I had planned to not post today, taking a rest after the long streak due to Just Jot It January, but had to share this new poem, “The Skaters” by Dante Di Stefano, which is this week’s choice for Rattle Poets Respond, an ongoing series in which poets submit work written in response to something that is currently happening in the news.
Dante Di Stefano often blends elements of his family life into his work, as he does here. I experience this poem as both heart-breaking and comforting, as it expresses so intimately what it is to be a parent. I am also amazed by Dante Di Stefano’s ability to quickly craft something beautiful. Due to the nature of Rattle Poets Respond, poets submit work anonymously that has been written in response to something that happens from Friday to Friday, so there is not a lot of time to ruminate and edit. Di Stefano’s poems have been chosen for this series multiple times, attesting to his talent.
It is my privilege to know Dante, who did his PhD at Binghamton University and lives, writes, and teaches locally. He facilitates the reading series at the Tioga Arts Council where his spouse, Christina Di Stefano, is Executive Director. He has been unfailingly kind and generous to me as I make my way as a “late-blooming” poet.
If you would like, you can hear his voice reading “The Skaters” at the link above.
Thank you, Dante, for sharing your heart with us once again.
So, things here are getting pretty sketchy. I have an angiogram scheduled for Monday but am feeling increasingly unwell, which may or may not be related to the purpose of the angiogram.
I’m still hoping to attend a poetry reading that is important to me tomorrow afternoon, but will have to wait and see what kind of day tomorrow is.
At this point, I’m planning to continue to post every day for Just Jot It January but if I just post the word “Jot” at some point, you’ll understand that that is all I can manage.
I have physical therapy this afternoon. Maybe that will help…
In late December/early January, many people look back over the year, reflect on its highs and lows, or create some kind of tally.
Sometimes, tallies are created for us, such as Words With Friends, which I have played for 13 years, helpfully telling me I made 8,875 moves in 2024. In my early years of WordPress blogging, they would send us each an annual wrap-up, which I enjoyed. Theoretically, I could put some stats together myself, but I don’t have the wherewithal to manage it.
Some of my poet/writer friends would tally their publications – and rejections – for the year. Given how 2024 went for me, the lists of both would be short, as would the list of completed poems, although I am very grateful that I managed to attend the Boiler House Poets Collective week-long residency at The Studios at MASS MoCA.
My 2024 was mostly taken up with personal and family health issues and my spouse B preparing for his retirement from IBM, which has now happened.
We begin 2025 in uncertainty. With daughter T and I still struggling to find full diagnoses and treatment, what we had imagined B’s retirement to look like is not going to be enacted, at least, not right away.
None of this is helped by the huge uncertainty about what will unfold when DT becomes US president again on Jan.20.
My father used to say “One day at a time” a lot. I am, though, by nature a planner, so I had trouble with the concept.
Now, sometimes, I feel that things are moment-to-moment or that time is somehow suspended or irrelevant.
(It’s probably dangerous to write about it in stream of consciousness but here goes…)
2024 has been largely spent trying to untangle personal and family health situations. In March, I developed a constellation of symptoms, including left side tinnitus and visual blurring, left side neck pain and stiffness, numbness/tingling most prominently on the left side of my head, balance problems, and brain fog and fatigue.
There has followed a bunch of tests, specialists, and physical therapy – with weeks and months of waiting – and a lot of ruling out of diagnoses, but no answers yet.
Given family history and my own research and trying to pull together all the scraps of information I get from my care team, I think I have a decent guess on diagnosis but it doesn’t really matter unless I can find a doctor willing to look at the whole situation instead of their own specialized body part.
Meanwhile, I’ve lost almost a whole year of poetry work. My creative brain isn’t functioning most days. Sometimes, I get a window first thing in the morning but often not. I’m spending most afternoons in bed because of the fatigue and because it is difficult to hold my head up without support for extended periods. If I push through and do too much on a day, I’m likely to pay for it by being largely non-functional for a day or two or three or a week afterward.
I’m also lacking in my ability to remember and keep track of things. My critical thinking skills are slowed down, too. I try to do tasks that involve a lot of thought early in the day to have the best chance of remembering and piecing things together.
It’s sad and terrifying and frustrating.
I feel like a lot of who I know myself to be is missing and I don’t know if or when it will be back.
A recent test seems to show poor blood flow in one of the arteries that supplies my brain. I’m hoping that this might give us a treatable thing to work on but I’m currently waiting for the appointment with the specialist who can interpret the test. There will probably be more tests before we get to the diagnosis/treatment part.
I don’t know if 2025 will bring my brain back or if I will be facing further deterioration.
Rattle Magazine has an ongoing series called Poets Respond which publishes at least one poem a week based on something that happened in the news in the last week.
Today, Rattle published a powerful poem from Abby E. Murray. I happen to know Abby because they did their doctoral work at Binghamton University where they served as director of the Binghamton Poetry Project when I first became involved with it.
The poem “Hello, I Am Not a Soldier” comes from Abby’s reaction to the incoming Trump administration’s nomination for various positions, especially defense secretary. You can read the poem at the link above, as well as hear Abby read it.
The lines that are resonating particularly with me this morning are
… I ration false comfort by knowing
it has never not been this way
What about this poem resonates with you?
(Photo by Lucas Sankey on Unsplash. Due to Instagram requirements, I needed an image to go with this post and opted for my standard Vote for Democary ’24 image. Tags are also broken at WordPress right now; I hope to add some later when that function is fixed.)
Yesterday, it was my pleasure to attend a reading by my fellow Grapevine and Boiler House Poets Collective friend Merrill Oliver Douglas and Suzanne Cleary at the Broome County (NY) Arts Council.
Merrill and Suzanne met decades ago in Binghamton, where Suzanne grew up and where Merrill re-located for graduate school and then settled. Merrill grew up in New York City and Suzanne has lived in that area for over thirty years. Their mirrored biographies drew together a fun mix of people in attendance, including Merrill’s Grapevine poet-friends and some of Suzanne’s high school classmates. We filled the Artisan Gallery at the Broome County Arts Council, commandeering extra chairs as needed. Bonus: In addition to poetry, we enjoyed the BCAC Members’ Juried Exhibition on display this month.
The impetus for the reading was the release of Merrill’s first full-length poetry collection, Persephone Heads for the Gate, winner of the Gerald Cable Book Award published by Silverfish Review Press. We were treated to several poems from the new book, including the title poem, as well as a number of more recently written poems. As always with Merrill’s work, I was impressed by her ability to bring a unique but no-nonsense perspective to everyday objects and occurrences, curating just the right details to reveal the essence of her subjects. Persephone joins Parking Meters into Mermaids (Finishing Line Press, 2020) on the shelves at the Artisan Gallery. For those outside our area, they can also be ordered through the provided links.
This was my first opportunity to hear Suzanne Cleary read in-person and I loved it! She somehow manages to maintain energy and insight in longer narrative poems, a skill that I much admire but doubt I will ever attain. In honor of reading back in her hometown, Suzanne chose some poems with local ties, as well as those relating to different time periods and circumstances. Some were from her prior books (listings with ordering information here) while others were newer work. We all loved the first poem she read, which was about her experiences with reading Merrill’s work! We were also thrilled with the news that Suzanne will have a new book, The Odds, published in Spring 2025 by New York Quarterly Books. It was chosen by poet Jan Beatty as winner of the 2024 Laura Boss Narrative Poetry Award. Updated information should be available through the links I’ve provided or ask at your favorite bookstore.
Merrill and Suzanne answered audience questions and then engaged in conversation and book signing. It was a wonderful experience! I encourage you all to check out their work and enjoy!
The Boiler House Poets Collective after our reading at The Bear & Bee
When I last posted, I had intended to post again sooner, but I found that the BHPC reading had taken a lot more out of me than I had thought, so I concentrated the energy I had on writing new poems and actually making it to workshop sessions.
We also had our planning meeting for next year, which will mark the tenth anniversary of the formation of the Boiler House Poets Collective after the original members met at the first workshop-in-residence by the Studios at MASS MoCA in conjunction with Jeffrey Levine of Tupelo Press. No details available now but lots of fun ideas under consideration!
I am so grateful to be a part of BHPC and am particularly thankful that we have become a true collective, with everyone pitching in to make it all work. I love our creative, supportive, and affirming atmosphere. Given my current health limitations, I would not have been able to participate this year without everyone else’s generosity in lending me a hand – sometimes literally when my balance was off! I also love how our three new members this year brought creative, joyful energy along with them and all plan to return next year.
I came home to a week of medical appointments and tests and an unfortunate uptick in symptoms. We are still working on a diagnosis with more tests and specialists forthcoming. We’ve ruled out a lot of possibilities but I’m anxious to arrive at a diagnosis so that we have a shot at figuring out an effective treatment plan.
Meanwhile, we have less than three weeks until Election Day here in the US. I hope to get out another Vote for Democracy ’24 post out soon.
Yesterday was a loooong day here in North Adams. I managed to get some studio time in the first part of the morning, including writing another section of the poem I started my first day here. If anything, it got a bit darker/starker. I’m not sure if this will be the final section or if one more may appear before the end of residency. I just know it’s unlikely to be today.
I went to the museum when they opened at 10:00. My goal was to blitz the new exhibits and take some photos for future reference. I also collected the guides for the new work to use as reminders and background if I decide to write some ekphrastic poems. MASS MoCA is not a collecting museum. While there are some long-term exhibits, most are only here for a year or so before moving on to another location. It’s one of the things that keeps returning here every year fresh. I wanted to do a walk-through as soon as possible – the museum was closed on Tuesday – so that I’d have time to let some ideas percolate and then return to specific pieces to take notes or even draft new poems.
I did, though, re-visit some of my long-term favorite exhibits, including our namesake Boiler House. (I have a poem about that.) The photo above was taken there. For some reason, this equipment really caught my eye this year, perhaps because it is colorful among the rust.
I was also on the lookout for the formerly upside-down tress of Natalie Jeremijenko’s Tree Logic. (I have a poem about that.) The piece had been in the courtyard at MASS MoCA’s entrance for almost 25 years, with the trees periodically swapped out and planted. As they return to their natural position, the bends in the trunk and branches eventually straighten. Positive phototropism! The last six trees were planted near Richard Nonas’ Cut Back Through (for Bjorn). I have a poem about that, too, which I will actually share here. This is a revised version of the poem that first appeared in Emulate.
Time/Rate/Distance after Cut Back Through (for Bjorn), Richard Nonas
Three thrones hold court, sun-warmed, polished granite; ancient mica flecks five rough-hewn footstools.
Bees prefer surrounding clover, sweet white sustenance for inevitable winter, oblivious to any human, serve their sisters and queen.
I, too green, too new, too fragile for this place, settle on footstool, absorb warmth of sun, strength of stone, whole-heartedness of bees.
After being on my feet for so long, my neck and back were tired and I accepted the offer that my apartment-mate had made to rest on her mat in her studio, which is outfitted with an acupressure mat for the back and neck. That revived me enough to be ready for our group lunch at 1:00.
After lunch, we took two of our new BHPC members on a tour of the Boiler House, which is a fun tradition.
Then, I went to our apartment to rest for the afternoon to get ready for our reading. I scooted out for an early solo dinner at Boston Seafood, which has been in North Adams since before I can remember in the 1960s. Bonus: they serve mocha sundaes, one of the few places left that holds to that North Adams tradition. (I have a couple of mocha poems, of course.)
The reading was at 7 PM at The Bear & Bee Bookshop. I’m pleased to say that we were standing room only and the reading was very well received. Through the miracle of alphabetical order, I was first up and read three North Adams poems, one about Drury High School, an ekphrastic poem about Xu Bing’s Phoenix which ties into some local history, and one about the public library. I was grateful to be first so that I could enjoy the rest of the reading. There were even some questions during the Q&A!
While most of the poets went to a neighboring restaurant for dinner/celebrating after the reading, I went back to the apartment to lie down and rest my neck and back. When my apartment-mate came home, we talked for a couple of hours – or maybe closer to three? – before turning in.
The long day with lots of walking and stairs and standing had gotten to me, though. My neck, shoulders, and back all tightened up and I had a lot of trouble sleeping. Today is going to be a slow day. I’m in my studio now but will probably head back to the apartment after I post this to rest and/or nap before lunch at 1. I’ll probably need to spend most of the rest of the afternoon prone, too, in order to be upright for supper out and evening discussion. It’s annoying to have to spend so much time lying down and resting but everyone is having a good and fruitful experience with our residency and I’m very grateful for that and for being here, even though I have unaccustomed limits this year.
For people in the North Adams, Massachusetts area, please join the Boiler House Poets Collective, currently in residence with The Studios at MASS MoCA, for a free reading at Bear & Bee Bookshop, 28 Holden St., North Adams at 7 PM with light refreshments to go along with the great poetry!
Joanne Corey 