http://www.ablemuse.com/erato Eratosphere Forums - Metrical Poetry, Free Verse, Fiction, Art, Poetry Translation, Critique en Thu, 17 May 2012 02:05:24 GMT vBulletin 60 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/images/misc/rss.jpg http://www.ablemuse.com/erato http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17841&goto=newpost Wed, 16 May 2012 23:35:25 GMT *Regrets* Why do I think her regret regrettable? Because she’d hoped to be a nun? The clergy found her unforgettable, so why do I think her... Regrets

Why do I think her regret regrettable?
Because she’d hoped to be a nun?
The clergy found her unforgettable,
so why do I think her regret regrettable?
She thought it unregrettable
to be a chaste and holy nun,
so why do I think her regret regrettable?
Because her choice made me her son.

Ralph ]]> Metrical Poetry RCL http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17841 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17840&goto=newpost Wed, 16 May 2012 18:09:50 GMT *here*. Cheers, ...Alex]]> New Able Muse (includes several Eratosphereans), here.

Cheers,
...Alex ]]> The Accomplished Members Alex Pepple http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17840 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17839&goto=newpost Wed, 16 May 2012 17:37:21 GMT Image: http://www.ablemuse.com/v13/images/v13-book-front-cover2.jpg The NEW ISSUE of * The NEW ISSUE of ABLE MUSE, Print Editon (Number 13) - Summer 2012, has just been released, with order/subscription information (for print & Kindle editions), with online excerpts at: www.AbleMuse.com. The digital edition of the complete issue (available to the print edition subscribers only), is also available now online at www.ablemuse.com.

WITH THE 2011 ABLE MUSE WRITE PRIZE FOR POETRY —
Includes the honorable-mention poems.

Includes the 2011 Able Muse / Eratosphere 30-Day Workshop poetry & fiction winners.

editorial: Alex Pepple • featured artist: Andrew Ponomarenko • featured poet: Patricia Smith (interviewed by Reginald Dwayne Betts) • fiction: Janice D. Soderling, Rob Wright, Michael George • essays: Peter Byrne, Bruce Bromley, N.S. Thompson • book reviews: Stephen Collington • poetry: M.A. Schaffner, Brian Culhane, Timothy Murphy, Richard Wakefield, Wendy Videlock, Catharine Savage Brosman, Kim Bridgford, Jennifer Reeser, Julie Bruck, Ned Balbo, Anna M. Evans, Ed Shacklee, Gale Acuff, Matthew Buckley Smith, Adam Penna, Jay Rogoff, Sarah Giragosian, Michael Bradburn-Ruster, Tim Suermondt, Carol Lynn Stevenson Grellas, Rob Wright, Carolyn Moore, John Beaton, Kevin Corbett, T.S. Kerrigan.

Read all the details at Able Muse.

----
With special thanks for an outstanding new issue to -- Juleigh Howard-Hobson (Assistant Poetry Editor), Gregory Dowling (Nonfiction Editor), Nina Schuyler (Fiction Editor), Janice D. Soderling, Tim Love & John Riley (Assistant Fiction Editors). ]]> Staff Announcements Alex Pepple http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17839 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17838&goto=newpost Wed, 16 May 2012 17:15:12 GMT The Museum of American Poetics (MAP) has excerpted one of the six long-long-form essays that comprise my ms 'Between River and Rock: How I Resolved Television in Six Easy Payments'. The first half of the title is a Rilke quote whose poetry I cite extensively, as I do numerous other poets and cultural spokesmen, though as I recall not as copiously in this excerpt as elsewhere:

http://www.poetspath.com/Scholarship_Project/ball2.htm

Seeking publisher...

take care
norm ball ]]> Norman Ball http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17838 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17837&goto=newpost Wed, 16 May 2012 15:49:49 GMT *I Once Followed Him Forever* He never worried about missing the train, he was the train, a mad train that sped through all stops without... I Once Followed Him Forever

He never worried about missing the train,
he was the train, a mad train
that sped through all stops
without thought of hesitation, signal men
diving out of his path, lanterns swinging;
a mad train but not too mad to know
that soon the tracks would buckle
and he would fly from a mountain trestle
or slam into a village station, cars
flying over cars, the stationmaster crushed,
while we who had escaped all passion
remained, obsolete, sanity left to rust. ]]> Non-Metrical Poetry John Riley http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17837 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17836&goto=newpost Wed, 16 May 2012 15:17:25 GMT I can't see that this has been announced, but my issue came today.

It's a holiday weekend in Sweden and I have some wonderful reading to look forward to. Poetry by Clive Watkins, and Quincy Lehr, Anna Evans, Terese Coe, just to name the local gang. Adam Elgar has a translation

Also Carol Rumens whose work I admire. And Alison Brackenbury has a review on Gerry Cambridge who also has an article on Robert Frost. Other reviews I see at a quick glance are on Wendy Videlock, Tim Murphy. And on Anne Carson another fav of mine.

Thank you Rory and all your gang. This is an impressive contribution to the lit mags. It just gets better and better.

Congrats to all of you.

PS. IF this has been announced, dear mods, it's OK to zap me. ]]> General Announcements Janice D. Soderling http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17836 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17835&goto=newpost Wed, 16 May 2012 13:21:36 GMT Navajo Shoes Deer skin bleached white, these beaded baby shoes were purchased by my mom in Santa Fe, for Kim has a fourth baby on the way and... Navajo Shoes

Deer skin bleached white, these beaded baby shoes
were purchased by my mom in Santa Fe,
for Kim has a fourth baby on the way
and smiles blue-eyed through late gestation blues.
My mom can smell good shops from miles away
and found the perfect gift for Dan and Kim.
If it’s a boy, Mom hopes they name him Tim. ]]> Metrical Poetry -- The Deep End Tim Murphy http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17835 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17834&goto=newpost Wed, 16 May 2012 12:48:54 GMT Adultery brought two lovers to a hill with wine in tow, in time a heap of clothes a- stride a lust no valley could fulfill. Bill fetishized: the... Adultery brought two lovers to a hill
with wine in tow, in time a heap of clothes a-
stride a lust no valley could fulfill. Bill
fetishized: the rosé poured on Rosa
would marry two great passions in his life.
He'd lick her head-to-toe, twice the delight!
Well, thrice --Bill's thirst had vanished for his wife.

Once doused, poor Rosa rolled as someone might
laid horizontal, liquored hillside-out.
She came at last to rest against a pine
an odd melange of needles, dirt and wine
with Bill in fast pursuit, riven with doubt
she'd live. In fact she dusted off quite well.
They lust now at the Valley-Lo Motel.

*Poem edited to incorporate two typos pointed out by Michael Cantor. ]]> Metrical Poetry Norman Ball http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17834 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17833&goto=newpost Wed, 16 May 2012 06:26:29 GMT The Cosmic Purr from Able...]]> Aaron Poochigian's The Cosmic Purr from Able Muse Press will now be included in the First Book Panel of this summer's West Chester University Poetry Conference.

Congratulations, Aaron!

If you'll be at the conference, don't miss his reading! (which will include Matthew Buckley Smith also in the First Book Panel; and Michael Cantor in the First Book Feature).

Cheers,
...Alex ]]> The Accomplished Members Alex Pepple http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17833 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17832&goto=newpost Wed, 16 May 2012 06:05:46 GMT Mother Lode Of course, the symptoms have increased. Death is sure to follow that great body of dust whirling up and over the hill crest,... Mother Lode

Of course, the symptoms have increased.
Death is sure to follow that great body of dust

whirling up and over the hill crest, tracing the bed
already made, angel-shaped in the snow.

It is what it is. It is – inevitable. Best to accept it.
Open the doors, the blinds, charm him

with moist words and the clarinet you haven’t played
since girlhood, before the fault line parted

your mouth and the kill-wind crept in, snatched
your breath, left you drowning in fishbowl lungs,

hands and face pressed against the sap-glass,
smoke signals from the broken back of your lips.

Richard Charlez ]]> Non-Metrical Poetry richard charlez http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17832 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17831&goto=newpost Tue, 15 May 2012 18:42:54 GMT If Shakespeare or DaVinci came today
most standard issue geeks could give a hoot.
If something isn't 'bling', it has no worth,
or doesn't mystify, it gets the boot.
The geniuses of yesterday still rule,
if no one's holding jewels surpassing theirs.
New artists must create a brand new school,
or get in line, so proud to be the heirs
of they whose smarts are never out of style.
Pretender wannabes maintain no awe
for stunning 'leaps of reach', which should beguile
and fire them, instead just treat as 'blah'.
The real McCoy is timeless, and demands
devotion and esteem, for which it stands. ]]> Metrical Poetry John Shokna http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17831 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17830&goto=newpost Tue, 15 May 2012 18:34:57 GMT #2 *Alms* Besides the wind what moves you into figments of two minds? At Frontenac the fingers of a humdrum rain draw down a wraith in... #2

Alms

Besides the wind what moves you into figments of two minds?
At Frontenac the fingers of a humdrum rain draw down

a wraith in rags, he loiters, swears, and begs for silver coins.
Besides the wind what lures you in, toward and over lines?

What rows define and border is a hand between two mists,
which is the opposite of yours— which takes what it can get.

Besides the wind, the revel rain, the sooty, dented can
sewn to his thigh. The spoken name. The empty shells of men.

What in the malt tinted light of one o’clock or two?
Is this the same wind moving me that’s moving into you?

The sun would never wait for us to get it, as it goes,
it burns until all cores are ash— until the doors have closed.

I kite my hand out on the wind, you raise a cup to change.
And if this moving in me makes a space within a stone,

a nave, a jack, your halfway back and halfway to alone.
So take this filthy quarter, man, a token and a dime—

hold it in, accept the wind. I’m yours and nothing’s mine.




Revision 1

Alms

Besides the wind what moves you into figments of two minds?
At Frontenac the fingers of a humdrum rain draw down

a wraith in rags, he loiters, swears, and begs for silver coins.
Besides the wind what lures you in, toward and over lines?

What rows define and border is a hand between two mists,
which is the opposite of yours— which takes what it can get?

Besides the wind, the revel rain, and the soot printed can
sewn to his thigh. The spoken name. The empty shells of men.

What in the malt tinted light of one o’clock or two?
Is this the same wind moving me that’s moving into you?

The sun would never wait for us to get it, as it goes,
it burns until all cores are ashes— until the doors have closed.

I mumble through my pocket, an eyelet in the torrent:
keys— please— that’s enough. The tunnel hums. It’s coming.

I leave myself into the wind, you raise a cup to change.
And if this moving in me makes a space within a stone,

a nave, a jack, you're halfway back and halfway to alone.
So here's a filthy quarter, man, a token and a dime—

hold it in, accept the wind. I’m yours and nothing’s mine.





Alms

Besides the wind what moves you into figments of two minds?
At Frontenac the fingers of a humdrum rain draw down

a wraith in rags who loiters here to beg for silver coins.
Besides the wind what lures you in, toward and over lines?

What rows define and border is a hand between two mists.
Gull-gray and a graveyard smile hover in the interstice.

Besides the wind, the revel rain, and the soot printed can
sewn to his side. The spoken name. The empty shells of men.

What in the malt tinted light of one o’clock or two?
Is this the same wind moving me that’s moving into you?

The sun would never wait for us to get it, as it goes,
it burns until all cores are ashes of a blackened rose.

I leave myself into the wind, now raise your cup to change.
And if this moving in me makes a space within a stone,

a nave, a jack, your halfway back and half way to alone.
So here’s a filthy quarter, man, a token and a dime—

hold it in, accept the wind, I’m yours and nothing’s mine.
]]> Metrical Poetry Jesse Anger http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17830 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17829&goto=newpost Tue, 15 May 2012 17:55:23 GMT In My Cousin’s Guest Room

I lie beneath a portrait of Aunt Mabel
painted by her husband’s brother Don.
There is a photo album on the table
filled with sunny days in Manasquan.
There is an antique lamp, its amber light
illuminating oak and glass, a bureau
strewn with gimcrack bottles that invite
nostalgia on the round edge of tomorrow.
Steven said she was a flapper at the time
she posed, about to marry Uncle Adrian.
Now, dozing, I read stories in the rime
of dust along the gown of her engagement.
Bright and elegant, she’ll see me fade
into a space where she has visited and stayed.

___
Line 11 was: And I read stories in the crystal rime
Line 9: "said" was "says"
Line 4: "Absecon" to "Manasquan"
Line 7: "bottles" was "gadgets" ]]> Metrical Poetry Rick Mullin http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17829 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17828&goto=newpost Tue, 15 May 2012 17:51:47 GMT Ann Drysdale was having lunch with Simon Curtis in the South of Wales. When Simon ran the Hardy Society, he published Sullivan's great lyric, The Hopelessness of Hardy, the Hardihood of Hope. My name came up, and I got in touch with Simon for the first time in twelve years. I've sent him review copies of all the new books, and he asked for a submission. I sent him something big, Feeney's Lent, a seven part, 85 line pentameter sequence I workshopped here. Because I don't want game wardens dogging me in South Dakota, I am very happy to be publishing it with Simon's Interpreters in the UK. And lucky? He owns a black lab! Thank you Ann. ]]> The Accomplished Members Tim Murphy http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17828 http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17827&goto=newpost Tue, 15 May 2012 13:00:31 GMT The Umbrella is open! Fourteen great Orsorum poets, plus an encore performance of the Carmine Street Metrics special feature. Umbrella and CSM will...

The Umbrella is open! Fourteen great Orsorum poets, plus an encore performance of the Carmine Street Metrics special feature. Umbrella and CSM will be the subject of a panel at West Chester, so we kept the feature going.

Do have a look, when you get the chance.

Umbrella Summer-Fall 2012 ]]> General Announcements Kate Benedict http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showthread.php?t=17827