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Category Archives: Wendy Taylor Carlisle

A Taste: Napa Valley Writers’ Conference

29 Sunday Jul 2012

Posted by Tea-mahm in Arthur Sze, Brenda Hillman + Bob Haas, Events, Forrest Gander, Napa Valley Writers Conference, Poetry, Wendy Taylor Carlisle

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brenda hillman, writing

Every year there is a delicious writers’ conference in St Helena, about an hour and 15 minutes from my house. A couple of times I’ve attended for the week, but usually I go up for a day and immerse myself in a poetry craft talk offered at 9:00 in the morning by an admired poet.  This year I joined my friend poet Wendy Taylor Carlisle and her husband David for a talk by Brenda Hillman. Brenda is a poet with a brilliant mind and very good heart. My mind and body loves the way her talk makes me feel – often on the edge of aha – that’s it, but deeply relaxed in my own trust of her surprising word choices.

The talk began with a “bacteria” conversation, linked by scientific statements. Then she picked up the six questions listed below. There were poems to illustrate her points. Forrest Gander read a Cesar Vallejo poem in  Spanish. Eavan Boland read Cascando by Samuel Beckett. Brenda mentioned this poem touched her long ago and still does:

…the hours after you are gone are so leaden
they will always start dragging too soon
the grapples clawing blindly the bed of want
bringing up the bones the old loves
sockets filled once with eyes like yours….
 

Brenda spoke rapidly and the mic was lower than I’d have preferred, so I can only throw out a few kernels of her

Brenda Hillman and Forrest Gander

talk: something about the mysteries of sound and sense, the balance of sound and image in her poetry. Some phrases: “Poetry that does not connect to the heart is worthless.”  ~~ “Is there an original mystery?  Mystery of language (goes into creating poetry), mystery of the non-human world, including everything that is observable that is not us. That is the shape upon which my observations and longings are formed.” ~~~ “I think of myself as disheveled wildflowers rather than a single poppy.”

She created her lecture around 6 questions to begin and end with. I loved copying them for this blog, since they are thought provoking and profound.

1  How do we find a balance between the use of language combinations chosen for their sound qualities(weird / cool diction) vs. meaning based or more image-based word combinations…?

2  The dilemma is how to write about the mystery without destroying it… This is what I know about poetry–– it is the shape on which my observations and longings are formed.

3  As a narrator, I frequently feel unreliable. Sometimes I read my own writing and I don’t know who wrote it. Might I write as someone for whom kindness is an instinct? My poems can tell stories which are true but not mine.

4  Poems as individual units and also as parts of a collection: I’m wondering about the process of putting together a poetry collection (or different ways of conceptualizing a whole made up of these individual poems or sets of poems). [I’m] wondering how much of this is determined in the initial writings vs. while you are putting together a collection… I can’t quite formulate a question, but my poems have been coming in sets for a while.

5  When / how to try to structure poems in relation to each other (rather than just as individual units)?

6   How is it going?  (Depression? Energy?  All energy in poetry is your guide). Here is a poem I like by Brenda:

Street Corner  by Brenda Hillman

There was an angle
where I went for
centuries not as a
self or feature but
exhaled as a knowing
brick tradesmen engineered for
blunt or close recall;
soundly there, meanings grew
past a second terror
finding their way as
evenings, hearing the peppermint
noise of sparrows landing
like spare dreams of
citizens where abstraction and
the real could merge.
We had crossed the
red forest; we had
recognized a weird lodge.
we could have said
song outlasts poetry, words
are breath bricks to
support the guardless singing
project. We could have
meant song outlasts poetry. 
<>   <>   <>

Other excellent poets were at the conference. Here is a taste of Forrest Gander and Arthur Sze:

A fragment from prize-Wining Poet and translator, Forrest Gander:

Citrus Freeze by Forrest Gander
 
To the north, along Orange Blossom Trail,   
thick breath of sludge fires.   
Smoke rises all night, a spilled genie
who loves the freezing trees   
but cannot save them.
Snow fine as blown spiders.   
The news: nothing……

Words from Forrest: “Art is not the waging of taste only nor the exercise of argument, but like love the experience of vision, the revelation of hiddenness.” ~~  “Perhaps eros is the fundamental condition of that expansion of meaning necessary to poetry, and of cognition itself. The father of western logic, Socrates, claimed that he had only one real talent: to recognize at once the lover and the beloved“…. from essay: Nymph Stick Insect: Observations... http://forrestgander.com/poetry

<>   <>   <>

A poem and some words from poet Arthur Sze:

The Shapes of Leaves  by Arthur Sze
 
 Ginkgo, cottonwood, pin oak, sweet gum, tulip tree:
our emotions resemble leaves and alive
to their shapes we are nourished.
 
Have you felt the expanse and contours of grief
along the edges of a big Norway maple?
Have you winced at the orange flare
 
searing the curves of a curling dogwood?
I have seen from the air logged islands,
each with a network of branching gravel roads,
 
and felt a moment of pure anger, aspen gold.
I have seen sandhill cranes moving in an open field,
a single white whooping crane in the flock.
 
And I have traveled along the contours
of leaves that have no name. Here
where the air is wet and the light is cool,
 
I feel what others are thinking and do not speak,
I know pleasure in the veins of a sugar maple,
I am living at the edge of a new leaf.  
 

 Sze said it is important to study poetry for many reasons. ~~  “Regardless of whether you go on to become a writer, all students need to understand language,” he noted, adding poetry is the most compressed and expressive writing form. “(Poets and aspiring poets) use a small number of words to create a large effect.” ~~  “Poetry asks us to  slow down and experience deeply that connection to ourselves and our world.”

Writing in Mendocino with Wendy Taylor Carlisle

14 Saturday Jul 2012

Posted by Tea-mahm in book awards, Lama Foundation, Poetry, Sufi, Untold, Wendy Taylor Carlisle

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I leave Saturday, July 14 for Mendocino Woodlands for our annual Sufi Retreat. This year I will have Wendy Taylor Carlisle, my favorite poetry companion, to teach the afternoon writing class with me. We have traveled together and studied the written word since the mid-1990’s. I organized a small book tour in California for her when her second, award-winning poetry book, Discount Fireworks was released in 2008. After years of reading my prose and poetry,  She edited Untold. Every word. I could not have done it without her. I am lucky. She is as good an editor as she is a poet! Wendy received five Pushcart Prize Nominations, and many awards. < http://www.wendytaylorcarlisle.com/&gt; She just moved from Texas to Eureka Springs Arkansas.

If you are coming to Mendo for the week and plan to write, you are in for a treat.  If you would like to come for a day or 2 you are welcome to join the class. It goes from 4:30 until dinner in Dining-room Right. Here is a sample of Wendy’s words, a stretchy modern sonnet: Please note that the format is not exact.

THE CIRCUS OF INCONSOLABLE LOSS

There is only one ring for those sweating horses with the preternaturally                                                                                            
flat backs and the fat smooth rumps from which ladies
            in stained tights vault onto the sawdust
                        or another horse.
 
Only one ring for the hung-over clowns and their Volkswagen,
a car so old it must be pushed into the one ring
            which is also the one for the acrobats and the tigers and contortionists
                        and dogs that walk on their hind legs,
 
then stop to scratch their necks, itchy under spangled ruffs. Above them
wire walkers and trapeze guys swing,
                        mayfly-graceful. Under them the one ring
                                    reminds the audience to celebrate, each in their own
 
constrained and special way,
the emptiness they’ve come to in the spaces where other rings should be.

                                                            –from Rattle #32, Winter 2009

Wendy shows humor and skill in equal measures.

 
Snow White reconsiders (two versions: the first became a sonnet)
 
At first I knew nothing about him, imagined
his wide shoulders, his eyes dark as cloves.                                                                                                                                         
My hand tightened on doorknobs;
he could be in any room. On the dining
 
table, the plates waited for his thumbprint,
each single knife yearned toward his grip,
 
I made the seven beds: I swept,
a trace of aftershave seduced a napkin.
 
The old woman brought me a coffin.
I bit, climbed in, was caught and paned, a kiss
galloped toward me carrying salvation.
 
Impact. My lashes sprung, inaction
was out of the question. The apple had been irresistible
but what woman doesn’t later regret her appetite for fruit?
 
An early version: After She Finds Her Prince, She Reconsiders
 At first I knew nothing about you,

Tamam and Wendy in Quito…

eyes dark as cloves.  My hands tightened
on doorknobs.  You could be in any room.
Every table was set for you.  Each decorative platter
waited for your thumb-print, every perfect cloth
lacked only a trace of your aftershave
I swept the kitchen, I made these seven beds.
Eating an apple, my eyes widened impossibly
imagining  you, galloping toward me through the trees.
 

Wendy at Murshid Sam’s Dargah, Lama Foundation

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