April 2015

FEATURED POET: James Bertolino taught literature and creative writing for 36 years at Washington State University, Cornell University, University of Cincinnati, Western Washington University, and retired from a position as Writer-in-Residence and Chair of Creative Writing at Oregon’s Willamette University in 2006. His books have issued from publishing programs associated with Brown University, Cornell University, Princeton University and Carnegie-Mellon University, as well as Copper Canyon Press, New Rivers Press, Granite Publications, Cherry Grove Collections and World Enough Writers. His 12th volume of poetry,Ravenous Bliss: New and Selected Love Poems, was published by MoonPath Press in 2014.  He lives near Bellingham, Washington with his wife, artist and poet Anita Boyle.


VIDEO: JAMES BERTOLINO

Dishonesty

Chocolate-covered evil

with shattered almonds

waiting to inflict

sweet wounds.

==

The love song

of the mosquito

is often aborted

by a slap.

A wet red spot

many times larger than

the flying beast

achieves

something like

genius.

==

Look between your bare knees

and you might find a tiny moon,

its orbit pulled back and forth

by your knee-caps.

==

Some dishonesty

is very creative,

and should be appreciated.

          ==

Our Golden Collie

We were living across the street from

railroad tracks in Ashland, Wisconsin—

which was much larger, and many miles from

tiny Pence, Wisconsin where, when I was four

and my oldest sister nine, I unintentionally drowned

her puppy in a pond. She never forgave me.

It was the first time in my life that I was

associated with evil.

That day in Ashland I was playing outside

with our collie. We never kept her tied, or on

a leash, and when I heard tires screeching

on the road I ran around from the back of the building

and almost stepped on our dog, as she howled

and dragged herself away from the road.

I got my wagon, carefully lifted her in, and carried

her to the backyard, where I settled her into the grass

below the kitchen window of our apartment.

The lady upstairs, who was a kindergarten teacher,

had heard the car braking and seen our dog.

I soon found out she had called the police.

When the cop arrived he asked to see the dog.

He then told me she was suffering pretty bad, and

was too busted-up to survive. He said to head around

to the front, and halfway there I heard him shoot his pistol.

Without saying a word to me or anyone else,

he got back into his squad car and drove off.

When I found her dead, I held her sweet head and cried.

           I had just started second grade at a Catholic school,

and told my mother I did not want to go back.

I was sure that our beautiful collie being dead

was God’s punishment of me

           for having drowned my sister’s puppy 

            

WRITE YOUR POEM:

For Kin or King?

Poetry shares an odd quality that faces all artists.  Why do we do it? There poems written for our children. "Twas the Night before Christmas" was penned by a lawyer for his children.

Is your poetry for an audience with a soul or a commodity of ancient tradition.  Beethoven wrote symphonies and thousands of people compete to play in orchestras that play those symphonies.  Seth Godin calls these musicians victims of a well dressed sweat shop.  They play for the king.  They play for the court.  These musicians are driven by rote work and fear.  Love is mixed in their somewhere but the script is always the same.

Ancient China had its courts.  Poets in those courts were victims of a well dressed sweat shop.  So was their poetry. Praise came for those who could conform to the rules.  Invention and experimentation was left to hermits in the hills.  Admired but starving.  Who are you? 

As we practice any given craft something gnaws at the back of our soul. that we are practicing the art that reconnects us to our best selves or we are doing a math problem.  Ancient China put built poetry into their version of the SAT for a good job.  There's no clean answer.  Write your poem.  Wherever you are the world needs your work.  Write. Create.  Be the best part of your self and give it to the world.  Dance your dance. Write your poem.