At Odds with the Squirrels

As you learned in my last post, I've been adding a bunch of bird feeders to my backyard. This ought to be easy enough, yes? NO! I have a lot of trees in my yard for which I'm grateful, but I had no idea that squirrels could jump up to 10 feet from a tree or 4 feet from the ground. Each time I put up a feeder and went somewhere else, when I returned I either found a squirrel wrapped around it like a fur coat or found the feeder knocked down to the ground from the force of the squirrel's leap.

I had the feeders arranged in a visually attractive pattern, but had to keep moving things around. Three times a squirrel managed to knock the peanut feeder off its stand. Each time that little pest ran off with the entire feeder which I eventually found some distance away with its top removed and every single peanut gone.

The original arrangement, pretty but feeders too close to the trees

I bought clear plastic baffles, secured the feeders onto their posts with wire ties and hooks, substituted a chain for the hanger that had come with the feeders. Each time the squirrels outwitted me.

So I bought several sturdier posts and baffles and moved all the feeders onto the grassy area of my yard. Not too convenient for mowing, but at least there's a chance that we can hold onto the feeders. I have, however, already spotted a squirrel climbing onto a branch that's above one of the feeders. I can almost hear him planning his strategy and calculating the distance.

The new arrangement, hopefully no feeders within jumping range

But for now I've got tons of birds—house finches by the dozens, some cardinals, woodpeckers big and small, mourning doves, and a few other varieties.

One cardinal and two chipmunks in a spirit of cooperation all nibbling spilled seeds

So far only one goldfinch even though I bought a feeder with bright yellow on it which the woman at the store told me tricks the goldfinches, as they fly by, into thinking that other goldfinches are down there and that they'd better stop by for a free meal.

Speaking of free meals, notice how full this feeder is? Notice, too the house finches enthusiastically feeding.

The same feeder just a few hours later

What does any of this have to do with poetry? Nothing! At least not yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if a squirrel poem eventually emerges. After all, this battle has put me more in touch with Nature, honed my observational skills, and engaged me in conflict—all ingredients for poetry.

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Poetry and Place

I've been thinking about the influence that place has on our poems. It seems to me that if we move around a bit we can't help but gather new ideas, new images, new metaphors that somehow worm their way into poems even if not immediately. I'm not talking big-time travel here. There are unfamiliar locales right around the corner.

A few years ago I went to a daytime poetry reading in a nearby town. The reading was held on the grounds of an arboretum. Although it was April and we'd had some nice spring weather, that day made a complete reversal back to winter. On my way to the event, it started to snow, then sleet. By the time I arrived at my destination, the ground was covered with a wet, sloppy mush.

The reading was held in a house on the grounds. The reading room was surrounded on three sides by ceiling to floor windows. As the reading progressed, suddenly a bunch of goldfinches appeared outside the window right behind the reader. A feeder was hanging just outside that window. These birds were so adorable and playful that I lost all concentration on the reading.

I took home with me the image of those birds swirling around as if showing off for us. I was, however, disappointed not to have been able to walk the grounds and enjoy the trees and flowers. From the window I could see them weighted down by the slush. So that image went home with me also. And the disparity between the spring we were supposed to be having and the winter that had replaced it.

Those images swirled around in my head for days, signaling a poem was coming. That poem did come, April at the Arboretum. That day also ignited an interest in birds. I bought some goldfinch feeders and enjoyed a profusion of goldfinches that summer. Since then, however, those birds seem to have abandoned me. I am now attempting to tempt them back.

See that spot of yellow at the center? That's the goldfinch that showed up briefly yesterday.

A week ago I enjoyed a day of writing new work with a group of other women poets. We met at the home of one of the women. The summer after the arboretum experience this woman had been at my house and was intrigued by my birds. She then bought a bunch of feeders and she and her husband created a lovely sanctuary. So this year we women poets were entranced by her birds. Throughout the day we took turns giving each other poetry prompts. It was amazing to see how many of those poems had something to do with birds. That's what got me thinking about the influence of place on poetry.

That's what gave me a serious case of bird envy. And that's what got me to the bird store where I bought a bunch of new feeders. Now I have been engaged for a week in a battle with squirrels. More on that in my next post.

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My Facelift

Okay, not mine really. Blogalicious has had a makeover. It's her birthday so something new seemed in order. I wanted a more open look, something less boxed in. One thing that prompted me to make the change was that YouTube has enlarged their videos, so the last one I posted was too large for my posting area and extended beyond the margin which was ugly. Collin Kelley clued me in on how to fix that by adjusting the html code, and I made it work. But I kind of liked the larger video. 

Thus began a few days of experimenting with new looks. As you can see, I've stuck with the same color scheme. I want my blog to sort of match my website. I know that's alarmingly compulsive, but there you have it.

One thing I could not get with this new template is lower case letters in the header, footer, dates, and a few other places. I'm not keen on all caps, so if anyone knows how to adjust that, please clue me in. Also I'd like a line separating one post from another and could have that if I retained the border that is part of this template. But that messed up my header. It's there but you can't see it as I made it the same color as the background. Unfortunately, that eliminated (or colored over) the borders between posts. I'm fooling around with putting in a line in the post layout window, but am not sure it will look right. So bear with me through a few posts. Beauty comes at a price.

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Poetry Festival 2009: The Movie

Here's a slideshow I made for the poetry festival I ran on Sunday, May 17. This was the sixth year for the festival. The purpose of this showcase event is to celebrate the literary journals that give us poets a place for our work. Each year I invite twelve editors to participate—twelve because of the amount of space available. Each editor then invites two poets to represent the journal.

The editors each get tabletop space for their journals. They sell journals, give out subscription and submission information, and respond to questions from the 250 or so guests who attend during the four hours of the festival. Readings take place in another room. There are four time periods, three journals each. That's when the poets read, two poems each. So there's a lot of poetry and lots of different voices. The room remains full, about 80 people, thoughout the day so it's a great audience.

Poets who have books put them out for sale in the book sale area. There is also a freebie table where anyone can put out postcards, fliers for workshops, and so on.

This year all the photographs were taken by Anthony Buccino.

Jersey Girl

The most widely circulated newspaper in New Jersey is the Star-Ledger. Recently the paper initiated a monthly magazine, Inside Jersey, which is distributed to all paper subscribers and is available also by regular subscription. The July issue of the magazine begins what will become a monthly feature, a spotlight on a NJ writer or artist. I was delighted when several months ago I was invited to be the subject of the first such feature. I submitted five poems, two of which were selected. Both "A Murmuration of Starlings" and "Stripping the Lemon" appear in the current issue of Inside Jersey.

One of my missions in life is to widen the audience for poetry. Most publications of my work make me happy, but this one especially pleases me as the magazine will reach many people who might not otherwise read poetry. I hope they'll linger for a while with my poems and perhaps think they might like to try some more poetry.

"A Murmuration of Starlings" makes reference to something that happened recently in a nearby community and received quite a bit of attention in news outlets. Apparently the starlings had become a problem in Franklin Township, so the decision was made to poison their feeding spots. The unwitting birds ate the poisoned seeds, flew away, and then died mid-flight. I read in the paper that the mayor said, "It was raining dead birds." That line, that image, haunted me and shortly thereafter became the poem.

"Stripping the Lemon" I began last summer in an all-day workshop with Dorianne Laux and Joe Millar. Participants were asked to bring along some interesting object. I brought a print-out of a painting by artist Jeff Hayes. "Strip-tease" struck me as a very sexy image of a fruit. It seemed metaphorical. That metaphorical aspect generated the poem, a comparison between peeling the lemon and stripping off one's clothes. I had a really good time shaping the poem. I wanted to capture in my lines the sinuous curves that Hayes captured on his canvas. So once I felt that I had the words right, I labored over the shape. It took me hours to get it just right, but in the end I was pleased with the results.

Excess in Poetry

Like Seinfeld's Kramer, my husband loves the Price Club. And like Kramer, he tends to overbuy when he goes there. Recently I asked him to pick up a box of Ghirardelli brownie mix. He came home with the above pictured box. I have enough brownie mix to last a few years. But maybe not as these are without a doubt the absolute best brownies. I will never again bother to make brownies from scratch (not that I have in recent years) as these are better. The particular mix I have (there are others) contains three different kinds of chips. The brownies are sweet, gooey, fudgy, and loaded with chips.

I have just two problems with the brownies: 1) I can't stop eating them, and 2) I always seem to burn them just a bit around the edges. I know you can't help me with the first problem, but can anyone recommend a pan that eliminates the overdone edges problem?

Anyhow, for some reason this large box of brownies got me thinking about excess in poetry. I remember hearing Mark Doty at a Dodge Festival say that he's a "more is more kind of poet." I know that Doty is sometimes criticized for going on too long, for being too expansive, and yet it seems to me that while his poems are often long they flow seamlessly. Generous and lavish and gorgeous. I recall Doty also saying something about reaching that point where he thinks the poem is over but then instead of stopping, he asks himself what more could be said and he keeps on going.

I tend to blab on too long in my poems, so my revision work is often a matter of trimming off the overdone edges. When I feel that a poem hasn't found its real subject, I write out in the margins, then often import that material into the poem. But then I also cut out some stuff. I seem to focus more on cutting than on expanding. I'm trying to think of some other poets who are expansive without being long-winded and flabby. Any suggestions?

I'd like to offer you some brownies, but here's a delicious poem by Mark Doty instead.

Fish R Us

Clear sac
of coppery eyebrows
suspended in amnion,
not one moving–

A Mars,
composed entirely
of single lips,
each of them gleaming–

this bag of fish
(have they actually
traveled here like this?)
bulges while they

acclimate, presumably,
to the new terms
of the big tank
at Fish R Us. Soon

they’ll swim out
into separate waters,
but for now they’re
shoulder to shoulder

in this clear and
burnished orb, each fry
about the size of this line,
too many lines for any

bronzy antique epic,
a million of them,
a billion incipient citizens
of a goldfish Beijing,

a Sao Paulo,
a Mexico City.
They seem to have sense
not to move but hang

fire, suspended, held
at just a bit of distance
(a bit is all there is), all
facing outward, eyes

(they can’t even blink)
turned toward the skin
of the sac they’re in,
this swollen polyethylene.

And though nothing’s
actually rippling but their gill,
it’s still like looking up
into falling snow,

if all the flakes
were a dull, breathing gold,
as if they were streaming
toward–not us, exactly,

but what they’ll be . . .
Perhaps they’re small enough
–live sparks, for sale
at a nickel apiece–

that one can actually
see them transpiring:
they want to swim
forward, want to

eat, want to take place.
Who’s going to know
or number or even see them all?

They pulse in their golden ball.

Journals That Read in the Summer—Part 3

Here's the third and final installment of the list of print journals that read during the summer. Again, please let me know if you spot an error. And be sure to check the guidelines for specifics. Most, if not all, of these journals have websites.

Reminder of how the list works:
**indicates that simultaneous submission is ok
x indicates the number of times the journal publishes per year
If dates are not included, that means the journal reads all year


Poetry--11x-online subs

**Poetry Miscellany-1x-tabloid-e-mail subs

**Raintown Review-2x-email subs

The Rambler-6x-prefers no sims

**Rattle-2x—email subs ok

**Redactions—1x—by email

Redivider—2x

**Rhino-1x-April thru Oct 1

River Oak Review--2x

**River Styx-2x-May thru Nov

**Roger: An Art and Literary Magazine—1x—Aug 1-Jan 1

**Rosebud--3x

**Slipstream-1-x

**Smartish Pace--2x-deadlines July 1 & Dec 1

**South Dakota Review-4x

Southern Humanities Review--4x

**Southern Poetry Review—2x

**The Sun-12x

**Third Coast--2x—begin Aug. 1-email

**Tiferet: A Journal of Spiritual Literature-2x—email subs

**Turnrow-2x

**Tusculum Review—1x--April 1-Nov 15

**Verse-1x—reopens for submissions July—for print issue, sub must be chapbook length

**Weave—2x—email subs

Willow Springs Review—2x—slower response in summer