Thursday, July 13, 2017
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
Doug Holder Interviews Prema Bangera (Director of Teen Voices Emerging) and Hadja Bangoura
Organization Mission Statement:
Teen
Voices Emerging (TVE) is an all-girls writing and mentorship program,
which aims to empower young urban girls through the power of words and
connection. Its philosophy is built on the premise that every young girl
should have the opportunity to share her voice with her community to
create a social movement that changes the skewed representation and
images of women and girls in the media.
Organization Description:
Tuesday, July 11, 2017
Interview with Somerville Poet Anna M. Warrock: A poet who speaks 'From the Other Room'
Anna M. Warrock's publications include the chapbooks From the Other Room, winner of the first Slate Roof Press Chapbook Contest; Horizon; and Smoke and Stone. Her work appears in the anthology Kiss Me Goodnight: Poems and Stories by Women Who Were Girls When Their Mothers Died, Minnesota Book Award Finalist, for which she also wrote the introduction. Besides appearing in a number of literary and multidisciplinary magazines, including Harvard Review, The Sun magazine, The Madison Review, Phoebe, and Poiesis, her poems have been set to music, performed at Boston's Hayden Planetarium, and permanently installed in a Boston-area subway station. She has taught poetry in classes for the elderly, high school students, and adult education, and held seminars on understanding grief and loss through poetry. She lives Somerville, MA. I talked with her on My Somerville Media Center TV show-- " Poet to Poet: Writer to Writer."
Interview with Somerville Poet Anna M.
Warrock: A Poet who speaks ' From the Other Room'
Interview with Doug Holder
Doug Holder: First off—you are a
long time Somerville resident. Your husband Robert Smyth ran a bookstore here for
awhile, and founded the Yellow Moon Press. How is it for a creative
person to live here in the Paris of New England?
Anna M. Warrock: I have been here
well-over two decades. It is a wonderful place to be because so much
is happening here. I fully credit the Somerville Arts Council with
the plethora of programs they run and produce. There is a very active
writing community here—with a lot of good reading venues.
DH: Somerville has a great history of
small presses—I can think of Aspect magazine, Dark Horse , Boston
Literary Review and others.
AMW: Indeed. I know Aspect magazine
folded—but the iconic Zephyr Press—once based in Somerville is
still around—run by James Kates.
DH: Your poems mingle light and
shadow—Frannie Lindsay opined that your poem have a calmness—that
facilitates truth.
AMW: I have been to a number of poetry
readings in the past year or so and I find that a good poem tells the
truth. You recognize the truth in a poem that works. There is such
disarray in the public discourse these days that I need to search for
the right balance. Emotional calmness will help you find a grounding
in truth.
DH: What do you say when you hear the
“truth” in a poem?
AMW: I don't say anything to myself. I
feel grounded.
DH: In your poem "The Salmon go All the Way to Death" you deal with the salmon going up stream—to mate—to die—the
cycle of life they are part of. There is a tragic aspect to their
mating and death, as well as a beauty.
AMW: I am not sure it is a tragedy. We
are all part of this cycle of life and death. There is a lot of
discussions about what is a good death. We also discuss how under the
circumstance of illness how do we treat dying. We are participants in
the cycle of life and death—poetry can illustrate this for us.
DH: You are obviously aware how
inanimate objects can have a powerful presence. In a poem in the
collection you personified a set of glasses that marked the absence
of your late mother. How did this come to you?
AMW: That poem began as a sense of
absence. In writing the poem I was sort of stuck—so I returned to
the glasses. In some way those glasses function to evoke that sense.
I never force a poem—this poem came to me.
DH: Your new collection “ From the
Other Room” from the Slate Roof Press has wonderful production
values.
AMW: Yes, I am very lucky. My book won
their chapbook contest. The press is a collective like Alice James.
You become part of the press for three years. It is a great,
collegial experience.
DH: You have done work with the
elderly—high school students, as well as health professionals.
AMW: Yes...the most moving experience I
had was at the Somerville Hospital where I worked with a group of
health professional—people who worked in settings where death is
commonplace. We had fifteen people—from different wards. We read
from the anthology “ Kiss Me Goodnight”--that deals with women
coming to terms with death—the early death of their mothers ( like
my own). We used poetry to look at the grieving process. This group
created valuable and insightful dialogue.
breathe water, eat other fish.
They in turn are eaten. What do they know?
They know they are salmon and where
they were born. They live in the cold ocean,
but when it is their turn to die, when it is their turn
to return, they know what to do.
They remember where they were born,
exactly where they need to go.
And they go. The female salmon stop
roaming the ocean, eating other fish.
They leave the endless deep and turn
toward land to find the river mouth
that spit them forth. They enter the mouth,
go upriver. The female salmon travel together.
The male salmon leave the cold ocean,
the eating of other fish. They seek
the mouth that spit them forth
from the land’s constriction, and enter.
They go back guided by the memory.
They go to make the memory
continue in their way. They go to make
the salmon continue in the old way.
They swim upriver, leap the falls.
The river narrows. Swimming is harder.
The salmon push between rocks, against water
to the shallows where they were born.
They go to the heart of the land. There they meet
and agree. The female waves her body
and lays her eggs and moves off. And the male
waves his body, sprays his seeds and moves off.
Then the female and male salmon die.
In the shallows, having given birth
to eggs and seeds, a promise to their memories,
they die. The salmon go all the way upstream.
The salmon go all the way to death.
.....From Warrock's Collection From the Other Room
-
The Salmon Go All the Way to Death
They are fish. They live in the cold ocean,breathe water, eat other fish.
They in turn are eaten. What do they know?
They know they are salmon and where
they were born. They live in the cold ocean,
but when it is their turn to die, when it is their turn
to return, they know what to do.
They remember where they were born,
exactly where they need to go.
And they go. The female salmon stop
roaming the ocean, eating other fish.
They leave the endless deep and turn
toward land to find the river mouth
that spit them forth. They enter the mouth,
go upriver. The female salmon travel together.
The male salmon leave the cold ocean,
the eating of other fish. They seek
the mouth that spit them forth
from the land’s constriction, and enter.
They go back guided by the memory.
They go to make the memory
continue in their way. They go to make
the salmon continue in the old way.
They swim upriver, leap the falls.
The river narrows. Swimming is harder.
The salmon push between rocks, against water
to the shallows where they were born.
They go to the heart of the land. There they meet
and agree. The female waves her body
and lays her eggs and moves off. And the male
waves his body, sprays his seeds and moves off.
Then the female and male salmon die.
In the shallows, having given birth
to eggs and seeds, a promise to their memories,
they die. The salmon go all the way upstream.
The salmon go all the way to death.
.....From Warrock's Collection From the Other Room
Monday, July 10, 2017
For "Last Night at the Wursthaus" by Doug Holder
Courtesy of the Cambridge Historical Society |
***This is a small piece that Nina Rubinstein Alonso wrote for my new poetry collection "Last Night at the Wursthaus" due out Sept 1, 2017 from the Grey Sparrow Press. https://greysparrowpress.sharepoint.com/Pages/default.aspx Nina is the founder of Constellations magazine based in Cambridge, MA.
For "Last Night at the Wursthaus" by Doug Holder
Introduction by Nina R. Alonso
One of Doug Holder’s poems quotes
Heraclitus, “No man steps in the same river twice,” but his writing generates
double-vision, the feeling of past as present, existing in the flow of
continual change.
We’re in Harvard Square’s Wursthaus (now
replaced by a faceless bank) overhearing the flow of vintage chatter, then
watching a man scratch losing lottery tickets one after the other, then in a
too quiet Harvard library where “caged scholars/circle their wired cages like
rats/gnawing on manuscripts.” In Filene’s Basement he’s shopping, as “it was a
place to go when you’re happy or desperately hurt.”
He
shifts to the Bronx where ancient Jewish women sit on lawn chairs and his Uncle
Dave called George Gershwin ‘a good kid.’
These people and places are familiar to me and to many of us who lived
in the same space and island of time, understand eyes that see through our
adult guise to what we were like in junior high: “You can’t/bullshit the
blonde/ she knows.”
The book has integrity, cuts to heart
center, but without a shred of excess. There’s no hype, no axe to grind,
nothing being sold to us. We know his mother from our own, “At night/ the
murmur of the dead/ hover around her bed.” I grew up in the neighborhood he
rails against when he “screamed/ my screed/ against the suburbs/ the conspiracy
of broad lawns/ and narrow minds.”
This world is under construction, bought
and sold daily, repeatedly dug up, repaved, pieces erased, replaced and so full
of invasive sales hype that we can’t even remember what was there before. We
need this writer who sees and remembers to keep us centered, strengthen us,
help us see what’s there, help us resist. Doug Holder’s writing has subtlety
and substance, an authenticity that sustains.
****Nina Rubinstein Alonso, editor of Constellations, has published in Ploughshares, The New Yorker, Sumac, Avatar, Women-Poems, U. Mass. Review, and New Boston Review, among other places, and her first book This Body was printed by Godine Press.
She taught English literature at Brandeis University and U. Mass., Boston, while continuing training in ballet and exploring modern dance.
Saturated with academia, she taught at Boston Ballet for eleven years, and performed in their Nutcracker, until sidelined by injuries. She makes her living teaching at Fresh Pond Ballet in Cambridge, MA. She says, “Now is the time for fresh voices in poetry and fiction. I’m looking for a new constellation.”
****Nina Rubinstein Alonso, editor of Constellations, has published in Ploughshares, The New Yorker, Sumac, Avatar, Women-Poems, U. Mass. Review, and New Boston Review, among other places, and her first book This Body was printed by Godine Press.
She taught English literature at Brandeis University and U. Mass., Boston, while continuing training in ballet and exploring modern dance.
Saturated with academia, she taught at Boston Ballet for eleven years, and performed in their Nutcracker, until sidelined by injuries. She makes her living teaching at Fresh Pond Ballet in Cambridge, MA. She says, “Now is the time for fresh voices in poetry and fiction. I’m looking for a new constellation.”
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