Category: musings

New poem on POETiCA REViEW

I’m pleased to announce that I have a poem published in the special 20th anniversary edition of POETiCA REViEW. You can find my poem, “The Bridge,” by clicking on my name, Joanne Corey, on the first page of the pdf which opens at the link.

Many thanks to the team at POETiCA REViEW for choosing my poem for this special edition. Thanks also to Trish Hopkinson, who published the submission call and an interview with editor Mark A. Murphy. Mark had mentioned in the interview that they wished they had more submissions of ekphrastic poetry, so I happily obliged and suspect that that was part of the reason that they chose “The Bridge” for publication. I was pleased to see that the painting that served as inspiration for the poem, Claude Monet’s The Japanese Footbridge and the Water Lily Pool, Giverny, appears on the page with my poem.

I wrote the poem initially in June, 2023 in response to an Ekphrastic Review Writing Challenge. While it wasn’t chosen for publication in the responses to that challenge, I workshopped it with both the Grapevine Poets and the Boiler House Poets Collective to revise it to the form that POETiCA REViEW published.

One of the things that I appreciated about the interview that Trish Hopkinson did with Mark Murphy was the response articulating POETiCA REViEW‘s mission “to reach out to ordinary people, who might not otherwise consider themselves as poets.” This resonates with me as someone who does not have an academic background in poetry. I very much consider myself a “community poet” who has learned about poetry through my connections with the Binghamton Poetry Project; my local poetry circles, the Grapevine Poets and the sadly missed Sappho’s Circle; and the Boiler House Poets Collective, as well as through poet-friends and through reading a wide range of poems and articles about poetry.

I also appreciate POETiCA REViEW‘s tagline, “for the many, not the few.” I have found that my poems are more likely to be published by journals and presses that are seeking a more general audience. For example, Kelsay Books, who published my chapbook Hearts this spring, states in their submission requirements that “submissions should be accessible to a general audience.” I think that many people were scared off poetry in school, thinking they couldn’t understand it properly. I try to write in a way that invites people to bring their own experiences and memories to the poem so it doesn’t feel foreign or intimidating.

I hope you will enjoy the 20th anniversary edition of POETiCA REViEW and more editions available in their archive. Consider submitting to them, in keeping with their mission! And, as always, comments are welcome here at Top of JC’s Mind.

Christmas ’23

I’ve been struggling with whether or not to write a post for Christmas Day.

Maybe, it’s because I’ve been struggling with just about everything related to Christmas this year.

For so many years, the Christmas season brought most of our extended family together, often over a period of days and in various constellations, but this year, it will be just me, spouse B, and daughter T at home together. Daughter E and her family are celebrating an ocean away at home in London. B’s and my siblings are all busily dealing with their families and/or medical issues.

This lack of planned travel and guests turned out to have a silver lining when T was offered a slot for a needed shoulder surgery last week due to a cancellation in the surgeon’s schedule. So, our already subdued Christmas plan got even quieter as we have factored in the early stages of recovery.

While I’ve done some of the Christmas preparations, like singing in Lessons & Carols with the Madrigal Choir of Binghamton, writing Christmas cards and letters, and some gift-shopping and wrapping, the bulk of the decorating, cooking, and baking has been handled by B, with an assist from T prior to her surgery.

I’m sure that my feeling more somber than festive is not helped by the state of the world. The continuing horrors of war in Ukraine, the Middle East, Sudan, and elsewhere. The ever-increasing evidence of climate change impacts. The increasingly vile political rhetoric and threats against judges, Jewish people, Muslims, immigrants, pubic officials, etc. here in the US. The local battle against CO2 fracking with global implications here in the Southern Tier of New York. Increases in cases of flu and COVID in the Northern Hemisphere as winter sets in.

This somber time we face is also reflected in my religious observances. For many years, I was actively involved in music and liturgy planning for Advent and the Christmas season, but I haven’t been for a number of years now. While I still attend and participate in services, some of the anticipation and joy is muted for me.

It’s also true that there are many difficult issues raised by the nativity narrative that seem particularly salient to me this year. The real dangers that Mary faced as a young woman facing pregnancy before marriage. Her being forced to travel and give birth away from the comforts of home and neighbor-women who could come to her aid. The threats to her baby’s life. The slaughter of children ordered in an attempt to kill him. Fleeing to protect her child and their becoming refugees.

Angels and magi aside, there was a lot of pain, fear, and loss.

With all of this in my head, I went to 10 PM mass at my church for Christmas Eve. There was a photo of the baby Jesus amid rubble as displayed at a Palestinian-Lutheran Church in Bethlehem, the birthplace of Jesus on the West Bank, where Christmas observances usually draw crowds from around the world but are not being publicly held this year because of the war. The homily dealt directly with the struggle that I have been having this year and called on us to have hope. As part of the homily, we sang the first verse of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” near the beginning and the fourth, final verse at the end. We sang:

O holy Child of Bethlehem,
descend to us, we pray;
cast out our sin and enter in;
be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels,
the great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us,
our Lord Emmanuel!

Phillips Brooks

The message is to have hope because God, who is Divine and Eternal Love, is with all people of good will, as the angels announce.

I admit that hope is not one of my better virtues, but I will continue to add my actions, small though they are, in the efforts to make the world safer, more loving, more kind.

After all these centuries, still searching for the peace the angels proclaimed…

Review: American Symphony

Last night, B, T, and I watched American Symphony on Netflix, a documentary which followed the extraordinary musician Jon Batiste in 2022. It is also being shown in theaters.

I had loved watching Jon Batiste on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. He and his band, Stay Human, were the house band on the show, beginning with its inaugural episode in 2015. I appreciated Jon’s talent, his ability to cross and blend musical genres, and his gentle, positive spirit. While his jazz roots were always in evidence, he would often use elements from classical music or indigenous/folk music in his compositions, arrangements, and improvisations. During the early part of the pandemic when the show was being produced remotely, Jon would often still have a segment with Stephen where they would talk from their respective homes and Jon would play a bit on his piano or sing. Even though things were very different, it was a comfort to hear Jon’s expressive, calming voice in a difficult time.

Jon always had multiple projects going on, including performing, recording, and composing. For example, he won an Oscar for best original score as one of the composers for Disney-Pixar’s Soul in 2021. 2022 was set to be another busy, productive year for Jon Batiste, which director Matthew Heineman set out to document on film.

Jon was preparing to premiere his “American Symphony” which would bring together elements of influence of his and American music on stage at Carnegie Hall for a one-time-only performance. He was about to be nominated for 11 Grammy awards across an array of genres. There was still his Late Show gig.

And then, his long-time partner and soon-to-be spouse, the writer/author Suleika Jaouad, had a recurrence of leukemia after ten years in remission and American Symphony transformed from being a documentary about a composer and his music into a film about love, life, living, and how art expresses that all, helps us to process, and propels us forward.

The openness of Jon and Suleika in showing us their pain, anxieties, and vulnerability, as well as their love, art, and joys, is incredibly brave and moving. It was upsetting to me to hear that Jon faced a lot of criticism and negative comments about his eleven Grammy nominations – and eventual five wins, announced while Suleika was beginning chemotherapy. It just seemed so mean-spirited to inflect on a gentle soul at such a vulnerable time. I had known that things were stressful for Jon because he needed to end his years as band leader at The Late Show, but I hadn’t realized the extent of the situation until watching American Symphony.

While being a musician or music-lover will add to your appreciation of this film, it is certainly recommended to all teens and adults who are open to honest expressions of the human condition. It is not for younger children, who might be upset by the intensity of the medical side of the story.

My best wishes to Jon and Suleika for many years of love and art to come. Thank you for sharing so much of yourselves with us.

Photo by Denise Jans on Unsplash

SoCS: blue spruce

When my spouse B was growing up in rural southern Vermont, his family always had a blue spruce as a Christmas tree.

They are beautiful trees with a nice fragrance but they are dangerous!

The needles are very stiff and sharp so they are very prickly to decorate.

Unfortunately, B is also allergic to them, so he would wind up with his hands covered in red, itchy pricks and blotches on his hands.

In our own home, we do not have a blue spruce for a Christmas tree or a spruce at all. We do have a live tree but it is a fir. We used Douglas firs until they fell victim to a pest and climate changes. Now, we usually have a concolor fir. Also beautiful with a lovely scent but no itchy, pin-prickly hands!

Wishing a happy Christmas to those who celebrate and peace, joy, and love to all!

(Photo: our tree this year)
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Linda’s prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday this week is “spruce.” Join us! Find out more here: https://lindaghill.com/2023/12/22/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-dec-23-2023/ 

Avis Collins Robinson and Winter

Today is the first day of winter in the Northern Hemisphere and one of the first things I read is this tender, reflective piece from Eugene Robinson of the Washington Post about the unfinished art quilt and essay “Winter” – the last in a series that his spouse Avis Collins Robinson was working on at the time of her death. (The link above is a gift so it will open for everyone without paywall.)

The piece begins:

For Avis Collins Robinson, the artist who created these works heralding the seasons, winter meant both an end and a beginning. The bare trees and sere landscape were stark, but they held the promise of spring and renewal — not a mere hope but a promise.

I wanted to share his words and her art with you as the seasons continue to unfold inexorably before us.

We are fortunate that art and words continue to speak to us, even when their creators have passed away.

Love also endures.

(Photo by Timothy Eberly on Unsplash)

SoCS: a Christmas baking poem

It’s been a busy week and I didn’t look at Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday post until just now, early Saturday morning. (Linda puts it out on Friday so folks have a bit of a heads-up, although huge amounts of advanced planning, as well as edits, are against the SoCS rules.)

As it happens, my post yesterday goes very well with the SoCS prompt today, which is “bake.”

I wrote yesterday about a poem that was just published by Silver Birch Press, “My husband and daughters make Christmas gingerbread.” Yes, it’s “make” rather than “bake” in the title, but baking is definitely involved in the poem.

B has turned into the main baker in the house. This year, with no visits from extended family planned and just the three of us at home, B is not doing our usual Christmas practice of having at least a half dozen kinds of cookies available at once. Instead, he is doing serial baking. So far, he has made pfeffernüsse and pecan puffs.

No gingerbread yet, but I’m sure it will be coming…

Gingerbread Poem on Silver Birch Press!

It’s no secret that submitting poetry for publication is mostly an exercise in rejection, but this week is a time to share some successes. Yesterday, I posted about the publication of three poems in Emulate. Today, I’m happy to share that Silver Birch Press has published my poem “My husband and daughters make Christmas gingerbread” as part of their SPICES & SEASONINGS Series! Many thanks to Melanie and the Silver Birch Press team for including me in this several-months-long-and-counting series!

I submitted to the series back in late August and received the acceptance notification in early September, but assumed, correctly, that they would hold publication until Christmas-cookie-baking season. It’s fun and festive to have it appear now. (Photo is some of our gingerbread from 2010.)

This poem started with a prompt from Heather Dorn in December, 2015, when she was facilitating a women’s poetry workshop called Sappho’s Circle. The middle “action” section of the poem descends from that time. When the Silver Birch Press call for submissions came in this summer, calling for writing about a specific spice or seasoning, I immediately thought of that poem and set about revising it to “spice it up.”

B and I have often discussed how it is the amount of clove in these cookies that distinguishes them so that became the focus of the new opening and closing sections. I was also able to workshop the poem with my fellow Grapevine Poets before submitting to Silver Birch Press.

As it happens, Silver Birch published the poem on their site yesterday, so I was able to share it via social media then, while waiting to do the blog post today, given that I had already posted about the poems in Emulate yesterday and wanted to spread the poetic good news reporting out a bit here at Top of JC’s Mind.

Because of that, I’ve already had a number of comments on Facebook about the poem. One from my college roommate was especially touching, as she referenced her “unexpected joy” at seeing her mother’s words in the cookbook inscription in my poem. My eyes welled with tears, remembering our moms, both of whom died a few years ago.

In workshopping this poem, there was discussion about how much detail to leave in the poem and how much to cut. There is always a tension in revision on this point and I admire poets who can choose just the right detail to impact their audience. I tend to be guilty of too much detail, which sometimes leads to comments of “why should I care?” about some detail or other. I’m grateful, though, that I chose to leave that particular detail in this poem.

Granted, no other reader may have found that specific moment of joy from this poem, but, perhaps, there is another detail that struck them, that reminded them of family or baking or Christmas tradition. It’s not something that I’m likely to ever know.

This poem has been described to me as “lovely” and “charming.” I realize that others would term it overly sentimental or unsophisticated.

Perhaps, it is all of those things.

I do know, though, that it is authentic to who I am as a poet and as a person. I think – or, at least, I hope – that comes through to those who encounter my work.

As always, your comments are welcome, either here, on Facebook, or at the Silver Birch Press post.

Wishing you all a delicious treat that suits your taste!

Three Poems in Emulate Magazine!

I’m pleased to share the online version of Emulate Magazine Fall 2023 (Volume 5, Issue 1), which includes three of my MASS MoCA (Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Arts) ekphrastic poems. Many thanks to the Emulate Magazine team at Smith College for including my work in this issue! Smith is my alma mater, so being chosen for this publication is particularly close to my heart.

The theme of the issue is “Metamorphosis.” I was excited to discover that the editorial team had chosen my poem, “Time/Rate/Distance,” to open the issue! This poem is based on Richard Nonas’s Cut Back Through (for Bjorn), which is a long-term outdoor installation on the MASS MoCA grounds. It is comprised of three large granite chairs and five footstools. I suppose “Time/Rate/Distance” could be considered an American sonnet, because it has 14 lines, with a turn between lines 8 and 9, like an Italian sonnet. (Just throwing that comment in to address the common criticism that I don’t write enough in received Western forms, like sonnets, villanelles, and sestinas.)

“I Must Speak My Poem” (page 11) is based on Stephen Vitiello’s sound installation All Those Vanished Engines, housed in the Boiler House at MASS MoCA. My beloved Boiler House Poets Collective recorded our first reading there and we always visit when we are back for our reunion residencies. I was disappointed this year that we weren’t able to climb all the way to the rooftop, which offers a spectacular view of North Adams and the surrounding hills.

“Translation” (page 26) is a haiku based on the works of Justin Favela, whose pieces translating landscape paintings by José María Velasco using the paper and glue techniques of piñata art were part of the MASS MoCA Kissing Through a Curtain exhibition (2020-2021). I especially love that this poem appears on the page with a striking photograph by Avery Maltz.

All three of these poems are part of my chapbook manuscript of ekphrastic poems based on current and past exhibitions at MASS MoCA. Two of them are also included in my full-length manuscript centered on the North Adams area. I will, of course, add Emulate Magazine to my list of acknowledgements and my author page, joannecorey.com.

Be sure to check out this issue of Emulate Magazine! It is chock-full of poetry, prose, and images, all centered on metamorphosis and the myriad ways it manifests.

SoCS: greetings

To me, the holiday season is not the same without sending cards and/or letters to people.

My ideal for many years was to send cards with handwritten notes to everyone on my list, with some people getting customized printed letters.

I’ve modified from that ideal, though, perhaps permanently, as life has gotten more stressful or busy or overwhelming in various ways.

For example, there have been years that I wrote to friends in November rather than December because I couldn’t bear to send a holiday letter that announced the death of a parent. There have been times when other family members have sent out cards to our extended family so I could concentrate on sending cards to my friends.

I send out greetings to people from many decades of my life, going back to high school days, continuing through college, and on through my decades living here. I send cards to people I haven’t seen for forty years. I send cards to people who I haven’t heard from for years and years. (That should have been “whom” but stream of consciousness rules don’t allow for edits!)

Perhaps, there are people who get my greetings and think “Why?” after all this time do I still send out my well wishes and stories of what I and my family are doing these days.

It’s important to me to let you know that I’m thinking about you and wishing you well and honoring the place you had in my life.

Even if you never read what I’ve written or even open the envelope.

I’ll never know.

Photo by Milada Vigerova on Unsplash
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Linda’s prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday today is “to me.” Join us! Find out more here: https://lindaghill.com/2023/12/08/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-dec-9-2023/

Kelsay authors at MASS MoCA

One of the fun things that happened during the Boiler House Poets Collective (BHPC) annual workshop at The Studios at MASS MoCA (Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art) this year was the chance for poets Mary Beth Hines, Jessica Dubey, and I to celebrate our books, all published by Kelsay Books.

I’m pleased to share the December post from the Kelsay Books blog that features the three of us on our MASS MoCA adventures. While Jessica and I live near one another and are long-time members of the Grapevine Poets and BHPC, this was our first time meeting Mary Beth. Although Mary Beth, as a Massachusite, was already familiar with MASS MoCA, we were thrilled to welcome her to BHPC and look forward to her return next fall for our 2024 reunion residency.

Mary Beth was the first of us to publish with Kelsay. Her debut collection, Winter at a Summer House, was published in November, 2021. Jessica’s second chapbook, All Those Years Underwater, followed in November, 2022. (Jessica’s first chapbook, For Dear Life, had been published by Finishing Line Press in May, 2022.) My first chapbook, Hearts, appeared in May, 2023.

I love this photo of us taken by fellow BHPC member Wendy Stewart! Wendy managed to catch not only, from left to right, me, Mary Beth, and Jessica, with our books and smiles but also a reflection of part of Natalie Jeremijenko’s Tree Logic, the iconic art installation at the main entrance to MASS MoCA. Commonly referred to as “the upside-down trees,” the maples had graced the courtyard since April 1999, with the trees replaced occasionally so that they could re-orient themselves and spread their roots. The image of the upside-down tree had come to symbolize MASS MoCA and was featured on a number of items in the gift shop.

As I was heading home from our residency, I was shocked to read that Tree Logic was ending its almost 25 years on exhibit in just a few days. The final trees are transplanted on the MASS MoCA campus along the Speedway. I’ll make sure to visit them next October when BHPC is again in residence, or, perhaps, I will make it back to the Museum next May for the 25th anniversary celebration.

I know the trees will be reaching for the light in their new orientation, their roots expanding to anchor them to the site of so much change over the decades. Over time, they will straighten, although they will always bear some remembrance of their time of inversion.