VRZHU bullets of pure love

Contra Anthologies and News from the VRB!

NOTE: I'm posting this from a remote location, and so I have a lot of links and photos and diagrams and I can't include them at the moment.  I'll update this post next week to include more of the visual stuff to go along  with this big lump of text.  AND I should be able to get up the Vrzhu Research Bureau's recent product research in the realm of robopoetics, and unmanned poetry delivery apparatus.  Thanks for you patience! -

    Don Chiasson in the NYT this Sunday pans David Lehman's anthology Best American Neurotic -- sorry! -- Erotic Poems. Part of his attack is unfair since he namechecks W. H. Auden, who settled in, for a while, but is not, American. And he also briefly attacks anthologies (of one poem per poet) in general:

"single poems in anthologies  . . . cannot possibly convey a great writer’s force."

    Now, anthology bashing goes on around here all the time: in blogs, at conferences, on street corners and in pool halls. These rants fall into two camps. In the first, like Mr. Chiasson above, they assert that anthologies suck because they cannot represent, or they misrepresent, a poet's esse, his essential being qua poetry.  Thus, they perform a disservice to the poet and reader both. Anthologies lie.

    In the second camp, it is argued that anthologies are tools of repression, hiding and disappearing those disenfranchised poets or groups of poets that are excluded from them.  They present a history whitewashed of undesirables, poets who are effectively silenced because they cannot be heard. Anthologies are the Big Lie.

    I am sure both these positions have merit, but I have yet to see either of them argued 100% convincingly.  The problem with the first objection to anthologies -- that they misrepresent a writer -- is that it views poems in anthologies strictly from the point of view of the poet, and not from the reader's POV. Yes, this is a grave disservice to the poet, but from a reader's perspective, I suspect it matters little.

    The general reader, to the extent she still exists, differs from the more specialized poetry reader. The general reader is apt to be not only satisfied with a single poem by an author, but considers this one of the defining characteristics of being literate. The difference between the general reader and the more specialized poetry reader is that the former probably knows "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," "The Charge of the Light Brigade," Sandburg's "Fog" and perhaps a half dozen others ("Richard Corey," the beginnings of "Hiawatha" and "The Wasteland") and the latter is, of course, a poet.

    The General Reader, in general, is immune to the value in reading all the works of one author, and sees little advantage to reading an entire oeuvre, whether is it Dickens, or Hardy, or Pound.  This is not intended to denigrate the GR-- it is a perfectly defensible and reasonable position.  And, if we wished to be harsh and Draconian, why shouldn't a poet have to stand or fall on the basis of one poem? I'm pretty sure Frost would be able to endure having Stopping By, and nothing else, survive the ages. Unfair? Yes. Your point is . . .?

    On the other hand, the second objection to anthologies probably has, or had, some merit.  Most people in the U.S. are going to be exposed to poetry in school only through some kind of Norton-ish anthology. And such anthologies tend to the canonical in the worst sense.

    But for two reasons, I don't think this objection has a lot of purchase these days.  First, I can't think of a group, hitherto excluded from the canon, that does not now have at least one anthology of its own.  While ALL these anthologies can't be part of the curricula, they are available, and give all sorts of poets a chance to be heard.  Second, I'm not sure how to solve the problem of a student's first exposure to poetry being through something like a Norton.  You can't assign everything ever written.  And to replace Norton with an anthology of poets excluded from the Norton is to exchange one oppressive regime for another.  Surely that's not the gist of the objection, not that some are excluded, but that I'M excluded?

    Anyway, three more points in this review of a review.

    Mr. Chiasson doesn't like theme-based anthologies:

"Theme-based anthologies have the unintended effect of making poets seem trapped by their subjects: there is no more variation among poets in this book than there would be in a book called, for example, 'The Best American Patriotic Poems.'"

    There sure are a lot of theme-based anthologies out there, it's true. Like, for example, every single anthology ever collected, whether the theme is "best" or "dogs" or "English" or "15th century." Yup, all themes, and all trapping poets like flies in molasses.  Maybe he means some themes are worse about this than others, if the theme ends in -ic for example.

    Next point. What is the reviewer trying to say in this sentence?

"Lusty poems by straight men are, in our era, usually prone to failure — though a cat lover might appreciate the literary power, lost on me . . . "

    Is he saying that lusty poems about cats by "straight" (the quotes are everso needed) men can be appreciated by other "straight" men who love cats?  Men who love cats and the lusty poems they write? Lusty poems by straight men stink, but poems about catlove might have real power, though I wouldn't know because I'm not into that?  The "but" in the quoted sentence tasks me.  I cannot for the life of me parse it.

    Last point. This:

"The first is a sampler of faultless poems about sex by dead Americans like . . ."

And here are the first main definitions of the preposition "by:"

1. Close to; next to.
2. With the use or help of; the agency or action of.
3. Up to and beyond; past.
4. In the period of; during.
5. With respect to.
6. In the name of.

I tried substituting each of the above phrases for the word "by" in the sentence, and, I got to tell you, the results were pretty icky.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *   *

Among the vast holdings here in the Vrzhu Research Bureau are thousands of files from now defunct poetry organizations and poetry investigative groups.  The VRB is in the process of converting these files to indexed CD-ROMs to preserve what are already fragile and decaying documents that have been stored in damp basements, airless attics, and garages across the country for decades.

Although many of these files are of little interest to the non-professional archeopoetologist, there are occasionally findings that are certain to be of interest to general poetry aficionados (such as yourselves).

Here below we provide the extant remains of what appears to be a monograph from the legendary American Poetry Coalition.  The APC was the successor organization to the early 20th century ASPCA – The American Society for the Promulgation of Culture to Anybody.  Due to its acronymic similarity to another, more well-known, organization, the ASPCA suffered severely declining membership throughout the 1930’s and officially disbanded in late 1938.  Some members of the literary wing of the ASPCA formed the APC just prior to the US entry in World War II. 

There have always been persistent rumors that, after the war, the APC was funded by certain federal law organizations or intelligence gathering centers, or both.  Although the VBR is in not in a position to either confirm or deny these allegations (we merely spread them), the document below may shed some light on some of the APC’s more, shall we say, covert efforts.

Forensic evidence places the date of this monograph not earlier than 1957 and certainly no later than 1960, possibly early 1961.

Monograph on the Nature and Operation of Poetry in the United States, with Addenda on its Infiltration of [illegible].
 
[page i]

Preface

There have been insistent allegations of the existence of poetry in the United States. There have also been denials.

The purposes of this monograph are threefold:

1.    to explain what poetry is
2.    to present the evidence indicating poetry does exist in the United States
3.    to describe how poetry operates.

Fortified with this knowledge, all persons charged with critical and cultural responsibilities should be in a better position to cope with poetry.

This monograph is written in two sections. The scope of the first [illegible section] and (d) basic current forms through which [illegible].

It will be [page ii] understood that poetry is a highly clandestine operation most difficult to penetrate by informants. Therefore this study was not limited to data secured from informants. It goes beyond this source to include all available material emanating from other cultural organizations and public sources, both in the United States and Europe.

[pages missing]

[page xiii] . . . -day poetry controls [illegible] to the extent that it dominates certain cultural operations wherever it can, pushing poems to the limit [illegible] would mean either [illegible] of a productive society upon which is feeds or a popular rising against it in a wave of indifference that would encompass the destruction of its elements.

B. Conclusions

    1.    Poetry is a [illegible] traditional combination of words and rhythm and pseudo-[illegible]. It imposes an invisible weight on communities, depending for its authority on the self-importance it inspires in its members through domineering control of local journals and “coffeehouses.”

    2.    The most typical poetry figure is the poet. The power he commands is slight in comparison with the local Laureate (or “prizewinner”). The latter has risen from the ranks and enjoys a relationship to other poets like that of a feudal [illegible] to the local community is also one of prestige and power. He expects to be deferred to at readings and local ventures, from which he extracts a percentage of the credit or praise. He may be sought by non-poets for articles or interviews on cultural, political, or other matters, and for arbitration of “contests” though in doing so the winners become obligated, sometimes dangerously so, to the Laureate.

    3.    The basic and often only unit of poetry organization is the “school.” A school is usually geographic or local in nature. Members are admitted to it if they are acceptable to the local [illegible]. Prerequisites for admission include proof of capacity for lyric [illegible]; adherence to the traditional code of “Homerta,” i.e., silence in the presence of bad poems and dependence on “poetic justice,” an elaborate exchange of ritual praise or “blurbs;” and mentorship by [page xiv] someone already a poet.

    4.    The traditional poetry school is not a compact, centrally organized society or party such as the Communist Party, but a collection of poets autonomous in their own practices and loosely federated when federated at all. The pattern of connections among local “schools” depends chiefly upon the existing relationships between individual poets and prizewinners. Powerful poets meet occasionally to hold court or give readings, and they often defer to a poet of supreme prestige. The poetic system of administration is primitive. The leader is the one with the “psychological drop,” i.e., the one who inspires the greatest envy and [illegible].

    5.    Recently, poetry has been accentuated and has become better organized in Universities than it was formerly. The possibility exists that poetry has begun to achieve greater centralization and hegemony through the establishment of MFA programs and regional/local workshops and writing centers.

    6.    Poetry incursions have included [illegible].

    7.    Chief among poetry’s modus operandi are readings, open mics, workshops and many other [illegible] though persistent emphasis over many decades has been upon publication and the operation of journals and [illegible].

    8.    Poetry is distinguished from other arts and cultural activities by its traditional exclusiveness; close ties among its adherents; [page xv] its consistent modus operandi; the outstanding opaqueness of its elements, and the proclivity of small groups of its elements to claim tradition and authenticity over much larger numbers of other groups.

   9.    [illegible] . . . exists between [illegible] fails to indicate that [illegible] but this does not mean that Chicago, New York City or any other metropolitan center can be considered the “world headquarters” for poetry.

    10.    The [illegible] elements [illegible] has never been successfully accomplished. Reasons for failure have included: (1) the [illegible] . . . of others; (4) the traditional and consequently chiefly tacit and understood nature of poetry; (5) the institutional [illegible] i.e., as known practitioners are suppressed, new opportunities are favored by a conditioned public, especially its [illegible] elements and those are made vulnerable by adherence to [illegible] opportunities that enrich some poetry leaders and increase their power; and (8) the perennial problem faced by a literate public in attempting to prove that poetry either means something or has some individual or social use. Although poetry presents the ostensible appearance of a single, cohesive society, it has no written constitution, nor does it operate in formal fashion. Admission is by informal understanding, advancement is by prestige and [page xvi] self-imposition.

    11.    [illegible]

    12.    [illegible]

    13.    [illegible]  . . . exists as the most [illegible] and extensive [illegible]  ever to have been foisted and imposed upon the public.  To [illegible] represents the most deeply entrenched and [illegible] to have manifested itself in the [illegible]. This challenge extends [illegible] to all [illegible] in the United States.   

End.

Robert Frost vs. Hungarian Cuisine

Why is Vrzhu blogging a recipe today?

Well, there is precedent. But that is insufficient.

So, by way of justification. . .

“Jay Parini, a Frost scholar and professor at Middlebury College, also described the difficulty of reading Frost’s “chicken scrawlish” handwriting.” 

–from “Editing of Frost Notebooks in Dispute” By Motoko Rich - New York Times, Jan. 22, 2008 

We here at Vrzhu have been puzzling over the reference in the quote above to the traditional Hungarian dish, Chicken Scrawlish.  Perhaps Mr. Parini was giving a tip of the hat to Hungary as one of the great producers of world-class poets, far in excess of larger countries, with a respect for and tradition of poetry comparable to, say, Ireland? Or is he referring to the rumor that, while in England, Frost was able to employ an immigrant Hungarian as a housekeeper for about a month in the fall of 1913, and afterwards Frost would sometimes make a folksy reference to her “chicken scrawlish?.”

This is indeed a riddle inside an enigma wrapped in a flour tortilla. But Vrzhu is in search of a key.

To start, here is an unpublished article from Gourmand Monthly we have obtained which sheds some light on the culinary trompe langue that is Chicken Scrawlish.

Chicken Scrawlish (Chicken Szcralís) – Originally a peasant dish from the Northern Medium Mountain region of northern Hungary, which is part of the Southern Carpathian Mountains of  southwestern Slovakia.  A dense stew that is formed into loaves for the winter, Chicken Scrawlish is undoubtedly the least popular dish in Hungary.  Georgi Mandi, a noted culinary archivist, has said that “if paprikash is considered the royalty of Hungarian cooking, then the concoction known as Chicken Scrawlish must be rated as Hungary’s failed apprentice pig herder. Famed Hungarian chef Egbert Esterhaszy concurs: “To a Hungarian, paprikash, sausage, poppy seed noodles—these all say “mother.” Chicken Scrawlish, on the other hand, says “idiot third cousin kept hidden from company in the root cellar.”

But generally, most Hungarians either deny the existence of a dish called Chicken Scrawlish, or vociferously insist that it is not Hungarian but Slovakian. At the same time Slovak citizens in the Carpathian mountains across the border from Hungary will swear that only a Hungarian would be able to eat a dish like chicken scrawlish. There are local city ordinances still extant stating that “persons found to have a loaf or block of Szcralis on their body or among their belongings will be fined 1,000 korunas.” 

These laws may have been an attempt to discourage “Scrawlishmen.” Because of the difficulties inherent in preparing Chicken Scrawlish, it became common for unemployed men or men who had fallen off their horses onto their heads to become itinerant Chicken Scrawlish vendors, or Scrawlishmen, going from farm to farm and village to village trying to trick the more slatternly wives into buying a jar of potted Scrawlish.  Often runners from one farm would speed ahead to the next farm to warn of the approaching Scrawlishman, so that an adequate supply of stones of sufficient heft could be gathered to throw at him.

Despite this, dedicated, perhaps foolhardy, foodies, inspired by culinary adventurers (such as Anthony Bordain) who sample puffin jerky, or warthog chitterlings, have been looking for a traditional recipe—or any recipe—for the infamous Chicken Scrawlish.

Recently, American investigatory cooks, Jack and Michelle Gurning, have interviewed several immigrants from the region, and found a recipe for the dish hidden in an old bible written in Hungarian. The recipe was on previously-used vellum and sandwiched between pages of the Book of Revelation.  The Gurnings, in their book, Into Thick Soup –  A Personal Account of Delight and Disaster Amongst the Wild Dishes of the Carpathians, provide their deciphered and translated rendition of the recipe.  Their only introductory description of Chicken Scrawlish is “a dish only H. P. Lovecraft could love. Or adequately describe.”

Chicken Scrawlish

One unplucked chicken, preferably dead.
16 oz rendered badger fat
4 oz dry-cured chicken liver
18 oz unhulled groats
2 teaspoons rock salt
2 teaspoons chopped baitfish, such as minnow
6 to 8 cups goat broth, or squirrel broth
1 cup chopped celery root
1 cup chopped sun-dried beet
1 cup chopped kohlrabi, root and leaves.
1/2 cup onion grass
4 oz juniper berries
1 teaspoon hot paprika
1 teaspoon devil’s parsley
¼ cup hyssop sour wine or hyssop white vinegar.
¼ cup woodruff jam

1. First, the chicken must be “saddled.” After gutting the bird, spatchcock it*, retaining the neck and head. Press it flat, pulling to extend the wings and legs as much as possible.

2. Place the spatchcocked chicken between the saddle and the horse, feathered side down (alternatively the chicken may be pressed between two goats).  After a three day ride** remove the chicken and soak in 5 gallons of water mixed with one cup of lye for at least 24 hours, making sure the neck and head of the chicken are draped over the side of the pot to vent properly.

3. Drain, rinse and dry the chicken.  At this point the feathers should have formed a fused  bed underneath the meat. Carefully peel back the feather bed from the chicken and discard some distance from any habitation.  The chicken should be tender and malleable at this point, translucent with a gelatinous consistency.

4. Soak the groats until tender. Soak the dry cured chicken livers until al dente and then grind finely along with the rock salt and chopped baitfish.

5. Drain the groats, put them into a large mixing bowl and add badger fat, celery root, sun-dried beet, kohlrabi, onion grass, juniper berries, hot paprika and devil’s parsley. Stir in the chicken liver mixture. Beat until the mixture is slightly glutinous. Stir in the goat or squirrel broth.

6. Force the chicken through a sieve into the groat mixture, taking care not to put your face or hands directly over the bowl.

7. Cover the bowl with wire mesh and a damp cloth and allow to ferment outside for about 1 hour.

8. Stir and pour into a large dutch oven.  Cook in a 325 degree oven for about 3 hours. If the Scrawlish dries out DO NOT add water! Discard immediately. Either start over or lead a Christian life.***

9. At this point the Chicken Scrawlish can be served as a stew, the so-called White Scrawlish.  It is customarily served on a bed of boiled nettles as a late supper after the men have returned home drunk.   

But typically, much larger amounts of Chicken Scrawlish were made and some of the scrawlish was “put up” in loaves.

For Chicken Scrawlish Loaf, or Black Scrawlish

10. Let the Scrawlish settle and then pour off as much of the top fluid as possible.

11. Turn the Scrawlish out onto a floured board and knead for about 20 minutes, alternately adding the Hyssop vinegar and Woodruff jam, until it is elastic and not too lumpy.  At this point the Scrawlish dough should be unpleasant to look at and touch. You can’t really get used to it. Form into a roughly loaf-shaped mass and place on a baking sheet you intend to discard afterwards.  Bake at 275 degrees for 12 hours in a very well-ventilated room.

12. Remove and allow the loaf to cool completely.  The loaf will keep indefinitely. Loaves were often passed down from generation to generation.

Serves all or none

Nutritional information: unknown.

To conclude, as the dish migrated down from the Carpathians into the plains and cities of Hungary, it was considerably tamed.  However, it retained its air of mystery as a “special” dish, and throughout most the 19th century the eating of it was considered a venal sin.

*To spatchcock a fowl: Place the bird breast side down on as clean a surface as you can find. Using a very sharp knife cut from the neck to the tail end along both sides of the backbone to remove. This takes some force. Make a small slit in the cartilage at the bottom end of the breast bone, then with both hands placed on the rib cage, crack open the bird by opening it, like a book, towards the cutting surface.  This will reveal the keel bone. Run you fingers up along wither side of the cartilage in between in between the breasts to loosen it from the flesh, then grab the keel bone and pull it up to remove it, along with the attached cartilage.  Flip over and smooth the skin.  The bird is now spatchcocked.

**Although a three day ride is sufficient for an authentic Chicken Scrawlish, Scrawlishes were often distinguished and rated by the length of time continuously “saddled.” In addition to this recipe of Three Day Scrawlish, there was Five Day Scrawlish, Eight Day Scrawlish, and for special occasions, Campaign Scrawlish, where the chicken was “saddled” for an entire military campaign or until the rider returned home.  This Scrawlish was also called “Funeral Scrawlish” or “Missing Limb Scrawlish.”

*** The exact meaning of this sentence in the original is in dispute. The original recipe continues: “Immediately start a novena for protection against the Unclean One. And spit thrice upon leaving or entering the house for the following week.” 

Snark: The New Poetry Month Poster

So the American Academy of Poets has announced the release of this year's Poetry Month poster. 

And it's a snoozer. 

As the official press release describes it:

"Red letters set in flight to spell "National Poetry Month" are the centerpiece of this bold poster. The image is anchored by two cupped hands."

"this bold poster"   

Really?

Yeah.  This is pretty bold. 

Bold like the "Got Milk" posters are bold.  Bold like the Dakota Fanning says READ posters.  Actually, the Dakota Fanning poster is more interesting than this job.  Dakota Fanning is at least an interesting person holding up Charlotte's Web and maybe someone out there in the target audience might think, "Wow, if the girl from "Man on Fire" and "War of the Worlds" is into Charlotte's Web, it might be a good read." 

I won't even get into the absolute lack of imagination on font-choice on this thing.  Let's just consider its express purpose:

How the hell does this inspire someone to go pick up a book of poetry?  How the hell does this inspire someone to go hear poetry for that matter.  Seriously.  This is the tamest, least imaginative advert I've seen in a while.  I can only imagine that deference for the lowest common-denominator, least offensive, middling banality was the call since these posters are going to be on the bulletin boards of classrooms across America.  But seriously, is this the best they could come up with?  This was the work of the folks at "SpotCo", who the press release bills as:

[the] New York City agency responsible for the lion’s share of poster designs for Broadway’s most popular shows. These include RENT, Chicago, and Avenue Q.

I can only imagine ticket sales for "NATIONAL POETRY MONTH" if this were the poster.  I'm thinking a very very limited run.

Aesthetically it's such a boring piece of work. 

This doesn't have to be.  The American Academy has done great work before.  Consider last year's poster with a really clever pixilated Whitman.  It was both classy and cutting edge.  Certainly more interesting then the flyaway letters of this year's effort.

What does this year's poster look like to you?

Here are my ideas:

• Help!  My letters are floating away!!
• Please sir.  Can I have some more red letters?
• Dismembered hands profit from the Poetry Foundation's novel program of sprinkling letters from zeppelins flying over the city.

Dissing Poetry Again...

I've made a decision to pretty much leave any comment on the political campaigns to my own personal blog.  Figured my work on other blogs (rare are it is) should be focused.  So I blog about poetry here.

But I have to say this morning's column by E.J. Dionne alerted me to the recurring belittling of poetry.

Yesterday Hillary Clinton said:

"You campaign in poetry, but you govern in prose."

Ugh.   Perhaps this sentiment is not surprising coming from the candidate with a real lack of poetic articulation.

But what does this mean anyway?  That you govern in the closed single layer?  I'm trying to think of how such a flippant (and stupid) comment like this plays out.  So no prosody in governance. And if one has very little poetry in one's campaign (ahem.. Hillary) what does that leave for your governance?

The whole thing is just another irritating note.

In Praise of Gossip

Or, more correctly, "tasteful speculation."

"I ask not for the great, the remote, the romantic; what is doing in Arabia; what is Greek art, or Provençal minstrelsy; I embrace the common, I explore and sit at the feet of the familiar, the low. Give me insight into to-day, and you may have the antique and future worlds. What would we really know the meaning of? The meal in the firkin; the milk in the pan; the ballad in the street; the news of the boat; the glance of the eye; the form and the gait of the body;—show me the ultimate reason of these matters."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

If you haven't got anything nice to say about anybody, come sit next to me.
- Alice Roosevelt Longworth

Jorge Luis Borges and Maureen Thorson

Today's entry is about Jorge Luis Borges and Maureen Thorson.  I'm writing "Jorge Luis Borges and Maureen Thorson" so if anyone ever googles "Jorge Luis Borges Maureen Thorson," this is where they'll end up.

Jorge Luis Borges was born 108 years ago yesterday, folks, so a belated birthday shout out to him.  He was not famous, or primarily famous, for his poetry, but for his stories, or story-essays, or whatever you call them.  In way he was part of the big discovery of Central and South American writers—Pablo Neruda, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Octavia Paz, Jorge Amado, and lots of others—that happened around here in the ‘60s and ‘70s.  I think New Directions put out the first English version of his work, called Labyrinths, but I could be confusing my finding him and reading him with everybody always already finding out about him. I felt like I’d discovered a whole new level of writing and thinking and art when I started through that book. In a way I had. A lot of Borges’ fixations and ideas seem to have lodged permanently in our culture—I can hardly say the words library or labyrinth without thinking of him.
 

On a different note, a huge shout out to Washington’s own Maureen Thorson, demiurge of Big Game Books, which gets top listing in the Sept/Oct 2007 issue of Poets & Writers in their small press article.  BGB is a phenomal small press: handmade books, outstanding authors. I believe Ms. Thorson attributes some of BGG's success to the fact that her books are "cute," but she's just being modest.  Though they are cute, damn cute. But with good stuff inside. Maureen is also chief wrangler for NaPoWriMo, an annual [mostly] online masochistic exhibition of writing one poem a day for the month of April…the fools...the mad fools. Most don’t know, but tasteful speculation has it that Ms. Thorson is also the model for the Matt Damon (Thorson=Thorn=Bourne) character in the Bourne Identity movies. Or that she has steadfastly refused all entreaties to assume the throne of Norway. Or that every time anyone says the word ‘splendid,’ she gets a nickel. Spendid work, Maureen, keep it up (ching!)!

Okay, here’s a poem by Borges:

Instants

Jorge Luis Borges

If I could live again my life,

In the next - I'll try,

- to make more mistakes,

I won't try to be so perfect,

I'll be more relaxed,

I'll be more full - than I am now,

In fact, I'll take fewer things seriously,

I'll be less hygenic,

I'll take more risks,

I'll take more trips,

I'll watch more sunsets,

I'll climb more mountains,

I'll swim more rivers,

I'll go to more places - I've never been,

I'll eat more ice creams and less (lime) beans,

I'll have more real problems - and less imaginary

                                        ones,

I was one of those people who live

                prudent and prolific lives -

                        each minute of his life,

Offcourse that I had moments of joy  - but,

if I could go back I'll try to have only good moments,

If you don't know - thats what life is made of,

Don't lose the now!

I was one of those who never goes anywhere

                without a thermometer,

without a hot-water bottle,

and without an umberella and without a parachute,

If I could live again - I will travel light,

If I could live again - I'll try to work bare feet

                at the beginning of spring till

                  the end of autumn,

I'll ride more carts,

I'll watch more sunrises and play with more children,

If I have the life to live - but now I am 85,

        - and I know that I am dying ...

Kim Roberts on Broomes Island...

So, how does a poet spend a day off?

If you're Kim Roberts you take a leisurely trip down to Broomes Island in Calvert County.  There, 'neath the cool shade of a mighty oak, along the Patuxent River (was that an oak tree?), one can recharge the poetic batteries and contemplate the deeper mysteries of the cosmos.

But you have to watch for those pesky papparazzi that might be lurking to capture poets at their most languid.

Thanks to Lisa Ritchie for the kind invite for the day.

T.S. - Carly Sachs

Tasteful Speculation

If you live in the Washington DC area and if you’re involved in the literary side of things, you probably know of Carly Sachs. Vrzhu was delighted to meet Carly face to face at a Washington literary publishers summit conference today (more on that later). Carly was there representing Washington Writers Publishing House, who she works with and who has put out her book, The Steam Sequence. We learned that Carly also teaches creative writing at George Washington University, curates the Burlesque Poetry Hour with Reb Livingston at Bar Rouge, and keeps up a busy barkeeping schedule. Though too modest to name all her current activities, Vrzhu believes that her life is even busier than she lets on. "Tasteful speculation" has it that: -Perhaps Carly runs a free capoeira clinic where she instructs some of the less fortunate children in the city in that brazilian martial art created by enslaved Africans in the 16th Century. So we've heard. -Although I’m sure she would insist she is just giving back, there is a new Rwandan orphanage, probably something like this one, that is dedicated to both Hutu and Tutsi children in an atmosphere of peace and shared community thanks to Carly. -I doubt many people know about Carly’s work with Vitamin A and micronutrient delivery for Nepalese children and mothers suffering from malnutrition. By the way, as far as we know, Carly’s groundbreaking work in using native foods and diets in this research isn’t associated with the Johns Hopkins program. -I’m not sure if this caused some Visa trouble for Carly, but I believe she turned down the attempt to draft her to replace this recently deceased head of state. I imagine there’s just too much else to do. We at Vrzhu salute her. As for the summit, it was a pleasure to meet a bunch of enthusiatic, savvy, and dedicated publishers involved in the arts here in DC.