Update on Alternate Lanes Anthology

The poets and writers who will be included in the new poeticdiversity anthology Alternate Lanes (copyright 2012 Sybaritic Press) are:

L.Ward Abel

E. Amato

Michelle Angelini (aka Rina Rose)
Craig Berry

Jim Bolt

Lynne Bronstein

Deborah Edler Brown

Gully Burns

Charles Claymore

J. de Salvo

Meg Elison

Jerry Garcia

Sandra Hunter

Alex S. Johnson

Scott Kaestner

Deborah P. Kolodji

Eric Lawson

Tess. Lotta

Gregory Longenecker

Tamara Madison

Matt McGee

Brenda Petrakos

Rick Lupert

Daniel McGinn

Scott Nichols-Collier

Apryl Skies

Julia Stein

Anthony Torchia

Mary Torregosa

D.L. Warner

Florence Weinberger

Hilda Weiss

I want to thank all the writers, poets, and artists who submitted work, especially for sharing your individual points of view on traveling through the City of Angels in anything other than a car. I especially want to thank Angel Uriel Perales for assisting me with making the final choices. The anthology is due to be released the week of July 2, 2012.

article and photos copyright 2012 marie lecrivain

Joshua Hebburn's "Motorcycle Ballerina Jaguar Menage A Trois (Or, the Death Poems)"

Disclaimer: authors were killed in the making of this chapbook.

     A moment comes when a poet needs to divest himself of his poetic gods, or lose himself in the “noise” of his betters. This is a valuable lesson lost on the many devotees of Charles Bukowski and e.e. cummings. With Joshua Hebbern's new self-published chapbook, Motorcycle Ballerina Jaguar Menage A Trois (Or, The Death Poems) (copyright 2012 Joshua Hebburn), he's made an heroic effort to do so.

      Within the framework of 11 poems, Hebburn humorously annihilates his primary poetic influences; David St. John, Frederick Seidel, and, to a lesser extent, Brendan Constantine (who, in my opinion, needs to remain a positive and lasting influence over any contemporary poet). Hebburn has deeply imbibed the best qualities of these three poets in the areas of language, imagery, and rhythm. And... he's just managed to make his own voice heard above the others with ornamental word play, sarcastic wit, and BDSM subtext.

     Hebburn, in his role as poet, is Death, as he swiftly and thoroughly strikes through the layers of influence. Each poem has a stark, muscular presence - similar to a Rodin sculpture - memorable to the very last line. Killing one's darlings is a necessary and unpleasant task a writer/poet needs to employ to keep the reader's interest, yet, Hebburn convinces the reader to savor the experience, as in the poem, Death (II: Substance):

To the right person, the pine needles, the needling light

is x

C.C's of morphine

and the streets sizzle and smoke like a hot plate

in the rain

After the rain,

everybody, in exhalation, seems to have just tossed
a cigarette
everybody's a member of the cult of smoker

and your due is one cigarette when asked

(you will be asked when the rain runs out
before the cancer blossoms light pink
on the branches of the lung)

it's as the pardon me is the due of the cult polite

and limping optimism the due of the humanist
etcetera

You will find much so much is alike, if you are right
Believe me, people will tell you that you're a head of your time

You will find that a pine cone is just an ear of wheat

when cracked with a sharp sickle
in a dark room

     Hebburn is fairly new to the L.A. poetry scene, though one can find his writing in various online journals. It will be interesting to see, over the next 20-30 years, what kind of a poet he will evolve into; he's learned from some of the best, and is off to a strong start with Motorcycle Ballerina. But, the question remains: will Hebburn, in time, become one of those poets who will inspire other poets to “metaphorically” murder him in turn?

Motorcycle Ballerina Jaguar Menage A Trois (Or, The Death Poems) (copyright 2012 Joshua Hebburn), 18 pages, $5, contact the author at joshuahebburn@gmail.com

Note: In the meantime, pick up a copy of his chapbook! It's a limited edition with hand-drawn cover artwork, and, it's reasonably priced.

 

photos and article copyright 2012 marie lecrivain

Disturbing News in Overseas Ebook Sales

According to Good E Reader, Irish customers who shop through Amazon are being forced to purchase ebooks at American prices. That's NOT cool, for the following reasons:

1. Ebooks cut down on shipping/customs costs, are instantly accessible, and therefore, more widely disseminated.
2. Ebooks encourage more people to be literate. Ereader devices are affordable, and, frankly, it's much easier to carry around 200 titles in a 1-lb electronic device than 200 hardcover books in your messenger bag.
3. Ebooks sales often provide writers and poets a higher percentage of royalties. Jacking up the price outside of America will be detrimental in the long run, which means that acts of piracy will rise and poets/writers will suffer because no one wants to pay top shelf prices for a virtual book.

Note: the argument that artists have more freedom and control over their content is not always true, as per this article by a music industry aficionado. I own a Kindle Fire, and, I love Amazon, but, not what its doing to its European customer base. I'm left to wonder if this isn't some sort of plan to A) keep the printed book from an untimely demise , B) maximize profit in as short as time as possible as ebooks become the industry standard. And, in my opinion, why give the rest of the world another reason to think America sucks?

article and photo copyright 2012 marie lecrivain

Georgia Jones-Davis's "Blue Poodle"

      A poet's task, among many others, is to trace back the thread/map the events that have shaped her into the person she has/will ultimately become. Georgia Jones-Davis's chapbook, Blue Poodle (copyright 2011, Finishing Line Press), accomplishes this feat with a solid, visual gathering of narrative poems that explore her familial history as well her love of other poets.

      Jones-Davis, a literary journalist and former book reviewer, has put her talents to good use. Each poem in Blue Poodle is carefully crafted, and, surprisingly honest, with a balanced mix of photographic language, tight verse, and fierce truths. The end result of Blue Poodle can be compared to a poetic short film festival with enough variety to keep the reader engaged: familial disappointment and dysfunction (“Wave Drag,” “Put Me Away,” and,“Your Father”); the lasting damage of historical events on a family's legacy (“Emily at Auschwitz”); seminal events of the author's youth (“Night of the Nightmares,” “Missing Don Ho,”and, “The Visitors”); and, poetic homage (“Keats,” “26 Piazza de Spagna,” and, “Listening to Anne Sexton”).

     There are also a handful of short, but lovely “in the moment” pieces, where Jones-Davis shares an ephemeral and highly personal glimpse into her private world, as in the poem, “The Day Tumbles Away Like a Butterfly”:

The day tumbles away

like a butterfly
hard pears rest
in a stoneware bowl

trees sing

in the nervous November gusts
as the air shudders
in gaudy light

wind chimes

hold a breath                 hesitate

then their jangled music

hold a breath                hesitate

while the pears

in the stoneware bowl

ripen

     Jones-Davis's biography mentions she started to write and publish her work work at a young age, but, in her college years, was diverted by a discouraging poetry workshop. So, she spent the next couple of decades writing literary criticism, living life, and raising a family – which, in my opinion, was the right thing to do. The result is Blue Poodle, a triumphant return for Jones-Davis The Poet, and a literary gem for poetry lovers.

Blue Poodle (copyright 2011, Georgia Jones-Davis, Finishing Line Press, www.finishinglinepress.com, ISBN 978-1-59924-7724, 27 pages, $14)

article and photo copyright 2012 marie lecrivain

poeticdiversity: call for submissions for new anthology

poeticdiversity: the litzine of Los Angeles (www.poeticdiversity.org) is accepting for submissions for an anthology of poetry, prose, and essays on the topic of ALTERNATE TRANSPORTATION in Los Angeles.

1. Alternate Transportation: walking, bicycling, rollerblading, taking the bus, or taking a cab.
2. Three poems (50 lines max), two prose pieces (1,200 words max), one essay (2,500 words max), along with a bio (100 words max).
3. Artwork: B & W illustrations or photos, in jpeg format – no more than 5 per submission.
4. Deadline: May 15, 2012.
5. Payment: 1) an honorarium between $1-3 per piece, 2) an ebook copy of the anthology, 3) a 50% discount on print copies.
6. Anthology will be published through Sybaritic Press (www.sybpress.com).
7. Send submissions/queries to marie.lecrivain.pd@gmail.com

Regards,

Marie Lecrivain

executive editor/publisher

www.poeticdiversity.org

A Loud Gray Bird's "Fad"

“Only cool people can understand what's cool.” - Fad

     I like the weird and the strange, especially, when it comes to books. Fad: Poetry by a Loud Gray Bird (copyright 2012 A Loud Gray Bird), looks like a small, unassuming chapbook... or is it? Fad tells the story of a moment in time, a universal moment of crisis: that of identity: The Poet... who is he? Is he a lone voice crying out in the wilderness, or is he nothing more than an amalgam of different personalities pieced together from bits of electronic media and pop culture?

      At first, Fad comes off as a short read, with a handful of verses surrounding a longer stream of consciousness poem, in which the poet starts, as best as can be described, “cast out” the confluence of information – 21^st century images and phrases - he's been forced to ingest from the Information Age; a self-exorcism, where, at the end (8 pages later), he's restored his “Command of Language.”

Trounced by subliminal tides

I'm a peanut

Between continents

On this clueless raft

With no language

To salvage my tongue

Or give condolences to its mother

I'll raise its bastard son

To be my superficial lover

And fuck its lifeless

Under this relentless sky

Burnt and starving (or just hungry?)

I surrender

My tears

To this desiccate sea

Its a (Disney) pirate's life for me

      This is where the poet now stands, alone, naked, with a decision – to escape, or, again, embrace/internalize the never-ending flow of information that overcomes every human being on the planet?

    Truthfully, every artist, at some point in his/her existence, will find him/herself in this position. The idea of asking, “Who am I?,” is not new, but Fad has found a different answer to his question, one which I will not reveal (spoilers).

    Suffice it to say, reading Fad feels, and IS subversive, which, as any good poet will tell you, is the end goal, which Fad has accomplished successfully. Is Fad cool? I believe so, but I leave it to each reader to determine that for herself.

(Fad: Poetry by a Loud Gray Bird, copyright 2012 A Loud Gray Bird, http://aloudgraybird.tumblr.com, 26 pages, $3 – can be purchased at Skylight Books, www.skylightbooks.com )

(words and photo copyright 2012 marie lecrivain)

Review of David McIntire's "Exit Wounds"

     There are academic poets, slam poets, and everyone in between. In my opinion, poets should not be categorized, but, unfortunately, the human mind needs to assign names to everything and everyone. There are poets who defy being pigeon-holed, and David McIntire is, as some would say, “Such a One.”

     His newest chapbook, Exit Wounds (copyright 2012 IBW Press), is an intense collection of poems that reiterate, passionately, and unforgettably, his views on love (“Whiff”), pain (“Unlimited”), death ((“September 17, 1988 (The Child Who Never Was”) and “Not Enough”), and the censure of art and civil liberties (“Fuck the Poets,” and “Occupy This Poem”). There's a lot of angst in McIntire's work, but it's intelligent, in repeated memorable phrases, and, in swift, though, sometimes sloppy flowing lines. The poems themselves come off like a series of punk-rock boleros, each one rising higher and higher until the reader is in synch with the rhythm, in the heart of the idea channeled straight into the mind, as in the poem “Pain Takes”:

the pain takes her away from me

in drabs and bits

in pieces and bits

in tongues that slip

on words of frustration tumbling from lips

the pain slices our days

into bloody bite sized pieces

some of which get lost in the haze

of the means and ways

of excruciating creases

that folds our time

in half again

and again in half

the pain diminishes our vocabulary

sometimes to grunts

and prescriptions

and brutal descriptions

to half-spoken understandings

and daily reminiscences

“like the last time

yes, just like it... only different”

the pain takes her away from me

but never all the time

the pain takes her away

but I won't let

the pain takes her away

but only until I take her back

     David McIntire writes from the heart, without apologies, without the dross that makes most confessional poetry so dismal to read. David McIntire is a poet. What “kind” of poet he is doesn't really matter. He's a genuine pleasure to read.

Exit Wounds, copyright 2012 David McIntire, IWB Press, internationalwordbank.org, 52 pgs, $5

http://poeticdiversity.org/main/poets2.php?nameCode=DavidMcIntire

words and photo copyright 2012 marie lecrivain