Reinventing the Life of a Poet in the Modern World

Month: April 2014

My Porn Following and Sexy Poems

TumblrLast year in my Big Bang Poetry newsletter, I sent out an article about how Tumblr was the up-and-coming social media player for young people. Facebook and Twitter are skewing more for old folks.

Because I care about reaching people younger than myself, I dutifully set up a Tumblr page. My page was pretty static with only basic information about how to link to my blogs and other web sites.

I was surprised a few months ago when I started getting a steady stream of new followers. Not just a few but like 40 followers in two months. I was confused about the activity but decided to create a new section of the Tumblr page for updates. I figured if people wanted to connect with me on Tumblr, I should update it more often.

However, something seemed a little off. The icons (pictures) of the new followers…well they didn’t look right. Let’s just say they looked more like someone you’d come across at a club on the Sunset Strip than someone you would run into at a poetry reading (or a Cher fan for that matter).

It all became clear to me one day when I received a new follower with a quite provocative icon image. Totally porno! Suddenly I had a theory about this. I wondered if I was being confused with a porn star. Could it be?

Monsieur Big Bang and I then ran a search for a porn star with the name of Mary McCray. Lo and behold, there is not only a porn actress named Marie McCray but she's alternatively known as Mary McCray. She has a Tumblr page and capitalizes on misspellings of her name.

All these new followers were following me mistakenly thinking they were following Marie McCray the porn star!

Mary-mccray-pornstar-short

Imagine their dismay at all my poetry posts and Cher updates!

Monsieur Big Bang thinks I'm on to something. He thinks all poets should incorporate the name of a porn star into their own name to catch porn hits, names like Ron Jeremy Padgett or Nina Hartley Crane.

You can’t unfriend followers in Tumblr like you can in Facebook and I’m not sure I would want to. Maybe I can get one or two porn fans to consider the salacious potential of John Donne and H.D.

Read 10 sexy poems compiled by Flavorwire

 

My Poet Ancestor’s Miracle Poem

BagIn 2012 I wrote about my only ancestor (my great-grandmother's niece) who was a poet, Marylu Terral Jeans and her book Statue in the Stone. Last month I received a fascinating email about one of her poems from a man named Patrick in Pittsburgh.

Here's is the story he told:

My mother, Mary, was a Peace Corps volunteer in its early days, right after President Kennedy's assassination. She was so inspired by Kennedy that she joined the Peace Corps as a 24 year-old woman and taught English in the Philippines from 1964 through 1966.  She mother was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer about five years ago and died at age 67. 

While I was going through some of her old Peace Corps souvenirs, I found a small poem which looked like it had been torn out of a magazine by hand.  It was the poem "Love-Armored" by Marylu Terral Jeans.  I found the poem very moving, and obviously my mother did too, as she had kept it with her while thousands of miles away from home in the Philippines for 2 years (long before email, cell phones or other technology made the world seem much smaller).  I kept the poem in a ziplock bag along with some prayer cards left over from her funeral.  I put the plastic bag in a wooden box with a Bible in it. The Bible had been given to me at her funeral.  The box then went into an old oak dresser which came with me through several moves in the last few years.

This past December I bought my first home, a small brick ranch house on a mountaintop piece of land in the Laurel Highlands of Pennsylvania (50 miles East of Pittsburgh). I had a woodburner stove installed into a basement fireplace, and the installer's must have made a mistake when putting in the new chimney liner.  At 3:00 AM on December 12th, I woke up in the middle of the night because I wasn't breathing right and a smell of smoke was all through my house. I went down and checked the fireplace, and the fire in the woodburner was out.  I figured the new stove just wasn't venting properly and went back to bed.  At 7:00 AM I awoke again because I was breathing smoke and this time noticed a haze of smoke all through the house.  (I wasn't supposed to get up until 10AM, because I had worked late the night before).  I walked all through the house trying to figure out where the smoke was coming from but couldn't find any source.  I opened windows to try to air my house at this point. 

Little did I know, the underside of the hardwood floors in my home had been smoldering with fire all night waiting for oxygen. I then noticed smoke billowing up from behind the piece of furniture (an old family heirloom that had belonged to my mother's family) which held the Bible box. I ran downstairs and pulled the tiles of the drop ceiling and the entire underside of my floors were on fire. I dumped an entire fire extinguisher into the ceiling before having to flee my house due to smoke overtaking me. I made it out with just my clothes and wallet in my pocket.

Within a half hour, my entire house had burned and the first floor of the house had collapsed into the basement. It was a total loss fire. The fire had burned so intense inside the brick house that I never even found a trace of my mountain bike (all metal) and other large objects that were completely melted. But while the entire first floor had collapsed and incinerated in the fire, the old oak dresser with the Bible in it had slid down on a piece of broken floor into the basement…and it didn't burn. The area of the basement where it slid into was the vortex of the fire. It was within 8 feet of where my mountain bike and a couch had melted completely with no trace.  The oak dresser was charred, but survived. The Bible in the wooden box had remained completely untouched during the fire. It had literally been in the hottest part of the fire where nothing else survived.

Last week I began looking for the plastic bag containing the old poem which i knew had also been in the Bible box. It was nowhere to be found. I began searching Google for lines of the poem which I remembered, but there were no Google hits for a poem titled "Love Armored".  I couldn't remember the name of the author.  Very sad over the loss of this old poem which meant so much to me, I went back to what remained of my old house last week, took the boards off the windows and tramped around looking through the sludge and debris. Over a foot of water had been dumped into the basement of the house by the fire department during the fire, and it was a mess.  No luck finding anything. A friend of mine had removed the old dresser the day after the fire to dry it out in his garage, and I called him just to see if maybe the bag was still inside.

He called me back and said "This is really spooky. I have the bag, it had been lying near the dresser after the fire. The plastic bag isn't even sealed, and there are ashes in the bag, so it was open during the fire. But for some reason, none of the papers inside the bag are burnt, and there isn't even any water damage to anything in the bag". Just to clarify, a plastic ziplock bag containing paper items was lying unharmed within 8 feet of where a mountain bike and everything else in sight had completely melted in the fire. He sent pictures of the bag and the contents.   Poem A few people had been telling me since the fire that my mother had been watching over me and had awakened me before the carbon monoxide or fire could get to me. When I read the FIRST and LAST lines of the poem, it gave me chills. See the attached photos of the actual bag and poem. 

Love Armored

My love surrounds the house in which you dwell,
The place you work, the streets your feet have known,
With more of tenderness than I can tell,
And prayers I have said for you alone.
If you are lonely, know that I am near;
If you are sad, my faith will comfort you,
The things you value I shall hold most dear;
Your happiness will make me happy, too.

If you are heavy-laden, be at rest…
He who is loved need never walk alone.
He has a cloak, a sword to meet the test,
A shield, a talisman that is his own.
Be sure of this: Though you may travel far,
My love will guard you anywhere you are.

   

Reach for the Horizon Blog Tour-Celebrity Poets

MorrisonI'm very happy to be part of Savvy Verse & Wit's National Poetry Month blog tour this year. I'm going to spend the month reading celebrity poetry. If you check back to this post all month, I will be creating a master list of celebrity poets and reviewing my own books of celebrity poets.

I'll start with a recap of the books I've reviewed so far, some links to celebrity poems online, and a list of books you can buy if you decide to dive into this exciting world of celebrity profundity.

Reviews

Jim Morrison is probably the best known celebrity poet (if you don't count the lyrics of Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan). Read the full review here. I said basically,

Morrison is good at noticing what's going on around him. In this book he mulls over ideas of voyeurism and participation, film studies (he was a film student), issues of power and possession, alchemy, and a few interesting comments about motherhood. The random notes included are not fully formed. They seem almost like notes for future essays.  And many of the poems seem like a string fo terse images in search of a vague mythology…

In the end, Morrison seemed to view death as a clean slate, from "Hurricane & Eclipse" where he says, "I wish clean/death would come to me" to "If Only I" where he claims "If only I could feel/me pulling back/again/& feel embraced/by reality/again/I would gladly die." Maybe it's this very state of mind that appeals to teen boys, stressed out by the fog of adolescence and living a life not yet fully in control.

Some interesting lines:

"Real poetry doesn't say anything,
it just ticks off the possibilities."

and

"I hear a very gentle sound,
With your ear down to the ground.
We want the world and we want it…
We want the world and we want it,
now,   now,   NOW!

In my inaugural celebrity poet book review post, I reviewed Jewel, Suzanne Sommers and Jimmy Steart. Read the full reviews here. I waited a long time to score the Sommers book (before eBay came along) and I love it even thought the poems are a bit thin. Example:

"No!"

I don't give you time
    Because you're a cliche
    I meet a thousand times a day.
There's no need to talk.
    I know you're handsome
    And successful
    And extremely good in bed.
But really there's nothing to say,
Only a kind of game to play.
    Only a tedious cliche
    I meet a thousand times a day.
And I always forget your name.

I really didn't enjoy Jimmy Stewart's poetry. They were indulgent and better suited for a children's book. Exceprt:

from "I'm a Movie Camera"

I'm a movie camera. Instamatic is my name.
I'm Eastman's latest model,
   Super 8's my claim to fame.
I was on a shelf in Westwood
   when an actor purchased me
And took me home to 918 in Hills the Beverly.

WhiteI finished Directing Herbert White by James Franco last week. I spent half the book thinking I had never seen a James Franco movie. I just knew him as a child-star-terror. Last week Entertainment Weekly called him out for calling The New York Times theater critic Ben Brantley a “little bitch” but EW added, “Don’t worry, he was in character as James Franco.” I was also considering judgments of family members of his disastrous award-show hosting with Anne Hathaway. Apparently he’s kind of a “little bitch” himself. But then I came upon the Wizard of Oz movie poem in his book and I realized I had seen in Oz The Great and Powerful. I became discombobulated then reading the book.

Some critics believe a poet’s biography should be irrelevant when you read a poem. I am not one of those. When I see James Franco’s paintings of Seth Rogen, I want to know if they are kidding or mean-spirited or I'll have no idea about tone. Poems are written by people, people with biographies. Your poems may not be about you entirely, but they are entirely not about anybody else either.

This book is better than the run-of-the-mill celebrity poetry. He has been published in American Poetry Review and has about 5 MFA degrees (in fiction, film, art and poetry…from NYU and Columbia among other colleges) and he has studied with well-known poets). Franco has definitely given service to poetry. He played Ginsberg in Howl and Hart Crane in The Broken Tower. He’s made his own short films about various works by Frank Bidart, Stephen Dobyns, Spencer Reece and C.K. Williams.

Some of the poems about Hollywood are good (two Lindsay Lohan poems, “Los Angeles Proverb,” the James Dean poem)- but “Acting Tips” is pretty self-involved, clichéd and empty—the last line being a telling indicator: “About me.”

The poem “Seventh Grade” is very good as is the poem about the LA River. The sonnets have a good tone and “Hart Crane’s Tomb" is probably the best poem in the collection.

In his poetry that when he said to the Brooklyn Bridge

“A bedlamite speeds to thy parapets,
Tilting there momentenly, shrill shirt ballooning,”

He meant himself,
A circle on the surface of the ocean,

For a second,
And then the bottom of the sea. 

There are also interesting poems about Brad Renfro (the tragic kid from The Client) and Heath Ledger and two sections of poems titled by lyrics from song titles from the Smith’s compilation album.

That said often Franco works with a flat vocabulary and has issues with ending his poems with a punch. Some seem to almost mean something but fail to gain any depth. In the poem “Fake” he almost reaches self-awareness. The poems are mostly very colloquial and WYSIWYG but in occasional pieces are interestingly figurative. Franco is at his best when he brings out the theatrical performance aspect in the poem.

RoseThe Rose That Grew From Concrete by Tupac Shakur is a different book entirely that exists for a different purpose. There are an amazing amount of prematerial in the book: a a preface, a forward and an introduction. The father’s preface is moving and the forward by Nikki Giovanni is a little hyperbolic in its attempts to give Tupac poet's cred, but she does draw out some of the importance in his song lyrics and makes a good argument about how black activists and artists are turned into thugs by the press or worse, ignored.

The book is tiny. Each page has the poem and the hand-written version on the page opposite. I had to wonder if Tupac ever intended these poems to be published. They were written in workshops and were published unedited and are mostly expressions of frustration and heartache, sounding like so much teen angst. Tupac makes use of numbers and symbols in place of words like old Price lyrics. Some poems rhyme. But he argues points on issues of race and class and the struggles of fame. He had his own celebrity obsessions with Marilyn Monroe and Vincent Van Gogh. The book is also sprinkled with publicity photos. The biggest section is of love poems which seem private and naïve. There are also political sections which deal with Nelson Mandela, the Black Panthers and the American welfare system. There are some moving mother poems.

The book goes a long way to presenting an alternate view of Tupac. He seems to be working out his life’s sufferings and joys. My favorite poem is “Pride in the Panther”

Can u c the pride in the Pantha
as she nurtures her young all alone
The seed must grow regardless
of the fact that it’s planted in stone

The final poem is absolutely haunting, a piece called “In the Event of My Demise.” There is no translation for it and you read the poem in his own handwriting. He was hoping to die for a principle. It’s a tragedy he did not.

I like that Tupac's parents are using his poems in service of young adult programs.

Links to Celebrity Poetry Online

Books:

  • Jim Morrison – The Lords and the New Creatures; Wilderness; The American Night
  • Suzanne Sommers – Touch Me!
  • Leonard Niemoy – A Lifetime of Love; Warned by Love; Come Be With Me; We Are All Children Searching for Love; These Words Are For You; Will I Think of You; I Am Not Spock (there's probably more)
  • Jimmy Stewart – Jimmy Stewart and His Poems
  • Jewl – A Night Without Armor
  • James Franco – Directing Herbert White
  • Tupac Shakur – A Rose That Grew From Concrete
  • Joni Mitchell – The Complete Poems and Lyrics
  • Bob Dylan – Tarantula
  • Viggo Mortensen - Ten Last Night
  • T-Boz (singer from the group TLC) – Thoughts
  •  Ashanti – Foolish/Unfoolish: Reflections on Love
  • Ally Sheedy – Yesterday I Saw the Sun: Poems
  • Billy Corgan (of Smashing Pumpkins) -  Blinking with Fists
  • Alica Keys – Tears for Water: Poems and Lyrics 
  • Sting – Shape of My Heart 
  •  Jill Scott – The Moments, The Minutes, The Hours
  • Antwone Fisher – Who Will Cry for the Little Boy?
  • Jimmy Carter – Always a Reckoning, and Other Poems
  • John Lithgow – The Poets’ Corner: The One-and-Only Poetry Book for the Whole Family
  • The Anthology of Really Important Modern Poetry: Timeless Poems by Snooki, John Boehner, Kanye West, and Other Well-Versed Celebrities

It's easy to make fun of celebrity poetry but they've committed no crime except taking advantage of their fame to publish poetry. Is that so bad? Taking up space from non-famous poets maybe but if you were famous, would you stop writing poetry? (Assuming you're a non-famous writer today). Everyone is on their own journey. Don't hate them because they love poetry. Some celebrity poets, like Leonard Cohen and Joni Mitchell are actually very good.

Dylan Sommers Jewel Spok Stewart

 

Bruce Springsteen on What Poets Do

BsI recently watched an HBO documentary on Bruce Springsteen and his album High Hopes. He had an interesting thing to say about what artists (including poets) do:

He said, "Fundamentally, we're repairmen. Everybody's broken somewhere. You can't get through life without it. You've paid your artists and your filmmakers and your poets and your novelists to be basically your handymen. They're your repairman and we're willing to go into the garage where all this junk is lying around and we start to tinker away and when you contextualize and make small sense of those things, they just start to repair those small pieces of you."

   

30 Poems About Language

LanguageI'm five days into National Poetry Writing Month and to help me get through the marathon I've set up a theme for myself, poems about language. This was partially inspired by the Al Filreis' ModPo MOOC course I completed last year. 

Each poem incorporates two famous sayings or quotes in the text. So far I've been writing about how language compares to what is, writing as a threat to tell, writing as journey vs. writing as truth vs. writing as representation vs. writing to make a commodity, the ability of poetry to be progressive, and language theory.

Of course these are not polished and perfect little pieces. The goal is to pop one out every day. That means you only get a few hours to conceive, draft it out and revise. No workshopping. No morning after. Lots of regrets. But maybe learning to live with regret is the lesson.

You can read my progress at http://hellopoetry.com/mary-mccray/

This is the second year I've used the Hello Poetry site and it has been a good board for meeting other poets and watching reading trends.

The graphic above comes from a site on Language from the University of Minnisota.

   

A Book About Food

EarLoved reading The Hungry Ear, Poems of Food & Drink edited by Kevin Young. This book does something I've been saying poetry should do: present around a subject of study. This could be the way into non-poetry-readers hearts and minds. I mean, who doesn't know a foodie they can give this book to?

Scientists would likely love science poems. Artists would likely love a collection of ekphrastic poetry, welders would love poems about welding. And foodies would love poems about food. Because they love to eulogize food. And bingo! Poets eulogize stuff. Foodies would love to dig deeper into the nature of food with this book, love to think beyond the cookbook, beyond essays about food or cultural food studies. This book is full of (figuratively) juicy little spirituals about food.

Poetry can spread if the gifts of poetry are presented around a subject.

I did wonder about the order of the poems. You'd find three onion poems in a row. I can't decid whether or not that was a good thing (variations on an onion) or too much onion (the poems weren't stirred up enough).

But there are many beautiful poems here, many new to me (Joy Harjo's ode to the kitchen table "Perhaps the World Ends Here") and some old favorites (Tom Lux's "Refrigerator, 1957" to William Carlos Williams' "This is Just to Say"). My favorite section was one called Short Orders about restaurant food. 

   

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