Showing posts with label David Miller. Show all posts
Showing posts with label David Miller. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 08, 2026

Steve Ratiner: Mastermind of WE (too) THE PEOPLE series at the Longfellow House in Cambridge



Interview with Doug Holder



Steve Ratiner is the president of the New England Poetry Club. I talked with him about the WE (too) THE PEOPLE poetry series at the Longfellow House in Cambridge this summer. On July 12th, 2026 the club hosts Tracy K. Smith--the former U.S. Poet Laureate, and Pulitzer Prize winner. There will be readings throughout the summer.



What was the germ of the idea for the WE (too) THE PEOPLE series at the Longfellow House in Cambridge?



As you know, the New England Poetry Club is one of the oldest literary associations in the US, begun in 1915 by the signature New England poets Amy Lowell, Robert Frost, and Conrad Aiken. Among several reading series we hold in various venues, we have a long-standing partnership with the Longfellow Historical House in Cambridge, and the Friends of the Longfellow House (who help support its programming). Each summer, we put on a program of five poetry readings––usually modest affairs featuring interesting regional poets, with one very special event: The Golden Rose reading, to honor one acclaimed poet with the Club’s highest prize.



I was a newly appointed Club president in 2024 when I went with David Miller, my Director of Programs, to plan the following summer’s Longfellow events. But I’d been troubled––as have most of us––by the increasing discord in our country, and especially by an effort from certain circles to sanitize American history and to portray ours as a kind of monoculture. I share the belief that a diversity of voices and visions is essential to the vitality of our society––and waking that morning to some particularly upsetting headline, I felt we needed to offer a counterargument. The administration at the Longfellow House had expressed their desire to do something quite special to celebrate America’s 250th anniversary––and I realized this might offer an opportunity to do just that.



I thought of the sweetest poetic phrase in all of American democracy: “We the People.” History reminds us that, from the very beginning, the founders set the nation on a path of ongoing development, aiming toward “a more perfect union.” But I dubbed this series, WE (too)THE PEOPLE, reflecting on the legacy of America’s founding documents, but adding that parenthetical “too” in order to acknowledge those omitted from the framers’ original vision of liberty––who may be overlooked even today. The American story is composed by so many people from such a vast range of backgrounds, who have together profoundly shaped and enriched the democratic journey across generations. The people at Longfellow House shared that belief that today’s diverse and vibrant culture offers a lens through which to reflect on the nation’s progress toward that dream.



For the first time, we added a musical component to our summer offerings. If you look at the roster of stellar poets and musicians who performed in 2025, or are scheduled for this summer in 2026, I think you will find a portrait of our nation’s vibrant cultural community. We will present two former US Poet Laureates, Pulitzer Prize winners, Massachusetts’ first state Poet Laureate, and a variety of dynamic voices representing who we are as a people.



Who are the headliners for the event?

We have a marvelous array of talents reading for this summer’s WE (too)… programs at Longfellow House:


July 12th–Tracy K. Smith

July 26th––Lloyd Schwartz and Regie Gibson

August 2nd––Major Jackson and Kirun Kapur

August 9th–– The season will conclude with the 2026 Golden Rose Award for Marie Howe. She will read from her Pulitzer Prize-winning New and Selected Poems.



All of these events are presented on the back lawn of the Longfellow House and are free and open to the public. As I mentioned, each program will begin with a 15-minute performance by a variety of marvelous musical talents, beginning at 2:45 p.m. At 3 p.m. we’ll begin the formal introductions, and then call back the musical guest for a brief spotlight performance focusing on some traditional or popular musical number, reinterpreted through a 21st century perspective. Last summer, the songs included “America, the Beautiful,” “God Bless the Child, ” “Summertime,” and “Ashokan Farewell.”


Some perceive the New England Poetry Club as an old school organization. How does this event change this perception?


I’m sure there have been times in NEPC’s long history when we seemed more of an inward-facing organization, focused on our poetry competitions and readings series––but I don’t think that’s been the case for quite a while now. I think I am following in the footsteps of a number of fine leaders who have expanded our membership, reinvigorated programming, offered new and innovative workshops, and expanded our geographical reach. I hope my work has added to that effort and begun an outreach to make sure that younger generations of poets feel they, too, have a place in this literary community. Beginning in the fall, we’ll start offering additional readings/craft talks––open to members and visitors––from acclaimed poets who will help enhance any poet’s writing practice. And we are planning a U35 series to highlight the work of poets at earlier stages in their careers, and to feature some of the new developments in the art form. I’d encourage anyone to visit our website https://nepoetryclub.org/ to learn more about our programming––and to https://nepoetryclub.org/we-too-the-people/ for additional details about the WE (too) events or to view videos from the 2025 performances. I feel certain they will find NEPC is still an important voice for the literary community at-large.

Thursday, September 08, 2022

/ k l a ʊ d z / Mary Buchinger

 



 / k l a ʊ d z /

Mary Buchinger

Lily Poetry Review Books, 2021

25 pages ; $12

ISBN 978-1-7375043-7-5


Reviewed by David P. Miller


The title of Mary Buchinger’s chapbook is not Clouds. Rather, it’s “clouds” in the International Phonetic Alphabet. What’s the difference, you ask? Isn’t the word as it appears the same as the word pronounced? Only if we assume that what we see is the same as what we picture to ourselves. What does an upper-case block letter “a’” have in common with its lower-case script cousin? Apart from the fact that they may represent the same speech sound, not much that meets the eye. (Not to mention what a Fraktur letter would present.)


Clouds have always fascinated, soothed, or terrified us. Cooled water vapor, condensed on nuclei of dust, pollen, or smoke, ephemeral entities. A web search for “cloud metaphors” retrieves what you might expect: pillows, sheep, marshmallows, the place online where you store passwords. See that profile in the sky? It looks just like the Old Man of the Mountain. But the Old Man finally crumbled, and look, that profile in the air is dissolving. It’s morphing into a sail, maybe a kite.


/ k l a ʊ d z / represents these sky phenomena with twenty different, unexpected collective nouns: a “mewl” of clouds, for example, an “unravel” or a “ligament” of clouds. Those poem titles are, exactly:

/ myul / as in “a mewl of clouds”

/ ʌnˈræv əl / as in “an unravel of clouds”

/ ˈlɪg ə mənt / as in “a ligament of clouds”

We readers get a quick assist this way with the (dis-)connection between sound and designation. But we’re also tossed right into each poem’s puzzle: what is a ligament of clouds? How is an always-shifting group of water molecules a ˌtær ənˈtɛl ə, even for a moment? (Tarantella.)


These poems are visual. Each uses the resources of the page – white space, margins, lineation – uniquely. I’m not sure these are concrete poems overall, though a few are shape poems. I haven’t seen a pocket-shaped cloud in the sky, but there’s “a pocket of clouds” on that page (ˈpɒk ɪt). It would be a wonder to see “a hive of clouds” (haɪv) from my front porch, as it’s presented here.


Buchinger’s klaʊdz aren’t composed of water vapor, of course, but text. The poems are meditations on cloud-likenesses associated with their collective nouns. The “flagellation” of clouds thrashes its tight connections:


flung; Fahrenheit;

cloistered; caught;

muddled immolation;

dry scarlet indraw;

de-berried vines;

ponderous drape;

wracked; varicose; [ … ]


The “tarantella” twists through the center of the page, beginning with “midnight & carmine; / click & grind; / Dionysius & pals / (no pall); / piped hysteria; / spidery; unpopped / herky-jerky- / stomp-stomp;” Notice the semicolons: they pervade every poem. There are commas, ampersands, parentheses, and slashes, but the semicolon – that often-derided punctuation mark between comma and full stop (of which there are none here) – dominates. Its syntactic half-linkage, which almost but not quite joins clauses, is the image of forces that give shape to clouds even as they already give way. (Let’s drop the blanket prohibitions of language resources: yes to semicolons, yes to adverbs, yes to your love-to-hate.)


Once into the progress through / k l a ʊ d z /, look back and recall that the opening poem isn’t a cloud. Titled “derivation / ˌder·əˈveɪ·ʃən /:” it suggests the ground, both earthly and inspired, from which condensed water vapor and images arise alike:


a daily ration; whence cometh;

watershed; meadow & muck;

begotten not made; [ … ]


Its final line summons the about-to-be-spoken, nearly-created: “whereas; Genesis; & etc.” It’s hard to imagine a more economical introduction to everything that follows: grimalkin, swift, braid, lantern, trans …