The Best American Poetry

Bruce F. Kawin Guest Blogger April 22-26 (and contest!)

This week we welcome Bruce F. Kawin as our guest blogger. Although he published chapbooks in 1964 (Breakwater) and 1970 (Slides), Bruce did not publish a book of poems until 2012, when Thames River Press (London) brought out Love If We Can Stand It.  He has also published nine more or less scholarly books on literature and film, of which the most recent is Selected Film Essays and Interviews (Anthem Press, 2013), as well as the last seven editions of Gerald Mast's A Short History of the Movies.

In other news . . .

Book Giveaway:  The Collected Poems of Ai (Norton, February 2013).  Tell us about your earliest memory of poetry for a chance to win one of five copies of Ai's recent collection. You can write your story in the comment field.  Read Sharon Preiss's review of The Collected Poems of Ai here.

-- sdh

Phil Jackson Poet Poke [by Catherine Woodard]

NBA coach Phil Jackson won 11 championships, six with the Chicago Bulls and five with the Los Angeles Lakers. He also was a player for two titles with the Knicks in the 1970s. A Jackson literary tactic was to select books for his players on long road trips. In that spirit, I asked BAP readers to pair poems with NBA and WNBA players. Thanks for the entries. My winners of the Poet Poke.

 

NBA CHAMPS

Mary Karr, award-winning poet and best-selling memoirist, offers Losing Steps by Stephen Dunn for the San Antonio Spurs from her native Texas. Despite a 20-game winning streak in the playoffs, the Spurs were worn down by the younger Oklahoma City Thunder in the semifinals.

“I'll testify for the Spurs with Losing Steps. You can say we all suffer a little slowdown with knee aches that thwart our best games. Speed is a gift from the gods, and as a Texan, I pray they get their legs back.”

Also from Karr, Loony Bin Basketball for Phil Jackson as a coming attraction. Her poem for Jackson will be appear in POETRY magazine in September 2012 .

Todd Muller is founder of Ball In, a website which started as paper zine in the mid-90s dedicated to the idea that basketball is the best way to find meaning in this world. Todd, always a good pickup teammate, tossed me Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley, which I am assigning to Ron Artest, the Los Angeles Lakers forward who legally changed his name to Metta World Peace. Mr. World Peace was suspended for seven games right before the playoffs for a flagrant foul elbow to Thunder guard James Harden. Overall, he has been suspended 10 times in his 13 years. World Peace would be wise to study Shelley’s sonnet about art and language long outlasting the other legacies of power.

Overheard on National Public Radio just before the playoffs. “They are going to need World Peace going forward…Might be curtains for World Peace.”

Brett Fletcher Lauer is a poet and managing director of the Poetry Society of America. His knees are 33 years old, young by any standard but the NBA. He suggests as summer reading the The Magic of Numbers by Kenneth Koch for the two teams in the finals, Oklahoma City Thunder and the Miami Heat, and the many older players who’ve already cleaned out their lockers for the year.

Lauer with memories of the basketball net in his family’s driveway: “Playing against my three older brothers, age provided huge advantages such as their superior motor skill, height, and physical strength—like when they did that thing where they held me back by placing their hand on my head and my arms flailed around unsuccessfully trying to reach them, reach the ball, reach anything but air.  

But in the timeline of an NBA player, it doesn’t seem to work that way
I thought both teams might enjoy Kenneth Koch’s mediation on the magic of numbers and youth.”

Mark Coatney of Tumblr and a teammate in my Sunday pickup game, suggests What Work Is by Philip Levine for LeBron James, who’s in the finals for the second consecutive year with the Miami Heat. The Heat lost to the Dallas Mavericks last year after James bolted the Cleveland Cavaliers in a live ESPN special. “It will help him figure out what was so wrong about how he left Cleveland.”

Michael Schiavo s a poet who lives in Vermont. He is a graduate of the University of Connecticut, and claims, before tip-off, he successfully predicted the exact final score of the Huskie’s 1999 NCAA championship. He recommends A Noiseless Patient Spider by Walt Whitman for the Thunder’s star Kevin Durant, nicknamed "Durantula,"

“Noiseless is perhaps the wrong word to describe Chesapeake Energy Arena, which has been dubbed both "Loud City" and "The Thunderdome." "Noiseless" is certainly the wrong descriptor to use when talking about Kevin Durant's impact on the NBA. "Patient," however, is applicable to both fans and current players of the franchise formerly known as the Seattle SuperSonics.

This fragment, which first appeared in the 1867 edition of Leaves of Grass, evokes the basketball (and poetry) experience from two vistas, especially when #35 (or the "lonely old courage-teacher") drops the rock. The first stanza mirrors the crowd's (reader) participation in the movement of the game, the hesitation and surge, the witness to the weave of curve, hangtime, swoosh. The second stanza friezes the moment (poem) when that sphere is released, when it arcs toward the circle, the threading of a world through a wormhole, beautiful, repeated 'til the final buzz.

 

WNBA MVP

Darrel Alejandro Holnes, poet and playwright (and die-hard fan of the New York Liberty!) matches five Liberty players with five poems.

Leilani Mitchell – Fierce Girl Playing Hopscotch by Alice Fulton

Cappie Pondexter – Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou

Kia Vaughn – Harlem by Langston Hughes

Nicole Powell - Old Men Playing Basketball by B. H. Fairchild

Kelly Miller – Georgia Dusk by Jean Toomer

“I chose these poems because each displays the spirit of empowerment, mischief, wisdom, history, and strength that each player demonstrates on the court. There's also a strong sense of place in each of these poems. The New York Liberty represent New York City, but the players each also carry their hometowns with them. Place is an important to a player, as is it is to the poems, as it was to the poets. It locates, it centers us to create both art and athletics.”

"Please Hold" by Ming Holden - Contest Runner Up*

All of our representatives are
Assisting other callers
At this time. Your call is important
To us. Please stay on the line,

Assisting other callers,
And your call will be handled
To us. Please stay on the line
In the order it was received,

And your call will be handled.
Your shadow will comfort you
In the order it was received,
Oozing dark lines of calmative blue.

Your shadow will comfort you,
Aloe tongue pulsing in the remains,
Oozing dark lines of calmative blue.
You're keeping hooded eyes on each other.

Aloe tongue, pulsing in the remains,
At this time, your call is important.
You're keeping hooded eyes on each other.
All of our representatives are . . .

*Ed. note:  We had a contest a couple of weeks ago for which contestants had three days to write a poem based on the lines spoken when one is put on hold while waiting for help. Ming turned this poem in in a matter of hours!  Details and other winners are here. Thank you Ming Holden for entering this fine poem. 

On Hold by David Yezzi - Contest runner up*

On Hold

“Our agents are now
assisting other callers.
your call is important:
Please stay on the line.”

Assisting other callers?
But you were mine only.
“Please stay on the line.”
I’m hanging up now.

“But you were mine only.”
A hollow assurance;
I’m hanging up now.
“Your call will be handled

[a hollow assurance]
in the order received.”
Your call will be handled?
You sonofabitch.

In the order received,
return my love. Wait.
You sonofabitch.
I wish I knew where . . .

Return, my love. Wait,
your call is important.
I wish I knew where
our agents are now.

*Ed. note:  We had a contest a couple of weeks ago for which contestants had three days to write a poem based on the lines spoken when one is put on hold while waiting for help.  Details and other winners are here. Thank you David Yezzi for entering this fine poem. 

Runner Up: Assisting to Deceive by John Oliak

Congratulations John Oliak.  Your poem "Assisting to Deceive" is the runner up in our pantoum contest:

Assisting to Deceive

Your call is important to us, please stay on the line.
All of our representatives are assisting to deceive.
Please keep listening to this message at this time.
Your call will be handled in the order it was received.

All of our representatives are assisting to deceive.
Please understand that your inquiry is important to us.
Your call will be handled in the order it was received.
You may allow this message to act as your reprieve.

 Please understand that your inquiry is important to us,
But our representatives are deceiving other callers.
You may allow this message to act as your reprieve.
Your call will be handled in the order it was received.

Our representatives are deceiving other callers.
Please keep listening to this message at this time.
Your call will be handled in the order it was received.
You are important to us, please stay on the line.

And the Winner Is . . . (drum roll) : Carly Sachs!

Last week, we announced a contest to see who could come up with the best pantoum or villanelle based on the lines one might hear while on hold with an insurance company. Details are here. Contestants had only four days to respond.  The results are now in.  Contest judge Laura Orem picked Carly Sachs' "You Are No Longer in a Relationship" from among the many strong entries. The judging was blind. Laura had only the poem and its title. Congratulations Carly and thank you Laura.  I'll post a few of the other contenders later in the week.    -- sdh

You Are No Longer In a Relationship

The un-brave Facebook status message holiday-time, New York:
sometimes I wonder why I’m not married.
Skaters in Bryant Park, hand in hand,
what we dare to touch, publish---

sometimes I wonder why I’m not married
Thirty-three people like this.
What we dare to touch, publish,
David writes: All of our representatives are assisting other callers at this time.

Thirty-three people like this.
The truth is we are all listening to the recording wanting to believe that
all the representatives are assisting other callers at this time,
that we will not be forgotten, not loved

so we keep listening to the recording:
Your call is important to us,
elevator music song: you will not be forgotten, not loved
because you have 864 friends who tag you in photos implying

your call (you) (your online persona) is important to us.
Your dark house empty embraces you alone, again.
Think positive! You have 864 friends imploring
generic birthday wishes, starting mafia wars, suggesting that you "friend"  

your dark house embraces you alone, again
please stay on the line and your call will be handled in the order it was received.
Meanwhile: more generic birthday wishes, mafia wars, friend requests.
Clear status. Put on party dress. Upload new profile pic.

Please stay on the line and your call will be answered in the order it was received.
Skaters in Bryant Park, hand in hand.
Clear status, put on party dress, upload new profile pic.
The brave status message: I love holiday time New York!

Last Minute Contest with Prize! Deadline Midnight Saturday December 18, 2010

The 411:   Yesterday, while on the phone with my insurance company, I typed this as my Facebook status update:

All of our representatives are assisting other callers at this time. Your call is important to us. Please stay on the line and your call will be handled in the order it was received.

Soon after, Mark Doty  commented that these lines would "make for a fine pantoum" so I threw down the guantlet.  The response was enthusiastic so we're opening up the contest here with the beautiful Design House Stockholm "Poem Cup" as first prize.

Here's the challenge:  Write either a villanelle or a pantoum using the lines in bold, above. Submit your poem by midnight on Saturday, December 18, 2010 in an e-mail to bestampo@gmail.com.  We'll post the best of the submissions and one lucky poet will win the cup.  

-- sdh

We Have Our First Winner! by Rachel Shukert

We have our first winner in the Write a Rhymed Poem About Your Disappointing Family Member Sweepstakes!

Karen Bock contributed the following brilliant bit of doggerel:

Dick, the Dick

My pedophile brother, Rich
made some little girls bitch 
when they grew older
and wisdom made them bolder 
about clueless and blind mothers
whose favoritism smothers 
little girls finding love or beauty in mirrors
but that always engenders fears. 

Congratulations, Karen!!  You'll receive a copy of my book, Everything Is Going To Be Great, in the mail.  For those of you who are suddenly envious of Karen, it's not too late!  Send in your rhyming verse about why you hate your family, and you'll receive the same! 

Avenge Yourself On Your Family In Rhyme & Giveaway! by Rachel Shukert

As I may or may not have made clear earlier, I was invited to guest blog for this estimable site in part to promote my newest book, Everything Is Going To Be Great, a memoir of the two mostly disastrous but nostalgically wonderful years I spent living in Europe after college. 

Most of this time was spent in Amsterdam, where I was also lucky enough to spend the winter holidays.  Christmas in the Netherlands is very different than it is here. Christmas is a holiday to spend with your family, getting drunk and eating ham, a Thanksgiving-esque festival, whereas the feast of Sinterklaas, about a month earlier, is really top banana.

Sinterklaas carries with it some interesting traditions--not the least those brilliantly chronicled by David Sedaris.  But my favorite tradition involves the giving gifts, or more precisely, the giving of gifts accompanied by pithy rhyming poems detailing the ways in which one's family members have disappointed one.  (This may have inspired the the traditional "airing of grievances" we have been told is a cherished part of Festivus.)

As we are coming up on the part of summer where everyone hates one another and themselves and hope the kids go back to school before one is forced to lay waste to everything in sight, I thought it might be amusing, not to say cathartic, to attempt such an endeavor here.  Send your rhyming poems about your family's most abominable traits to me at rachel@rachelshukert.com.  At the end of the week I will post them, and send everyone who contributes a signed copy of my new book. Sound fair?  (If you don't want the book, because you hate me or you can't read, I'll send you something else.  Like a candy cane and a used tissue.  I'm not going to tell you what I used it for.)

We're under strict instructions not to post our own poetry here, but I thought it couldn't hurt to offer up a couple of my very humble examples as the genre, which in turn might inspire your far superior efforts.  If I may:

To a Beloved Mother Who Never Loved Me

From the time I was a baby

Til I'm ninety-three of four

I always will be conscious

That you loved my sister more.

You trusted her with secrets

In her you did not doubt

You left her all your jewelry

And I was left without.

So when you open up this gift

I hope that you will see

A big fat lot of nothing

'Cause that's all you gave to me.

Get the idea?  I'll just show you one more.

For a Very Special Alcoholic

Do you remember how you puked on stage

At high school graduation?

Or how you used to pee yourself

At each act of copulation?

I don't think I'll forget the night

You smashed up Rhonda's car

Or the time you gave that convict head

In a filthy roadside bar.

So here my friend, my gift to you

For your ever empty cup

A nice big vat of whisky

Come on, you lush, drink up!

I think that should give you the idea.  And terribly, terribly sorry for this egregious bending of the rules.  Please have fun, and please contribute!  I can't wait to hear how much you hate your family, even though you also love them.

Inaugural Poems in the News

Three Flags, 1958, Jasper Johns  

 In early December Nancy Benac of the Associated Press phoned me because she was working on a piece about the coming inauguration and she had read "A Poetry-Free Presidency," which I wrote for Salon on January 19, 2001. Would Obama ask a poet to deliver an ode for the occasion, as Kennedy and Clinton did, or would he follow in Bush's footsteps and shun the practice? And if the former, whom would he choose? This was days before the President-elect settled the debate and tapped the poet Elizabeth Alexander for the inaugural ceremony. Yet there remained much for an AP reporter to write about. What could a poet add to the occasion? How had previous inaugural poets fared? Have American presidents in the past been responsive to poetry?

In her excellent AP piece , Nancy Benac mentioned that The Best American Poetry website blog was staging a challenge for the best inaugural ode. Our rules were arcane enough to assure that contestants would invest time and thought into the project. To be eligible, a poem had to consist of four quatrains, had to include at least three words from a prescribed list (honor, integrity, faith, hope, change, power), and had to lift a line from "The Best American Poetry 2008." Nearly fifty poems came our way. All were read anonymously. Mark Strand, a former guest editor of The Best American Poetry, served as judge and chose Gerald Greland's "This Is the Dream" as the winner. R. S. Gwynn came in a strong second with "An Inaugural Prayer." Valentina Gnup and Michael Schiavo took home third-place honors.

In a subsequent phone conversation, Nancy Benac asked me if I would consider writing my own poem for the inauguration. She told me she was asking an array of other poets -- among them Julia Alvarez, Billy Collins, Bob Holman, Yusef Komunyakaa, Gary Soto, and Alice Walker -- to try their hand at it.  I love a challenge, so I said yes, and I thought it only fair for my effort to comply with the rules we had established for the BAP inaugural ode competition. A week later, Bonny Ghosh of the Associated Press came to my apartment with cameras and sound equipment and taped me reading my "Poem for Obama."

Ten of these inaugural poems have been posted here and in some cases there's a video of the poet reciting his or her work.

-- DL