The Poet As Art: Terry Martin and Casey Fuller, and a workshop, too

The Poet As Art presents

A Poetry Reading featuring poets Terry Martin (from Spokane)
and Casey Fuller (from Portland, OR)

featuring Terry Martin and Casey Fuller

When: Friday,February 24th, 7:00 pm
Where: Lucia Douglas Gallery (1415 13th St. in Fairhaven)
This event is free and open to the public. Donations always welcome.

Terry Martin and Casey Fuller write about womanhood and manhood, and reflect on the childhood experiences that lead to those states. Seattle’s Open Books calls Fuller’s poems “sharp-edged, yet tender,” and Lucinda Roy says of Martin’s poems, “the sublime is housed within the domestic: kitchens are cathedrals, and the ‘geometry’ of rituals sustained by women teach us how to sing … about what we dare to love and what dares to love us back.”

ALSO:
A Poetry Writing Workshop with poet James Bertolino
Images On The Edge: a poetry writing workshop where we will develop images that will energize your poems, and create a lasting impact for the reader or listener. We will examine what kind of language is most effective for a given image, and utilize sound repetition and echo to make the image irresistible. Each workshop participant should expect to go home with three new poems.

James Bertolino

When: Saturday, February 25th, 1:00 to 4:30 p.m.
Where: Egress Studio
Registration fee: $45
To register, call: (360)398-7870 or email Jim at jim@jamesbertolino.com
Please mail fee to:
Whatcom Poetery Series
5581 Noon Road
Bellingham WA 98226

About Terry Martin
After teaching middle and high school English Language Arts for a number of years, Terry Martin earned a M.A. and Ph.D. at the University of Oregon. She has been an English

Terry Martin

Professor at Central Washington University since 1986, teaching undergraduate and graduate English courses. She is the recipient of CWU’s Distinguished Professor Teaching Award and Central’s Presidential Leadership Award. In 2003, Martin was honored by the CASE/Carnegie Foundation as Washington Professor of the Year—a national teaching award given to recognize extraordinary commitment and contribution to undergraduate education. An avid reader and writer, she has published over 250 poems, essays, and articles and has edited both journals and anthologies. Her first book of poems, Wishboats, won the Judges’ Choice Award at Bumbershoot Book Fair in 2000. Her most recent book of poetry, The Secret Language of Women, was published by Blue Begonia Press in 2006. Hiker, river-watcher, and lover of the arts, she lives with her partner in Yakima, Washington.

About Casey Fuller
In 2011, Casey Fuller won the Washington State-wide Floating Bridge Chapbook Award for his poetry collection, A Fort Made of Doors. In 2010, he won the Jeanne Lohmann Poetry Prize. In 2009, the city of Olympia awarded him the Here Today art grant. He

Casey Fuller

received his MFA from the Rainier Writing Workshop at Pacific Lutheran University in 2008. His poems have appeared in Crab Creek Review, Switched-On Gutenberg, A River and Sound Review, Palabra, and other publications.
Fuller has lived in the Northwest for 33 years. He was born in Olympia, Washington, where he was educated at pubic schools, and studied literature and cognitive science at The Evergreen State College. He has worked as an auto detailer, burrito roller, fruit vendor, note taker, office worker and, most recently, as a forklift driver in a warehouse where he wrote poems during his breaks. He lives in Portland, Oregon, with his wife Katrina, and two cats, Monty and Garcia Lorca.

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Sumi Ink and Watercolor Workshop With Sheila Sondik

Sumi Ink and Watercolor on Crinkled Mesa

Watercolor and Ink Painting on Crinkled Masa
An Artist’s Two-Day Workshop at Egress Studio

About the Workshop:
This workshop will explore the crinkled masa paper painting technique.

This enjoyable class combines Asian and Western painting techniques, and uses Japanese sumi ink and watercolor on Japanese paper. Each person will learn the techniques for crinkling the masa paper, which will produce intriguing textures, introduce the element of chance, and is very fun, as well. By the end of the workshop, everyone will go home with at least one finished artwork, and the knowledge to make more.
The instructor, Sheila Sondik, has explored this method of working for many years. See beautiful examples of her experience with the medium on her website at www.SheilaSondik.com/paintings.html.

About the Artist:

The workshop instructor at the helm of her studio.

Sheila Sondik is a prolific artist whose works have been exhibited in many states and in South Korea and Japan. She has taught individuals and groups in Berkeley, California, and in her Bellingham printmaking studio. Sheila is currently working on a series of prints inspired by Chuckanut sandstone. For more information, visit her website at SheilaSondik.com.

How to Register:
Saturday, January 21, and Sunday, January 22, from 1 to 5 both days.
Instructor: Sheila Sondik
Location: Egress Studio, 5581 Noon Road, Bellingham
Registration: $100 for two days
Materials list will be distributed to registrants. Most materials will be provided, and are included in the registration fee.
Workshop is limited to eight participants.
To register, please make check payable to “Sheila Sondik,” and mail to:
Sheila Sondik, 1809 Summit St., Bellingham, WA 98229.
Questions? Ask Sheila at (360) 306-8284 or ssondik@gmail.com

 

The Mill: Holiday Hand Made Bazaar

Until December 24 at 8 pm, you can visit The Mill (205 Chestnut St., Bellingham) to purchase presents you won’t hardly find anywhere else. Original art, honey, handmade apparel, and of course, Bison’s fantastically beautiful and often humorous letterpress cards and books.

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This year, you’ll find everything on your list: from honey to journals, baby hats to greeting cards, tie-dyed vests to cookies. It’s worth the time stopping in even if the only thing you see is the etching press, imported from Paris, and moved across the country to Kevin and Carly’s shop. Or would that be Shoppe? The bright yellow walls will keep winter’s depression at bay. Egress Studio Press has a few things there, too: greeting cards, prints, poetry and little handsewn, illustrated journals.

Uploading this has taken so long that I can only say I have to quit. Jim and I are getting high speed real soon, supposedly. If we do, I’ll update this again. Jim says I ought to show what Egress Studio has at The Mill, and I want to share photos of Carly’s dad Dave and Jim, as well as Robert Sarazin Blake’s actual records (i.e. LP’s) and CD’s, and it only took an additional forty-five minutes to add them to the slide show. I’m giving up now, at Jim’s request.

For hours of operation and more information, see http://holidayhandmadebazaar.com/

 

Announcing New Publications by Egress Studio Press, a Pre-Preview

I’m very proud to announce that Egress Studio Press is publishing two more Pacific Northwest poets. Vashon Island poet Ann Spiers’ chapbook is titled What Rain Does. The other publication is Her Story of Fire by Bellingham poet Richard Widerkehr. Look for them in the next week or two.

As soon as I finish printing them, Jim Bertolino and I will score, fold, cut, and sew the books. It’s a fairly relaxing pastime. When the poets finally have copies in their hands, I’ll post more information about the poems, the poets, where to purchase the books, and what they look like.

These are the first Egress Studio Press poetry books to be created completely in the studio: from layout to printing to assembly. I’m pretty excited about that. For now, I have to get back to the last edits before Jim and I start constructing the books.

 

Hiroshima Poems

We are lucky enough to say we have a pal named Garland Richmond, who taught German at Emory University for 37 years, and served as Dean of Student Academic Affairs. He was so valued by the university they named a research award after him! Garland is currently President of Bellingham’s Whatcom Chorale board of directors, and of course contributes his great voice to their programs. His skills as translator were used effectively in translating an entire Chorale program from German into English.

Here’s a beautiful and tragic poem Garland translated from the German with the care we’ve come to expect of him.

Hiroshima
—Maria Luise Kaschnitz
(Translated by Garland Richmond)

The man who threw death down on Hiroshima
Joined a cloister, rings the bells there now.
The man who threw death down on Hiroshima
Jumped in a noose from a stool
And strangled himself.
The man who threw death down on Hiroshima
Went out of his mind, fends off ghosts,
Hundreds of thousands, who come at him nightly,
Resurrected from the dust just for him.

None of that is true.
Not long ago I saw him
In the garden of his house in the suburbs.
The hedges were still young and the rose bushes delicate,
Things don’t grow fast enough for him to hide
In the forest of forgetting. Plain to see was
The naked suburban house, the young wife
Standing beside it in her flowered dress,
Holding the little girl’s hand,
The boy, sitting on the man’s back,
Swinging the whip over his head.
He himself was recognizable
On all fours on the plot of grass, his face
Contorted in laughter, because the photographer
Stood behind the hedge, the eye of the world.

Blueprint by James Bertolino, a broadside. Click on the poem for a larger version.

The poem’s early rhythm and repetition are haunting, and add a kind of urgency to the poem. The second stanza is a simple commentary, with any bitterness justified by what went before. But we still can feel the poet’s fist raised and shaking in the air.

I think one of Garland’s favorite poems may be “Blueprint” by James Bertolino, which is included in Jim’s book Finding Water, Holding Stone. Garland has twice identified New Yorker covers which used the poem’s imagery without crediting the source (he’s such a kidder). I recently made a broadside of this poem to send to Garland as a way of saying “Thank you.” He is a generous soul, active in our community, and very passionate about art, music and literature.

—posted by Anita K. Boyle and James Bertolino

 

The Noon Road Railing, a Summer’s Tale

Our house on Noon Road has a new look! After years of looking out the front windows at a rickety railing on the front porch, we have a replacement. The railing has been falling apart almost since the day it was put together back in 1995. Finally, I asked my son Isaac if he’d be interested in a “little summer job.” “Yes!” he said. And the work began.

The easy part took such a short amount of time, I didn’t have time to take a “before” photo before he had the whole thing torn off the deck. A little push here and there, and it was pretty much demolished. But I did take plenty of “during” photos. What you see in the first photos of the slideshow are the posts. We needed five of them. They came from the maple tree next to the one that once held a huge tree house that Barry and I made with help from our kids, Angela and Isaac. Kids and adults alike used to play in it. The maple next to it is huge, and Isaac cut some beautiful wood from it.

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The top and bottom railings were cut from a cedar tree that grows near the northwest corner of our house. I don’t remember how many branches it took, but the tree needed to be cleared from the house anyway. So… maple posts, cedar railings and the slats are either salvaged douglas fir, and also maple. The salvage pieces were trimmed and cleaned up a bit, as were all the new pieces. Then Isaac measured, cut, re-measured, trimmed some more, measured again, and laid it out to fit the parts. That took a bit of time, and a few cuss words, but it all went according to plan.

Building the railing was not an easy job. But in the end, what I wanted was exactly what I got. I consider myself the art director, and Isaac the artist and mathematician. I say “mathematician” because as you’ll notice, the railing uses crooked, bent, and twisted pieces for posts, railings and slats. However, you’ll also notice that the slats are spaced evenly, and placed about as perpendicular as possible. Isaac was out there doing the math on small scraps of paper and chunks of wood to be sure everything would fit. In the photos, you can see some circles and x’s he drew to measure from, and as targets for the drill bits. He also strung baling twine from the top to the bottom rungs in order to measure from here to there with some degree of accuracy. Toward the end, it was real tough putting the whole thing together, but obviously doable, as you can see. There was lots of pounding with Isaac’s homemade truncheon, and sharpening of chisels and knives. The truncheon lasted almost through the whole job, but not quite.

Isaac finished the railing (except for the stairs section, which will be finished soon), and then took off for Evergreen State College, where he’s taking Russian and a class called Motion and Matter that includes physics, chemistry and calculus. Those of you who know Isaac understand that he couldn’t be having a better time right now. Meanwhile, Jim and I have a great piece of art to look at every day. It’s wild and beautiful.

–posted by Anita K. Boyle

 

Counting Kittens

Egress Studio is located in a rural area of Whatcom County about fifteen minutes outside Bellingham–an idyllic and even wholesome place to live and to work. In a bucolic setting like this, there is a phenomenon that happens regularly brought about by possibly well-meaning, but rather thoughtless and naïve people. I’d like to think the people are just stupid, but I know that’s not true. Several times a year, cats of all sizes, shapes, colors and ages appear out of nowhere in different parts of the county. It’s like a weather forecast gone bad. Some meow at strangers’ front doors. Some find their way into a barn or shed. Still others are only seen in the corner of your eye before disappearing into the underbrush. People think these quiet country roads are a perfect place, with their thousands of mice, for a cat to live. Should be a perfect place for a cat. But it’s not. Typically, cats can live for a while outdoors. However, they rarely die of old age. Instead, things happen. Generally, they become meals for a wide number of predators: coyotes, owls, hawks, dogs and raccoons. Of course, vehicles cause havoc with their numbers, and malnutrition is a serious concern, too. Cats being domestic animals can only lead a long and healthy life if they have regular feedings by their human “domestic” partners: us.

Almost every county-dweller has a story about the feral or “wild” cats that have come to call. Often the cat is a queen, who produces a collection of tiny kittens to the delight and horror of their human hosts. Kittens are always irresistible. But when one opens their home to a feral mother and brood, the question in the back of one’s mind is: “Yikes! What happens in a few months when they become adolescents?” It’s a seriously scary thought. Right now, I know of a family of wonderfully happy kittens and their mom who are being cared for by a couple of friends of mine, Chris and Noel.

The mother cat was abandoned. My friends took pity on her and diligently fed her daily for the last year. Chris says, “The poor thing was so frightened, she wouldn’t let anyone touch her but always showed up for her meal.” One day they noticed she was carrying something in her mouth across their lawn. This happened a few more times until she had placed five furry bundles in a special place she discovered outside their house. She obviously trusted these humans. Chris and Noel hatched a plan to capture the mother in the basement, which was surprisingly successful. They then brought the five frightened kittens in to join her. Success again. For the last couple of months, the kittens and their mother have been thriving under the care of my good-hearted friends.

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Well, the kittens are eight-weeks old now, and will be ready for good homes of their own in just a few short weeks. They are calm and silly as any properly brought up kitten can be. Check the photos on this post to see what they look like. Cute doesn’t quite finish the description. If you are looking for a new roommate in orange, gray or buff, please send an email to Noel (noel@noelevans.com). You are welcome to visit the kittens to play with them until they are twelve weeks old. But do talk with my friends about these little kittens. One of them could become your new best friend.

And the connection to art and poetry? The kitten photos here are taken by Chris. I may add more later. And I’m sharing a couple poems about cats: one by Christopher Smart, and this one by William Wordsworth…

from The Kitten and Falling Leaves
by William Wordsworth

See the kitten on the wall, sporting with the leaves that fall,
Withered leaves—one—two—and three, from the lofty elder-tree!
Through the calm and frosty air, of this morning bright and fair . . .
—But the kitten, how she starts; Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts!

First at one, and then its fellow, just as light and just as yellow;
There are many now—now one—now they stop and there are none;
What intenseness of desire, in her upward eye of fire!

With a tiger-leap half way, now she meets the coming prey,
Lets it go as fast, and then, has it in her power again:
Now she works with three or four, like an Indian Conjuror;
Quick as he in feats of art, far beyond in joy of heart.

—And the next poem, if you have a few moments to regard a legendary cat…

>For I Will Consider My Cat Jeoffry (excerpt from Jubilate Agno)
written between 1759 and 1763
by Christopher Smart

For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer.
For he rolls upon prank to work it in.
For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.
For this he performs in ten degrees.
For first he looks upon his forepaws to see if they are clean.
For secondly he kicks up behind to clear away there.
For thirdly he works it upon stretch with the forepaws extended.
For fourthly he sharpens his paws by wood.
For fifthly he washes himself.
For sixthly he rolls upon wash.
For seventhly he fleas himself, that he may not be interrupted upon the beat.
For eighthly he rubs himself against a post.
For ninthly he looks up for his instructions.
For tenthly he goes in quest of food.
For having consider’d God and himself he will consider his neighbour.
For if he meets another cat he will kiss her in kindness.
For when he takes his prey he plays with it to give it a chance.
For one mouse in seven escapes by his dallying.
For when his day’s work is done his business more properly begins.
For he keeps the Lord’s watch in the night against the adversary.
For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin and glaring eyes.
For he counteracts the Devil, who is death, by brisking about the life.
For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.
For he is of the tribe of Tiger.
For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.
For he has the subtlety and hissing of a serpent, which in goodness he suppresses.
For he will not do destruction, if he is well-fed, neither will he spit without provocation.
For he purrs in thankfulness, when God tells him he’s a good Cat.
For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.
For every house is incomplete without him and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.
For the Lord commanded Moses concerning the cats at the departure of the Children of Israel from Egypt.
For every family had one cat at least in the bag.
For the English Cats are the best in Europe.
For he is the cleanest in the use of his forepaws of any quadruped.
For the dexterity of his defence is an instance of the love of God to him exceedingly.
For he is the quickest to his mark of any creature.
For he is tenacious of his point.
For he is a mixture of gravity and waggery.
For he knows that God is his Saviour.
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.
For there is nothing brisker than his life when in motion.
For he is of the Lord’s poor and so indeed is he called by benevolence perpetually——Poor Jeoffry! poor Jeoffry! the rat has bit thy throat.
For I bless the name of the Lord Jesus that Jeoffry is better.
For the divine spirit comes about his body to sustain it in complete cat.
For his tongue is exceeding pure so that it has in purity what it wants in music.
For he is docile and can learn certain things.
For he can set up with gravity which is patience upon approbation.
For he can fetch and carry, which is patience in employment.
For he can jump over a stick which is patience upon proof positive.
For he can spraggle upon waggle at the word of command.
For he can jump from an eminence into his master’s bosom.
For he can catch the cork and toss it again.
For he is hated by the hypocrite and miser.
For the former is afraid of detection.
For the latter refuses the charge.
For he camels his back to bear the first notion of business.
For he is good to think on, if a man would express himself neatly.
For he made a great figure in Egypt for his signal services.
For he killed the Ichneumon-rat very pernicious by land.
For his ears are so acute that they sting again.
For from this proceeds the passing quickness of his attention.
For by stroking of him I have found out electricity.
For I perceived God’s light about him both wax and fire.
For the Electrical fire is the spiritual substance, which God sends from heaven to sustain the bodies both of man and beast.
For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements.
For, tho he cannot fly, he is an excellent clamberer.
For his motions upon the face of the earth are more than any other quadruped.
For he can tread to all the measures upon the music.
For he can swim for life.
For he can creep.

—–

Post by Anita K. Boyle

 

Combinations: New art at Allied Arts Gallery, Bellingham

Juried Art Show Opening at Allied Arts Gallery in downtown Bellingham.
Friday, September 2, from 6 until 10 pm.
This show continues through September.

Eight of my new assemblages and four earlier works will be shown during the month of September, along with three other artists. On opening night, sometime between 6:30 and 7:00 pm, we’ve each been invited to share comments about our artwork: sources, technique and inspiration.

Here is a little preview of the new assemblages and the talk I’ve prepared (which I’ll be delivering Friday night, so don’t read this until afterward, if you plan to be there):

I grew up in Seattle and moved to the Bellingham area in 1980. Those are the only two places I’ve lived. My travels outside this area have been rare. As though a sense of place were a language, my art and poetry have nothing to represent, no subject matter, except the Pacific Northwest–because I have no other true references. If I were from Utah instead, the colors I’d use might be bright and stark like the landscape of the canyons, rather than the earthy, muted range of the Northwest’s tangled underbrush. I love the Pacific Northwest. Everyone here does. I’ve been in this area for what I call forever, which is a rare thing to say these days for someone over fifty years old–when most people have at least traveled outside the western half of North America. I think this rootedness of place gives me a specific perspective that finds its way into my art and poetry.

These assemblages are dedicated to the memory of my dad, Ken Johnstone, who was an electrical engineer. He was an inspiration to me for two reasons. The first: When when my dad began an engineering major at the University of Washington, I started kindergarten. There were five kids at home, all within eighteen months of one another. Working up to three jobs at a time, he supported his family while pursuing his degree. The year I graduated from high school, he graduated from the university, and by that time there were seven children. So he showed me that working at something for what might seem like forever can eventually prove a positive venture. I’ve learned about art all my life, though I didn’t go to school for a degree until I was forty. I taught myself about many art mediums and their techniques, but my education added a broader understanding of what art can be.

The other inspiration happened after my dad died a few years ago. He left a few small containers of old electric parts from the television and radio repair he did part-time while he was a student. Since he was color-blind, and the components were color-coded, I used to help him by picking out the right color combinations for the capacitors and resistors he needed. So I was glad to have the boxes, and have often used their contents in artworks. I see them as colors rather than what their original purpose was, and as a contrast with elements from the natural world.

My hope is that the materials in these assemblages will continue to reveal details and relationships the more they are viewed. The variety of items, and the way they wind around each other,
are intended to represent place through color, explore contrasts, create patterns, as well as simulate some sort of balance through the medium.

Much of the paper used in the assemblages is handmade. I taught myself papermaking by reading books and making things up as I went along. Paper in the assemblages is made with cattail fluff from the pond in back of Egress Studio, some with dandelion petals and seeds from the pastures, some is made from pond scum or, rather, spring’s green algae. One has an old robin’s nest mixed up in it, mud, sticks and all.

The assemblages use small objects gathered from the Noon Road place where I’ve lived since 1987: things that get dug up while I’m working in the garden, stuff that falls from the trees, things that have been hanging around on a shelf for twenty years, or were shoved up from underground by the ice thawing in the pasture. They find their way into the assemblages. Wires, nails burnt off posts in a bonfire, pieces of my old computers, broken sections of this and that. And stuff Jim and I find on the streets around town, like shiny things run over in the middle of the road, or those tiny parking lot jewels. I don’t go looking for these things, but pick them up as they find me.

Each one contains something that appeals to my aesthetic sense. They make me want to put together something like a visual poem, or short story, which I hope you will enjoy.

 

Nance Van Winckel’s Workshop: Poetry Off the Page

POETRY OFF THE PAGE
a workshop by Nance Van Winckel
Whatcom Poetry Series: The Poet As Art workshop
Saturday, August 20, 2011
From 10:30 to 3 pm, with a half hour lunch
Registration: $50
Bring: a lunch and something to write with and on
Coffee, tea and water provided

Nance Van Winckel, from Spokane, is traveling over to the cool west side of the state to teach a poetry workshop at Egress Studio on Saturday, August 20th. Jim and I are looking forward to this workshop because the last time Nance was here, we both came away with more poems to share. One of my poems from the workshop was called “Moose Drool,” which is now included in What the Alder Told Me (MoonPath Press 2011), and has even been requested at a couple of readings. How often does that happen? This workshop promises to be different than any other poetry workshop I’ve attended because it combines art with poetry. If a poem comes off the page and slips into a work of art, who knows what will happen? I’m ready to learn. This workshop is almost full right now, but there are a few spaces left. With three weeks to fill the remaining seats, I hope you’ll register soon for the workshop by contacting Jim Bertolino at jim@jamesbertolino.com. This workshop would be excellent for poets and artists alike. And artists who are also poets, and vice verse.

About her own work, Nance says: “My intent is to have the word elements function first as visual components and secondarily as language. I also aim, overall, to create a synergy whereby the whole pho-toem may be greater than the sum of its parts. I try to make the fusion of elements invisible so that the pho-toem’s reality is its own credible edifice, inviting the viewer to enter, explore, and discover.”

Here is Nance’s description of the workshop:
Poems as postcards? Embedded in a painting? Projected behind a dancer? Fabric, rocks, bark, sand, sky. Digital & video media. Your words needn’t be confined to the book or magazine. We will look at examples of this sort of poetry; then we will try some off-the-page poems of our own. This workshop will help you explore and generate exciting alternatives for your own words to live in the physical world.

About the instructor:
Nance Van Winckel has had five collections of her poetry published, most recently No Starling (University of Washington Press, 2007). Her long list of awards includes two National Endowment for the Arts Poetry Fellowships, two Washington State Artist Trust Awards, and awards from the Poetry Society of America. She teaches creative writing at Eastern Washington University and Vermont College of Fine Arts, and has been Writer in Residence at the University of Montana and Bucknell University. Nance is also a widely published fiction writer.

This workshop is hosted by The Poet As Art program, which is part of the Whatcom Poetry Series (a non-profit 501(c)(3) organization), and sponsored by Egress Studio, an illustration and graphic design business.

 

Book Review by Annette Spaulding-Convy

In the lastest volume of Crab Creek Review, Annette Spaulding-Convy, Co-Editor, reviewed my chapbook What The Alder Told Me (2011, MoonPath Press). MoonPath Press is a new imprint dedicated to Pacific Northwest poets. The volume is perfect-bound, costs just $10.00, and can be purchased on Amazon.com. Or send me an email.

Annette Spaulding-Convy’s manuscript In Broken Latin, is a finalist in the Miller Williams Arkansas Poetry Prize. The book, Annette’s second, will be published in Fall 2012 by the University of Arkansas Press. Her first volume, In the Convent We Become Clouds, was the winner of the annual Floating Bridge Chapbook contest, published in 2006, and also $10. (I’m pretty sure the cover is a beautiful letterpress work of art by Jules Remedios Faye.)

In Crab Creek Review, Annette writes:

I read What The Alder Told Me during a ferry ride across Puget Sound on a drizzling morning with occasional sun breaks––the perfect venue for a poetry collection that is unapologetically and dazzlingly “Pacific Northwest” in its celebrations of the natural world and the human spirit. Anita Boyle’s poems are grounded in a simplicity and detail that are almost Zen-like as she explores some of life’s basic questions: how we cope with suffering and death, where and from whom we draw inspiration, and why we desire to create. What The Alder Told Me will inspire you to walk contemplatively through forests and listen to each bird, to find the profound in the smallest household task, and to embrace the quirkiness and passions of your loved ones. In the last poem of the collection, “This Distance,” we read, The earth sings / with ease––Boyle’s poetry does the same.

Thank you, Annette!
–Anita