17 pm

I just read RB’s excellent blog entry on anger and prejudice, and I wanted to add something of my own recent experience.

My mother-in-law is staying here at the moment. Now, she is a woman of many virtues and has not exactly led a life of privilege–she left school at 14 to work in the cotton mills. She is also one of the most prejudiced people I know, although I imagine she never means to be. She has a genius for saying offensive things unthinkingly–she calls Rachel and her girlfriend Donna “that way.” (You really have to hear it in the Yorkshire accent to get the full effect.) Earlier this week, when we were driving through Burlington she said “Ah say, Anna, this must be where the colored people live. I’ve seen no white people here.” I was silent for a few moments. Was this the time to remonstrate with her about using that particular word? Should I attempt to reform her world view (she’s 76)? In the end I settled for saying mildly that one of my good poet friends lived just up the street from where we were.

But I’m used to Mary’s verbal diarrhoea. She’s old and tactless. She has the capacity to offend everyone. What I didn’t know until yesterday is that she actually practices what she preaches.

Keba and I went out for the evening last night leaving her babysitting (See, I told you she had virtues.) I don’t know quite how we got onto the subject, but it turns out that Mary vets the clientele of the motel she owns in Barnsley, South Yorkshire on racial grounds. To be specific, a large number of Kosovan refugees have been resettled in Barnsley by the UK government, and Mary refuses to let them stay in the motel. Whenever she’s asked she says all the rooms are full.

Oh I remember now how we got onto the subject: I was telling Keba about the woman at the fancy neighborhood party who refused to help a Hispanic client process his insurance claim because he didn’t speak English. It made me feel a little sick.

And sick is how I felt knowing that my own mother-in-law doesn’t just condone bigotry, but practises it. Not that there’s a sign in the window of the Keel Inn that says “No Kosovans” but that’s the effect. And whenever there are signs, whether they say No Irish, No Jews, No Hispanics or No Whatevers, there’s likely to be worse happening somewhere underground.

“She’s old; she’s uneducated” is how Keba defended his mother. “She’s never met people from other countries or ethnic origins.” It’s true. Barnsley must be one of the least racially diverse places in the world.

But it isn’t an excuse. Ignorance never is.

July 5, 2007

Divorce, Disenfranchisement and Deservingness

Filed under: Poetry — Anna M Evans @ 1:35 pm

I’m getting some grief here for not updating my blog frequently enough, so I thought I would work through some ideas I’ve been considering lately on the above topic, and how, of course, it relates to my life in poetry.

It’s a topic that barges its way to the surface of my consciousness at around this time every summer, to be honest. Once the glow of the Bennington residency has receded I am, as usual, left with the unappealing prospect of spending the next five weeks with a potential minimum amount of free time of six hours a week.

Given that during these six hours I also need to work out twice (or give up on that entirely for the summer) and do the grocery shopping (or cart at least one unwilling child around Shop Rite on a different day) you begin to see that my poetry time is severely limited.

Not for the first time, the notion that it would be preferable to be divorced begins to cross my mind. My Bennington mentor writes me that her son is spending the summer with his father and she is leaving for Yaddo. Some of my divorced friends get entire weekends free (Heaven!), while others lose their little encumbrances for at least a few nights a week.

Of course I love my husband, and my stable nuclear family unit. But, there is a further downside to my happy family bliss. As Alice Notley puts it in her poem “The Prophet”: ”there is no place in America for heterosexual poets with children.”

The truth is that the establishment is so eager to enfranchise those who have been historically deprived of recognition, that they have disenfranchised completely (it seems at times) that long suffering species of which I am a member, the married stay-at-home mom.

Now I am the first one to agree that those who have been mistreated by history deserve reparations: the alternatively sexed, people of color, people of unfashionable religions. All these deserve our respect and whatever treatment we deem necessary to reverse inequalities.

But hang on, if the married mom is the one who gets no time to write, for whom there are no exclusive opportunities (The Martha Stewart First Book Prize, the Bread Loaf scholarship for a woman with two elementary school age children?) and who can hang her poetry on no cultural hook with any credibility, isn’t the married mom being treated unequally? Doesn’t she deserve reparations? Don’t I?

Okay. I’m done whining. Now I need to take Becky to gymnastics, then escort my mother in law around the mall for two hours before collecting Lorna from her playdate at 5. This is probably the most writing I’ll get done today.

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