Tag: Joanne Corey

Write Out Loud ’25 recording is available!

In late April, I posted about Write Out Loud ’25 at the Fenimore Art Museum in Cooperstown, New York. My poem “The Bridge” was read by Sharon Rankins-Burd as part of the event, along with work by fellow Grapevine Poets Richard Braco, Merrill Oliver Douglas, and Jessica Dubey and twenty more writers living within 100 miles of Cooperstown.

I’m pleased to announce that the recording, long delayed by technical difficulties, is finally available! The recording will open in a separate tab in YouTube. If you click on “more” in the description, it opens a list of the program with links to bring you to whichever segment you wish to view. I’m especially pleased to share Sharon’s reading of my poem. She did an amazing job!

Enjoy!

JC’s Confessions #32

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 am (perhaps overly) proud of my intellect.

It wasn’t always that way.

I was brought up with the ethos of “do the best you can” and the good fortune that my best fit in well with the expectations of schooling. That, coupled with a natural love of learning, landed me various honors. High school valedictorian, also attained by both my older and younger sisters. Phi Beta Kappa and summa cum laude at Smith College, where I was also the Presser Scholar in music my senior year. While I was thrilled to be recognized, I could chalk up the honors to my hard work and liberal-artsy curiosity rather than ascribing it to particular intelligence.

Developing pride came more as a self-defense mechanism when I was a young mom. I had chosen to be the full-time, at-home caregiver, facilitated by the time and place in which B and I were navigating parenthood. This was not, though, the lifestyle expected of a high-achieving, Seven-Sisters grad. Without the external validation of a paying job and in contravention of the “having it all” Super-woman model of the 1980s, I developed pride in who I was and what I chose to do – and do well, as I continued to do the best that I could – almost as a defense mechanism.

This quiet pride helped me navigate a number of challenges in our family life and in my volunteer work over decades, but pride is both a positive attribute and a “deadly sin.”

As many of you know, I’ve been struggling with a still-not-fully-diagnosed medical condition, now well into its second year, that has caused significant brain fog and fatigue. In particular, I’ve lost access to my creative side, which is a huge blow to my life as a poet, and my ability to research, synthesize, and think critically is diminished both in scope and duration.

It’s a difficult time in my life and made more so because my intellect has long been such a core part of my identity.

Who am I living with this disability?

How will I face the prospect of losing the life of the mind that I have cultivated and loved for so long?

I’ve been fighting my way through the medical maze to try to regain what I’ve lost but it’s not at all clear at this point that it will be possible. I also am facing the prospect that I could deteriorate further.

Can I remain proud of who I am?

I know the answer should be yes, in keeping with the dignity inherent in each person.

It remains to be seen if I can apply the grace I give to others to myself.

My Poem in Paterson Literary Review!

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!

SoCS: two years of Hearts!

Linda’s prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday this week is “something that opens.”

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.

Check it out!

25 months 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.

SoCS: drinks

I don’t drink coffee or alcohol or tea or soda, due to health issues. If I drink juices, I need to dilute them.

One of my more abstract poems is on the topic of drinks. It was published by Mania Magazine and you can find it here.

* Join us for Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday! Linda’s prompt this week was “drink.”

Double-header Saturday

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…

diagnostic progress

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.

getting sketchy

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…

Find out more about #JusJoJan here: https://lindaghill.com/2025/01/24/daily-prompt-jusjojan-the-24th-2025/

JC’s Confessions #30

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.

Maybe not for much longer.

Maybe permanently.