Poetry Contests

Why.

Are they all due the same day.
Cost a ridiculous amount of cash.
Never tell you who the judges are.
Take 4 months (or never) to get back to you.

And why do they seem to think we want a one-year subscription in exchange for submitting to them such a silly amount of money.

Yah, but I'm doing it, aren't I.

Bobby Darin

Doesn't Sea of Love just break your heart? Just watched that Kevin Spacey movie about Bobby's life. Real good. And that Kevin can sing too--sang all the songs himself. Why doesn't Kevin Spacey visit Ottawa more often. Sure wouldn't mind being sung to like that. Boy.

Secretary Jane

Sometime last December I got a phone call from a friend who said he knew of a Chinese film crew in town looking for extras. So I took the bait and ended up playing a secretary for a Chinese Cable TV series. I got paid $70 for the day. Guess I'm none too good at getting the big bucks for the acting gigs. Ah well. So now I'm on Chinese TV--it should be showing soon, if you happen to be in China. Maybe they'll start a fan club, or I'll get a paparazzi stalker. The working title of the film was "Teenagers Studying Overseas". I will likely never see it. Might be a good thing.

You can call me Jane, coincidentally, as it was my first pen name. jane e sand. e for Euripedes, of course.

Paletics: to the UESOFA

It's been some time since I've written
    (been busy
my tongue in its forward position
pressed hard to the palate.

Mealy-faced, captive in sleep
your buttery tales
reached me while I dreamed.

America we’ve been informed of your
exceptional talent.
America we are in love.

Your calcitrant hues of red and golden
yellow
the anticipation of opposites
is what we love.

America, you have beautiful legs.

         (Please keep my letters.

Hey somebody likes me

If you're anything like me (poet w/moments of despondent-like love and hate toward your own writing), you'll agree that it's just swell to be recognized, appreciated, liked, loved. And so I am appreciative. Thanks to rob mclennan for saying some things about my work. Here. and here.

Also check out the recent Kitchisippi Times. There's mention of that thing I'm doing in my attic.

Still no news about Montreal...it's killin me.

Poem thing

Here's a poem I wrote yesterday while at the Ottawa U. library crouched down on the third floor behind some biological/pest control bookcase section. What was I doing there? All I could think was finding some place quiet to pile myself into a slouchy position to write the burning poetic thing that was on my mind. God, I ended up with this poop. All that work to find an amiable place to sort out my innerdepths and, squat. So, I've decided everyone should suffer and have to read it. Maybe I can blame it on the heat.


my bones are breaking
cracked straight through

ankles drowning within the
pull of long grass

they rally for our capture
6 inches in

chase the progress we've made

your feet are ugly, or it is
the weather

we commit to finding a way out



Goodnight!

Geez.

My old friend Andrew came through town a week ago from Edmonton. Been about 7 years since we'd seen each other. Such a sweetie he is, and still gets all pissy Irish. Turns out we're both orange Irish. Whatever the hell that means. So here we are. So I gotta know, what the heck is up with my elbow. Who knew elbows could be so pointy. See my face, I'm not all too happy. I was driving. No beer for me. Well I guess I look a little happy. I guess that's ok.

Curiously, it is when I'm most detached from language that it spins itself familiar. Learned behaviour, or innate recognition? How to define a poet.

To The Races

About 6 years ago a boyfriend took me to the horse races. I was hooked from the get-go. The live excitement, the mad dash to the betting window, the height and shiny sweatiness of the gorgeous thoroughbreds; something entirely poetic about it all. I can see how Bukowski was an addict.

So I tried it again Friday night. This time, I won little for my hard work in watching each horse warm up, picking my favorites, and placing my $2 bet. I realized at the end of the night, after spending $50 on bets and winning back only $15, that I know very little about betting on horses. So I'm gonna learn. And I might just bet on my favorite number. Sometimes it's as random as all that. For instance, the #4 horse came in first in games 3 through 7, and although my gut told me to wager on the 4 each time, I resisted. Resist no more! But I do seriously have to pay more attention to my bets and the odds. I bet a 4-2-3 perfecta in one race, and the order was 4-3-2. Because I only placed a $2 bet, rather than boxing the 3 picks for a $6 bet, I won nothing. If I'd known you had to box the bet to secure the order in any random ending, I'd have won about $250. I won nothing. The ticket booth girl said "You came close hon". Doesn't help me at all now does it.

There is something quiet, still, peaceful, wanting and home about the races. You can be alone with your numbers, your gut, your poetry. And sometimes you can win.

Here's what Bukowski had to say about the races; beautifully and aptly put:

No.6

I'll settle for the 6 horse
on a rainy afternoon
a paper cup of coffee
in my hand
a little way to go,
the wind twirling out
small wrens from
the upper grandstand roof,
the jocks coming out
for a middle race
silent
and the easy rain making
everything
at once
almost alike,
the horses at peace with
each other
before the drunken war
and I am under the grandstand
feeling for
cigarettes
settling for coffee,
then the horses walk by
taking their little men
away-
it is funeral and graceful
and glad
like the opening
of flowers.


Read some more Bukowski if you want.


He's also got a good little bit from a poem called "as the poems go":

the best writers have said very
little
and the worst,
far too much.



That's it.
w

Archibald Lampman Poetry Award

Read all about it here.

Proof in canon

one day i'd like to. a long economic. live in stretches and skin. breaks of flocking, the pancake of love. beast as birds, as appearing to, in the locality of sleep, in the moment stalled of air. all things best. beat what outbound imitation. what fastened on tongue, still. what force, trimmed. a class. a wave or a word. touted. a want to be quick, flit. exultant and stick to dreams. cool form bending, insigniad. milklove. crested, distance distracts, lengthenings. mark an afternoon with speaking. a city should not define. to tell of these, all things clear of night.