The Tongue is an Eye

Verse Daily

2010-03-25T09:38:00.002-04:00

So I just found out that my poem, "How to Say I Love You," from the newest issue of Quarterly West, is featured today (March 25th) on Verse Daily. WooHoo!

"How to Say I Love You" is a poem from American Amen. This is my first appearance on Verse Daily, and it's a total honor. I read it every day. Awesome.

I am motley

2010-03-22T22:52:00.002-04:00

An excerpt from an excellent post on Josiah Bancroft's blog. I love this conversation:

"It’s expected that a book of poems now will have a clear theme, a narrative arc, a formal consistency, a unified voice. Formula and genre are popular, supposedly, because they infer a readership, but ostensibly the “concept” collection comes with its toe-tag already filled out.

The Variety Hour poetry collection, that motley collection of big personalities and small oddities, is increasingly rare, and its disappearance (or growing irrelevance) has profoundly changed the way poetry is written. When a poet sets out to write to a theme, or genre, or voice, or arch, the concept becomes the product; the poet is writing to a hole in a project and not writing to answer a yawp or heartbeat. Repetitious and incomplete poems, dependent and self-referential poems abound within the smug covers of the concept collection. I have often heard poets write or say that their work has to be experienced in toto, that their individual poems can’t stand alone. I can’t imagine a more feeble position; they are essentially saying, “I must be studied and plumbed to be enjoyed or understood.” Such poems are, in effect, entries rather than entities.

I often argue for poetry for the people, and so I cannot say with any resolve that coherence is inferior to variety, or that universality is better than genre. But our insistence that we produce and present our work in neat categories forestalls a lot of creative influence and experimentation. I want to have faith in my voice and ideas, not in a genre, not in a “project.”"

I would love to continue the conversation here...any takers?

Collaboration!

2010-03-22T15:44:00.002-04:00

I urge all of you to go check out Traci Brimhall's new blog dedicated to the art of collaboration: WE ARE HOMER.

The first interview features Neil de la Flor and Maureen Seaton. Some great stuff...and plenty more to come.

Congrats on the new adventure, Traci!

For Once, Then, Something

2010-03-17T13:32:00.002-04:00

Others taunt me with having knelt at well-curbs
Always wrong to the light, so never seeing
Deeper down in the well than where the water
Gives me back in a shining surface picture
My myself in the summer heaven, godlike
Looking out of a wreath of fern and cloud puffs.
Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb,
I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture,
Through the picture, a something white, uncertain,
Something more of the depths-and then I lost it.
Water came to rebuke the too clear water.
One drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple
Shook whatever it was lay there at bottom,
Blurred it, blotted it out. What was that whiteness?
Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something.

-- Robert Frost

OMG, like, totally!

2010-03-02T22:43:00.003-05:00

Okay, okay, so I've slipped a bit here. I was doing so well, damn it! I'm studying for comps and am therefore being lazy with the blog. Still, that's no excuse. Here's something I'm interested by:

A Wordle of my manuscript in progress. Hmmm. I never realized I was utilizing the simile so often.

Goin' shoppin'

2010-02-18T20:47:00.002-05:00

A Western Michigan University graduate student has been awarded the 2009 Orphic Prize for Poetry, through a poetry contest held by Dream Horse Press.

Gary McDowell, a Kalamazoo resident, is receiving a $1,000 cash prize for his success—as well as the publication of his first full-length poetry collection, American Amen, which the independent publishing company will release late this year.

~

The above is an excerpt from an article written by Johnathan Kleyer for the Kalamazoo Shopper. I'm very grateful to have been interviewd by Mr. Kleyer and to have been featured in this week's edition of the paper. Thanks, Johnathan!

~

I'm very happy to have found this journal: Ekphrasis: A Poetry Journal. It's right up my alley. I'm excited to order a copy and possibly submit some work.

~

I've been thinking about whom I'll ask to blurb American Amen. I have my top two, but numbers three (and four, if I ask that many) I'm still unsure about. But I have time. The book's not even in the proofing stage yet...once it is, then I'll be able to send the PDF to my potential blurbers. I must say, asking to receive blurbs is a bit intimidating, but also very exciting!

How has this process been for you? Exciting? Terrifying? And how did you pick who you'd ask? Former teachers? Pipe-dream favorite poets? I'm very curious to hear any and all stories relating to blurb(ers)(ing), especially your initial thoughts upon reading what your blurbers wrote about your work! How amazing that must be?!

~

If you haven't been over to Cooper Dillon's website lately, go check it out. A lot of info over there now. They are really kicking ass. So proud of them!

How to praise praise

2010-02-15T13:23:00.003-05:00

I found, while Googleing during my short lunch break today, a very interesting (and timely, for me anyway) article on Slate by Ron Rosenbaum re: blurbing:

I believe I've discovered a previously unrecognized genre of contemporary writing that deserves commendation for its distinctiveness and frequent excellence. It's practiced mainly by contemporary poets, but it's not poetry. In fact—at least for me—it's much better than most contemporary poetry, in the sense that it's much more readable, much better crafted, and often beautifully compressed in a dazzling haikulike way.

It's something that gives people like me who don't find themselves drawn to much contemporary poetry a sense of the verbal facility of contemporary poets—and contemporary poetry critics—when they're writing prose about contemporary poetry.

Though I'm still a bit away from having proofs to correct and send to potential blurbers, I couldn't help but be interested in this little article. A lot of my friends who are themselves incredible poets and dedicated contemporary poetry readers say that they don't buy books based on a blurb, but I'll confess to having bought many books of poetry by poets I had no previous knowledge of based on a blurb by a poet I trust, know, or am familiar with. Who knows. An interesting topic nonetheless, I suppose.

Cacciatore

2010-02-15T10:09:00.002-05:00

So I'd hoped to make a delicious dinner for my valentine yesterday, but instead she was craving a good burger, so we did take-out, which means that tonight I get to cook dinner. I'm going to make this Chicken Cacciatore recipe. I hope it's as good as it sounds.

~

Very sad to hear of the passing of Lucille Clifton. I've read only, I must admit, her anthologized work, but I will be visiting the rest of her poems soon.

~

Today I'm prepping to teach Alison Stine's Ohio Violence to my advanced poetry writing students tomorrow. I'm psyched to teach this book. I've championed it since it came out, and I hope to continue to do so. I highly recommend it. Go read it!

~

I'm also trying to finish a sequence of poems I've been working on since summer.... It's only four poems long, but each poem is 2-3 pages of long-lined craziness, so it's been a lot of writing. I'm excited to see them side by side by side by side.

~

I don't think I've shared this with you: Ancora Imparo. It's a great new e-journal run by my favorite person/poet Amy Newman.

~

I'm excited to announce that I'll be reading on April 8, 2010 at 7:00pm in Denver, CO (during the AWP Conference) as part of the BLOOF BOOKS/COOPER DILLON/NOEMI PRESS party. Check it out and come by to say hello and see some great poets!

TRMPFGTPP: CPIDAP

2010-02-13T16:57:00.002-05:00

It's kinda small (I'll get a bigger version from the publisher ASAP), but this is the cover of The Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Prose Poetry: Contemporary Poets in Discussion and Practice (Rose Metal Press, 2010) which I co-edited with F. Daniel Rzicznek. The book'll be out in time for AWP in Denver, April 7-10, 2010. Pick up your copy there (or order online...I'll provide a link when the time comes), and stop by Rose Metal's table at the bookfair to meet the publishers and editors...and maybe even the contributors!

the third book woes?

2010-02-13T13:25:00.010-05:00

My good friend (and excellent, exciting, enticing poet) Keith Montesano (whose beautiful first collection, Ghost Lights is forthcoming later this year from Dream Horse Press...yeah, buddy, we're press-mates!) and I were chatting on the phone one night earlier this week when the conversation turned to the writing of new material once a manuscript has either a) found a home or b) been completed and put in the mail to find a home. The conversation centered less around publication--this point I'm not really concerned about publishing a manuscript since I don't even have one to send around and won't for a long while--and more around how and when to start a new project, a new manuscript, a new thing.

Because it's the only way I know how to talk about this topic, I'd like to look at it from my point-of-view...I'd love to be able to speak about folks with numerous books or at least a couple books, but since I'm not privy to the inner-workings of those poets' mindframes and creative impulses (though some interviews on the topic might be interesting...hmmm, that might fit into the scope of an anthology idea I've had for a little while now), all I've got is my own thoughts.

When I reworked, reordered, and rewrote parts of American Amen last fall, I knew that the manuscript was done, and that I wouldn't touch it again until it found a home...if it found a home. There was nothing I could do to it without deconstructing it, making it into something different. Basically, if I tweaked it too much, it'd turn into a different book, it'd no longer be American Amen. The poems I was writing this fall (and continue to write this winter) and even some that I wrote last spring and summer simply didn't fit tonally, contextually, metaphorically, or any other discernible way with the poems of American Amen. I was writing a second manuscript, though I didn't necessarily know it. I was aware that I was writing new poems that pushed beyond the concerns of A.A. both thematically and tonally, but I hadn't yet ruled out that the poems might fit in A.A. until this fall when I read through the book and couldn't find any holes fillable with the new poems. Did that mean the manuscript was done? Did it mean the manuscript was faulty because I couldn't replace the 2 or 3 poems I felt might be weakest? Were those poems really weak or were they just different than the stuff I was immediately concerned with and writing at the time? Or was I just being too overly concerned about the minutiae of the manuscript?

Well, it turns out that by the time I had finalized the first manuscript (which with first books, in my experience anyway, usually consists of weeding out all the poems written during the first 10+ years of writing poetry that fit together in some way or another and then organizing them organically as possible...in essence, the first book is sometimes a "greatest hits" collection of the poet's apprenticeship), I was already 30+ pages into a new project, a new manuscript concerned with different themes, different ideas, different voices.

The process of moving from the first book to the second book had happened organically because as I was finalizing the manuscript that would come to be American Amen, I was continuing to write poems just to write poems. The formation of the second manuscript happened by process of elimination as much as anything else: the new poems that didn't fit with A.A. went into a folder labeled "Other Poems" and over the months started to ruminate, copulate, congregate together into something new.

Because the poems that made up A.A. were written over a long period of time, I had accumulated enough poems outside the scope of that manuscript to have some ideas regarding a second manuscript, which now is becoming something quite solid. I know its ideas, its themes, its voice, its recurring images, etc, and I am now writing toward those concerns whereas with A.A. I was just writing poems for the first few years of its construction, not thinking about a manuscript, not thinking about anything other than the individual poem.

With the second book, I have a very clear structure, a very clear book-length idea of what I'm doing. So, like I said just earlier, I am writing toward something, am writing only poems that feed into that manuscript. It's not that I'm blocking out other poems that might not fit with the second manuscript, because I'm not, but because I'm focused, because I have so little time to write new poems, and because I know what I'm trying to do with the poems I'm writing, I'm not filling another "Other Poems" folder. In fact, that folder is completely empty right now, and that's what brings me to my question, my concern, my point (and damn did it take me a long fucking time to get here):

Has anyone else gone through this experience? An experience where the first book gathers over time and then the second book sort of accumulates over time, sort of comes off the back-ended, cut, different-voiced poems written during the last months of putting together the first book? My main worry (though I must admit I'm not actually worrying about it...yet) is that I'll keep writing the poems for manuscript #2, finish it down the road, and then be left with no "Other Poems" folder, no new project already in the works, no idea what the fuck to do next? How does the third book come about? How does one move on?

And again, I don't care about the publication of the second book or anything (though of course I will be sending it out when it's done); and maybe once I do send it out I'll automatically be thrown into a new subject matter, a new voice, a new project, but since I won't be sending the book out until I know it's done (like I did with American Amen this fall...I sent the damn thing out, in one form or another, for a long time before it was probably ready), I won't have the luxury of having a pile of poems to play with. Or maybe I will?

Okay, that's enough ruminating. This is WAY too long. Probably alienating you all right now! Thanks for indulging me!

She was attacked by an owl?!

2010-02-13T13:10:00.003-05:00

I'm happy to have restarted things here at The Tongue is an Eye, and if you're stopping by to read, drop me a comment! It doesn't have to be anything significant or even pertinent, but I'd just love to know there's some of you out there stopping by now and again. And thanks for your time!

~

This is terribly sad: A Harvard-trained biology professor is facing murder charges in the shooting deaths of three faculty members at the University of Alabama in Huntsville, police said early Saturday.

Sincerest thoughts and prayers go out to the families and friends of the victims. Who knows why the professor acted as she did, but I hope that the university is able to counsel the other faculty members and students so tragically affected by this awful situation.

~

A beautiful and stunningly sincere essay by Jennifer K. Sweeney has been posted over at Poetry International's blog:

The barred owls nested in tree holes lined with feathers or grass along the path I followed each evening to eat dinner, my head spinning the day’s new fragments around, slowly reawakening my senses in the cold snap of air. It was such a night when I was struck upside the head and brought down to the forest floor. Disoriented and dazed, I assumed fallen branch only to look up from my knees and see a female barred owl flying off, her three-and-a-half-foot wingspan sweeping slowly and silently through the alders. I found out later that barred owls have fenestrated wings which make no sound, and I can attest that this is so.

~

I've never read Barbara Guest (aside from a few poems here and there), but thanks to Brian Teare's gorgeous write-up of her Collected Poems in a recent issue of Boston Review, I'm ready to dive right in!

Without The Collected Poems, we could not have known for sure that the tremendous change animating her work emerged amid bedrock constancy. All along, her poems have been most faithful to the moment mimetic and linear logics give way to association; her poems have courted the moment when writing through process gains true access to imagination.

~

More later.

Levis

2010-02-10T13:36:00.003-05:00

My friend and great poet Alexander Long just sent me a message to check out his new essay on Larry Levis over at The Offending Adam, a new online journal.

Check out an excerpt:

"I have this black-and-white photograph of Larry Levis. It’s nothing special; it’s not mine. It’s on the dust jacket of his last—posthumous—book, Elegy. But there is something authentic to it, something lacking occasion, extravagance, pose, artifice…. He’s wearing a dark blazer, and a light striped oxford shirt. He’s sitting, I think. There’s a certain pensiveness to the way his shoulders slump, the way his whole person seems to lean or bend with interest in—or is it fatigue with?—whatever he’s thinking, whatever’s being said to him or by him at that moment. Interest or fatigue? I can’t tell. Either way, there’s a melancholic current running through his meditative, mediating gaze."

~

In other news, there's an offsite (of AWP) reading on Thursday, April 8th, in Denver. I may or may not be on the ticket. Still working out details.

~

Got a few books yesterday:

Mathias Svalina's Destruction Myth

Jehanne Dubrow's From the Fever-World

Michael Meyerhofer's Blue Collar Eulogies

~

Workshop tonight. On the ticket: Linda Gregg's Too Bright to See and poems from classmates.

Cover designs, et al

2010-02-08T10:33:00.006-05:00

I'm in my office on campus, my dog's in my lap (M and A are having a playdate at our apartment this morning, and the dog's just too much of a pain to handle with all those people, so she's with me this morning), I'm annotating student poems and writing about Linda Gregg and reading a bit of Deborah Bogen's new book, Let Me Open You a Swan, from Elixir Press, but I can't stop thinking about cover design, cover art, etc. Perhaps it's because I find Bogen's cover to be particularly beautiful--I like the way the text and art combine to create the book's look.

The cover matters. To me, anyway. It's not that I won't/haven't read/read a book with a lame cover design, because I have and I will continue to do so, but there's something about holding an entire piece of art in your hands that rings true to me. If the poems inside strike me and move me, then it matters little what the book looks like, but I'm certainly more likely to display the book in my home, or leave it on my desk for long periods of time, or tell someone about the book for another reason than that the poems are wonderful IF the book's design is catchy.

For example, F. Daniel Rzicznek, my good friend and co-editor, is a fantastic poet, and I recommend his work to people all the time, but his second book, Divination Machine, from Parlor Press not only makes a great read, it also possesses some of my favorite cover design elements. Such as,

1) It makes sense. The cover addresses artistically, visually, some of the ideas/themes/images presented in the poems. Duh!? But so often that isn't the case. Of course, in the instance of a collection that's exactly that, a collection of random poems, the "sensical" cover design/art might not be as easy to produce. Still, most books have a set of common images or common themes or obsessions that could lend themselves to some sort of design concept, no?

2) It's bright, and it's not too busy. Nothing worse than a dark cover (at least when there's no contrasting brightness to make it "pop," to use a term I've heard thrown around in design circles...though clearly I have no authority here, haha)...well, except a cover that's too busy, too bright. Divination Machine's cover is bright, poignant, and succinct, and it's never busy.

3) You can look at it a few times, get it, and move on to the poems. Sometimes a cover can be so overwhelmingly shocking (take the cover of Ted Genoways's Anna, Washing. Holy beautiful photo!) that it's hard for me to tear away from it long enough to enjoy the poems. Thank goodness I did in the instance of Genoways book, because that's a fantastic book, in my opinion, but I could easily have disliked that book a great deal and still kept it on my shelf due to its pure visual aesthetic beauty.

I'm sure there are more reasons to like/dislike cover design/art. It basically comes down, for me anyway, to whether or not the art and design make sense, whether or not the cover bursts with energy without detracting from its real purpose (to sheath the poems), and whether or not the cover can peacefully co-exist with the poems.

At any rate, I was such a huge fan of the cover of Divination Machine that I asked Dan if he'd put me in touch with his designer, Frank Cucciarre, the graphic mastermind behind titles from Cleveland State University Poetry Center and owner of Blink Concept & Design, Inc. So I wrote Frank an email, and he's agreed to design and produce the cover for American Amen. Bear, over at Dream Horse Press, was kind enough to extend me the opportunity to seek outside design for the cover, and I couldn't be happier with the situation. I mean, DHP makes some beautiful books, so it wasn't like I had to go outside, but I'm very grateful for the opportunity to work with Frank.

So just last week I sent Frank a synopsis of the book, of its themes, ideas, recurring images, obsessions, etc, and also an explanation of the title, and 10-12 pages of poems from the book so that he can start his sketches, etc. I look forward to this partnership, and I can't wait to see how it all turns out.

On another note, I am excited to be starting a new blog, just for American Amen. I've secured the space and will get it prepped, but I won't open it until much closer to release time...sometime in the fall, perhaps. I thought about getting a website, paying for hosting, etc, but at this point, I'm not quite ready. Maybe in the fall, I will. With the anthology, the book, the chapbook, the job search, finishing my degree...it might be a good idea. I'll ask around, see what's up, anyway.

Okay, back to grading.

A too funny clip from Mad TV...

2010-02-07T14:03:00.000-05:00

Some bits and others

2010-02-06T14:03:00.006-05:00

You can hear an interview with yours truly here, on WMUK, Western Michigan University's NPR station. I had a blast talking with Lorraine about American Amen, poetry in general, her perceptions of poetry, my obsessions, etc. She was the most gracious of hosts, and her condensing of our 30-minute talk into the tidy 3-minute spot above is quite wonderful. I really enjoyed the experience, and look forward to other such opportunities should they ever arise again.

Jonathan Kleyer, a wonderful, smart, and passionate reporter for The Kalamazoo Shopper, a local, county rag, is writing a piece on American Amen's recent success. When the write-up becomes available, I'll post some snippets here. Again, I am most gracious for his time and attention. Really it's the English Department here that helped me out the most. They sent a press-release out to the PR Department here at WMU, and that's how the radio station and The Kalamazoo Shopper found me. A sweet gesture on their part, surely. I'm grateful to them.

I've really been loving this long poem by Oliver de la Paz. I can't wait to get my hands on his new collection from Akron UP. Just read some of his newer poems in recent issues of The Southern Review (there's also a killer essay by Alex Lemon in that issue) and Sou'wester, too. Great stuff all around. Oliver is quickly becoming one of my favorite contemporary poets. And when I met him, however briefly, at AWP in Chicago last year, he was a super swell guy, too. I love when that happens. I'm hoping I'll get to say to him again in Denver this year, congratulate him on the new book, get his Hancock, etc.

Since I'm talking journals, I'll mention that I've got poems forthcoming, both from American Amen and from "the new thing," in The Laurel Review, H_NGM_N, Quarterly West, Indiana Review, Reed, Lumina, Parthenon West Review, Gargoyle, Cider Press Reivew, and maybe a couple others I'm blanking on.... Hmmmm? I had a decent little run in the late summer and early fall. Nothing lately on the journal front, but I don't care. Just happy to be writing a bit here and there, studying for comps, being with my family, and teaching. In more domestic news, we desperately need to get out of our current apartment (the dog hears too many noises through our thin walls and her barking wakes Auden from naps, or prevents him from taking them at all, and M is doing her best to deal with it, but it's just NOT working...it's just too damn stressful for everyone, I think). Just not sure how to deal with the moving right now. Too many things going on, not enough time, money, etc. But we'll see how things progress. Who knows. I keep telling M: find us a place, take care of details, and I'll lug the damn boxes. But damn, I HATE moving, ya know? Anything for my family's piece of mind though. God knows I've proven that over the years. ;) And so has M, for sure...more than me, actually.

Really been enjoying the latest issue of Patty Paine's diode. Consistently one of the best journals, print or web, out there. Lovely, lovely. Since I'm apparently focusing on journals a lot in this lil posting, please go check out my friend and mentor, Amy Newman's, new online journal, Ancora Imparo. It's flipping gorgeous, and it'll continue to be gorgeous. Happy reading...on all fronts!

Oh and before I go, Auden's getting so big. He's a miracle everyday. I just love spending time with him and Mandy. We're a fun little family, I think. We're trying at least. Things aren't perfect, but we get along day to day and have a good time being with each other. [See recent pic of Auden above!]

American Amen

2010-01-23T11:27:00.002-05:00

It is with great pleasure and great grattitude that I announce the impending publication of my first full-length collection, American Amen. The manuscript has won the 2009 Orphic Prize from Dream Horse Press and will be available in late 2010.

I know that the blog has turned into a bit of a bragging-post, but I want to take a moment to thank the readers, if there are any of you still lurking out there. All of you fellow poets have been hugely important to me over the last (almost) 5 years; reading your posts on prosody, journal acceptances, MFA and PhD applications, family and friend drama, po-biz, drinking games, blurbs, writing slumps, writing highs, and everything in-between has been wonderful. I might keep this blog going, but I'm also thinking of moving to another format, one I haven't yet exactly nailed down yet. Whatever happens to my insanely small corner of cyberspace, I guarantee that I won't be leaving as a reader even if I do leave as a writer. So thank you to all of you who have sent well-wishes and congratulatory remarks via Facebook, email, text, and phone. You're all the best!

Back soon!

!!!!!!!!!

2010-01-08T23:15:00.001-05:00

I know, I know. I've neglected this space the past 8 months or so. But get this: I have some BIG news... though I can't announce anything yet. Perhaps this good news will help me turn around this blog, get it back up and running. I'm not sure yet though.

I just wanted to say: stay tuned, because some good news will be hitting this site soon. Of course, you may not be all that concerned with my news. In that case, you've simply proven what I've been worried about concerning this blog: it's a bit of an egotistical trip. So many other bloggers (whom I follow with RSS feeds and enjoy immensely) do this better than I.

We shall see.

Stay tuned!!

They Speak of Fruit

2009-11-15T12:54:00.003-05:00

My new chapbook, They Speak of Fruit, is now officially for sale at the Cooper Dillon Books website! I'm extremely honored and proud to be the first title on Cooper Dillon. They're set-up for great things. Support them by snagging a copy of They Speak of Fruit!

Thank you, readers, for your support and time over the years here at The Tongue is an Eye. I've been neglecting the blog lately... perhaps I should start this bad-boy up again. I've certainly been keeping up with all of you via RSS feeds.

Anyway, if you read They Speak of Fruit, lemme know what you think!

2009-09-15T22:18:00.000-04:00

Boo!

F. Daniel Rzicznek

2009-04-06T13:06:00.002-04:00

An incredible and insightful review of my good friend's first collection, Neck of the World, here, by Djelloul Marbrook.

Check it out, yo!

NaPoWriMo

2009-04-02T15:02:00.004-04:00

So I'm going to attempt NaPoWriMo at least in part. April, aside from December, is the busiest month of the year for me, but this will be a good exercise in many ways, even if I only get 10-15 poems in the next 30 days, that's 10-15 more poems than I'd normally write in April. And it'll propel me to really finish this project I'm working on by the end of the summer months.

Check me out over at from Viewings.

And be sure to check out and support all the other crazy, dedicated poets participating in this annual tradition of National Poetry Month, too.

Good luck, everyone!

I predict a penultimate (second-to-last?) finish...

2009-03-28T18:49:00.003-04:00

Young Teeth (my 2009 Fantasy Baseball team)

C -- Mike Napoli (LAA)
1B -- Ryan Howard (PHI)
2B -- Jose Lopez (SEA)
SS -- Michael Young (TEX)
3B -- Aramis Ramirez (CHC)
OF -- Manny Ramirez (LAD)
OF -- Ryan Ludwick (STL)
OF -- Adam Dunn (WAS)
UTIL -- Milton Bradley (CHC)
UTIL -- Jim Thome (CWS)
BN -- Mark Reynolds (ARI)
BN -- Jose Guillen (KC)
BN -- Jack Cust (OAK)
BN -- Ty Wigginton (BAL)

SP -- Carlos Zambrano (CHC)
SP -- Ryan Dempster (CHC)
SP -- Ben Sheets (MIL)
RP -- Kerry Wood (CLE)
RP -- Billy Wagner (NYM)
P -- Derek Lowe (LAD)
P -- Erik Bedard (SEA)
P -- Jered Weaver (LAA)
BN -- Kevin Gregg (CHC)
BN -- John Smoltz (BOS)

Good news...

2009-03-17T17:15:00.002-04:00

Some good news came across the wire today: a poem from my first manuscript (poem title: "A Miscarriage Scare at Bronson Methodist") is forthcoming in an issue of Boxcar Poetry Review.

Also, BOOM.

More on that later.

Oh Jean

2009-03-14T11:55:00.002-04:00

I love this song ("Oh Jean"). I love this band (The Proclaimers). I'm not ashamed. This isn't the best recording/video of the song, but it's all I could find. Below are the lyrics (without repetition, etc). Hope everyone's well out there.

Oh Jean

I'd never been lucky with girls I confess
Don't know who to blame for my lack of success
Cause even with ones up the back of a bus
There was always the risk of a slap in the puss

But Jean, Oh Jean You let me got lucky with you

The first time I met you it did cross my mind
The next time I saw you there wasn't the time
The third time I saw you I thought that I could
The fourth time I met you I knew that I would

But Jean, you get let me get lucky with you

I love her

I want you forever I want you for good
So I'm gonna treat you the way that I should
For your soul and body my heart'ss gonna pound
Even after the day that I'm laid in the ground

Cause Jean, Oh Jean you let me get lucky with you

Love her I love her.

I'm way behind here...

2009-03-05T15:31:00.004-05:00

F. Daniel Rzicznek reading at Columbia College at AWP 2009, Chicago.

These four photos (though the top two are the same piece) are from the Art Institute of Chicago from my trip to AWP last month. They are, in order, by and titled: "A Vision," 1925, oil on canvas, by Joseph Stella; "Red and Pink Rocks and Teeth," 1938, oil on canvas, by Georgia O'Keeffe; "Woman (Elevation)," 1927, bronze, by Gaston Lachaise.

I'm currently, as we speak, writing a triptych that involves these pieces. Word. More later, I hope.

from Howard Nemerov's essay, "On Poetry and Painting, with a Thought on Music"

2009-02-06T12:30:00.004-05:00

"Both poet and painter want to reach the silence behind the language, the silence within the language. Both painter and poet want their work to shine not only in daylight but (by whatever illusionist magic) from within; maybe even more from within than by daylight, for many of their works in times now past had not the object of being viewed in daylight but went to do their magic in caves, in tombs, among the dead, and maybe as a substitute for daylight."

Oh holy shit that's beautiful.

They did what now?!?

2009-02-03T16:23:00.001-05:00

From the what-the-hell aisle of news stories:

"In what is being heralded as a "first-ever procedure," surgeons removed a healthy kidney through a donor's vagina, the Johns Hopkins Medical Center has announced."

-- from CNN.com

Quietly, I worship Charles Wright

2009-02-02T14:39:00.004-05:00

AFTER READING TU FU, I GO OUTSIDE TO THE DWARF ORCHARD

East of me, west of me, full summer.
How deeper than elsewhere the dusk is in your own yard.
Birds fly back and forth across the lawn
                                                       looking for home
As night drifts up like a little boat.

Day after day, I become of less use to myself.
Like this mockingbird,
                             I flit from one thing to the next.
What do I have to look forward to at fifty-four?
Tomorrow is dark.
                      Day-after-tomorrow is darker still.

The sky dogs are whimpering.
Fireflies are dragging the hush of evening
                                             up from the damp grass.
Into the world's tumult, into the chaos of every day,
Go quietly, quietly.

Superbowl Recap...

2009-02-02T12:23:00.003-05:00

That was a great game. But this picture of Auden watching the pre-game (he went to bed right after kick-off) is even better.

More to come later, should time allow.

2009-01-30T19:49:00.001-05:00

Auden watching me while I make random noises with my lips.

Rilke sleeping with one eye open, guarding her toy.

Daddy, I tired.

I'm drooling, but I'm happy!

We're bad parents... thing is though, he never woke up! And he only stayed like that for 10 seconds, tops. Haha!

holy wow

2009-01-30T19:47:00.000-05:00

The Prayer for Pigs

O God, my swineherd God,
send me two pigs please

to swallow my two demons;
drive them like nails into

the poor pigs’ brains—better
make it three, three pigs.

Maurice Manning from Free Verse

ekphrastic poems?

2009-01-30T10:27:00.002-05:00

Hey all! So I just completed a draft of an ekphrastic sequence based on Eric Fischl's "The Bed, the Chair" series of paintings. I sent the poem to a friend, a trusted, smart, critical reader. He mentioned that I was focusing too much on the theme, the subject of the paintings rather than the methodology, the brush stroke, the framing, etc of the art itself. This got me thinking that what I'd really like to do in this mode is straddle the line between the two extremes. I want to be invested in the theme/subject AND the brush stroke/creation of the art. This leads me to my question.

What are some great (contemporary or late modern... I know the classics, I think) ekphrastic poems that I might look at as examples and models?

Help me out here, folks!

Larry Levis

2009-01-29T14:43:00.000-05:00

Those Graves in Rome

There are places where the eye can starve,
But not here. Here, for example, is
The Piazza Navona, & here is his narrow room
Overlooking the Steps & the crowds of sunbathing
Tourists. And here is the Protestant Cemetery
Where Keats & Joseph Severn join hands
Forever under a little shawl of grass
And where Keats' name isn't even on
His gravestone, because it is on Severn's,
And Joseph Severn's infant son is buried
Two modest, grassy steps behind them both.
But you'd have to know the story--how bedridden
Keats wanted the inscription to be
Simple, & unbearable: "Here lies one
Whose name is writ in water." On a warm day,
I stood here with my two oldest friends.
I thought, then, that the three of us would be
Indissoluble at the end, & also that
We would all die, of course. And not die.
And maybe we should have joined hands at that
Moment. We didn't. All we did was follow
A lame man in a rumpled suit who climbed
A slight incline of graves blurring into
The passing marble of other graves to visit
The vacant home of whatever is not left
Of Shelley & Trelawney. That walk uphill must
Be hard if you can't walk. At the top, the man
Wheezed for breath; sweat beaded his face,
And his wife wore a look of concern so
Habitual it seemed more like the way
Our bodies, someday, will have to wear stone.
Later that night, the three of us strolled,
Our arms around each other, through the Via
Del Corso & toward the Piazza di Espagna
As each street grew quieter until
Finally we heard nothing at the end
Except the occasional scrape of our own steps,
And so we said good-bye. Among such friends,
Who never allowed anything, still alive,
To die, I'd almost forgotten that what
Most people leave behind them disappears.
Three days later, staying alone in a cheap
Hotel in Naples, I noticed a child's smeared
Fingerprints on a bannister. It
Had been indifferently preserved beneath
A patina of varnish applied, I guessed, after
The last war. It seemed I could almost hear
His shout, years later, on that street. But this
Is speculation, & no doubt the simplest fact
Could shame me. Perhaps the child was from
Calabria, & went back to it with
A mother who failed to find work, & perhaps
The child died there, twenty years ago,
Of malaria. It was so common then--
The children crying to the doctors for quinine.
It was so common you did not expect an aria,
And not much on a gravestone, either--although
His name is on it, & weathered stone still wears
His name--not the way a girl might wear
The too large, faded blue workshirt of
A lover as she walks thoughtfully through
The Via Fratelli to buy bread, shrimp,
And wine for the evening meal with candles &
The laughter of her friends, & later the sweet
Enkindling of desire; but something else, something
Cut simply in stone by hand & meant to last
Because of the way a name, any name,
Is empty. And not empty. And almost enough.

F. Daniel Rzicznek

2009-01-27T15:04:00.002-05:00

A poem from my friend, my co-editor, and one of my favorite young poets. This one's from AGNI online.

Narrows

You slumber through the afternoon,
turning under the waves like weather,
and now, after dinner, after rosé,

my knuckles smack of charred cedar:
the plank we soaked to grill

the white-pink heaps of walleye.
Smoke of continuance
strung across me now, straight blade
of radio through the gut-low trees
yielding halfway to the stone fence.
(Your bronzed clouds, lobster sun,
and the rain clinging to itself just as the idea of rain clings
to itself-refuses sky, refuses to stay.)

obsessed...

2009-01-26T12:55:00.003-05:00

I am obsessed with Eric Fischl's series of paintings titled, "The Bed, the Chair...." In fact, I'm writing a series of poems loosely based on the paintings. I've been previously obsessed with Fischl's work. I wrote, and published in Copper Nickel, a poem titled, "Tumbling Woman" which came out of Fischl's sculpture of the same name.

The above painting is titled, "The Bed, the Chair, Changing."

"Fire" and "Narrow Flame"

2009-01-25T10:32:00.004-05:00

I love this poem, too. Thanks for posting it Mathias!

Oh how I adore Linda Gregerson's work:

Narrow Flame

Dark still. Twelve degrees below freezing.
              Tremor along
       the elegant, injured right front

leg of the gelding on the cross-ties. Kneeling
              girl.
       The undersong of waters as she bathes

the leg in yet more cold. [tongue is broken]
              [god to me]
       Her hair the color of winter wheat.

While Reading Neruda's Elemental Odes, I Keep Remembering This Poem Instead

2009-01-24T13:46:00.002-05:00

The Song of Despair

by Pablo Neruda, translated by W.S. Merwin

The memory of you emerges from the night around me.
The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea.

Deserted like the wharves at dawn.
It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one!

Cold flower heads are raining over my heart.
Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.

In you the wars and the flights accumulated.
From you the wings of the song birds rose.

You swallowed everything, like distance.
Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank!

It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss.
The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse.

Pilot’s dread, fury of a blind diver,
turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank!

In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded.
Lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire,
sadness stunned you, in you everything sank!

I made the wall of shadow draw back,
beyond desire and act, I walked on.

Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost,
I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you.

Like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness,
and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.

There was the black solitude of the islands,
and there, woman of love, your arms took me in.

There were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit.
There were grief and the ruins, and you were the miracle.

Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me
in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms!

How terrible and brief was my desire of you!
How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid.

Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs,
still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds.

Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs,
oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies.

Oh the mad coupling of hope and force
in which we merged and despaired.

And the tenderness, light as water and as flour.
And the word scarcely begun on the lips.

This was my destiny and in it was the voyage of my longing,
and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank!

Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you,
what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned!

From billow to billow you still called and sang.
Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel.

You still flowered in songs, you still broke in currents.
Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well.

Pale blind diver, luckless slinger,
lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour
which the night fastens to all the timetables.

The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore.
Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate.

Deserted like the wharves at dawn.
Only the tremulous shadow twists in my hands.

Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything.

It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one.

I Wordled my Manuscript and this Happened

2009-01-24T12:56:00.002-05:00

Check it out and do it yourself here.

Adam Clay from Fou, No. 2

2009-01-22T14:03:00.003-05:00

http://www.foumagazine.net/

And Snow Is What Snow Has Always Been

Of course a quilt is a house—

And of course you can become so enamored
with an image that you become it:

like the snow all over town
and like the snow
all over town you become it.

You have far-reaching talent for
mass appeal and for sending a few thousand birds
a few thousands miles south. And when it is March
you might even melt a bit but you are last
to tuck us in at night
and last to think a thought we wish we had:

what we croon is what we have a deed to, and the deed
is some thing we think we thought we always had.

now that's poetry...

2009-01-21T16:45:00.002-05:00

Text of the benediction by Rev. Joseph Lowery during President Barack Obama's inauguration, as transcribed by CQ Transcriptions:

–––

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears, thou, who has brought us thus far along the way, thou, who has by thy might led us into the light, keep us forever in the path we pray, lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met thee, lest our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee.

Shadowed beneath thy hand, may we forever stand true to thee, oh God, and true to our native land.

We truly give thanks for the glorious experience we've shared this day.

We pray now, oh Lord, for your blessing upon thy servant Barack Obama, the 44th president of these United States, his family and his administration.

He has come to this high office at a low moment in the national, and indeed the global, fiscal climate. But because we know you got the whole world in your hands, we pray for not only our nation, but for the community of nations.

Our faith does not shrink though pressed by the flood of mortal ills.

For we know that, Lord, you are able and you're willing to work through faithful leadership to restore stability, mend our brokenness, heal our wounds, and deliver us from the exploitation of the poor, of the least of these, and from favoritism toward the rich, the elite of these.

We thank you for the empowering of thy servant, our 44th president, to inspire our nation to believe that yes we can work together to achieve a more perfect union.

And while we have sown the seeds of greed – the wind of greed and corruption, and even as we reap the whirlwind of social and economic disruption, we seek forgiveness and we come in a spirit of unity and solidarity to commit our support to our president by our willingness to make sacrifices, to respect your creation, to turn to each other and not on each other.

And now, Lord, in the complex arena of human relations, help us to make choices on the side of love, not hate; on the side of inclusion, not exclusion; tolerance, not intolerance.

And as we leave this mountain top, help us to hold on to the spirit of fellowship and the oneness of our family. Let us take that power back to our homes, our workplaces, our churches, our temples, our mosques, or wherever we seek your will.

Bless President Barack, First Lady Michelle. Look over our little angelic Sasha and Malia.

We go now to walk together as children, pledging that we won't get weary in the difficult days ahead. We know you will not leave us alone.

With your hands of power and your heart of love, help us then, now, Lord, to work for that day when nations shall not lift up sword against nation, when tanks will be beaten into tractors, when every man and every woman shall sit under his or her own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid, when justice will roll down like waters and righteousness as a mighty stream.

Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around ... when yellow will be mellow ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen.

"Ill Lit" by Franz Wright

2009-01-20T15:12:00.002-05:00

I've been ignoring the blog, I think, out of fear. I don't want this space to turn into a diary, a selfish log of my personal highlights and lowlights. There's nothing wrong with that type of blog; in fact, I love reading blogs of that nature. That said, I just want to get away from that for awhile. Instead, though I'll still post the occasional good news or pictures of Auden, I think I'll focus on posting some poems and whatnot for awhile. Think of it as a space for sharing what turns me on, in the poetic sense of course. Hope all of you are well.

Ill Lit

Leaves stir overhead;
I write what I'm given to write.

The extension cord to the black house.

gone for two months, and now a favor

2009-01-15T15:49:00.002-05:00

I know, I've been gone for two months and I return with a question that begs for answering... but here I am anyway. Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated.

Main Street Rag's Poetry Book Contest. What do you know about it? Reputable? I've seen a couple of their books... they are very well done... but do they consistently publish good poets? This is perhaps an unfair question, but I ask it anyway. Looking forward to any and all of your thoughts.

in the land of far, far away

2008-11-16T15:12:00.005-05:00

It's been almost a month since I last updated The Tongue is an Eye. Above is the reason. My mini-me is already 2.5 months old. Unbelievable. Where in God's name did that time go? Feels like just yesterday I was coaching M through labor, was building his crib, was up all night worried sick I'd be a horrible father. In truth, I haven't been the best father, but damn it if I don't try my hardest everyday. I never thought I'd do anything this challenging and this rewarding in my life. His smiles bring me light; his cries bring me darkness; his existence bring me purpose.

M and I have our moments, but we're adapting to parenthood well. It's the hardest thing, to have your lives completely changed and then expect to go on loving each other exactly the same way you did before. It's not like that though. I love M differently now. And when she loves me (which probably isn't as frequently as she used to), she loves me differently. I don't know if we've changed individually or it's just our relationship that's changed, but something is certainly changed forever. It's a good change; it's a bad change. We are learning each other all over again. With a screaming, colicky baby, it's damn hard to relearn your partner. I have to learn better patience, better understanding. I will be a better husband, father, and poet for it.

Speaking of poetry, there's not much news on that front. Sent out the manuscript (with yet another new title) to 12-15 places since September. Who knows what'll happen. All I know is that I'm done with it for now. I won't rewrite it, I won't fuss with it until next summer no matter what. I want to move on and let shit happen as it will. If I have no bites by next summer, I'll consider retooling the book again, but until then I'm concentrating on other projects, other poems, other things. God's speed, manuscript-of-many-names.

Will update more frequently now that the semester is coming to a close. I have several projects to finish and as always this blog is a consistent place for my procrastinating habits (though I have gotten a lot done today!).

I miss Mayberry...

2008-10-23T22:26:00.003-04:00

Check it out: Front Porch 8 is up and live. Great poets in this issue: Joshua Marie Wilkinson, Adam Clay, Dorianne Laux, Eric Baus. And me. Some stellar audio, reviews, interviews, etc as well.

Busy busy the past 10 days. Dante research. Finalizing a contest-ready rendition of my manuscript. Teaching. Auden duty. Been awesome but exhausting.

Playing squash again tomorrow. Loving it. Absolutely loving it. Never thought I'd like it so much.

My dad is coming into town on Saturday to spend the weekend with us. Can't wait to show Auden off, enjoy some time with my pops. I miss him.

Been thinking a lot lately about honesty in poetry. How honest should I be? I don't mean about events or narrative situation. I mean how honest should I be about my fears, my emotional landscape. Sometimes I feel like I'm giving too much of myself to the page. Then I think that it's necessary for me to do so. Yes, it's necessary. I must do it. I love doing it.

Tired. To bed.

help... looking for poems re:

2008-10-19T21:56:00.002-04:00

Hey there, dear reader. I'm looking for Modern/Contemporary poems about sunrises. Can be directly about sunrises, metaphorically, indirectly. Could even reference a sunrise.

Any ideas?

I have, so far, only found Slyvia Plath's "Southern Sunrise."

Thanks in advance!

The Fire

2008-10-10T14:47:00.003-04:00

As soon as the store has Auden's size back in-stock, I will definitely be buying him one of these! Sweet! I can't wait.

Close-up! Ahhhh! That damn pacifer is in the shot, but at least he was happy.

In a cute lil Adidas outfit Mommy found for him. How cute? Little work-out pants and a sweatshirt. Awww.

In our Cubs' t-shirts, ready for Game 1 against the Dodgers... too bad the Cubs blew it and got hammered in the NLDS. I'm a Cubs fan, so there's always next year. Sigh.

Currently sitting at the coffee shop drinking some tea. It's called, The Fire. Nice. Okay, to Dante and some poems.

My buddy, Bill Blagg III

2008-10-06T16:46:00.003-04:00

I used to design illusions with this guy... and drink beer. One of my best buddies ever. He's gonna make it big... you'll see him all over the country soon enough.

from Silliman's blog

2008-10-05T11:54:00.002-04:00

From Ron Silliman's Oct 5, 2008 blog posting:

"Issue 1 is what I would call an act of anarcho-flarf vandalism. The second pages lists the compilers as Stephen McLaughlin & Jim Carpenter, and a search of domain ownership for the web host arsonism.org at Whois.com turns up the following:

Registrant Name: Stephen McLaughlin
Registrant Street1: 409 Ash St.
Registrant Street2:
Registrant Street3:
Registrant City: Delanco
Registrant State/Province: New Jersey
Registrant Postal Code:08075
Registrant Country: US
Registrant Phone:+1.8567641574
Registrant Phone Ext.:
Registrant FAX:
Registrant FAX Ext.:
Registrant Email: fakesalt@comcast.net

If you are unamused, you might want to tell Steve this directly. If you’re amused, I suspect that he’d like to hear that as well.

I might note that the last time I felt ripped off by an on-line stunt, I sued – as a lead plaintiff in a class-action case brought by the National Writers Union. And while I can’t discuss the suit, as a condition of the subsequent settlement, I will note that we could have gotten a pretty good major league middle infielder for the final amount. Play with other people’s reps at your own risk."

~

Carpet-bomb email this guy until his account blows up. Call him until his cell phone melts down. [I'll be doing neither... I don't have time for this guy outside the theatre of this blog. I'm happy to make my point here, for my 10-15 readers]. I don't want to be misrepresented by this supposed "art project." If I wanted my name on a terrible poem, I'd write one myself. If I wanted to create art by using other people's names and a simple computer text-generator, I'd create a website and write the program (both of which would take no less than a couple hours tops). Stephen better have failed this project. Shit. A monkey could do it. And now the monkey-shit who did do it should be forced to take the site down. Or keep it up. Either way, his voicemail and email inbox are gonna get mighty crowded if people follow through with their threats. Me, I'm gonna watch some football, write some poems, hang-out with my son, and cook some tacos.

I'm pissed

2008-10-04T13:39:00.003-04:00

This Issue 1 thing pisses me off. I'd like to find who's doing this and punch them in the groin. Or maybe I'll just own my faux poem, celebrate it as a step forward toward a new style... nay, I wanna punch someone's groin.

My poem is on page 1634 of 3785. It goes like this:

Anodynes changed from bark

The anodyne of the belle,

above the arctic habiliment

I trudge during summer beyond

creatures

His essence is still his essence

What the hell is that? An anodyne?

Poetry Daily

2008-10-02T09:35:00.002-04:00

Check it out. I'm on Poetry Daily today. Thanks to New England Review and the editors at Poetry Daily!

etiquette on short(er) manuscripts

2008-09-30T13:31:00.003-04:00

Dear All Poets, Readers, and Others -

I have a question. A few of the fall contests request manuscripts between "60-90 pages." My manuscript comes in at a compact and tight 54-55 pages, depending on my mood. What's the etiquette here? Do I avoid sending to these contests? Am I automatically disqualified if I do send? Are the guidelines pertaining to manuscript length, unlike many of the other guidelines like reading fee and ethical concerns, more likely to be ignored or taken less seriously? Does it have something to do with printing costs or layout issues (books must fall between a certain length in order to get the best "bang for the buck" from the printer, etc)... is it lame of me to suggest such a thing?

Any and all help greatly appreciated.

Love and Peace,

Gary L. McDowell

"What a nice chap, that guy!"

2008-09-28T14:10:00.001-04:00

So I'm currently in the market for some fall/winter chapbook contest/general submission deadlines. Any thoughts? I've been so absorbed with the full-length contests that I've fallen out of the loop on the chapbook market. Help me out, folks. I'll thank you somehow, some way. Promise.

Commedia, writing "pomes," enjoying weather

2008-09-28T13:06:00.002-04:00

Gosh, what a beautiful day today!

I'm actually writing today. Sweet. I've written two poems, both of which have been swimming around in my head for days. Still a bunch of reading to do, but I'm in good spirits.

Bears vs. Eagles tonight in prime-time. Thank God, I finally get to watch my Bears. My prediction: Eagles 31, Bears 17. But I'll get to watch them lose instead of seeing the score flash by on the bottom of the screen while watching some game I don't care about.

Auden slept a lot last night. Two 4-hour stretches! The night before he only slept for an hour at a time... and those times were spread thin. It's not fair for me to bitch though. I rock him to sleep initially (though it doesn't always work) and M watches over him in is bassinet, checks on him when he cries, rocks him back to sleep should he wake. We're a team, but it took a bit of bickering last night for us to come together again. This parenting is hard work. Work.

I want to buy this.

Have you checked these guys out yet? A new journal down in Knoxville, TN. Send your work, support them!

I've never cared much for e.e. cummings, but I adore this poem, "my father moved through dooms of love."

I'm a link freak!!

Back to the Commedia.

Touchdown!

2008-09-26T19:18:00.002-04:00

This is Auden's favorite way to sleep. I think it's hilarious. Touchdown!

Been really busy lately. Had a couple poems picked up by Front Porch. They'll be out in October, in Issue 8. Excited by this. Also have a poem forthcoming in the next issue of Controlled Burn. Also exciting.

Reading, and loving, Dante's Commedia. I'm reading the Allen Mandelbaum translation. Outstanding. Simply beautiful.

Going to the Post Office tomorrow. I'm prepared to meet the September contest deadlines. Sigh.

Auden is okay, but he has to see a Pediatric Surgeon next week though. Kinda scary, but nothing's for certain yet. We'll know more, as is customary, after the surgical consultation.

My Cubbies are in fine form. God willing they'll end the 100-year drought this year... but I'm not holding my breath. I'm just gonna cheer and pray.

Back to work: Charles Wright, Roethke, Dan Beachy-Quick's A Whaler's Dictionary. Sweet.

haven

2008-09-19T17:57:00.007-04:00

Mommy and Auden at the doctor's office yesterday. I'm no photographer, but I thought the big ole mirror lent itself to a cool shot.

We took Auden to South Haven today. It was his first roadtrip. He slept through the entire thing... perfect! M and I got some lunch at a little cafe and went to an old, dusty used bookstore, then walked the boardwalk down to the shore. It was beautiful outside.

I'm still having trouble feeling guilty about needing to leave the house to get my work done (and by work I mean my writing... I've been getting course work and teaching prep done at home just fine, but I can't seem to find any groove at home for my creative work). M's an extraordinary mother... the best, really. But I still feel like I shouldn't be leaving her alone too often... and I really don't. I'm not gone much. But I need to get my ass in gear. I think M and I will set up a schedule so that I can have 5-10 hours a week out of the house solely to focus on my writing. She's cool with this idea and so am I. She wants me to write in the mornings, so I'm home in the evenings... boooo. I'm a night writer. Not anymore though. Time to compromise. And I will.

I've been reading Charles Wright lately... a lot. Trying to study him systematically. I'm interested in pursuing some critical writing about him, though not right at the moment. I find his use of line obliteratingly genius.

Also thinking a lot about getting my first manuscript published. It's such a fucking hard thing to live with, the sending out of the book, the waiting, the cost, the competition. I wish I could just snap my fingers and hear some good news, but there's also something alluring about the hunt, the stalking and preying/praying. It's carnal. And I like carnal.

Publications Using the Submission Manager (sub heading: do you like the sub managers?)

2008-09-16T18:46:00.002-04:00

The list gathered thus far:

Third Coast
AGNI
Poetry
Front Porch
Columbia: A Journal of Literature & Art
West Branch
Puerto del Sol
Drunken Boat
Ploughshares
The Baltimore Review
Crazyhorse
Memoir (and)
Blue Earth Review
Quarter After Eight
New Madrid
Sphere
Opium Magazine
Reed Magazine
jubilat
Many Mountains Moving
TIFERET
The Hollins Critic
Quarterly West
PANK
New York Quarterly
Barrel House
DIAGRAM
A Public Space

These guys use an online sub manager, but not the one shared by all the above mags:

Virginia Quarterly Review
42Opus

And finally, let's take a poll. Do you like submitting to journals using the online Submission Manager? Why or why not? Discuss.

HELP: who's using the Submission Manager?

2008-09-15T23:09:00.002-04:00

So far I've found that the following journals are using the online Submission Manager:

Third Coast
AGNI
Poetry
Front Porch
Columbia: A Journal of Literature & Art
West Branch
Puerto del Sol (so they say...)
Drunken Boat
Ploughshares
The Baltimore Review
Crazyhorse

Are there others I'm missing?

Help me out here, folks!!

coin fountain

2008-09-12T20:06:00.002-04:00

It's time for the fall manuscript submission season to begin. Will I waste another $400? Or will I hit paydirt and finally win one? Only time will tell. Best of luck to all you other poets out there... though I hope to beat your asses. ;)

M is home. Thank God. Auden is awesome. I will be reading and writing and watching movies all rainy weekend. My mother-in-law (who was the absolute best this week while staying with us) is going home tomorrow morning... I'll miss her help, but it'll be amazing with just the three of us (me, M, Auden) in the house.

Okay, back to Iron Chef.

what you lookin' at!?

2008-09-11T21:26:00.002-04:00

Priceless! He's probably pooping himself, but it's still a damn funny photo.

My eyes! My eyes!

Metallica's new disc comes out tonight. No way I'm making it to the midnight release, but in my younger days I'd have been there for sure.

Reading Charles Wright in-between Auden's diaper changes and feedings (the boy eats like a horse).

M's in the hospital. Has been since Tuesday. Her blood pressure is sky high. There's a name for it, for high blood pressure after pregnancy. It was 190/140 when she went in on Tuesday!! The docs were worried about her having a stroke. So I've been playing Mr. Mom the last few days... though without my mother-in-law (whom I adore) here this week, I'd be in WAY over my head.

Until today, I don't think I've ever actually been *exhausted*.

Gonna try to sleep... Auden finally is.

caffeine, Death Magnetic, and Randall Jarrell

2008-09-08T16:06:00.002-04:00

We caught a nap half-way through Dante's Vita Nuova. Reading is exhausting. Notice the blue glow on Auden's back... the BiliBlanket! We're done with that now though.

The first good shot of Auden's eyes. They're blue. This (as are all the pics here at The Tongue is an Eye) is a camera-phone shot, so it's not very clear.

Anyway, parenting is exhausting, but it's also such a bizzaro-world experience. I never thought I would go to bed one night and wake up the next morning completely and utterly head-over-heels in love with someone I'd never met. Honestly, it's the most surreal and overwhelming feeling. I think the exhilaration of looking at Auden, kissing him, touching him, soothing him is more exhausting than the late night feedings or the many, many loads of laundry and dirty diapers, etc. The most tiring part of being a father? It's the pure, incorruptible sublimity of the experience.

I've been drinking a lot of caffeine. Honestly, all it does is make me shaky. Any parents (or insomniacs or other late-night dwellers) have any remedies for being tired all day? It's awfully hard to focus these days, and Dante and Jarrell and all the other reading I must do for class isn't going to get any lighter!

Reading Poetry and the Age by Randall Jarrell for workshop. Wow. Some really great stuff. And his prose is so easy to read. I love it.

Metallica's ninth (and last?) studio album hits the shelves on Friday. Hell yeah! It's titled Death Magnetic. Holy hell I must buy it at midnight! I'm not necessarily proud to be a huge Metallica fan, but I'm sure as fuck not embarrassed by it either. Rock on, bitches! And the first single ("The Day that Never Comes") is so great. Loud, fast, and angry. It helps me through the rough days.

Back to reading, prepping to teach, Auden watching and playing, etc.

ring of fire

2008-09-05T21:17:00.002-04:00

Got an acceptance from Controlled Burn today. That's nice news! My manuscript, formerly known as Young Teeth, has a new title, a new look, many new/better poems, a leaner frame, and a helluva good chance this fall if I do say so myself. Look out world, I'm confident.

Auden is amazing. He's a miracle, a blessing, and the coolest dude I've ever met. His little eyes, his feet and hands, and that head of hair! He smells like the cleanest cotton ever woven.

More later.

On September 1, 2008...

2008-09-03T21:34:00.006-04:00

Mommy and Auden in recovery. The two most beautiful, brilliantly strong people I have ever met.

Daddy and Auden right after birth. His first picture.

On Monday (Labor Day, ha), September 1, 2008, at 7:37pm, we welcomed Auden James McDowell into this world. At 20-inches long and weighing 7lbs 10oz, our beautiful boy entered the world au naturale (the epidural didn't work well and then wore off completely toward the end... ouch). He had some trouble breathing, but an hour in the step-down nursery fixed him right up. Mom is healthy and happy; Auden is spectacular. I am exhausted. I'm literally seeing two computer screens right now. Anyway, Auden has to have a Bili Blanket (he's a bit jaundice) for a couple days, so that's making diaper changing and feeding sort of difficult, but he's so adorable that we kinda forgive him... ;)

I'm a dad now and I'm so scared. I can't believe it. I pray, M and I pray, we pray with/to Auden: for strength, faith, patience, and love. We are a family, and we are proud.

I'm steppin' out with my baby

2008-08-30T16:55:00.003-04:00

[Picture had to come down.... I think M's beautiful; she's less sure.]

Nine long months later and it's finally time. The docs are going to induce M on Monday morning at 8am. By the end of Labor Day (haha... irony) Baby McDowell will be in the world. We're excited and nervous... but mostly just ready for Monday to be here. Going to be a long day tomorrow. Family will start arriving (having divorced and remarried parents presents plenty of travel conundrums, but things are looking okay so far) tomorrow afternoon, so it'll be nice having them around, though I'm sure M will be bouncing off the walls with nerves and excitement.

Wish us luck. I'll post pictures when possible. Love to all of you who stop by here from time to time... all three of you.

NER, baby

2008-08-25T22:35:00.002-04:00

So one of my poems from the latest issue of New England Review is on the web. Sweet. Thanks, NER staff. Rock on.

spead the word, peeps

2008-08-25T17:14:00.002-04:00

This must be read and must be forwarded as much as possible. I feel for Stacey. I was a finalist at the CPR contest last year... if it had been me they messed with, things would have been handled much less stoically, must less professionally. Kudos to you, Stacey, for handling this absolute mess with class and dignity. When your book does land, does hit shelves, you'll have hundreds of new readers supporting you... and it'll be deserved and hard-earned. We are all looking forward to your book. Best of luck!

maturity in her take-offs

2008-08-20T22:28:00.002-04:00

So I'm only taking 2 courses this fall... with baby coming, I felt it best to take it easy. Of course, I'm also Poetry Editor at Third Coast and I'll be reading for New Issues again this year (where I'm Assistant to the Editor, whatever that means), so all of that combined with learning French for the language exam, studying for comps, and other responsibilities, 2 classes seemed enough. It sucks because I'll then be behind, but I'm hoping to take two lit classes (or a lit and a theory) in the spring and a lit course over the summer. Then I can take some classes next fall and spring and do comps the next summer... I'll be too old and poor when I finally get out of here! Gosh, this PhD is exhausting to think about!

At any rate, here's the books I'll be reading for class this fall. I'm taking a Dante class and a workshop/contemporary poetry course with Bill Olsen (who's a great fucking poet if you haven't read him yet).

Back to writing... actually got a couple drafts down today. Had too many notes and post-its laying around.

been a long while

2008-08-18T18:49:00.005-04:00

My nearly five-month-old nephew with his new shades. How flippin' cute is he? Haha. He's a crazy lil man... can't believe I'll have my own soon... unreal.

I took Rilke for an extra long run yesterday and when we got home she was exhausted. Here she is cooling off in front of the living room fan! So cute! Haha. She stayed like that for 20 minutes, her ears flapping and tongue hanging out.

New issues of Colorado Review ('my' issue isn't on website yet), Salt Hill, and New England Review ('my' issue will be posted on Aug 26th) are out and about. I have some work in each of them. I'm honored to be in each of them. Honored and thrilled.

Baby McDowell is on the way. M's in 'early' labor now. Could be tomorrow, could be a month from now. Pins and needles, people. Pins and needles. I'm gonna be a dad. Shit. Let's hope I don't mess this kid up too badly!

I've been away from this blog for a long time... well, that's not entirely true. I check all my links daily, read everyone's blogs, etc. Just haven't been writing here very often. Maybe I won't continue? I don't know. I used to write everyday; I used to write about poetics. Now I just write about non-writing related stuff 90% of the time. Oh well.

So many other things going on: new version of manuscript is ready to make the rounds this fall (I'm praying that this is my year), Baby McDowell's room is all done and ready to rock, my Gothic Novel class has ended (thank god), I'm ready to teach this fall, the first draft of the anthology is now with the publishers who will get back to us in a couple months, traded in M's car for 2008 Saturn Outlook XR (room for baby and two dogs and suitcases and everything else we take when we travel), etc, etc. Too much, too little time.

she loves the sun

2008-07-25T21:19:00.002-04:00

from Talib Kweli's "The Proud"

2008-07-25T18:17:00.000-04:00

"It's just the beginning, the first inning
Battle for America's soul, the devil's winning
The President is Bush, the Vice President's a Dick
So a whole lot of fuckin is what we gon' get
They don't wanna raise the babies so the election is fixed
That's why we don't be fuckin with politics
They bet on that, parents fought and got wet for that
Hosed down, bit by dogs, and got blacks into house arrest for that
It's all good except for that - we still poor
Money, power and respect is what we kill for, for real"

What what?!

2008-07-13T21:28:00.004-04:00

Meet the two Sandhill Cranes that came up behind me as I was fishing at a road side lake. They scared me badly, then crossed the street and continued their jaunt. They walk like dinosaurs (if I knew what dinosaurs walked like). Biggest damn birds I've ever encountered in the wild.

Bella mixed up in my shorts. Crazy dog.

Rilke sleeps like this routinely. She's a goofball. I know we're bad people, but there's just no room in bed for her so she sleeps in a kennel. She loves it though... her pillow is her best buddy (well, besides me anyway).

I caught this crappie on the Kalamazoo River today. I love catching crappie... it had been years since I caught one. Also caught a couple little smallmouth bass. Would fish all day everyday if it were cost-effective, socially acceptable, and actually worth a damn thing.

This is what I've been doing the last few days... putting the nursery together. Here's Baby McDowell's crib!

presspress

2008-07-02T15:32:00.002-04:00

Has anyone heard of, or know anything of, Logan House Press? They have a contest coming up, but I don't know much about them. Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated!

Was hard not to join them...

2008-07-02T00:11:00.003-04:00

My girls cuddled up in the last remaining sunlight from the west this evening. It looked so cozy I almost plopped down with them! It was one of the rare times where they were that close to each other and not fighting. And look at how Bella's looking back at me taking the picture! Awww.

CSUPCBP

2008-06-30T15:36:00.002-04:00

Way to go Allison Titus! She didn't win, but the book got picked up. I love, love, love her chapbook. Can't wait for the full-length treatment. My buddy AC had two manuscripts as finalists... damn. Another best bud was a semifinalist. And I was a semifinalist! [Not sure what's up with the formatting on the CSU website, but whatever].

Had an OB appointment today. The cervix has stopped thinning! For the moment anyway, things are okay. The contractions are still there, but they are less intense and less frequent. Thank god. We are far from out of the woods though. Things can turn at any time. So it's more bedrest and wishful thinking. Eight more weeks and M can come off the meds. That's a LONG eight weeks! I have never been so stressed... you can imagine how M's been feeling. The last couple weeks have been really hard.

Okay, back to Vathek. Finished The Castle of Otranto yesterday. What a thrill!

ENG 6100: The Gothic Novel

2008-06-27T22:05:00.003-04:00

I'm taking this course this summer. It's a 7-week course. Without even knowing the graded assignments (essays, presentations, etc), I think this course is gonna be tough. Just look at this reading list (and this is for a 7-week summer class I remind you):

Maturin Melmoth the Wanderer
Radcliffe The Veiled Picture
Edgeworth Castle Rackrent
Walpole The Castle of Otranto
Walpole The Mysterious Mother
Lewis The Monk
Beckford Vathek
Dacre Zofloya
Shelley The Last Man
Shelley Zastrozzi & St. Irvyne
Hogg The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner
Stoker Dracula

There will also be secondary reading (historical, societal, etc) of essays and possibly one or two book-length critical studies.

Wow.

Oh and I missed the first class due to a minor oversight on my part. Here at WMU we have two summer semesters. Summer I ended Wednesday (yes, two days ago), and Summer II began on Thursday (yes, yesterday). I thought for sure that the first day of class was this coming Tuesday, but I was wrong. So not only do I have this pile of books on my desk, but because of my stupidity I have no idea which one to read first. Hopefully the prof (who is a very nice guy) will write me back with the reading assignment for Tuesday. I feel so dumb.

Okay, off to read some Auden (who knew that later in life he become obsessed with sound-play and word-play?!) before bedtime.

CFIDS research needs your help

2008-06-25T09:58:00.004-04:00

Let's find a cure. It's not me I'm worried about (I'm doing well, all things considered... though there are still times of struggle); it's the thousands of others who have no quality of life, who are bed-ridden and have no voice: I speak for them. This disease, this syndrome, this monster has robbed thousands of people of their lives. A cure must be found.

my naughty girls (get your mind outta the gutter)

2008-06-24T23:24:00.002-04:00

The dog I posted earlier isn't mine. These, however, are my babies. The big one is Rilke (she's an 11 month old Weimaraner) and the little one is Bella (a 2-year old mini-dachshund). They bark a lot. And play. And make me laugh and yell and curse and love.

how i feel today...

2008-06-24T16:14:00.002-04:00

tarpon and crevalle jack

2008-06-23T21:16:00.002-04:00

Part of the reason I've been away from the blog is that M and I spent a week in Florida at the end of May, quickly followed and/or preceded by 2 weddings and 2 trips back to Illinois for visits/occasions. Phew. A couple pictures of my accomplishments in Florida. The big one is a 127-pound tarpon. He fought for almost two-hours! It was exhausting but extremely exhilirating! Amazing. The second, smaller guy, is a 12-pound crevalle jack I caught on 6-pound test. Was an awesome fight. He jumped like crazy!

update

2008-06-23T13:09:00.002-04:00

Been a long time, though I've been reading everyone's blogs regularly. Not sure I can explain my absence... not sure anyone cares to know. ;)

Got a couple new poems picked up by New England Review. This is huge for me. I'm excited. I'm very excite! That movie (Borat, for those of you not in the know) has been playing constantly on HBO lately... and I've been watching far too much television.

My wife, M, has been in pre-term labor the last week or so. It's been a scary experience. She's on mandatory bedrest now at home, but there were a few tense days of hospital visits, overnight stays, medical tests, steady and painful contractions. Being only 26 weeks pregnant, the survival rate for baby McDowell was low. We, or I should say she, made it through the toughest part. Now we wait until our doctor visit later this week to find out whether the cervix has continued to thin or whether things are status quo. We've been terrified; we've been (well, mostly me) cleaning the house, getting baby's room together for fear of early delivery. We're hoping that our fears are proven unneeded.

In other news, the contract for the anthology has been sent back to Rose Metal Press. Dan and I are officially in business. So exciting. The book will be out in the spring of 2010. Next we have to put together an email to all of our contributors requesting things like permissions, bios, etc... and a lot of them haven't heard the good news yet, so we'll be updating them on that, too. Then we need to put the book in a preliminary order and send that to our editors by mid-August. And the introductions, which Dan and I are co-authoring, is due January 15th. Rock on.

I have been reading new books by Kevin Prufer and Julie Carr. Also reading lots of trash: Maxim, Golf Digest, Playboy (some good fiction lately! Seriously!), etc.

Need to get back down to work. A collaborative poem to write/edit, a series to finish up, some edits and submissions to do. Plus work for Third Coast (we open in August!! Send in!! It's all online now!!). Then there's the everyday stuff: teaching, attending class, writing essays for said class, cleaning house in prep for baby (and for visiting friends and family that are coming this month and next), taking care of the dogs (they need lots of exercise and attention), making sure my beautiful, vibrant M is healthy and happy, etc.

I am exhausted and thrilled, tired and happy, depressed and malaised... but onward ho I must go.

More soon...

Rose Metal Press

2008-05-07T22:09:00.003-04:00

Well, it's official ,and I can finally stop being an ass and spread my good news.

The anthology I'm co-editing with my great friend and great poet F. Daniel Rzicznek has been accepted for publication by Rose Metal Press. The book, tentatively titled Wonders of the Field: Contemporary Poets on the Prose Poem, is tentatively scheduled for a mid-2010 release.

We are honored and excited that Rose Metal Press has taken on the project; we are sure that the book will be informative, fun, and beautifully produced: all qualities we were looking for in a potential publisher.

The "hook": Featuring personal essays as well as innovative and imaginative prose poems from some of our best contemporary poets, Wonders of the Field: Contemporary Poets on the Prose Poem offers readers a vibrant, insider’s look at how this vital and increasingly popular form of poetry excites, informs, and inspires its ever-widening audience.

So there it is, the news. Thank you for your patience and for enduring my long silence... I know it made your days unbearable... haha.

red read it

2008-04-30T09:06:00.002-04:00

Holy shit, holy shit. Some incredible news came across the email wire this morning. I have to keep my mouth closed for now, but rest assured dear reader, this is big. More to come.

[I hate when bloggers do this teasing shit, but I rather like doing it myself... well, seriously, who really reads this thing anyway?!]

from The Light the Dead See

2008-04-25T10:18:00.002-04:00

THE MINNOW

If I press
on its head,
the eyes
will come out
like stars.
The ripples
it makes
can move
the moon.

THE NOCTURNAL SHIPS OF THE PAST

There was always a great darkness

moving out
like a forest of arrows

So many ships in the past

their bows bearing women
as stalks bear eyes

The burning ships

that drove their bowspirits
between the thighs of dreams

With my ear to the ground
I hear the black prows coming

plowing the night
into water

and the wind comes up
and I smell the sour wood

leaving a wake I want to be
left alone with

Night after night

like a sleeping knife that runs deep
through the belly

the tomb ships come

-- Frank Stanford

The Speaker

2008-04-22T08:58:00.001-04:00

The Speaker

Who worked his fingers to the ghost,
and for what

Words will be over, then: soon
he'll be silenced,
and said.

-- Franz Wright (from The Beforelife)

the heat is on

2008-04-18T00:12:00.002-04:00

Tomorrow I will be here, hanging with my boys, Adam and Adam. Roadtrip!! I can't freaking wait.

I just got back (yes, it's 12:13am) from the English Department building. I was dropping off an essay that's officially due tomorrow. It was my final project for English 5970: Politics and the English Language. Phew. My essay was "AAVE in the Classroom: A Call to Action for Educational Reform." Yeah. It was grand. Shit. Only one more theory/linguistics course before I am done, done, done with that stuff forever. I respect it, I honor it, but I ain't good at it. I have an 'A' going in that course right now, but I'm not 100% sure I'll keep it... we'll see what the Prof thinks of my rambling, though thought-provoking, essay.

Okay, a quick game of Scrabulous and then off to bed. Early (and long) day tomorrow!

Oh, I had a poem in my pocket today... it was my poem "Ovaries" that first appeared in Ninth Letter. Thanks guys for hooking me up! Awesome job!

how to create hyperlink in html... testing 1 2 3

2008-04-14T20:52:00.003-04:00

HTML link Number 1

text

HTML link Number 2

text

ugh

2008-04-13T22:35:00.003-04:00

Okay, I'm not done. I'm just tired, stressed, depressed, worried, lonesome, erratic, and overall just blah.

It's the end of my first year of Ph.D. studies and I feel so many different emotions. Not to mention that M is 17 weeks pregnant (and hormonal as all hell... it's okay, she's allowing me to broadcast that fact sans serious repercussions) and without a stable OB. We are going to a new doc in the morning; things should be getting back on track soon. But this Ph.D. thing is absurd. I'm not used to taking classes that bore me, classes that are meant solely as requirements. It's almost over, but I just can't seem to get into paper-writing mode. It's only a 12-15 pager due Friday, but my God I've been procrastinating. It's true that I work best under pressure, but at this point I might as well just have a stroke and get it over with. [Though I did go to the doc on Friday (I've got a mild cold, nothing big) and my blood pressure is completely normal... so no stroke should be on the horizon].

I haven't written many poems lately... "many" as in "none." But I did read the new issue of Redivider. It was great. And I've just finished Aleda Shirley's Dark Familiar. It was good. Not great, but very good. I'm not sure to whom I'd recommend this book, but maybe for you more narratively-minded poets... it got me thinking about some things anyway:

Like how do my newer poems (my long-ish, C. Wrightsian ones) use narrative (both of the physical world and the emotional world) to create meaningful white space? Is the white space a gimmick? A ploy? Am I stuck in one emotional narrative? Is this a bad thing? What about the "emotional center" or "emotional nugget" (as Eimers would call it) of the poems? Is there one? Basically, I'm concerned as to whether or not the poems have any stack to claim, any weight worth conveying, anything that keeps the reader reading. Hmmm.

And Charles Wright continues to be an obsession... especially the two earlier Selected books. So many gems. I learn from every poem. I haven't experienced this type of obsession since my very early Wallace Stevens days back as an undergrad.

This summer I'm once again teaching English 3670: Advanced Poetry Writing. I will be teaching Alex Lemon's Hallelujah Blackout, Linda Gregerson's Magnetic North, and Lorca's In Search of Duende. I'm psyched. So many great things to learn from these books. I can't wait to relearn them myself!

My class this semester contains a few very very talented writers (both in their poetry and their critical prose). All of them are doing well in the writing arena, but I'm concerned about some of their grades due to poor attendance. It's the one thing I don't like about teaching: enforcing attendance policies. I know they're writing hard and reading hard, but if they miss 6 classes (we only have 27 or 28 class meetings) they just can't pass... they've simply missed too much, especially in a workshop environment. I hate that they will fail (or receive very low grades) because of something as silly as attendance... but they should know better!

Go Cubs. Baseball is here, and I am joyful. Though my fantasy baseball team is getting crushed week after week.

So much reading to do. So many things I want to explore. And there are 5-10 poems in different stages in my notebooks from this semester... I just need a few weeks of quiet to crack those notebooks open and play. Soon, soon.

Okay, time for bed. Tomorrow, I write and write and write this goddamned essay.

2008-04-09T16:51:00.001-04:00

I'm done.

brackets

2008-03-18T15:42:00.002-04:00

Salt Hill took a poem today. It's a newer poem. So far those newer poems are doing well in the world (Colorado Review and now Salt Hill... and, most importantly, I'm enjoying the hell out of writing them, even if they are coming awfully slowly)... though I just sent my largest batch of them out earlier this month so a lot is still up in the air... I hope the trend continues.

The NCAA tournament begins in less than 48 hours. Let the drama begin. I love this time of year.

Went to the OB yesterday (well, it was M's appointment, but you get the idea). Our baby is a kicker and puncher. M can't feel it at all yet because the baby is still so small (about 3 inches long head-to-rump), but it's amazing to watch on the ultrasound!

Some sad news: M's rottweiler has cancer and has to be put down. I wish there were some way for me to comfort her or help her grieve. I just feel so badly about it all. Poor pooch. She is maybe the sweetest, friendliest dog I have ever met. A heart of gold.

More later. Have to go to class.

John Rybicki

2008-03-10T23:55:00.001-04:00

Fire Psalm Revisited

Lord, tilt your lamps
so the oil flows up

out of man. Take away
this relentless burning.

Let the stars sip
on my fires like tea.

Take the scalding light
back into heaven,

where bodies are built
for such things.

blackberry is my bitch

2008-03-10T23:35:00.003-04:00

I got a new cell phone... a BlackBerry. Sweet. Now my email is mobile. Love it. I am officially the worst consumer ever.

We went to the doctor today. We heard Baby McDowell's heartbeat for the first time! It was incredible. I know it's such a guy thing to say, but I am just flabbergasted that there's a child growing in M's belly. I don't care how stupid it makes me sound to say it, but I am blown away every time I think of it. It's a miracle. Plain and simple. Miracle. Our official due date is now September 21st. We are getting excited. Furniture shopping has begun... very early stages... just looking around, keeping our eyes peeled. Still a long way to go.

Sometimes I am absolutely terrified about becoming a father. Other times I can barely control my excitement. Today I was excited. I hope I am tomorrow, too. And everyday after that. But I know the terror and fear and inadequacy will never go away... but that's only because I want so desperately to be a good husband, a good father, a good daddy. I pray every night and everyday for three things: M's health, the baby's health, and for patience, love, and more patience. Being pregnant is not easy for M... it's not easy for anyone. But sometimes she has a short fuse. My job is to be supportive, patient, and loving. I am trying so hard, but sometimes I still fail. I will never stop trying to be the best husband I can be. M, please bear with me, darling.

So many great people have won manuscript contests lately... but not me. I could list all the contests I've "lost," but I find that less helpful than celebrating the folks who have won the awards. So if you won an award that I didn't, congratulations! You are a rock-star and you deserve it all! One of these days, who knows, we might be press-mates. My manuscript is still out at a dozen places and will be going to a dozen more by the end of May. Here's to persistence!

I have two big projects to finish by the third week of April (the end of the semester here at WMU). A selection of book reviews for one class and a term-length essay for another. The book reviews will come together on time, I have no fears of this. But the term paper has got me nervous. More on that later. I meet with the Prof on Wednesday morning to discuss topic ideas and research. I feel like an undergrad all over again. It's scary and exciting at the same time... but more scary than anything.

I've never played Fantasy Baseball... until this year. I am in a league with some fellow poets from WMU. Our draft was tonight. Here's my team:

C Geovany Soto (ChC)
1B Mark Teixeira (Atl)
2B Brian Roberts (Bal)
SS Michael Young (Tex)
3B Miguel Cabrera (DET)

OF Carl Crawford (TB)
OF Torii Hunter (LAA)
OF Ken Griffey, Jr. (Cin)

UTIL Jason Bay (Pit)
UTIL Orlando Cabrera (ChW)

BN Carlos Delgado (NYM)
BN Hank Blalock (Tex)
BN Josh Willingham (Fla)
BN Frank Thomas (Tor)
BN Ryan Theriot (ChC)

SP Carlos Zambrano (ChC)
SP Dontrele Willis (Det)
SP Scott Kazmir (TB)

RP Bobby Jenks (ChW)
RP Eric Gagne (Mil)

P Todd Jones (Det)
P Ben Sheets (Mil)
P Ted Lilly (ChC)
BN Joe Blanton (Oak)

I have no idea what I'm doing, but I tried to pick a mixture of youth/veteran, National/American, single hitters/home-run hitters, strikeout pitchers/groundball pitchers. I don't know. It'll be fun anyway. I hope I don't embarrass myself.

I am writing again. Though with all the other assignments and grading and teaching and extra-curriculars I am not sure it'll continue. A project might be developing....

I sent out some poems for the first time in a while last week. I sent my 'long-ish' fractured poems to my favorite journals (Missouri Review, Laurel Review, other big name and fan-favorite journals). I'm hoping for just one hit. One hit is all I ask. Any of those poems in any of those magazines would be HUGE for me. Just huge, I say!

Okay, I have to go read some bs for a class tomorrow. You ever been in a class you want to like but just can't enjoy? I'm in one. And it's boring me to death, making me stress way more than I should.

More soon.

Peterson is rolling over in his grave

2008-03-06T17:18:00.003-05:00

One of the most upsetting news stories I have read in a long time. This man should rot in hell. Of all the horrible things one can do, this is one of the most inexcusable on my list. What an asshole.

Other things, some good, some blah, are going on in the McDowell household. I'll update later. For now, I just had to share this right away.

I've been keeping up with all you bloggers... so much good news so close to spring!

Gizzi

2008-02-24T13:55:00.001-05:00

How to Care for a Small Bird

for Elizabeth Willis

Given the baby bird crisis, what if
each child were delivered a bird

having tumbled from its nest

Two major problems evolve
One is feeding it

another preparing it for the wild

But before you build
a home of newsprint and yarn

try putting it back where it came
Remember its fear, think of its shock

to not be dead

beset in a hand
not yet full grown

moving through space
doing the best it can

do the sizzler, baby

2008-02-24T10:56:00.002-05:00

Today I am 28.

I feel it too. The dog cried all night (Rilke, not Bella) and neither M nor I slept well. Not sure what Rilke's problem is, but it has to stop soon. That's four nights in a row.

Trying to write 2 pages of a collaborative essay for my Politics and the English Language course. I hate collaborative work. I love my group, but hate working in a group... especially at this level. Please. Who the hell has time to get together to plan a presentation AND write a 10-page paper? Ugh. And I am completely lost with our topic. I feel stupid. I mean, I understand it, but without the other parts of the essay I don't know how to frame my section, what to say, what not to say in order to avoid contradiction, etc. Group work at the Ph.D. level should be outlawed. It's just not practical. But like I said, I love my group members: really, really smart people!

Going out to dinner tonight to celebrate my birthday... I think. M has been doing well the last few days. I am very thankful. Her feeling well is easily the best birthday gift I could ever ask for.

David Keplinger and Heather Sellers read in town on Thursday night. Incredible. That's all I have to say. They were both incredible.

phlegm is like a moon in your throat

2008-02-19T21:31:00.001-05:00

Two more rejections for the manuscript today: The National Poetry Review Book Award and The Vasser Miller Prize.

Blah.

So much money, so little reward.

Onward.

my throat hurts

2008-02-18T16:52:00.002-05:00

Update: The summer 2008 issue of Colorado Review will feature (that's not the right word... I'm not a "feature attraction" in any way... but I'm tired and can't find a better word) my poem, "Forever Falling Off or Out" and will be published in July 2008. Yippee.

misery's the river of the world

2008-02-18T15:56:00.007-05:00

And so my prayers all week have been with my alma mater. God help our youth. What is wrong with these fucking kids? It makes me sick. At any rate, I have been in touch with everyone I know on campus and off and they are all okay. Shocked, grieving, and undeniably changed forever, but okay. I took classes in that hall, I walked through the door the gunman used. The building right next to Cole Hall is Reavis Hall, home of the NIU English Department. No one in this country (hell, in this world) should ever be afraid to go to work... but now I, if only for a brief second, fear the classroom. The world we live in.

M had been in the hospital since Wednesday. Came home today. Hopefully things will be better now. Poor thing. She just wants to enjoy being pregnant... the hormones won't let her, yet. Soon though. Soon. Praying for her too.

On the good news side of things. See this. I didn't win, but that's two finalists nods this season. Maybe soon? I hope so. The manny is still out at 12+ places with a bunch more deadlines coming up. It's expensive and it's nearly killing me (the waiting, the anticipation), but there's no other way. I must persist.

Finally, I want to publicly (is this blog public?... boy, that opens a can of politicized language I don't want to eat out of) thank all of you for your congratulatory remarks on the impending baby. M and I appreciate it a great deal.

Huzzah, they can swim!!!

2008-02-13T13:19:00.002-05:00

Big news time!!

I can finally announce it. All the family members know, all the closest friends know, and now all of you, my poetry friends and family will know.

Mandy is pregnant! We are only a couple months along. Our due date is the second or third week of September. WooHoo!! It's our first, and it happened the very first month we tried. We agreed after the holidays that we'd give it a year, we'd try all of '08, and wham! January it was! Wow!

I'm gonna be a daddy!! Holy shit.

M's having a really rough time with illness (the details of which I will politely spare you). Right now she's in the Antepartum unit of the hospital getting fluids, vitamins, and medications through an IV to help counteract the nastiness. She tried to tough it out at home, but the docs (for fear of severe dehydration) decided that a few days in the hospital might be the answer. It's not all too uncommon for this to happen during the first trimester, but it's still slightly nervewracking. But things will be okay after the 12 week mark (which isn't too far away)... so they keep telling us anyway. Let's pray that's true. I want so badly to celebrate her beauty, celebrate this time in our lives. Even though she's throwing up and feels like crap, I still find her more and more beautiful everyday knowing what's happening inside her body. It's the most beautiful thing I can ever imagine.

Anyway, we are extremely thrilled, overwhelmed, scared, and exhilirated. Oh my God.

I'm gonna be a daddy!!!

lemonade with hotsauce

2008-02-10T16:57:00.001-05:00

How it is.

And how it looks.

fingers and toes = perpetually crossed

2008-02-09T21:24:00.001-05:00

What it looks like out tonight. You can't really tell, but it's blowing soooooo hard, snowing sooooo hard, so much, so quickly. On the way home people were getting stuck trying to get up the locals hills because the roads were so slick (if only they knew how to drive though, they would have been fine... for instance, don't go 10mph when starting your ascent or you won't make it... speed up to 20 or 25 and you'll simply coast to the top... Michigan drivers are the worst I've ever been associated with... ever!).

The burger I had at Maison's. Wasn't the best burger I'd ever had, but it was damn close.

my haul, my gall... stone

2008-02-06T22:37:00.000-05:00

AWP was a great time. Ran into some old friends, some new friends, some fellow bloggers. A sample of the blogger-people I ran into (if you're not listed, it's simply because my memory is awful and not because I didn't enjoy meeting you, talking with you) and what about them makes them special/interesting to me: Steve (so tall, so quiet, so nice), Mary (is there anyone alive more energetic, more happy, more inspiring?), Adam (my homey to the end... word), Mathias (such a sweet guy... had never met him before), Matt (Gooooooooo Cubbies!), Zach (Neutral Milk Hotel via email), Aimee (such a cute couple with Dustin... love them), Paul (don't know if I've ever seen someone glowing like Paul was this weekend), and others I simply don't remember at the moment. And I won't even mention all my BGSU buds and WMU buds and other old-school buds that I hung out with, dined with, and partied with (which was how I spent the majority of my weekend... with old friends).

No great stories to tell, though the $24 reubens I bought for Babs and me on Friday were pretty outstanding. I walked around the block twice (the wrong way, mind you) in POURING rain until I finally found the deli. It ended up okay though. Was a damn good sandwich. And they were from the famous Carnegie Deli. Yum. Expensive but yum.

Speaking of food. I ate a lot. Mike Czy (of MAR fame) found us a dynamite Indian joint on Friday night... was so crazy good. And the delicious little French-American place Maison was probably my favorite eatery of the weekend. The omelette was outstanding. And the coffee... oh my god, the coffee. Went there twice. Would have gone back again had time permitted.

Subscribed to 3 journals: jubilat, Redivider, and The Laurel Review. Holy shit, the new issue of TLR is incredible! Bought other journals, too. Also picked up contributor copies of Copper Nickel (holy hell it's the most beautiful journal I've ever seen... great work Jake and crew!), The Pinch (also incredibly beautiful design), and Barn Owl Review (so incredible... what a great first issue, what great company my lil poem's in).

Bought some books, too:

Poet's Bookshelf II, ed. Davis and Koontz (Barnwood Press)

Quarter Notes, Charles Wright (U of Michigan Press)

Equivocal, Julie Carr (Alice James)

The Floating Bridge, David Shumate (U of Pittsburgh Press)

The Monster Loves His Labyrinth, Charles Simic (Ausable)

My Soviet Union, Michael Dumanis (U of Mass Press)

National Anthem, Kevin Prufer (Four Way Books)

It's go in horizontal: Selected Poems, Leslie Scalapino (U of Cal Press)

The problem? Finding time to read all of these books... not to mention the other 100+ that are sitting unread on my shelves. I have an addiction. I know this.

So much fun in NYC at AWP this year. I do, however, think it's absurb to charge $11 for a beer, $17 for a mixed drink, and $43/day for parking. But whatever. It was my first trip to the Big Apple and I can't wait to take M back so I can actually see the sights. I only saw Time Sqare and Central Park. Oh and the Statue of Liberty from the airplane. Good-bye AWP. Until next year.