Doug Holder
Aug 23 2005
“The Somerville News Writers Festival"


Three years. In the world of literary ventures, venues, etc.... this can seem like a lifetime. Tim Gager and I started “The Somerville News Writers festival,” a few years ago, when “The Somerville News,” was undergoing big changes with new ownership and staffing. I asked Tim to join me in this venture because of his reputation for running an excellent reading series for fiction writers, “Dire Reader,” at the “ Out of the Blue Art Gallery,” in Cambridge. Since then Tim and I have presented poets and writers like Andre Dubus lll, Tom Perrotta, Jack Powers, Marc Goldfinger, Deborah Priestly, Robert K. Johnson, Steve Almond, Harris Gardner, and others, at the “Jimmy Tingle Theatre,” in Davis square.
To tell you the truth, I am surprised that we lasted this long. It takes a lot of work, and a cadre of loyal interns, not to mention money, to put on these literary gigs. There is always the clash of personalities and considerable egos, along with the attempts to attract an often indifferent media to contend with. But with the backing of “The Somerville News,” both owners and board of directors, we have presented what we believe is fitting for the impressive literary community Somerville has become.
This year, Nov. 13 2005, to be exact, we are moving to a larger space at the historic “Somerville Theatre,” in Davis Square. We will be housed in a 900 seat theatre, and have an impressive roster of readers. On board will be two Pulitzer Prize winners poet Franz Wright and novelist Robert Olen Butler. Louisa Solano, owner of the famed “Grolier Poetry Book Shop,” will be presented with the “Ibbetson Street Press Life Time Achievement Award,” and poets and writers such as Sue Miller (“The Good Mother”), Alex Beam (“Gracefully Insane”), Lan Samantha Chang, the new head of the “Iowa Writers Workshop,” Susie Davidson (“I Refused to Die...”), Steve Almond (“My Life in Heavy Metal”), Afaa Michael Weaver ( “These Hands I Know), Tim Gager (“Short Street), Hallie Ephron and Donald Davidoff ( “Delusion,”), will read from their impressive body of work.
The music will provided by that gifted poet/singer/ songwriter Jennifer Matthews. Matthews is a published poet, who has just released a critically acclaimed CD “The Wheel,” (Thunda Moon Records).
We are keeping the ticket prices low at $9, to make this an accessible festival. Both Tim and I feel strongly that the rich artistic milieu of Somerville, Mass. should have a festival that aspires for national recognition, but still stays true to its local roots.
*For info. About tickets contact: ctgager37@aol.com The festival will start at 7PM.
Doug Holder

This is a report from Breaking Bagels with the Bards by poet Irene Koronas. Bagels with the Bards meets every Saturday at 9AM in the basement of Finagle a Bagel in Harvard Square. Come join us....

there were four women and two men at our meeting thismorning and that is the first time our gender has outnumbered the men. ellen steinbaum columnist for theglobe graced us with her intelligent, gentle presence.elizabeth dornan joined harris gardner, phillipburnham and me for a four-way discussion of greatimportance. that great important subject momentarilyevades me. (not really)(more later) the last womancame ten minutes before we left and by then i put mypen to rest and was too lazy to retrieve it or toremember her name. please forgive me. hopefully shewill return next week and tell us about her recentmove here from california. i do remember she islooking to join a group of poets who workshop. if youknow of any free writing workshops around bostonplease let me know.words caught:byzantiumwriting communitiesbeing and non-beingwhich doctor "i think continually of those who were great." stevenspenderpersimmonswhole languagesea glass (again or the continuation of the seaglass)(phillip brought me a small bag full from hisvacation)being whatever in america"boston streets are like drunken spiders." said by newwomantaking care of or remedies for writing andconversationinitially, we conversed about writing grants, whoreceives them, how much monetary gain, and what somepoets do with their grants. of course, we coveted thewinnings, winners, wing-its. for myself, i feel content with being 'almost' virtually unknown. whatdoes 'almost' mean? ya got me. it sounds good, so islipped it in, hoping to keep the door open to gloryseeking poetic availability; the poems that peoplelike to give money for, even though i've been toldmany times my poetry can be inaccessible(inexcusable?). i'm ambiguous today so (bare) with me.after we took all the poet laureates to task, rankingthem according to our perfection meter, we began toreminisce about poets we knew, know, not know. wetalked about jack powers and the stone soup venue; thedifferent locations, when we read there, and some ofour experiences with jack. we have concern for hiswriting and what might or might not be done with hispoetry. we have great respect for him and his ongoinghelp to the little poets, and the street poets. welove you jack through good times and not so goodtimes. we discussed, or some of us discussed, (ilistened) about writing workshops with prominentwriters in distant lands like maine, vermont, newhampshire and boston. there was much more conversationbut being the lazy slouch that i am today, i'll signoff with phillips two paintings. the first one is ofsea shells, he and his wife bought when they firstmet(married) and the second one is of the sea,purchased before his wife passed on. being andnon-being, the qi gong movement of energy, the tidecoming in and going out, shells brought in by oceanwaves, their inner luster like the byzantine empire'sinner beauty surrounded by the craggy wall of protection.

Robert Lowell and McLean Hospital: Waking In The Blue

Robert Lowell, the noted poet, was hospitalized at McLean Hospital on and off for many years. When I worked on Bowditch Hall at McLean Hospital in the early 80's there was a framed copy of his poem "Waking In The Blue" hanging on the wall in our Staff Room. "Waking in the Blue" recounts Lowell's time as a patient on Bowditch Hall in the late 50's and 60's. Some years after I became aware of Bowditch's history I sent a letter commenting on the poem, and the poem itself to the then Poet Laureate Robert Pinsky. He put my letter and the poem in the first edition of his anthology "America's Favorite Poems. " Here it is:


" This poem is significant to me because it takes place at McLean Hospital, where I've worked since 1982. I run a couple of poetry groups for psychiatric patients. Every patient that I talk to can relate to Lowell's line ' each of us holds a locked razor.' The poem captures the privileged milieu of Brahmin mental patients at a very elite hospital in the 1950's. I am stunned by the contrast of the present environment. The poem presents men in their most vulnerable condition, despite all the patrician posturing and trappings." ( Doug Holder) p. 179.





Waking in the Blue
by Robert Lowell
The night attendant, a B.U. sophomore,
rouses from the mare's-nest of his drowsy head
propped on The Meaning of Meaning.
He catwalks down our corridor.
Azure day
makes my agonized blue window bleaker.
Crows maunder on the petrified fairway.
Absence! My hearts grows tense
as though a harpoon were sparring for the kill.
(This is the house for the "mentally ill.")
What use is my sense of humour?
I grin at Stanley, now sunk in his sixties,
once a Harvard all-American fullback,
(if such were possible!)
still hoarding the build of a boy in his twenties,
as he soaks, a ramrod
with a muscle of a seal
in his long tub,
vaguely urinous from the Victorian plumbing.
A kingly granite profile in a crimson gold-cap,
worn all day, all night,
he thinks only of his figure,
of slimming on sherbert and ginger ale--
more cut off from words than a seal.
This is the way day breaks in Bowditch Hall at McLean's;
the hooded night lights bring out "Bobbie,"
Porcellian '29,
a replica of Louis XVI
without the wig--
redolent and roly-poly as a sperm whale,
as he swashbuckles about in his birthday suit
and horses at chairs.
These victorious figures of bravado ossified young.
In between the limits of day,
hours and hours go by under the crew haircuts
and slightly too little nonsensical bachelor twinkle
of the Roman Catholic attendants.
(There are no Mayflower
screwballs in the Catholic Church.)
After a hearty New England breakfast,
I weigh two hundred pounds
this morning. Cock of the walk,
I strut in my turtle-necked French sailor's jersey
before the metal shaving mirrors,
and see the shaky future grow familiar
in the pinched, indigenous faces
of these thoroughbred mental cases,
twice my age and half my weight.
We are all old-timers,
each of us holds a locked razor.

Yellow Pepper Press to release "Wrestling With My Father," in Fall of 2005.


A poetry collection dedicated to my late father Lawrence J. Holder. It deals with the ying and yang of our relationship, that was always informed with love.
My poetry collection "Wrestling With My Father" will be released by the Yellow Pepper Press of Pittsburgh, PA. this Fall. (2005) It is a collection dedicated to my late father Lawrence J. Holder.


In Doug Holder's New Collection, Wrestling With My Father in the Nude digs deep into familial roots, tracing history and blood lines with tenderness and truth. In lean verse, he head straight for difficult content, the clash of cultures, the silences between men, the silenced women, dreams and losses. He holds all these close, preserving what has past and seeing clearly what remains. Holder's metaphors rise so organically from the content... "the bridge to the Bronx/ a spurt of connective tissue/" or "Rows/of ancient Jewish mothers/ like angry crustaceans, perched on lawn chairs/... that they grab you viscerally, draw you in, shake you up, and set your down enriched and satisfied.Go get this book, take it home, savor it.by CD Collins ( Winner of a Cambridge Poetry Award and member of the "St. Botolph Club" Foundation Board)

These keys open upon the tabernacles of memory where words as kisses act as resurrection and their poetry engages the forgotten smell of fathers and those lost worlds of words in which they live and still speak. Michael Basinski ( Curator of the Rare Books and Poetry collection at the University of Buffalo.)

----- Wrestling With My Father by Doug Holder. Hugh Fox reacts. I never cry at films, reading anything, “real” life doesn’t touch me....but reading Wrestling With My Father in the Nude, just a few pages into it, and it really got to me, tears in my eyes, deep emotions. He pushes all the real-world buttons here. Him and New York, the old Jews, old stores on old streets, meeting old pals, Marx Brothers movies, fedoras at rakish angles, ball parks, elevated tracks, hot dogs...he gets all the right, evocative, reality-evoking details, like his mother’s jaw cracking as she (now a widow) has dinner alone, his father’s photo on the refrigerator door “held tenuously/by a cheap magnet.” (“Portrait of My Mother During her Solitary Meal.”) We’re surrounded by all this wealth and run-over of reality, but what Holder has done here is to get the key details that resurrect it all, bring it all back. I felt I was living my own life all over again, and the night after I read Wrestling With My Father in the Nude I stretched out in bed and started thinking about dead friends, dead grandmothers, dead parents and all the streets and stores, the whole ambience of Chicago that somehow merged in my mind with Holder’s Bronx and came back to painfully haunt me: “Which man will know me/from my birth as a bald bawling baby to a balding middle aged man?....Who will make impossibly corny jokes/and impossibly dry Martinis/in front of a fire/on a long winter/Sunday afternoon? //Yes he is dead. And I will miss him./And I will remember/and mark/his passage,/because there will never/be someone quite/like him/who will cross/this stage again.” (“Which Man Will Know Me Now.”)Hugh Fox, 2005. ( Founding editor of the Pushcart Prize, and founding member of the Committee of Small Magazine Editors/Publishers)




With words carefully etched into the touchstone of a father’s love, Holder looks back to directly grasp, sans sentimentality, the struggle of men to be fathers and sons. In lines that are spare and piercing, like the thin rays of truth that linger long after the weighing of successes and failures in the lives of men, Holder evokes his father, resurrects him, not as whole phantasm but as whole human, alive in the bonds of trust generated by a son’s love. (Afaa M. Weaver is a professor of English Literature at Simmons College in Boston)
There is a universality in his verse and in the pervasive emotional tug of war that Holder threads
neatly throughout this collection; and ,ultimately, the bitter-sweet bonding that occurs when
we all finally discover our fathers. Kudos for this grand effort that makes us wish that we were the authors of these poems.

Harris Gardner/ Tapestry of Voices (Author : LEST THEY BECOME)

Douglas Holder's poetry is strongest when it is reminiscentof days gone by. In "Wrestling With My Father in TheNude", Holder, through the eyes of boyhood, pays homage tothe father of his past. Through the eyes of the present,he is able to look at mortality of father and son. His poetry covers the internal, external and if possible, the molecules of life of one man, while giving us the panorama of two.
Holder has struck a nerve and a chord in constructing a potent, forceful memorial to his father.er--

( Tim Gager- cofounder of the "Heaty City Review,"
http://www.heatcityreview.com and author of "Short Street.")

This is an article I wrote a few years ago for the 30th Birthday of Stone Soup Poets in Boston.

Stone Soup Poetry's 30th Birthday By Doug Holder

These days a 30 year old woman or man is still, ( to use the vernacular), "wet behind the ears." However, if you are talking about a poetry venue, you have reached a ripe old age. At the end of April, in what T.S. Eliot called, " the cruelest month," Stone Soup Poetry celebrated three decades of open mike poetry readings and book publishing. The co- founder, Jack Powers ( and Peggy Durkee who was not in attendance), presided at the birthday party of this unique organization, held at the IMPROV ASYLUM, in the North End of Boston. Before the festivities began I spoke to Powers, and other long time friends and cronies, who have made the scene over the decades. Jack Powers, who currently runs Stone Soup Poetry in the basement of the MIDDLE EAST restaurant in Cambridge's Central Square, didn't mince words when he described the significance of the event. As always, he preached the gospel of nonconformity and the power of the "word." His nascent idea behind STONE SOUP was to challenge the ordinary, the status quo, and provide a venue where a person could confidently declare themselves a poet, and proudly pronounce to the mandarins, " I've got something else to say." BUDDHA, a local poet and organizer, of expansive verbal and physical presence, has been connected with STONE SOUP since 1975. He was a member of a folk music collective, and started playing at STONE SOUP in the 1970's. This bear of a man became emotional, as he described the seminal setting on Cambridge Street at the foot of Beacon Hill. He described a bohemian style store front, a mixture of a bookstore and gallery, filled with paintings, shelves of poetry books, and torn paperbacks, sold for a song. Evidently, the SOUP was a place to "hang." It held a constant parade of workshops, readings, discussions, and folk music performances. Buddha, misty eyed, remembered it as, " A real hang out, a genuine BEAT crowd." I asked Jack Powers what was the very first Stone Soup Poetry session was like. Powers told me the original Stone Soup was part of the BEACON HILL FREE SCHOOL, which he founded in 1970. The first setting was at a Cambridge St. store front. Jack lived on the floor above. The first reading consisted of a circle of 14 to 16 poets, of all backgrounds, be it race, gender, or economic status. Powers recalled, during the first years of STONE SOUP, " All these people came down to help and share. The poets... John Weiners ran workshops, Joe Dunn helped out, Carol Weston, so many people sharing, giving of themselves, it was beautiful." Over the years there have been many memories. I asked Powers the impossible question, " Which of them was the most memorable" The founder did not struggle with his reply. He spoke about the first visit from his literary mentor and founder of CITY LIGHTS Books in San Francisco, Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Powers was highly influenced by the Ferlinghetti's collection, CONEY ISLAND OF THE MIND: " Imagine how I felt, when back in 1975, my hero is sleeping in my own place, and reading for the STONE SOUP POETS." Another thing close to this poet's heart was his sponsoring of the Mental Patients Liberation Front : " I just gave them a key to the place on Wednesday nights.. It was a support, and activist group. I freely gave to people who needed a voice." Like any Stone Soup event the birthday reading was peopled with an eclectic mix of poets. Powers lead off with two powerful pieces, one that unapologetically railed against the failings of God, the other bemoaning the fate of a homeless man of his acquaintance. Poet, Carol Weston read a number of beautifully executed poems that touched on the journey through the shoals of an often angst ridden existence. Ian Thal, the secretary for STONE SOUP POETRY, wore his trademark Joker's hat, and voiced a tribute to Jack Powers, by the poet Walter Howard. It heralded Jack as one of "...God's holy fools...his hands reach to the stars..." After JEWISH ADVOCATE reporter Susie Davidson piped in with a poignant piece, a father/daughter team consisting of 16 year old Kitty Glines and her dad added a wholesome familial touch. A STONE SOUP regular Joanna Nealon, proved that even though she is blind, she can see clearly. She dramatically read a hilarious piece, THE PLIGHT OF THE POET. A demure and cultured presence, she had the audiences in stitches of laughter as she put to good poetic use, a commonly used four letter word. Marc Widershien, an editor for the IBBETSON STREET PRESS and THE NEW RENAISSANCE, did justice to Power's poetry, with a skillful rendition of his work. The featured poet was John Weiners. Weiners, is an old friend of Power's and one of the original Boston Beat poets. Allen Ginsberg once referred to him as, "the most lyrical of the Beat poets." He goes way back to the Beacon Hill Free School days, and is firmly rooted with the history of this venue. Weiners is the author of many poetry books, most notably his signature collection, THE HOTEL WENTLEY POEMS. If central casting put out a call for a Beat poet, Weiners would fit the bill. He is a shambling man in his mid 60's, with requisite beard and a long ponytail. He leafed through the yellowing pages of his manuscript and came up with gems. One poem that brought tears to the eyes of an emotional Powers was "PREFACE FROM TRANSMUTATIONS" (1959). This poem celebrates the simple life in Boston in the 50's and early 60's. Weiners lamented, " Oh, for a room with the rent paid." He whispered to the audience about the joys of living on Arlington street in the Back Bay, and writing poems about the Boston Common, before the burdens of time and age took their pound of flesh. I asked Jack Powers what he sees in the future for STONE SOUP. He told me that money is always needed, and that eventually he will have to find a younger person to take over. Poet, Carol Weston summed up the past and hopefully the future of STONE SOUP, " STONE SOUP has saved many by releasing the voice within." Hopefully many more will be saved in years to come

Well the 2006 edition of the Poet's Market is out and Ibbetson Street is listed. In that listing books by Lo Galluccio, Jennifer Matthews, Joanna Nealon, Jack Powers, Deborah Priestly, Marc Goldfinger, Marc Widershien and Tim Gager are included. Our editors Lynne Sticklor, Robert k. Johnson, Dorian Brooks, Richard Wilhelm, Linda Conte and Dianne Robitaille are also on record. Poet's Market is carried at all major bookstores across the country, and purchased for major university libraries as well. That along with the International Dictionary of Little Magazines and Small Presses http://www.dustbooks.com are essentials for your small press pursuits. Ibbetson is listed in both.
Doug Holder http://www.authorsden.com/douglasholder

I ran into Louisa Solano, the owner of the "Grolier Poetry Book Shop,"in Harvard Square. She is recovering from her physical problems and will be at the Grolier on a limited basis and by appointment. She plans to continue running the shop, and will hold her afternoon teas on Saturday afternoon at 5PM at the shop. Please patronize her store and support a valuable institution!

Lyrical Somerville
Edited by Doug Holder

Do you remember your first kiss? No? Robert K. Johnson, retired professor of English/ Suffolk University (Boston), will remind you of that seminal press of lips, the sweet sensory overload, the amorous taste of a new relationship. To find out more about Robert K. Johnson go to: http://www.robertkjohnson.com/ To have your work considered for the Lyrical send it to: Doug Holder 25 School St. Somerville, Mass. Dougholder@post.harvard.edu


In A Long Moment


We kiss and discover
how much we love each other,
because everything around us
pauses, and everything makes sense--
but, most of all,
because we feel like guests
at what had been a dull party
now alive with bright laughter.

Robert K. Johnson

Ibbetson Street enjoying those hazy, lazy days of summer.

Right to Left: Ibbetson editor Dianne Robitaille with husband Doug Holder, Arts/Editor Richard Wilhelm with his wife Elissa, at friends barbecue.

Another report about "Breaking Bagels With the Bards." from Irene Koronas.



O wondrous joy of being with poets, poets, those worddecoders, recorders of the hopeful, the futurists;bringing together our experiences and strengths. OKAY.some of us don't agree the future is all that great orhopeful. not that we have to agree. during oursaturday underground table talk the dark flat wallstake on a creamy hue which causes, (like vanilla icecream in rootbeer,) me to float off the ground.grounded by the bagel and tea i"m able to check outour surroundings. a homeless man sits watching us. hismuttering almost seems like our own. he's a bulky manwho blends into the walls. his clothing takes on thenondescript generic setting of this place, that isuntil he stands up. he walks toward the men's roombehind us. his size intimidates me. quietly he getsthe key and helps a customer open the female symbolrestroom door. if he didn't mumble, we might mistakehim for an eccentric tourist or even a bank teller onhis day off, or a poet looking for spare change tofeed a poet's insatiable appetite for something tosay. since i'd seen him before i knew his situationwas none of the above.after we are all seated with our bread, markgoldfinger talked about his journey, his income earnedfrom the homeless newspaper 'spare change.' startingas a vender in march 1993, now he has become theeditor of poetry. i feel proud to be here with thiskind gentleman. in fact, all the men around me aregentle men. O such a wonder. such grace. served likelox on cream cheese it fills me and i am grateful.lo galluccio shared her love of writing, explainingher interest in open verse, and her tendency for postmodern poetry. our table connections this week includesteve glines, phillip burnham, doug holder, markgoldfinger, jim toritano, elizabeth dornan, logalluccio and me, irene koronas. i brought three smallhandmade artist poetry books, little tidbits of seaglass formations to show off. i loved the attentionthe books brought: "wow, hey, alright, your're thegreatest, wish i could do that, wish i could make artthe way you do, how much are they, i'll buy all three,the price is right, only one thousand dollars, that'sa steal." (OKAY. i'm lying through my teeth.) thereactions were much more refined and i wrapped themback up and took those books home.doug told us stories about a cranky cantankerous oldsemi-famous poet. how his attitude did not endear himto the young women he pursued in public. phillippassed out his two reviews for his forthcomingpublication of his third volume of poetry, 'housekeeping.'stragglers like myself remain after the lights havedimmed, after others have departed, after otherstraverse the great square. we remain to talk, converseabout our past, our appreciation of the bizarre, ourneed to find meaning, our need to deconstruct meaning,our need to transform our own ordinariness, our needto question authority. after which jim, lo and myselfread some of elizabeth's poems. her poems have astrong sense of the moment expressed in short powerfulverse. we read lo's journey to self value, enrapturedsurroundings, her expressive images. jim tells usabout his travel from murky instructions at the hands(or from the mouth) of nuns and priestly dogma.satiated, we finally set off, climb the stairs, hitthe fresh summer heat and go on our way. "until wemeet again."words caught:pigeon turdi don't care what anyone calls mepre-colonial mussel shell hillsyou can't say memorable words when your askedto speak memorable words, it just can't be doneover the edge"like electrons, souls touch all their potential spaceat the same time." john freemani'm grateful but i'd like more moneyon my walk home i pass a throw away alter nailed to amaple tree; it's green wire shaped like a pine tree,with three snow people jutting out from the front. iwant to kneel and laugh at this visual gift on thishot day. instead, i keep walking, grinning at thecreative perfection of the out of the ordinary.irene koronas

I just talked to Maria McCarthy, an editor of the Ibbetson Street Press book division, and also co-founder of the well-regarded Heat City Review http://heatcityreview.com , about the Hugh Fox memoir she has been working on "Our Gang." It has been a slow and painstaking process edting this book, but Maria tells me she will have it ready for the printers by the first week in September. Steve Glines, the founder of The Wilderness House Retreat http://wildernesshouse.org is going to get a print-on-demand presence for the book, and we hope to have it listed in the Ingram database. We will be also doing a hard copy run as well. Hugh Fox, is a founding editor of the Pushcart Prize, and a founding member of COSMEP, Committee of Small Press Magazine Editors and Publishers. This memoir, will deal with the personalities that Fox encountered in the world of the small press like: Richard Morris, Len Fulton, and Harry Smith, to name a few. We feel this will provide a valuable personal history of The Small Press of the past 40 years. Thanks--Doug Holder

The Ibbetson Street Press http://www.ibbetsonpress.com is a releasing a poetry book by Philip E. Burnham, Jr. "Housekeeping" It basically concerns his life after his wife dies, and how after a time his world opens up, and ordinary moments are transformed.

Douglas Worth, author of "Catch The Light," http://www.dworthworks.com says of this book " Philip Burnham has crafted a powerful sequence of poems that moves us from the deep ache of grieving over a beloved's death, through the tension between time's "recessional velocities" and love holding against "an undertow of loss."

Harris Gardner, author of "Lest They Become," and founder of "Tapestry of Voices, " http://www.tapestryofvoices.com writes: "Throughout these pages, Burnham tends his verses like a well-planted, well-organized garden with vivid living colors and scents."

We expect to release the book at the end of Aug 2005, along with a first book of poetry by Cambridge poet Ann Cahart.

Afaa Michael Weaver is a professor of English At Simmons College. This essay is about his recent trip to China. Weaver will be participating in The Somerville News Writers Festival, November 13 2005 at the Somerville Theatre in Davis Square.



The Meaning of Chinese
By Afaa Michael Weaver


Autumn in Taiwan resembles a New England spring, and so it was when I landed in Taipei to spend about eight months studying Chinese. Taiwan is the gateway to Chinese culture for me. It is there that Perng Ching-hsi, a major translator and Shakespearean specialist at National Taiwan University (NTU), gave me my Chinese name, Wei Yafeng. That was three years earlier. This third time in Taiwan I lived in an apartment on the sixteenth floor of a triangular shaped building in the busy and upscale neighborhood near Sogo’s, a popular Japanese-owned department store.
It was two thousand four, the year of my sabbatical leave.
Living on the sixteenth floor, I could feel the earthquakes when they came, and as a black man studying Chinese inside Chinese culture, I caused milder earthquakes. Chinese people are not immune to racial perceptions given to the world by colonialism and slavery, but those perceptions are not grounded in the mendacity that--in America--is pervasive. The culture maintains respect for professors, and I was so often awash in kindness during this time of my immersion studies of the language. The love that comes to me is given in gratitude for me just being me, which is quite nice.
After five months of daily two hour tutorials and three hours of homework at the Taipei Language Institute, I made my way to China to spend time with other poets who came to the international conference on Chinese poetry I convened at Simmons College, where I teach, just before moving to Taiwan. I met with a number of poets in Taiwan, and now I was headed to China for a two week tour of three places. In Hai Nan Wang Xiaoni and her husband met me at the airport with open arms.
Hai Nan’s pepper trees sit in the fields alongside the highway look as if they belong in a fairy tale. On the campus of Hai Nan University there is a pool full of lotus plants. The university is a vast place, occupying an island of its own in the northern part of the province, China’s southernmost point and a base of economic development that includes huge luxury hotels on the southeast coast where the beaches are clean and look out onto Nan Hai, which means Southern Sea.
At the airport going to Kunming from Hai Nan, Wang Xiaoni set me in line with the other passengers with specific instructions to pay attention to the signs. On the plane I made friends with ladies from Kunming who were so delighted to speak with me in Chinese that they officially welcomed me to the city. Yu Jian was waiting for me just on the other side of the baggage claim area, and we met each other with a big hug as onlookers smiled and cheered.
Yu Jian lives near a park where he played as a child, and we took a walk there in the afternoon, watching people playing music and singing as they usually do when the weather is good, and it is difficult to imagine the weather as being anything put perfect in Kunming. After a reading at a nightclub called the SpeakEasy, a large group of us, poets and artists all, enjoyed a sidewalk barbecue that lasted past midnight, which is late for me. I did not want to leave. I did not want time to move.
In Beijing it was the weeklong poetry festival at Beijing University, and poets from all over the country were there, some with dialects and accents even Beijing natives could not decipher. My host was Bei Ta, who was happy to see me use my third year Mandarin, and on one day we poets spent a whole day together, led by Zang Di, who teaches in the Chinese literature department. Beijing is old and big, but when we climbed the mountain to Mao Zedong’s retreat, the city was not visible, hidden as it was by the foliage and winding paths up to the stone monuments and gardens.
Mr. Chin Ligang, director of the Chinese Writers’ Association, presented me with a gold friendship medal in recognition of my work in holding the poetry conference. Afterwards we had lunch, and it was explained to me that such a meal was only successful when someone passed out from drinking. With orange soda pop in hand, it was a long way to success for me.
Bei Ta suggested I modify the Wei in my name to indicate flourishing, and after some discussion, my friends in Taiwan accepted the change.
Back in Taipei I took two days to rest before going to school for two days, and then that weekend I went to He Nan Buddhist Temple in Hualien on Taiwan’s eastern coast. Dr. Yu Hsi, poet, writer, and spiritual teacher, is the director. He invited me there to teach Taijiquan to the monks and make use of the inspirational spiritual energy that lives there. Teaching Taiji was a joy, as the monks are dedicated students and not without their sense of humor. They made me promise to return next year. It was the last day of class, our classroom the shaded area in front of the smaller temple, with the sound of the ocean sliding off the edges of rocks on the shore, just a stone’s toss away.
My immersion experience was about eight months, and my Chinese has improved, according to the reports of my friends in Taiwan and China. My plans are to return for a longer stay doing the same, studying at the Taipei Language Institute, spending time at He Nan Temple studying the culture, and traveling into China.
Meanwhile, I continue studying my Chinese. Here in Somerville, I take the quiet time of early morning to practice my writing or to go over my recitations by reviewing dialogues, playing all the parts, memorizing the tones again as what you mean depends so much on how you say it in Chinese.

Interview with Joan Houlihan: Founder of the Concord Poetry Center.

Joan Houlihan is a poet and critic, and founder of the “Concord Poetry Center” (http://www.concordpoetry.org ) located at the Emerson Umbrella building in Concord, Mass. The center was a joint inspiration of Houlihan and Richard Fahlander, program director of the arts organization “Emerson Umbrella.” The program has become quickly popular with area residents and beyond. The center offers poetry courses, workshops, seminars, publication consultation, readings and performances, as well as a physical center and poetry resources.
Houlihan is a poet and editor in her own right. She is the author of “Hand Held Executions: Poems and Essays,” is the editor-and-chief of the poetry magazine “Perihelion,” and is poetry editor for the “Del Sol Press.” I talked with Houlihan on my Somerville Community Access TV show ’Poet to Poet/Writer to Writer.”
Doug Holder: There are many venues that offer poetry readings, instruction, etc... in the area. What gave you the impetus to start yet another in Concord?
Joan Houlihan: There is no one poetry center that is dedicated to all things poetical. We are not just about readings; not just about workshops, not just about consultations. We are also about community building. It is not a place where you go to an event and go home; you make connections with other poets. We have a poetry room with a library. It’s modeled on the old community center model. We are up to 52 members. Most of them are engaged in real life; they have jobs. For the most part they are not students, not academics, but are serious about poetry. My impetus for the center was twofold. I was not satisfied with what has been offered in the area. I wanted to build something that was personally meaningful to me, and in doing this I found my personal vision was personally meaningful to a lot of people. This all came about naturally and organically. I noticed there was a lot of interest in this in the ‘burbs where people aren’t thought to be thinking about cultural things. The literary tradition is great in Concord.
DH: How hard is it to start a non-profit?
JH: I haven’t applied for 501 3C status. We are taken care of under the “Emerson Umbrella.” They provide an infrastructure. It’s easy for me to handle things this way. Maybe next year I will apply for non-profit status.
DH: How will you define success for your center? What do you want it too ultimately to become?
JH: On the far end I want it like the “Poets House” in New York City. That’s a goal to aim towards. The thing I don’t want to lose is the grassroots appeal of it. I want it totally accessible to anyone. I am trying to wed the academic and the general poetry community. For instance we had a tribute to Donald Justice that brought in 80 people. You would never expect this, but there was a lot of interest in this poet who many people didn’t know about. People were thrilled to learn about him. We also have workshops like “Seeds for New Writing,” that are more personally-based. They are on the other side of academic.
DH: You have written a number of essays lamenting about the lack of accessibility in poetry today. Do you think this is a major problem?
JH: Oh yes. It’s a scary trend from my point of view. I like eclecticism in poetry. But the whole school that started the “Deconstruction” and the “Language” poets in the 70’s, has evolved into a favorite mode of younger poets. I find it moving away from what I find valuable about poetry: meaning, humanity, and enlarging your sense of being in the world. There seems to be a huge intolerance from the “post-avant” community. It’s almost fanaticism. It has a political ethic to it. I’ve been called right wing because I don’t believe in that kind of poetry.
DH: In another essay you characterize the new avant-garde as the “new senility” trend in poetry.
JH: A lot of my essays have humor. This is tinged with some humor of course. To be honest, a lot of members of that school were upset with my use of the words dementia and senility. The major offense for these people was around me calling them on their lack of a “there,” there. A lot of people went after me in a strange way. The people at “Fence” magazine were quite incensed. I don’t attack poets, but I do attack poems. There is a distinction. They attacked me personally. They literally called me an idiot. Anyone who put my name in Google two years ago would come up with: “Joan Houlihan is an idiot.” I started to think this was a scary movement in poetry.
DH: In several of your poems that I read in the “Boston Review” and “Verse Daily,” there seems to be a theme of acceptance of decline; change. You don’t so much rage against the dying of the light, but appreciate it--sort of nod to it.
JH: I talk about my philosophy of poetry in my essays. My poetry definitely has to do with recognizing hard truths, inevitable decline, and finding a larger purpose in that.
DH: Does poetry bring meaning to a meaningless world?
JH: Poetry can’t do that. It allows you access to a place in your being which is the most important part of being human. I feel blessed that I am able to do this. Most people miss this in life.
Doug Holder

Word catcher by Irene Koronas ( A Report on Breaking Bagels With The Bards) Finagle-A Bagel basement Harvard Square, Cambridge every Sat 9AM all poets welcome...

doug holder and harris gardner host breaking bagelswith the bards, a gathering of poets downstairs atfinagle a bagel in harvard square, on saturdaymorning. there are a core group of us who talk allkinds of "stuff." i am attempting to catch some of thebanter, sentences, and words that i feel are useful inwriting my poetry or anyone else who want to use saidwords in their poetry. i will try to report the goingsand comings of the poets, all of which, aredistinguished members of their communities. please donot be put off by the word distinguished; to clarifythe word and its meaning in the context of bread inround form, we, the poets perceive ourselves asdifferent from the ordinary. not extraordinary butapart from the ordinary. (does this mean we are inactuality ordinary?) (personally, i hope so) i heardphillip, one of the regulars, explain the distinctionof "out of the ordinary."this week some of us identified with sea glass, theround edges of being worn away by the push and pull ofliving with words. this all sounds more profound thanour talks really are. but because i am able to sithere writing about what was, i can afford to uselanguage in any manner i chose. (what'd ya think ofthat?)the idea to write a brief newsletter, occurred to meduring my subway ride to boston, after our meeting. iguess the steel wheels, the fast roll over tracks,helped me to put together thoughts about how to usewhat i hear, from the bards. next meeting i willattempt to take more accurate notes, noting thecomplete names of those there. like a 12 step meeting,i only use first names and sometimes, i'm hard pressedto do that, so i just say, "hey." the surface oftrains is obviously a great place for me to think.here is a list of some of the sentences-topics-andwords i caught in our underground eatery:if hogwarts had an evil twin it'd be this building.(referring to a building in newton)i went to the park to find a poem. (harris's poem hewas working on, writing on the back of a large manilaenvelope.)i'm out in a transitional valley. (i only caught partof this saying, so i made up the rest)ann sexton asked why the attendants were holding thearms of patients. she was told it was to keep theclients, who were on suicide watch, calm. touch methodused in the 70's. (doug relates so many wonderfulobservations and stories from his place of employment)does drakes cupcakes still exist? what did the logolook like?ducks - duckettes - duckass of windsor (no disrespectintended in any of these words)drakes is the masculine, ducks the femininethus the duckettesarchaic words (sooth - truth)ambiguous words (housekeeper)buffalo universityback seat memoriesjars of memories on the windowsillour conversations often involve how to print achapbook, who is in the process of printing achapbook, what venues we maybe featured readers, openmikes and of course we network, that is (a littlelike) (wearing net stockings, we are always trying tostraighten the seams.) we hardly ever talk aboutsports, laundry, taking out the garbage, sometimes wediscus politics, we never use words like, diet,exotic, rich, once in a while you'll hear a swear comeout of my mouth, but, i've never heard any other poetuse, what i call, foul, chicken breath syllables.this is the truth as i know 'it', or as i heard fromthe poets, (putting aside, the fact that my hearing isfiltered by my own idea of what i'm hearing. thismeans, i'm losing some of my hearing.) we sit around along formica table that is situated close to the restrooms; a down to, an underground exchange of goodwill,and most of my clothing is bought from the second handstores. we are as diverse as most poets are, eatingand sipping on each other's conversations, forinspiration and companionship.irene koronas

Ibbetson Street Press Arts/Editor Richard Wilhelm's review of the poetry collection "Catch the Light," by Douglas Worth, will appear in a full page ad in the New York Times Book Review. (Sept. 18 2005) The ad will also include references to Ibbetson Street and the Ibbetson Update. Wilhelm and Worth met at "Breaking Bagels with the Bards," a group for poets that meets every Saturday morning at 9AM in the basement of "Finagle-a-Bagel," in Harvard Square. Worth's work has been praised by the likes of Howard Zinn, Richard Wilbur, Denise Levertov, and others. For the complete review go to http://www.dougholder.blogspot.com/
Doug Holder http://www.authorsden.com/douglasholderhttp://www.ibbetsonpress.com/

June Gross, the widow of Ed Hogan, the founder of Somerville's Aspect Magazine and Zephyr Press, gave me Ed Hogan's small press collection. Here is only a partial list of what's in the collection. I am going to approach several university libraries about starting an Ed Hogan collection. He was a very significant figure in the small press. Doug Holder

William Corbett-cassette tape- ( Zoland Books Cambridge, Mass.) "Readings from On Blue Note."
William Corbett-book- On Blue Note- ( Zoland Books -) 1989.
Country Pleasures. John Gill. ( The Crossing Press 1975)
We, The Generation In The Wilderness. Ricardo Feierstein. ( Ford-Brown&Co. 1989)
Circle Meadow. Gerald Hausman. ( Bookstore Press- 1972)
Winter Bells. W.D. Ehrhart. ( Adastra Press- 1988)
Poems: Wadsworth Handbook and Anthology. ( Wasdworth Publishing Company-1969)
The Testament of Israel Potter. William Doreski. ( Seven Woods Press- 1976)
Gerard Manley Hopkins Meets Walt Whitman In Heaven and Other Poems. P. Dacey. ( Penmaen Press 1982)
War Stories. H. R. Coursen .( with letter from the author to Hogan) ( Cider Mill Press 1985)
Root Song. Cid Corman. (-Potes and Poets Press-1986)
Harmatan. Paul Violi. ( SUN NY-1977)
Morning Passage. Janine Pommy Vega. ( Telephone Books) 1976.
Pocahontas Discovers AmericA. Miriam Sagan. (with announcement from the press: "She belongs to that group of small press poets who have not made it to the poetic 'big time,...' ( Adastra Press- 1993)
Leaving The Temple. Miriam Sagan. (signed by author.) ( Zephyr Press. 1984)
Acequia Madre. Miriam Sagan. (with letter to Hogan from author.) ( Adastra Press. 1988)
Vision's Edge. Miriam Sagan ( with letter to Hogan from author) (Samisdat 1978.)
The Drunken Boat. Eric Greinke. ( Free Press-1975)
Changing Faces Betsy Scholl. (autographed by author.) ( Alice James Books 1974)
Buffalo Poem. Nathan Whiting. (Pym-Randall Press. 1970).
The Adastra Reader. Gary Metras. ( Adastra Press 1987)
World Alone. Mundo A. Solas. Vicente Aleixandre. ( Penmaen Press 1982)
The Outer Banks. W.D. Ehrhart. signed by author. ( Adastra Press-1984)
Evidence of Johnny Appleseed. Robert Dunn. (1975)
The Avenue Bearing the Initial of Christ. Galway Kinnell. ( Houhton Mifflin- 1974)
After the Storm. Poems of the Persian Gulf War. Edited by Jay Meek& F. D. Reeves ( Maisonneuve Press 1992)
Life According to Motown. Patrica Smith. (with inscription from poet to Hogan.) ( Tia Chucha Press Chicago 1991).
Frank. An International Journal of Cotemporary Writing and Art. Winter 1997/8.
Channel. Barbara Jordan. ( Beacon Press- 1990).
Freeway Problems and Others. Lawrence P. Spingarn. (signed by author. )( Perivale Press. 1970)
Runaway Pond. William Corbett. ( Apple-Wood books 1981)
Rival heavens. Keith Althaus. ( Provincetown Poetry Series-1993.)
Riversongs. Michael Anania. signed by the poet. ( Uni. of illonois Press-1978)
Oriental Woman with Various Flasks. letter from author to Hogan included. (Lennox Blvd Books 1978)
In Baltic Circles Paul Violi (Kulcher Foundation-1973)
Quicksand Through The Hourglass David Morice. ( The Toothpaste Press-1980)
St. Patrick's Day. Wiliam Corbett. (Arion's Dolphin-1976)
Half of the Map. William Doreski. ( Burning Deck Press-1980)
A Cantata for Ground Hog Day. Bob Dunn. (Greenleaf Books-1971)
Hearts In Space. Maureen Owen. (Kulcher foundation-1980)
In The Americas. Robert Bohm ( Panache books, Inc...-1979)
Notes from New York and other Poems. Charles Tomlinson. ( Oxford Univ. Press-1984)
Noise and Smoky Breath. Edited by Hannish Whyte. ( Third Eye center-1983)
Where Rivers Meet. Bob Arnold. ( Mad River Press-1990)
Rafting Quivet Creek. Tom Bridwell (salt-Works Press-1976)
Winning Hearts and Minds. War Poems by Vietnam Vets. (1st Casualty Press-1972)
Willingly. Tess Gallagher (Graywolf press-1984)
Personal Effects. Robin Becker. Helena Minton. Marilyn Zuckerman. ( Alice James-1976)
Cache. Bob Arnold. 9 (Mad River Press-1987)
The Poets's Encyclopedia. (Unmuzzled Ox Editions-1979)
The Bend,The Lip,The kid. Jaimy Gordon. ( Sun NY 1978)
The Outer Banks and Other Poems. W.D. Ehrhart. ( Adastra Press-19840
Hawker. Robert Peters. ( Unicorn Press-1984)
The Gift to be Simple. Robert Peters.( Liveright Press-1973)
Shooting Stars. M. LaBare ( swollen Magpie Press-19820
Beasts in Clothes. Harold Witt. ( The MacMillian Press-1961)
Don't Think: Look William Corbett (signed by Corbett with note to Hogan) (Zoland 1991)
Mondo Barbie. edited by Lucinda Ebersole and Richard Peabody.( st. Martins-1993)
Back Talk. Robin Becker. ( Alice James-1982)
Quarry. Carol Oles ( Univ. of Utah Press-1983.)
Mocking BirdWish Me Luck. Charles Bukowski. (Black Sparrow 1972)
Burning In Water/Drowning In Flame.Charles Bukowski. (Black Sparrow-1974)
I'm In Love With The Morton Salt Girl. Richard Peabody ( Paycock Press)
Just For Laughs. W.D. Ehrhart ( Vietnam Generation Inc&Burning City Press-1990)
Well Spring. Sharon Olds. (Alfred Knoph--1996)
Botulism. Frederic Will. ( Micromegas Chapbooks-1975)
Crossing The River Twice. Stratis Haviara. (Clevland State University Press-1976)
Running Backwards. Barbara A. Holland (signed by Holland) Warthog Press-1983)
Play the Piano Drunk. Charles Bukowski. ( Black Sparrow-1979)
Sure Signs. Ted Kooser. ( with a review by Hogan inserted) ( Univ. of Pittsburgh Press-1980)
Contend with the Dark. Jeff Schwartz. Against That Time. Ron Schrieber. ( with review by Jim Kates enclosed) (Alice James-1978)
A Limerick Rake. Desmond O'Grady. ( Gallery Books-1968)
The Old Chore. John Hildebidle. ( Alice James-1981)
Sounds of the River Narvanjana. Armand Schwerner. ( signed by author with note to Ed Hogan)
Avelaval. Lindsay Hill. (Oyez-1974)
A Local Habitation and a Name. Ted Kosser. (Sole Press-1974)
1990. Michael Klien. ( Provincetown Town Arts Press-1993
Tree Taking Root. David Wilk. ( Truck Press- 1977)
Soon It Will be Morning. Michael Hogan. ( Cold Mountain-1976)

Review by Lo Galluccio http://logalluccio.com

Blood Cocoon, Selected Poems by Connie Fox
Pres :s: Press P.O. Box 792 Rockford, MI 49341
Presapress@aol.com
October 1, 2005
It’s August, that month of hazy zenith summer and the ultimately turning, turning into fall. There are already dead leaves on the sidewalks but we’re not supposed to notice them. Fallen leaves belong to autumn, as so many great jazz singers have intoned. My poet of the month is not a neighborhood maverick, but a far-flung genius from Detroit, MI, who writes up past and present in glorious, strange and tantalizing language.
If Walt Whitman had been a woman, all of nature would have been reconfigured to a different time, zone, place. That is what Connie Fox’s poetry makes me believe. And it’s Whitman who this free verse of gorgeous and engorging poetry reminds me of most.
From the title poem: Blood Cocoon, "small epiphanies you take me into your secrets I’ll take you into mine, rigid white sprouts out of rich decay….Inside Fushia, the world streams, monkeys across the stone faces of god."
The landscape (and inscape) is Brazil, in the first set of poems of the collection. And the modality is intense and sensuous femininity, an exploration of the colors, curves, adornments that make sex both sublime and the life force nocturnal:
"blending red into pink until my lips talk to my eyes red rose on a white door eating strawberries strawberried fingernails…"
The transformations abound, from nature to human, from nature to gods. Again primal sexuality dressed up: "I hitch up her skirt over her sacred black-sueded legs spread sacred black flowers…." From The Dream of the Black Topaz Chamber. And in verse 21 she writes: "Through a plane of crystal and the nipples, peace descends, shroud against Magdalena-Kali face, the image of bloody hands in white…" So she makes reference to two goddesses of Christian and Hindu beliefs, both extreme, both contentious – Kali the destroyer and bringer of life, black mane of hair, many arms and a necklace of men’s skulls around her neck. The Magdalene, who has recently been redeemed – first by Christ and then by scholarly and popular writing as the holy goddess whore and possible partner to Christ. This verse crescendos with: "belief futuring into infinite orgasms of coronary expansion."
And later in this long poem the declaration that: " I believe in legs and disbelieve in wheels, that the elimination of death invites the all-Death to suck the All-Juice out of our world." …"that my glands secret the gods and my closed-eyed inner ecstasy is the why of creation." The poem comes from a sojourn on the Island of Santa Catarina, Brazil.
My favorite poem centers the collection before a devolution into a section on family and scientific cosmic decay. Connie is haunted it seems forever and shaken out of the caresses of ancient earth into the modern realities of time and death…."I pretend to forget for hours, years, but the hum is always there like cosmic microwave background radiation, the deep base HUM…."
Nachtymnen: 1.Night we evolve back into ourselves in veloured liquid sleep, the enemy eyes of the day people attack our DECLARATION OF ANTI-CONSCIOUSNESS…" And more, "I am wrongless, stainless, a shining obelisk of blackvirgindeath tourmaline."
In an end note Connie writes: " So the poetry itself is a kind of Jungian-Freudian Id-history of my entire life, from grandmother to mother to my own adulthood, my own relations with the world around me, more and more inselving until finally, at age 73, I reach a kind of sometimes, not-often ecstatic stasis."
I love this book.
This review was written for The Cambridge Alewife and the Ibbetson Press Review.

LYRICAL SOMERILLE: JENNIFER MATTHEWS
The Somerville News
"Somerville's Most Widely Read Newspaper!"
July 27, 2005

With the frantic pace of contemporary life it is increasingly rare that we have the time to sit back and reflect, and just let things happen to us. In "Silver Waves of Mercury," poet Jennifer Matthews creates a space, sets an atmosphere and lets the reader enjoy the solitude and silent beauty of a Japanese garden. To find out more about Jennifer go to: http://www.jennifermatthews.com/. To have your work considered for the Lyrical send it to: (Doug Holder 25 School St. Somerville, Mass. 02143) dougholder@post.harvard.edu


Silver Waves of Mercury



Japanese garden
Palace of Zen
Mother of Lotus
And blossoming wind...
She passes no judgment
But glides easy like spirit
Over each silken plume...
In this place of solitude
Where contemplation is at it's best...
Answers come inevitably like morning and sun...
I find a seat in the mossy moonlight
Where heaven reflects stillness
On soft water pond

*This article originally appeared in http://www.someothermagazine.com

Off the Shelf with Doug Holder/ The Somerville News/ Interview With Spare Change News

One of the many newspapers hawked on the streets of Somerville and the surrounding area is Spare Change News. What’s unique about Spare Change News is that it is sold by a unique population: the homeless. Founded in 1992 as one of the nations’ first street newspapers to benefit the homeless, Spare Change News’ headquarters is located in the basement of the Old Baptist Church just outside Harvard Square and publishes a twice-a-month paper with a circulation of 8,000. Spare Change’s mission is to provide income and skill development to people who are either homeless themselves or are on the brink of homelessness. Through the writing, production and sale of the paper, participants in this enterprise will hopefully be able to acquire the skills to realize an independent life in the community. Spare Change News provides an avenue for expression and a forum for advocacy for the homeless population. So often the homeless are viewed as unmotivated misfits. Working for Spare Change News can only help change this image of this population. I spoke with Samuel J. Scott , the editor, and Kate E. Bush, the poetry editor, about their experiences with the paper on my Somerville Community Access TV show “Poet to Poet: Writer to Writer.”
One of the many newspapers hawked on the streets of Somerville and the surrounding area is Spare Change News. What’s unique about Spare Change News is that it is sold by a unique population: the homeless. Founded in 1992 as one of the nations’ first street newspapers to benefit the homeless, Spare Change News’ headquarters is located in the basement of the Old Baptist Church just outside Harvard Square and publishes a twice-a-month paper with a circulation of 8,000.
Spare Change’s mission is to provide income and skill development to people who are either homeless themselves or are on the brink of homelessness. Through the writing, production and sale of the paper, participants in this enterprise will hopefully be able to acquire the skills to realize an independent life in the community.
Spare Change News provides an avenue for expression and a forum for advocacy for the homeless population. So often the homeless are viewed as unmotivated misfits. Working for Spare Change News can only help change this image of this population.
I spoke with Samuel J. Scott , the editor, and Kate E. Bush, the poetry editor, about their experiences with the paper on my Somerville Community Access TV show “Poet to Poet: Writer to Writer.”
Doug Holder: Samuel, we discussed the mission of the Spare Change News (SCN). What is your mission as an editor? What’s your vision for the future of the paper?
Samuel J. Scott: One of our purposes is to report on homelessness and poverty in the area, nationally and worldwide. How do I do this? Our offices get press releases, we get tips from sources and we talk to people about what’s going on. We write about about how the governor’s budget might affect homelessness, will Bush cut the HUD budget, things like that. We use our news sources to get a picture of what’s going on. Then I send our reporters out to investigate story.
DH: What’s your vision for SCN?
SC: I have been editor for about a year now. When I came on board I revamped it. I wanted to make it more professional. I wanted it to jump out at you. When you walk down the street I want you to want to buy it. What I want SPN to be is the paper people read when they want to read news about homelessness and poverty. If you read the Herald you are not getting anything. The Globe covers it to an extent. But we have a niche market here. We just cover a certain set of issues. I would like to think we do it better than any newspaper in the area.
DH: Kate, you are the poetry editor who succeeded Don DiVecchio. Do you look for any particular, style or theme in the poetry you review?
Kate E. Bush: Poetry is the ultimate subjective art. My job is difficult because I have to judge something that doesn’t lend itself to judgment. I tend to look at things that deal with homelessness, poverty, and economic injustice. I tend to prefer these themes on a certain level, but I prize quality, and craft over the subject matter.
DH: Are you a poet? What do you write about?
KB: I write about everything. I’ve actually gotten the opportunity to read a lot of different poets. I have found some wonderful poets locally and around the country that I would like to consider my peers in the community.
DH: Sam, do you have homeless writers on staff?
SC: It depends what you mean by writer. I have different sections in the newspaper. Different people write for different sections. The news sections are written by freelance writers or volunteers. We have a section titled: “Voices from the Street,” that is by people who are homeless. This section is full of essays, and stories from people who are currently homeless. These submissions are selected from the mail. I publish a selection from the batch each issue.
DH: If I was looking for work as a reporter with SCN; how would I go about it?
SC: Just give me a call at the office. We are always looking for new reporters. If you are an intern at the Herald or the Globe you are basically going to be answering the phone. When you come to SPN you are going out there reporting on events, interviewing--you are going to be a reporter!
One of our writers went to graduate school for journalism at Columbia University. She sent us a card and wrote that SCN was her inspiration to pursue journalism.
DH: Is SCN strictly a Boston/Cambridge/Somerville newspaper?
SC: It’s a Boston-area newspaper. We don’t tell our vendors where to sell it. If they take a train out to Newton and sell it there; it’s their choice.
DH: What’s your relationship with the other homeless newspaper Whats Up?
SC: Some people think we are in competition. It’s like we are the Globe and they are the Herald. It’s really not true. We have the same mission. We are both working towards the same end; advocating for the homeless. I think we are more news focused, and they focus more on arts, entertainment and culture. We have the same purposes with different means.
DH: You work in an office in the basement of the Old Baptist Church, just outside Harvard Square. It’s quite a narrow winding warren of agencies, offices, etc... down there. You have to contend with the pounding feet of a ballet company above you, and the constant din from this vibrant subculture that thrives below the streets of Cambridge. How do you manage this?
KB: (laughs) We are across the hall from the “Gay and Lesbian Taskforce,” and the “Ethiopian Women’s” Alliance,” to name a few organizations.
SC: It’s never quiet. But that’s good because in the “News” business you want energy. You want things going on around you.
DH: Kate you are leaving to go to graduate school. What do you feel is your legacy?
KB: I tried really hard not to have a block of poems that was just not one poet. I tried my best to find poems that fit a certain theme. It’s a very difficult artistic process to put a group of poems together. I try to find poems that cohere.
DH: Any memorable poets you want to mention?
KB: A Dorchester poet by the name of Mike Igoe. He is very intense and unusual. His poems are quite out of the ordinary.
Go to http://www.homelessempowerment.org/ for more info.






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----- 10:14 AM
Subject: Ibbetson Update/Ibbetson Poet Rufus Goodwin Passes at age 70.
Rufus Goodwin walked into my apartment on Ibbetson Street some years ago, and asked me, my wife Dianne and my friend Richard Wilhelm ( the staff at Ibbetson St. at the time) if we would like to publish a book of his "Poems from 42nd Street." It was a beautifully illustrated edition that in the words of John Lentilhorn celebrates the memory of the poet as a vagrant, the homeless one who rides the subway into the sunset, who snatches a song from the curb… " Goodwin wanted to turn away from the avant-garde and academic literary magazines and celebrate the simple things: a sandwich, a well-made bed, an ashcan, a street. He was upset with the trend in poetry that he felt was loud, profane and in your face. Goodwin felt by celebrating the simple things larger truths naturally evolve.

Goodwin, was from a patrician background but had a fascination with the everyday workingman. He was a regular contributor to "Spare Change News," and found out about the press through an article the late Cindy Baron wrote about the Ibbetson Street. He offered to help Ibbetson Street, because he felt it would be the next "City Lights."
Over the years he has helped the Press enormously. He was responsible for getting a feature article about us in The Boston Globe Arts/Leisure section in Feb. 2000. He bought a whole slew of ISBN's for our seminal press, and gave me an introduction to the world of small press publishing.

. One year Goodwin invited myself and Dianne to a gala opening event at Lincoln Center for the American Ballet. The tickets must of easily cost a grand or more. After the performance we were having dinner with him and others under a tent outside of the theatre. All kinds of celebs were in attendance…the whole big deal. One of the guys sitting at the table told me that he too was a guest of Goodwin. I asked him if he worked for Rufus. He said "Yes." I asked him what he did. He replied "I am his doorman." So I don't know if I was part of Rufus' experiment to bring culture to the workingman or what, but they sure broke the mold when they made him!

Doug Holder/ Ibbetson Street Press.


Born in New York City, Rufus Goodwin graduated from Yale University and received an advanced degree in Linguistics from Georgetown University. He was a veteran of the Korean War and served as a foreign correspondent with United Press International in the 1960s. He was assigned to the Vatican while working for UPI and covered Pope Paul VI's first papal trip to the Holy Land in 1964. Later he was a freelance writer in Switzerland and England before returning to the U.S. in the 1980s. He published poetry (praised by James Tate, John Updike, and Mark Strand), novels, nonfiction, opera, and plays—more than forty titles in all. His work in religion led to the books The Story of Prayer and Who Killed the Holy Ghost? Other works include, Mr. President, a prestige bestseller in Germany, and Valentine for a Waitress, which appeared on stage in England. He collaborated with composer and performer Stephen Scotti for Blue Vagabond, Poets Opera, and other works that were performed in New York, Boston, and Martha's Vineyard. He died July 10, 2005 at the age of seventy.
Doug Holder http://www.authorsden.com/douglasholder

List of interviews, books, etc...at Harvard University Libraries

(Doug Holder) Here is a partial list of some of my interviews with poets, my own books, and books that I edited that are archived at the Lamont Poetry Room ( Harvard University) and the Harvard Libraries.
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1
Holder, Doug.


Of all the meals I had before : poems about food and eating /
2007
Book
Holder, Doug.



No one dies at the Au Bon Pain /
2007
Book
Doug Holder



Louisa Solano : the Grolier Poetry Bookshop.
2006
Book
Edited by Doug Holder/Steve Glines


Ames, Lois.
[Interview] [videorecording] /
2005
Visual
Interviewed by Doug Holder


Chase, Naomi Feigelson.
[Interview] [videorecording] /
Interviewed by Doug Holder

Wrestling with my father /
2005
Book
Doug Holder

Houlihan, Joan.
[Interview] [videorecording] /
2005
with Doug Holder

Cramer, Steven, 1953-
[Interview] [videorecording] /
2004
Interview with Doug Holder

Der Hovanessian, Diana
[Interview] / [sound recording]
2004
Interview with Doug Holder

[Interview] [videorecording] /
2004
Visual
Galluccio, Lo.
Interviewed by Doug Holder

[Interview] [videorecording] /
2004
Visual

Slavitt, David R., 1935-
Interview with Doug Holder

[Interview] / [sound recording]
2004
Audio
Solano, Louisa.
Interview with Doug Holder

[Interview] / [sound recording]
2004
Audio
Solano, Louisa.
Interviewed by Doug Holder

[Interview] [videorecording] /
2004
Visual
Fox, Hugh, 1932-
Interviewed by Doug Holder

Boston : a long poem /
2002
Book
Doug Holder

City of poets /
2000
Book

Holder, Doug.

Dreams at the Au bon pain /
2000
Book
Doug Holder

Lifshin, Lyn.
Interview] / [sound recording] 2000
Interviewed by Doug Holder

Poems of Boston and just beyond : from the Back Bay to the back ward /
by Doug Holder

Doug Worth is a Cambridge poet who is member of our "Breakfast With The Bards," group that meets every Saturday in the basement of Finagle-a-Bagel in Harvard Square. (9AM)

CATCH THE LIGHT: Selected Poems (1963-2003)
By Douglas Worth
Higganum Hill Books; 2004
Reviewed by Richard Wilhelm, Art Editor, Ibbetson Street Press. $18

During the course of a reader’s life, she or he may come across a handful of books that have such a transformative effect that one remembers them the rest of one’s life, often giving them multiple readings. Such books are remembered because they have made a reader see the world differently, understand things in a new way. They may be works of fiction, non-fiction, drama, or poetry. Douglas Worth’s CATCH THE LIGHT is a marvelous book and I suspect not a few people will remember where they were living and what they were doing when they first encountered this book. And for those readers who have, thanks to the academics and language poets, written off poetry as incomprehensible jottings of those with too much time on their hands, Mr. Worth’s book will serve as an elixir.
Forget for now his astounding craft and control; these will be apparent. Look instead at what these poems actually bring to the reader. Mr. Worth gives his readers food for the senses and the soul. And like Emerson, Thoreau, and Whitman, to name a representative few, Mr. Worth offers “soul food” to his country, not that many of the gang of cretinous thugs currently running the country would have much of an ear for what Mr. Worth or anyone of any real spiritual depth has to say. And Mr. Worth has real spiritual depth. But he has great analytical depth as well. He addresses, in the poems of his 1987 collection, ONCE AROUND BULLOUGH’S POND, the primal trauma that, along with slavery, gnaws at the core of the American psyche: the genocide of the Native people. But he takes on his subject imaginatively, eschewing political rants and instead showing contemporary readers what America has really lost by allowing this tragedy to occur and then repressing the guilt as we continue to do. In the poem dated (titled really; all of the Bullough’s Pond collection have dates as titles, as if they are journal entries) “February 27“, Mr. Worth muses about the pond:
I wonder what its real name is--or the one
it had for thousands of years before we arrived
with our charters and wigs and arrogance and ambition
to build a new town and put Newton on the map--
Great Spirit’s Eye? Gull’s Wing? Kingfisher’s Mirror?
The Bullough’s Pond poems develop a narrative of sorts whereby the early poems describe Mr. Worth’s library investigations of indigenous American culture and his musings about the natural landscape before him. Then the magic begins as Mr. Worth, like a poet-shaman, conjures up from his imagination Native characters who speak to us of their lives and the values they hold. This reviewer is not qualified to speak as to the anthropological veracity of his depictions, but as poetry and as myth these poems give us much to savor and meditate upon. “March 19” is about one’s relationship to the animal that is killed for meat and will be familiar terrain to readers of Joseph Campbell. The poem talks about the solemnity and respect that indigenous people had (have?) for the animals they kill. The last tercet reads:
A curse upon him who slaughters with pride for sport
lugging the head home, leaving the carcass to rot!
Come, we will eat you now, properly, with respect.
“March 7” begins
Sometimes I imagine someone running before me
ahead a few paces, and a few hundred years,
The poem goes on to imagine
--people living more simply in a time
when humans were closer to birds and trees and water
and profits were edible, and bits of seashell
were crafted and strung in patterns as gifts to wear:
wampum, before we dulled that term with trade.
Mr. Worth’s work has many tender moments especially in poems dedicated to lovers, family and friends. In “A Purple Rose”, he tells his lover:
No one before ever lay with me all morning
naked, belly to belly, mouth to mouth
without thinking it must be time
to turn away to more important things--
the news, pilling bills, the phone,
brushing their shrill urgency aside
for some future Now,
Many of the poems in the book find Mr. Worth outdoors, contemplating nature. Like most writers of the Romantic-Transcendental tradition, Mr. Worth finds in nature a keyhole through which we, if we are quiet and focused, can catch a glimpse of divinity. But divinity is not seen as a force that always looks approvingly on all that has been wrought by the species that views itself as the crown of creation. In “Osprey”, a poem from the 2003 book ECHOES IN HEMLOCK GORGE, Mr. Worth describes an encounter with an osprey. The final stanza reads:
I stood for a while
eyeball to eyeball with Nature,
then slowly backed off, turned
and came away
with his message concerning
this fisher king’s toxic wasteland
and his question for all of us:
What’s keeping Galahad?
CATCH THE LIGHT features selections from seven of Mr. Worth’s books, the first OF EARTH, having been published in 1974 (though some of the poems from that collection apparently were written as early as 1963) and the most recent, ECHOES IN HEMLOCK GORGE, came out in 2003. Mr. Worth’s books of poetry have garnered praise from the likes of Denise Levertov, Richard Wilbur, and A.R. Ammons. Poet-activist Daniel Berrigan has said that that “Like good wine, Douglas worth excels with age.” Historian Howard Zinn has called him “a visionary dream-weaver of the future global tribe.”
There are many fine books of poetry out there for poetry lovers to spend their money on. CATCH THE LIGHT is a superb volume that represents 40 years of Douglas worth’s poems. But this book is something more than just a lot of good poems. It is a visionary work, or more accurately, a selection from seven visionary works of art and it is a book that will astound and inspire readers for many years to come. Perhaps other readers will find themselves rushing into another room, looking for a spouse, paramour, or roommate, as I have during the course of reading this book, startling my wife, crying, “Oh my God, oh my God, let me read you this poem!”
Richard N. Wilhelm/ Ibbetson Update/ Somerville

Susie Davidson








“I Refused to Die: Stories of Boston Area Holocaust Survivors and Soldiers who Liberated the Concentration Camps of World War ll. Susie Davidson. ( Ibbetson Street Press 25 School St. Somerville, Mass. 02143 ibbetsonpress@msn.com http://www.ibbetsonpress.com ) $13.

Susie Davidson, correspondent for the “Jewish Advocate,” award-winning poet, and political activist, was awarded a Mass. Cultural Council Grant in 2004 to help her complete the book she was working on: “I Refused to Die: Stories of Boston Area Holocaust Survivors and Soldiers who Liberated the Concentration Camps of World War ll.” ( Ibbetson Press 2005) Davidson writes in her introduction: “ This compendium for the Boston area, which includes contributions from Holocaust community leaders and poets; is not about the profound legacies left by those imprisoned in death camps: the secret theatre troupes, the hunger study,...the musical compositions resurrected in modern concert halls, the clandestine letters, poetry, journals and other writing... It is rather a portrait of the ongoing legacies of the still among us, those without even the graves of loved ones to visit, those who courageously continue to live their best...inside the walls and the chains of the stark, unforgiving past.”
“I Refused to Die...” includes poetry from well-known local poets, essays from community leaders and supporters, articles on Holocaust community topics, Boston-area Holocaust survivors’ stories, testimony from World War ll liberating military units, and many more areas of interest.
Davidson worked for three years on this project. This is not a book for the beach or to kill time between flights. It is testimony to something that is very likely to happen again if we forget. Given the short memory of contemporary culture; a book like this is essential as an elixir to our collective senility.
In a book as comprehensive as this, it is difficult to give a fully-fleshed picture in a short review. But even within these confines the terrible flavor of the camps are resoundingly clear. In this harrowing account by survivor Sylvia Hack; we get a nefarious slice-of-life in the Auschwitz concentration camp:
“I had malaria at the time. Malaria is a terrible disease which leaves you horribly hot and thirsty. I would step on the bodies of the dead at night when I went down below to urinate. I would envy them, because they didn’t have to see the things I was seeing. I prayed to G-D to take me then.... One time I was so overcome with thirst and burning, I was forced to actually drink my own urine. I never knew it was so salty...” (120)
In this poem by asurvivor Sonia Schreiber Weitz, the poet hails a black solider liberator, a welcomed and unexpected messiah who arrives at her camp:
‘” A black messiah came for me...
He stared with eyes that didn’t see,
He never heard a single word
Which hung absurd upon my tongue.
And then he simply froze in place
The shock, the horror on his face,
He didn’t weep, he didn’t cry
But deep within his gentle eyes
...a flood of devastating pain,
His innocence forever slain.
But there’s a special bond we share
Which has grown strong because we dare
To live, to hope, to smile...and yet
We vow not ever to forget.” (217).
In a conversation I had with Davidson she told me that in her role as a journalist she has written about other people’s accomplishments over the years. She said she has reached a point in her life in which she wants to contribute something herself; of herself...her mark.
Davidson has compiled a collection that should be read in the classroom, and in the home. It is an antidote to a malignant amnesia that seems to have been draped over us, as we experience Holocausts on a lesser scale, but Holocausts nonetheless, in many parts of the world.
Doug Holder is a writer living in Somerville, Mass.

Ibbetson poet Jennifer Matthews will be in NYC this weekend performing at "The Living Room." I am told that high level record company execs are checking her out, and are very impressed with her writing. We published Jen's "Fairytales and Misdemeanor" in Sept of 2003.
Jennifer has released a new CD "The Wheel," that is getting great notice. Jen will be featured in "Metronome" next month, and she will be on the front cover...that oughta increase readership!
See her play at Toad this Wednesday, (10PM) and find out what went down in NYC. We wish her the best of luck! http://www.jennifermatthews.com

This article is in the July issue of "Some Other Magazine" http://www.someothermagazine.com ( Vol.2) 2005.

Do You Have To Be Crazy To Write Poetry?by Doug Holder dougholder@someothermagazine.com
For as long as I can remember, there has always been the romantic notion of the mad, or divinely inspired, poet floating around in the ether. While working at McLean Hospital, a psychiatric facility, for the past 23 years, I have heard and read about the legendary poets who paced the wards. Poets of the stature of Robert Lowell, Sylvia Plath, and Anne Sexton suffered from severe mental illness, and were hospitalized at different points in their mercurial careers. Plath and Sexton met their end through suicide, and Lowell died in the back seat of a cab he was taking to visit his ex-wife in New York City. Some never recover from their illness.
Since I have often worked with manic and clinically depressed patients over the years, and therefore have an intimate knowledge of the affliction, I can only write that the toil and the turmoil of depression is not worth the creative insight one might lay within. In a Boston Globe review of The Letters of Robert Lowell, edited by Saskia Hamilton, I read part of a letter that Lowell wrote to the poet Robert Fitzgerald about his experience with mental illness: “...terrific lifts, insights, pourings in of new energy, but no work on my part, only more and more self-indulgence, lack of objectivity; and so, into literal madness i.e. I had to be locked up.” As with any experience in our lives, we can bring it back into our own writing. But my question is, is it worth it?
In the midst of mental illness, or a severe depression, the ability to concentrate, think straight, or even take care of one’s most basic needs is severely impaired. Peter D. Kramer, the author of Against Depression and a clinical professor of psychiatry at Brown University, writes that depression takes an actual, tangible toll on the brain. Indeed, MRI studies at McLean have shown that the actual structure of the brain can be altered due to past abuse and mental illness. It has been speculated that depression can cause the hippocampus (part of the brain) to shrink, and may have a big role in the course of heart and other related diseases, as well as cancer.
Part of my job over the years at the hospital was to run poetry groups on some of the locked wards. For the most part, the poetry that was shared from psychotic and clinically depressed patients in the midst of their illness was impoverished. Often when they were on the mend and or recovered, they were writing much better and even inspired poetry.
They wrote equally well about their experience with their illness, as well as nature and other less oppressive aspects of their lives. The experience of mental illness can be very good fodder for poetry, but I think if you asked these patient/writers if they would like to go the depths of depression to mine material for their creative work, the answer would be a resounding no.
Thomas J. Cottle, a Boston-area psychologist, writes in a review of Kramer’s book that “first, there is no evidence to suggest that depression is the cause of the enriched imagination, the basis, in other words, of the creative fount. People paint and write poetry in spite of their illness.”
To me, that is the most inspiring aspect of writing and mental illness. I have seen folks ravaged by the disease, barely able to put a spoon to their mouths, pick up a pen, and write. When they do write, the illness loses, and humanity wins.
Douglas Holder is a writer in Somerville. For more about him and his work, please visit his homepage, www.authorsden.com/douglasholder.

I got word from Harris Gardner that the Boston National Poetry Festival is on , yet again, at the main branch of the Boston Public Library the weekend of April 8, 2006.
We were worried that it wouldn't be approved for its sixth year, but it came through. Look for further announcements!

Presa :s: Press of Rockford Michigan is releasing an anthology in the coming months of avant-garde poetry. ( "Inside the Outside") Hugh Fox was instrumental in advising Eric Greinke, the publisher, about poets to include in this anthology. I am proud to say I am included along with some very big names from the small press.

I just got a letter from my friend and poet Ed Galing. Ed is 88 years old. He has published in hundreds of magazines over the years, including Ibbetson Street. I published a collection of his poetry "Prayers on a Tenement Rooftop," some years ago. It dealt with his childhood in the Lower East Side of New York City in the 1920's. I call Ed every few weeks. He is an inspiration. In spite of his advanced years; an infirm wife, and all the aches and pains of age; he still churns the stuff out and more often than not finds a home for his poems. I am of the belief that his work keeps him alive...literally. His poetry deals with his experiences in World War ll, his years working in the Burlesque business, his family, growing up Jewish, the characters he meets at Jack 's Deli in Philadelphia...well, you name it. Ed is the poet-laureate of Hatboro, PA, he plays a mean harmonica, and he never tires of writing. He has the voice of a carnival barker, and he often alternates between being sweetly avancular and severely pissed off.I was suppose to film Ed this summer, but as fate would have it, my plans fell through. I hope to still do it, and if anyone out there is interested, I'll give you his contact info. Ed doesn't write for money, and at this point in the game he realizes he won't be a poet laureate. He writes because he has to. Ed is a true poet, and will be writing up till his last breath. There ain't too many better ways to go! Ed wrote me a letter recently. I'd like to share some of his thoughts.
"My wife turns 88, how time is going by Doug. Nobody wants to think of death being around the corner...but sooner or later...we will all have to face it bravely...not yet...not yet."" I am not so interested in posterity...nobody really remembers unless you are really famous...and so what?""There is no rhyme or reason to what I write. I have a habit of writing rapidly...and then putting it away overnight...if it still reads ok; I take a chance and send it out..."" I began to write around high school. I lived in poverty back then. I thought writing was a way out, and I found out it's not an easy way to get rich.."" A genius I am not. No James Joyce, Richard Wright, or any of the Jewish writers I love. But I try to have my own style, and write the way my personality declares I must write."Ed invited me down to his house stating: "I would sure like to meet you in person. If you do don't expect much. I am now just an old man, with a small Cape Cod house. But we are friendly and loving, and I play harmonica. That might entice you to come. Take care Doug. Write me a letter sometime. It lasts longer."--Posted by Doug to Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene at 7/04/2005 02:01:00

Well... the Ibbetson Street Press is working on three books presently. Two are from Cambridge poets Ann Carhart, and Philip Burnham, Jr. The other is from Hugh Fox...that we hope to have out this summer.

The new issue of Poesy is out, with an interview with Lyn Lifshin by Pablo Teasdale. Check it out on http://www.poesy.org

Steve Glines, the head of The Wilderness House Literary Retreat tells me the poet Franz Wright will be our guest in Aug 2005...stay tuned! http://www.wildernesshouse.org

I pretty much have next season's Newton Free Library Poetry Series booked. We are scheduled to have such poets as Frannie Lindsay, Laurie Rosenblatt, Tam Lin Neville, CD Collins, Dick Lourie and more... Starts on the second Tues. in Sept...

Susie Davidson will be reading at the Toast Lounge from her book "I Refused to Die"That's July 10 2005 3PM 70 Union Square, Somerville.

Neil W. McCabe resigned as editor of The Somerville news http://www.thesomervillenews.com We wish him well. We also welcome George Hassett as the new editor.

I am still awaiting word from Harris Gardner about the fate of the "Boston National Poetry Festival." http://tapestryofvoices.com We hope it can be salvaged for next April (2006)

Doug Holder 

The new issue of Ibbetson Street has come out (17) with fine cover art by Richard Wilhelm and Harold Cunniff, and poetry from Robert K. Johnson, Michael Estabrook, Mike James, Freddie Frankel, Lainie Senechal, Ed Galing, Mid Walsh, James Kernochan, Stephen Morse, Linda Haviland Conte and many others.

Louisa Solano, owner of the "Grolier Poetry Book Shop," will be the recipient of the third annual "Ibbetson Street Press Life Time Achievement Award," at "The Somerville News Writers Festival," Nov. 13. Previous recipients were Jack Powers and Robert K. Johnson.

Harris Gardner's brainchild the "Boston National Poetry Marathon Festival" is in danger of being cut because of fiscal difficulties at the library. This five year old festival has been a great success, and a real important part of our community. Send emails in support of the festival to Harris, so he can alert the library to what a mistake it would be to axe this unique event. Send to: tapestryofvoices@yahoo.com

Susie Davidson's Holocaust book "I Refused to Die..." that includes poetry, essays, oral testimony, etc...had its first reading in Brookline and it was standing room only. We have other events planned such as radio appearences, readings at McIntyre and Moore Books, Newton Free Library, Newton Community Education, The Somerville News at Toast Poetry Series, and more to be announced. You can purchase a book through the Ibbetson Street Press 25 School St. Somerville, Ma. 02143 $11 with postage.