Just got news that two of my poems have been accepted for publication in what I think is one of the finest new literary magazines in the world–Cha: An Asian Literary Journal. I am thrilled about my first international publication. Cha is one of the only literary journals in Hong Kong.
It has been my constant goal to engage more and more poetry from the international community. Most of my models–my heroes–are not American poets. I fell in love with poetry when I encountered García Lorca. The reading list I’ve built for my MFA program includes many poets that reflect my love for work from different parts of the world, including Adélia Prado (Brazil), Jaime Saenz (Bolivia), Shuntarō Tanikawa (Japan), Georg Trakl (Austria), César Vallejo (Peru), R.S. Thomas (Wales), the invaluable Anthology of Modern Chinese Poetry, edited and translated by Michelle Yeh, and many others.
Last year, I discovered a Japanese poet named Kimura Nobuko, whom I wrote briefly about here. I spent a great deal of time with her collection The Village Beyond, and was deeply moved by it. It inspired a series of surreal poems that I dedicated to her, using a line of hers from an interview as the epigraph: “A dream is not just a set of images but an actual experience.”
I wanted to publish those poems in a market that would reach further than most small American literary journals. Cha specifically publishes work from, about, or related to Asia. Since the poems were inspired by, and dedicated to, a Japanese poet, I thought it would be a good match. (In a previous issue, they published four of Billy Collins’ poems about his time in Japan, so there was precedent.) Thankfully, the editors liked my poems and chose two of them for Issue 10. I could not be more excited.
This has been a great year in publishing for me so far. I have work forthcoming in Main Street Rag, and I recently received my contributor’s copies of the beautiful Rio Grande Review, a magazine published by the University of Texas – El Paso’s bilingual MFA program.
Do you read any international literary journals that publish at least some work in English? Let me know. I’d love to discover more poets from around the world, and, who knows, maybe have a chance to see my own poems crossing borders again, too.
“Angels whisper to a man when he goes for a walk.” ~Raymond Inmon
I got it into my head this morning to walk the snowy trail along the Irondequoit Creek. My brother-in-law is in town and always game for a hike, even when it’s 19 degrees with a lake wind that makes it “feel like zero.” And I can’t help falling for the seduction of the winter sun, drawing a false connection between its bright morning light and the heat it would seem to be—but is not—emitting.
After some easy hiking and three successive bridges, the trail is no longer recognizable as such. It deposits you on the side of a muddy cliff, icy water below. The root structure of some evergreens tempted us to go on. There are two possibilities: the high way, clinging to roots and a semblance of footing among downed trees, and the low way, which offers a two-inch strip of bank that could be mud, ice, or dead leaves, likely some unattractive combination. We took the high way.
My brother-in-law slipped at the most dangerous point, but had a good handle on a durable pine root. For a second, though, he pulled a Cliffhanger. It was awesome, though I felt secretly guilty for thinking so while he was at risk. A great athlete and woodsman, he handled it easily, pointing out later, “I don’t think my muscles were bulging like Stallone’s.” Earlier we’d debated turning back. I felt badly for putting him in that position. But it was invigorating to be out deep in the woods when innocuous walk became perilous adventure, if not exactly for me.
By chance, I had enjoyed two breakfasts prior to going out. Per my habit of over-identifying with “Lord of the Rings,” I felt a sense of purpose surge within. While it was silly and indulgent, it also put me in the right frame of mind to enjoy the payoffs the hike would later afford: a male and female mallard drifting together on the current; a father and son fishing quietly; the sudden appearance of a waterfall that looked so much like glass, I could not say for sure it wasn’t; the discovery of a poplar that had split into two equally massive trees, the common trunk of which was twelve or fourteen feet around; and finally the tired, satisfied hamstring muscles climbing the last hill home.
The hike enabled me to receive the gift of a winter day that, if asked, I would’ve said I could do without. My default setting is vague depression/irritability, especially in New York’s long winter. I need to be jolted from it. Walking never fails to supply the jolt, even quieter walks with no hints of danger.
Do you walk? Where? What do you experience? What do the angels whisper to you?
This is my clean, well-lighted place. As you can see, where I grew up, such a place is often first a place to come into from the cold. The Empire Diner in Herkimer, NY is a symbol for me. It’s where I want hot coffee and a friendly smile on a gray winter day. It speaks to the Mohawk Valley before Wal-Mart came in and sped up the already-in-progress decline of all the old mom and pop outfits: The Cozy Nook, Aiello’s Market, Big M (once “Foodland”), Shibley’s, The News Room, and many others.
Beth and I had a very early breakfast at the Empire on our wedding day. It became special to us in part because when we were younger and home from college, we’d walk around Mohawk and Herkimer for hours. Many of those times, we’d end up in a familiar booth, sipping coffee and picking songs from the jukebox at the Empire Diner.
I also like to go there alone, and pull up to a stool at the counter. It’s the kind of place where you can do that and not feel anxious. In fact, hitting the counter might score you some gratis grub: the new owners, I’m told, have retained an old tradition whereby whenever a train is heard passing through, they spin a wheel and someone at the counter wins a free meal.
A few years ago the building sat dormant, which made me inordinately depressed. Every time I go home, it seems another bastion of the old days is gone. I was very pleased when some good souls felt the pull of the classic train-car style diner, and purchased and re-opened it. I was even happier when I ate lunch there last summer and discovered that the new owners were making spectacular cheeseburgers. I mean, I’ve sought out good burgers all over the country. And the Empire Diner is making really good burgers. But for me, it’s always been about breakfast. The breakfast is at least as good as it ever was.
I love my clean, well-lighted place–and I like to hear others’ stories of their own. I’d like to hear from you. Where’s your clean, well-lighted place? What makes it special? Tell me about it. Show me a picture if you have one.
Check out Replacement Press, a new independent literary press in St. Paul, Minnesota. I like what they’re about and look forward to following their future.
Show your early support and spread the word by becoming a fan on Facebook or following them on Twitter.
Please come out to the Fall Writing Festival at Houghton if you can make it! Scott Cairns will be here!
“The Writer’s Journey”: Houghton College Writing Festival, 2009
Wednesday, September 16
10:15-10:55 a.m.
Chapel: Matthew Dickerson, “Lessons on Christian Ecology from the Writings of C.S. Lewis”
Location: Wesley Chapel
8:00-9:00 p.m.
Debra Reinstra, “Body, Soul, and Body: Language and Spirituality in Three Dimensions”
Reading from her three books, Debra Rienstra will consider the difficulties and delights of describing spiritual experience in language, considering the embodied personal experience, theological reflection, and the communal life of the church.
Location: CFA 145 (Recital Hall)
Opening reception and book signing to follow in Adelmann Atrium.
Thursday, September 17
10:00-10:50 a.m.
Matthew Dickerson Reading
Location: Library 323
This reading will be a collection poems and essays (narrative non-fiction) about Appalachian rivers, ecology, wild trout, and fly fishing.
1:00-1:50 p.m.
A Conversation with Debra Reinstra
Susan Bruxvoort Lipscomb, interviewer
Location: Chamberlain Center 325
3:00-3:50 p.m.
A Conversation with Scott Cairns
Matthew Dickerson, interviewer
Location: Library 323
6:30-7:45 p.m.
Banquet for writers, faculty, majors, and prospectives
Remarks by Linda Mills-Woolsey
Location: Dining Hall, South End
8:00-9:00 p.m.
Scott Cairns Reading, “Pressing the Word for a Glimpse”
Location: Library 323
Reading new poems and selections from his published works in poetry and nonfiction, Scott Cairns will entertain the notion that writers seldom write simply to share what they think they know, but in order to apprehend a sense of what they do not know, perhaps can never exactly know.
Friday, September 18
10:15-10:55 a.m.
Chapel: Scott Cairns, “A Short Trip to the Edge”
Location: Wesley Chapel
12:00-12:50 p.m.
Luncheon with writers for majors, prospectives, and Department of English faculty
Location: Campus Center Dining Hall, South End
1:00-1:50 p.m.
Faculty Readings
Daniel Bowman Jr., Lori Huth, and James Zoller
Location: CFA 145 (Recital Hall)
2:00-2:50 p.m.
Panel: “The Writer’s Vocation”
Daniel Bowman Jr., Scott Cairns, Lori Huth, James Zoller
