The BGSU Winter Wheat Festival was pretty awesome and is definitely worth checking out some time for those that might not be down with it yet. Ohio in general seems to have a great writing culture and Winter Wheat really pushes that culture into a highly visible sphere. The students and writers (sometimes both) that we met all seemed top notch and really into doing some pretty cool stuff. The NEOMFA through those northern universities in Ohio just seems like it could be a pretty cool thing to get hooked up with. All in all Karen Craigo and company made the IU crew feel quite comfortable on our northern expedition.
Back to work on the Novella after sometime off. Tentatively title "The Bastion of Industrial Decline," (still) it should be completed sometime in the next two months. Time permitting of course. Additionally, I've almost finished a poetry chapbook and will be putting it out in the next couple of months either by publisher (one can always dream) or by self-publishing. I've gotten a solid body of works from poetry workshop and the McGrath master class here at IU.
I need to get back to posting poetry. So for autumn, I figured a little Gary Snyder. I've been reading him a tonne lately and it always worthwhile to post whats been on your mind. Enjoy the bird.
Four Poems for Robin
Siwashing it out once in Siuslaw Forest
I slept under rhododendron
All night blossoms fell
Shivering on a sheet of cardboard
Feet stuck in my pack
Hands deep in my pockets
Barely able to sleep.
I remembered when we were in school
Sleeping together in a big warm bed
We were the youngest lovers
When we broke up we were still nineteen.
Now our friends are married
You teach school back east
I dont mind living this way
Green hills the long blue beach
But sometimes sleeping in the open
I think back when I had you.
A spring night in Shokoku-ji
Eight years ago this May
We walked under cherry blossoms
At night in an orchard in Oregon.
All that I wanted then
Is forgotten now, but you.
Here in the night
In a garden of the old capital
I feel the trembling ghost of Yugao
I remember your cool body
Naked under a summer cotton dress.
An autumn morning in Shokoku-ji
Last night watching the Pleiades,
Breath smoking in the moonlight,
Bitter memory like vomit
Choked my throat.
I unrolled a sleeping bag
On mats on the porch
Under thick autumn stars.
In dream you appeared
(Three times in nine years)
Wild, cold, and accusing.
I woke shamed and angry:
The pointless wars of the heart.
Almost dawn. Venus and Jupiter.
The first time I have
Ever seen them close.
December at Yase
You said, that October,
In the tall dry grass by the orchard
When you chose to be free,
“Again someday, maybe ten years.”
After college I saw you
One time. You were strange.
And I was obsessed with a plan.
Now ten years and more have
Gone by: I’ve always known
where you were—
I might have gone to you
Hoping to win your love back.
You still are single.
I didn’t.
I thought I must make it alone. I
Have done that.
Only in dream, like this dawn,
Does the grave, awed intensity
Of our young love
Return to my mind, to my flesh.
We had what the others
All crave and seek for;
We left it behind at nineteen.
I feel ancient, as though I had
Lived many lives.
And may never now know
If I am a fool
Or have done what my
karma demands.
