2025 Paterson Literary Review cover: Maria Mazziotti Gillan, Woman in Red Asian Shawl
Yesterday, I was thrilled to receive my contributor copy of the 2025 Paterson Literary Review. The link is to their site; the 2025 issue is not yet available to order but should be shortly.
For those of you who may not be familiar, the founding editor of the Paterson Literary Review is Maria Mazziotti Gillan, poet, editor, educator, artist, and Bartle Professor Emerita of English and creative writing at Binghamton University. I live in the Binghamton area and, while I never had the privilege of studying with her, many of the local poets that I have learned from through the Binghamton Poetry Project and through other local workshops were her students and often referred to her and used her books of prompts in our work together.
Having a poem in PLR is a dream come true for me. It’s an honor to be in the company of such distinguished poets. I’d start naming names but the post would go on too long and, with a 53 year history, I’d invariably leave out someone whom I should include.
My poem is “Giovanni” and is about my maternal grandfather. It’s part of my yet-to-be-published full-length collection, The Beyond Place, which centers on the North Adams, Massachusetts area, where I grew up and several generations of my family lived. The Hoosac Tunnel is part of the fabric of this poem.
Because of my health issues, I haven’t been able to do much poetry work, including submissions, for months. I submitted “Giovanni” last September and it was accepted in November, but, because the Paterson Literary Review is a huge undertaking to print – this edition has over 300 pages – it is just arriving now. It’s good for me to have a reminder that I am still acknowledged as a poet, even when I’m not able to do much work at the moment.
Thank you, Maria Mazziotti Gillan, for the honor of appearing in the Paterson Literary Review!
Something that opens is my first chapbook, Hearts. In a shameless exercise in self-promotion, I’m using this post to draw attention to a post that I just finished about the second anniversary of Hearts.
A little over two years ago, Hearts, my first poetry chapbook was published by Kelsay Books. The poems center around my mother, concentrating on her final years as she lived with heart failure.
I know that many people are unfamiliar with the term “chapbook.” A chapbook is a short book that is usually organized around a central theme.
As someone who didn’t pursue poetry until later in life, I am honored to have a book in print. There are several ways to buy a copy: directly from Kelsay Books, from Amazon, on special order from any bookstore that has access to Ingram, or directly from me, in person or by mail. (Please send me an email at jcorey.poet@gmail.com to make arrangements.)
People who have been following my history as a poet know that I had very little formal coursework in poetry; I have developed my skills through the generous sharing of my poetry community, including the Binghamton Poetry Project, the Grapevine Poets, and the Boiler House Poets Collective.
What has been more difficult is developing the publicity skills needed to promote a book. I am by nature an introvert and struggle with self-promotion. I’m also not great with asking people to spend money. Unfortunately, there have been other obstacles in the form of personal and family health struggles that have kept me from doing a great job at selling my book.
I am very grateful for the friends – and the people who are unknown to me – who have read my book. I especially appreciate those who have reached out to me about Hearts, often sharing stories about their own loved ones. I write in order to connect with others and am deeply honored that my work resonates with them.
One thing that I hadn’t anticipated was what it feels like to lose friends who have read Hearts and written or spoken to me about it. It adds another aspect to their loss. I also wonder what will become of the copies that they had, especially when they are inscribed. I somehow imagine someone picking up a copy in a secondhand bookstore and wondering who the prior owner was and how I was connected to them.
I still hope to publish another book some day/year but I will always be pleased that my first book was about my mom.
And every time I see bleeding hearts, I think about Hearts and about her.
I realize that title seems like baseball, but it’s not, although Cooperstown is involved…
Despite my current health issues, I managed to attend two major events on Saturday.
In the afternoon, I sang-along with parts two and three of Handel’s Messiah. This was an event offered by the Madrigal Choir of Binghamton, with whom I serve as a singer and board member. Our artistic director, John M. Vaida, conducted a volunteer chamber orchestra and soloists with a chorus made up of those who showed up to sing along. Most of us were members of Madrigal Choir or Downtown Singers, although I think there were a few who aren’t presently in either group. It was a lot of fun to sing with old and new friends without the pressure of performance. Madrigal Choir hopes to do more events like this in the future.
Next up was heading to the Fenimore Art Museum, just outside Cooperstown, for the Write Out Loud ’25 reading, made possible only because spouse B did the driving, as we live about an hour and a half from there. I had been accepted to Write Out Loud ’24 last year with a poem from my chapbook, Hearts. When submissions opened for this year’s event, I sent the call on to my poet-friends in the area and I’m pleased to say that the Grapevine Poets from the Binghamton area were well represented this year with Merrill Oliver Douglas, Jessica Dubey, Richard Braco, and me all having work accepted.
Merrill read her poem, “Meditation in Walmart,” as the second piece in the program, with Richard reading “Pole Star Child” as the next-to-last piece in the program. Accepted writers have the option to read their own work or to have a member of the theater company affiliated with the Fenimore perform their piece. Cait Liberati read Jessica’s poem, “Love Birds.” Jessica wished that she could have been there to read it herself but she was away on a trip. I was thrilled with Sharon Rankins-Burd’s reading of my poem, “The Bridge“! I had planned to have an actor read my poem from the start because my health situation is too uncertain. I also appreciate hearing what a trained actor does with my words.
The Fenimore Art Museum has released the recording on their YouTube channel. If you click “more” in the description, it will open the program with links to the beginning of each piece.
I had figured that expending that much energy in a day would knock me for a loop and it did. I spent most of the day yesterday in bed and will lay low today, too, just going out for physical therapy. I’m grateful that I was able to attend these events and hope that we are able to get a better handle on my diagnosis and treatment options soon so that I have more energy to do two things in one day – or even one thing…
I’ve posted variously over the last year about some health problems I’ve been having with a puzzling combination of symptoms, including left-side tinnitus and visual blurring, balance problems, fatigue, brain fog, and left shoulder/neck pain and stiffness.
I’ve been accruing specialists over the last year as we ruled out diagnoses for various body parts but I have always felt that my symptoms were connected because they developed in the same timeframe and seemed to interact with each other. I also, for family history reasons, suspected that there was an underlying connective tissue disorder.
Over the last few weeks, we’ve made some progress on the diagnostic front. I’ve finally been diagnosed with cervical instability, which, when not caused by trauma or Down’s syndrome, is often associated with connective tissue disorders like hypermobility spectrum disorder.
I also had a CT angiogram which resulted in a diagnosis of fibromuscular dysplasia in both internal carotid arteries. This is caused by a problem with the connective tissue within the blood vessel walls. There’s a likelihood that it is affecting other blood vessels, which may be behind some other symptoms in far-flung parts of my body.
At this point, I need to go to a major medical center for further evaluation and, I hope, some relief from symptoms. FMD is not able to be treated directly but there may be some treatments that will improve bloodflow and reduce risk of complications. Fortunately, a college friend who is on the faculty at Columbia University medical school in New York City was able to connect me with their neurology department and I will have a visit there later this month. A team approach is often needed for FMD – and connective tissue disorders, in general – so I may well wind up with a medical team in NYC which will interface with my team here at home.
Thanks to all of you who have been following along on this medical journey and sending me your well wishes and support. I’m likely to be continuing my rather sporadic posting as symptoms allow. For example, the angiogram caused some unforeseen aftereffects that knocked me out for several days and I’m still more limited than I was in terms of energy and clarity. I appreciate your continuing patience with me as I navigate this uncertain time.
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 the first few seasons of The Late Show, Stephen Colbert did a recurring skit, then a best-selling book, called Midnight Confessions, in which he “confesses” to his audience with the disclaimer that he isn’t sure these things are really sins but that he does “feel bad about them.” While Stephen and his writers are famously funny, I am not, so my JC’s Confessions will be somewhat more serious reflections, but they will be things that I feel bad about. Stephen’s audience always forgives him at the end of the segment; I’m not expecting that – and these aren’t really sins – but comments are always welcome.
I try to take mental notes as I go through life in order to give myself guideposts for the future, to give myself advice as needed.
I have watched, sadly, some instances when, as people struggled with medical conditions, they stopped doing things because they were embarrassed to be seen needing assistance or having to do things differently.
As I’ve been dealing with my still undiagnosed health problems since March, I’ve tried to keep some of my commitments going, even though that has meant making major accomodations. For example, I’ve sung the last two Madrigal Choir concerts seated because my balance problems have made standing without support to sing impossible. I also only made it through our afternoon rehearsals by lying down before rehearsal and during our break because it’s difficult to hold my head up unsupported as the day goes on.
I’ve put other commitments on hold totally, even though I get “can’t you just?” comments. The truth is that whatever I do comes at a cost. If I push too hard, I pay for it with a surge of symptoms and fatigue that can go on for days. I choose to do that for a limited number of things but I can’t do it for everything or I literally would not be able to get out of the house – or even out of bed.
We may be close to getting, at least, a partial diagnosis and some treatment, if I’m lucky. I’m alternating between hope and despondency. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this unsatisfying balancing act going.
Do I have the humility to keep asking for the accomodations I need to keep a few of my activities going or do I give up and wait to see if I can get back to doing all the things I want in the way I’m accustomed?
It’s difficult, because I’ve seen too many people lose some joy and time with friends waiting to get better when they never did. With my limited energy and brainpower, I’m fighting to keep some things going, when the alternative would seem to be losing them totally and, perhaps, irrevocably.
So, what am I confessing?
I know my health condition is not a sin. Or what I’m doing to try to cope. Or not being able to power through these situations.
But I do feel guilty for letting people down and not being able to do what I want and not having my accustomed creative and critical thinking skills.
I just finished writing up some notes on a problem I had at physical therapy yesterday.
We were trying to tape my upper back/shoulders and inadvertently caused symptoms in my neck and made my tinnitus louder.
We immediately removed the tape but I’m still having some aftereffects today.
We are still looking for a diagnosis that explains all my medical weirdness but we aren’t there yet.
Meanwhile, I appreciate everyone’s graciousness and patience in waiting for my posts to appear. It’s been an intense few weeks, as you might have guessed in that I still haven’t done a post-election entry. I’ll get there eventually.
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.
Joanne Corey 