That West Chester afterglow
 

I can feel it coming over the sea, like Venus surfing.

So tell us, Elect, what was it like? (It’s been slow but steady back on the farm.)

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from far right, half of Maryann Corbett, David Anthony, Jayne Osborn, Gregory Dowling, Julio

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Walter Ancarrow ( our Orwn)

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Susan d.s., Rick Mullin

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Susan McLean, Cally, and Gregory Dowling

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Alex, unkown, Cally, and John Beaton

(Just sneaked in here to add that 'Unknown' is the utterly delightful Ann Kolakowski)
Jayne

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Davey, Walter, Susan, Nick Friedman

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Aaron Poochigian, Davey

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Walter and Cally


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Walter and Cally

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Walter and Cally

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Cally and Nemo


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Nemo, Jayne O., David Anthony, Bill Carpenter (standing), Cally, Davey, Rick Mullin, Walter, Susan d.s., Aaron Poochigian.

We were the naughty table at the back!!!

A tsunami of stories will hit these shores when I get home tomorrow, after a little sleep ... a human activity I am forgetting.....

Boarding Philly now... almost home!!!!

Missing old and new loved ones already...

I'll leave you with one word for now...

ALEX


Cally

Cally: Why am I always at the naughty table?

Davey: Darling, it's because you MAKE the table naughty.

Here's a link to WCU photos on Facebook, starting with Cally clinging like a koala to Alex.

nautically speaking

Walter: "Don't these people ever get tired of eating?"

Me and the adorable Daniel Hoffman... and I'm pretty sure that's Julie Kane behind us...


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Drinking at the Brewery with most of my main men (and my only boy) in the whole world!

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(from left) Chris Childers, Tim, Rick, Julio, Nemo, Gregory, Walter (my boy) and Davey McG!


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When Men Bow Down
by R. Nemo Hill

When men bow down to sip their drinks
their all-night neon halos tip,
casting shadows as they slip
across pale brows that slowly sink
and drown together, drip by drip,
what each man feels, what each man thinks,
when men bow down to sip their drinks.

When men bow down to sip their drinks
in dimmed down day or midnight’s glare,
in common rows or solitaire,
in a silence startled by the clink
of ice on glass — as if in prayer,
their eyes close and their focus shrinks
when men bow down to sip their drinks.

When men bow down to sip their drinks
with shoulders hunched, with jaws grown slack —
draped across each turned, bent back
the world’s abandoned at the brink
of their immobile zodiac,
their cloud of mingled breath which stinks
as men bow down to sip their drinks.

When men bow down to sip their drinks
the rhythmic round of hand to lip
grows metronomic, each man’s grip
preserves his final failing link
to time —. Of passing moments stripped,
the present stares, the future blinks,
when men bow down to sip their drinks.

(Dick’s Bar, 1992-2007—New York City)

PS: You look like a youngster, Timmy.

How good is that, Mems?!!!! Well caught!! Tis true - nothing better than hanging out with bent men.

And yes - Timmy looks great, and sounds even better.

You'll never believe what happened outside this pub while Davey went to get the car. Chris Childers stood on the edge of the footpath with Gregory Dowling and me, and he recited from memory Richard Wilbur's 'Lying'. He continued to recite when, midway, Davey pulled up with the car, and he did not miss a beat.

It was astounding. And for me, certainly one of the highlights... this beautiful, young man, without guile or self-consciousness, passionately declaiming to us and the evening sky, the wondrous lines of a great American master poet.

Unforgettable.

Ok, last one for the day! Me and McG at the Brewery, with thanks to Barbara Egel and Nemo...


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Wonderful pictures, Cally! Wish I could have been there to meet you. Maybe next year . . .

What a party. Thx so much for the pics.

Oh, I feel SO left out. Thanks for the pictures and commentary. Send more!

Best,
Jean

We stopped in for a night. A strange blur of a Mason's scarlet vibratos, an Amish bonnet and musical balls cascading in the periphery. Sadly I see I missed meeting more than a few.

I came in Friday afternoon for a one-morning stand. My son, driver, carrier and translator came with me and took some pictures. Maybe we'll figure out how to post them. I want to thank all those who came by to say Hello, Jan Hodge who recited one of my poems to me (ok, it was just a 2-liner), those of you who graciously relieved me of some of my Quiblets, and that great crowd who go up early on Saturday to hear me, Melissa and Bob McKenty. Well, yeah, maybe you came for the 15 great poets who followed us and read their poems from Light.

Ed, I came as soon as they sprung us from the Critical Seminar Report-Outs! (Sorry to be disrespectful to the scholarly panels, one of which I was on, but the Light tribute was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.)

It's probably a mercy that nobody was taking pictures when the fire alarm went off in University Hall this morning--about ten minutes before 6 a.m!--and many, many Sphereans trundled out, bleary eyed and in robes and slippers.

We have finally arrived back in Colorado, exhausted and happy, and I'll post more photos and tell more stories tomorrow, if you like!

I'd love to hear others' stories about the various workshops/panels they attended.

Perhaps we could all post a list of our best and worst moments/experiences? I'd love to hear the impressions of others!

Cally

West Chester is always a good time, and the Sphere makes it better, because it gives you an added connection with people you've never met but whose poetry and spherical presence you've long admired. (Then again, there are also the times when one of them *ahem, Michael Cantor* disagrees with your latest post and comes attacking you before he shakes your hand, though in fairness he's pretty suave and classy and grandfatherly about it.) It's also fun when Spherical strangers expect me to be 6'4", buff, and with a blue antenna head--Jayne Osborn in particular was shocked not to see some sort of giant, serious blue insect, which was dear. Tim Steele's workshop was a pleasure, especially hearing the fine poems of other workshop members, such as Frank Osen, Kevin Durkin, John Dunn Smith, Alexandra Oliver, and Melissa Balmain. (Frank and I have been in the same workshop pretty much every year we've both attended, and the ones Frank hasn't been in, Melissa has.) It was lovely meeting Cally as well, who is every bit as vivacious and extroverted as one would expect from her posts--a highlight for me was the story of her meeting with Alex on the first night--and hanging out with so many smart and witty people, like Nick, Quincy, Walter, and Poochigian Aaron, whose dramatic performances rocked the gazebo. And of course the fine readings and panels, of which the one in tribute to Alan Sullivan was a particular highlight, whether because of or despite the Beaton's groaners. (The kind of thing the internet slang smh was designed for.) I could go on, but won't. Arrivederci.

Chris

It's always great to see so many Sphereans (and frustrating not to be able to talk with them as often as I wish I could, given how busy the conference keeps me). For me, the reading of light verse was a highlight. I loved the opportunity to laugh as much as I did at it. Several people mentioned that it would be great to have that as a regular feature, and not just of poems from Light Quarterly. Perhaps if several people write in suggestions about it, it could happen. Most of the readings at the conference lean toward the heavy, or at least the serious. The First Books Panel was quite good, and I enjoyed Michael Cantor's featured reading, too. In general I liked the readings at the conference. The workshop I attended on the villanelle was very interesting and had a terrific group of writers. I bought lots of poetry books, so I will have plenty to read this summer. On the negative side, I thought having fire alarms go off twice during the conference was a tiresome new development.

Susan

Great scrap album-storybook going on here, keep it coming. But where is Mary Meriam in all those photos? And Chris, I always knew the blue insect thing was just a disguise, although it would be wonderful to hear a 6’4” blue insect reciting “Lying.” And of course I’m curious as hell about Cally’s meeting with Alex on the first night.

Hi Andrew, I wasn't there, just posting photos Cally sent me. Yes, more stories, more photos, please.

I'll leave it to Chris to add details about his recitation, some of which I caught while driving. And to Cally to say more about her meeting with Alex. But I was present for that, and nothing at the conference moved me more.

You have to start by understanding that Cally has lived much of her life alone or in isolation, that the Sphere was her only poetry community, unlike other people who have all sorts of programs they can easily get to.

She had never been to anything like a poetry conference before. And when I casually said, "Sweetie, this is Alex," she just fell into his arms and wept.

Cally only began posting poems a few years ago. Maybe some of you are not aware of that. She had never done anything of the sort before. Alex was the second person to comment on her first posting, and he did so helpfully, and when she later posted "The Great Ocean Road" he snapped it up for Able Muse.

I am so moved by this I cannot begin to tell you. I think the Sphere has helped to foster her great talent, a talent I honor more than any other.

All the other poets I know have so many options, so many communities for their poetry. Cally never had any of this. Only the Sphere made a larger community available to her. This was her home. This was it. Alex made it possible.

And when I fell in love with her words, as so many have done, it was because of what Alex made possible here.

I'll honor that for the rest of my life.

Dave

I promise I'll tell you the whole story tomorrow, Andrew. I'm fading fast here!

It was one of the most powerful emotional experiences of my life. And it took me by surprise completely.

There were other wonderful people-surprises, too. And surprises of place...

Details tomorrow! Love hearing from the rest of you, too. I miss you!!

Cally

This isn't Dick Wilbur but Tim using his 'puter. The Light panel was marvelous, as was the Hardy critical seminar. There the coup was getting Bob Mezey on speaker phone for an hour. If the Powers That Be can be persuaded to make Robert Francis our subject, Wilbur will join the discussion next year (he's teaching Francis this fall at Amherst.)

Of course for me the highlight was the panel for Alan, and my warm thanks to Aaron Poochigian, John Beaton, Catherine Tufariello, and Sam Gwynn for their memorable contributions. I'll read Aaron's and John's papers to Alan's mother.

Probably my biggest thrill though, was closely observing those teenagers in love, Cally and Dave. Though Annie Lennox was a friend, I have thoroughly applauded this great romance from its inception. I think both poets have warped a light year since they committed themselves to one another.

It was great to see so many old friends and to meet face to face for the first time, so many virtual friends from the Sphere and elsewhere.

Just a quickie for now - I'm home, and have now been awake for exactly 24 hours!!!!

I shall chip in again later when I've... zzzzzzzzzzzz ...what was I saying? ... had some sleep.

Jayne

More photos & stories, please! I've never been to West Chester (I hope to go next year) but I'm definitely enjoying it vicariously through this thread. So thank you, and more porridge please!

Nausheen :)

Yes, I was in that workshop too, and read some of my poems.
A very able group of people, and Tim Steele was insightful and charming.

Thanks everybody!
 

Emboldened by West Chester fumes and the circle around Julie Kane (in her inspiring workshop on Villanelle) I dare to post a brand new poem. Clearly I'm not home yet. But I'm resolved to become a more frequent friend at Eratosphere, despite the legacy of the EFH, and am grateful once again for the incredible gathering that is West Chester.

VILLANELLE FOR THE ROAD

The true way may be found, but at a cost.
The dashboard deity presides and judges.
Recalculating really means You're lost.

Is this a bridge that I've already crossed?
I wonder as the snake of traffic nudges
between the tollbooths. What's it going to cost?

I have my doubts, refusing to be bossed
by bland advice a nagging voice begrudges,
recalculating how you got so lost.

This muse would never suit you, Mr. Frost.
Bear left. Turn right. Take ramp. She never fudges.
The road not taken clearly has a cost.

But I'm footloose again, my baggage tossed
behind me. Good-bye, all you drudges!
Recalculating, nothing to be lost,

I roll along the road, a stone unmossed,
a stubborn certainty that never budges,
finding my way regardless of the cost,
recalculating, yes, but never lost.

Barbara Loots

West Chester 2012

It was a great party to have crashed--and nice to meet Andrew, Cally, Tim, and John in the flesh.

I'm tickled to have you here, Barbara, and I enjoyed the poem for itself as well as enjoying it as a reflection on West Chester. I hope we'll see your poems and comments soon on Metrical or the Deep End (she said, shuffling her feet since she's been very absent herself lately).

Thanks for the photographs! Nice to be able to put some faces to names. :D

Sorry I forgot to mention you, David; it was great meeting you as well and hearing your poems in the class.

There's not really a story about the recitation to Cally, except that I was a little drunk and forgot a couple words. It was great seeing her face when I got to the onion, though--the wide eyes, the look of sheer awe; that must be the most beautiful onion in literature.

Chris

Pix
 

I am a vestige!

Here's a photostream:

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(That's a better link than the one posted earlier.)

Jayne and David,

Apologies for not getting a proper good-bye on that final night. I was on the phone for 3 hours with techies, trying to get Cally's i-pad operational again. Not my ideal finish to the conference...

Glad to know you got home safely.

Kate!! Those are great!! Thanks for the bigger picture!!