I’m reading at this unique & enchanting poetry event. Online & in person in Vancouver as part of 2022 Muriel’s Journey Poetry prize at Word Vancouver..
“In the studio barn, anxious on account of an impending medical and other “life admin” project, Dave reads from a variety of slim-sized (mostly) books of poetry, discusses book layout, design and publishing styles and pathways, relates some anecdotes about writers & how the books came to be here. Plus a few musings and projects of his own – while trying to calm a weary head and body.”
Maybe I’ll make you a mix tape
(I will add a proper list of books and writers, soonish, not right now, but of course if you just watch you know about the books cause you’ll hear all the poems)
The great poet Gary Snyder’s “entire” collection of published – and previously uncollected works – was recently assembled and published by the “Library of America” (realizing here I don’t really know exactly what the Library of America is but certainly recognize their distinctive cover art).
Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems | Myths & Texts | The Back Country | Regarding Wave | Turtle Island | Axe Handles | Left Out in the Rain | from No Nature | Mountains and Rivers Without End | Danger on Peaks | This Present Moment | Uncollected Poems, Drafts, Fragments, and Translations
Poet Wang PingSensei Gary Snyder
Anyway, to commemorate the occasion, there was a video-teleconferencing-event with various collaborators, writers, enthusiasts, naturalists, acquaintances, a noted elected official, and so on providing personal anecdotes about esteemed Mr. Snyder as well as reading a few particular favourites from his extensive canon.
For my own reference (and yours), here are a couple of screenshots from (what was the early morning in Japan) event with Gary and Poet Wang Ping who shared her wonderful story about Axe Handles which includes a real life incident involving *the* axe handle, the real kid (now adult), and the actual Ezra Pound book – whew.
Poetry Accolade of sorts: Pleased to be on the prize list for a very interesting poetry initiative with roots in Vancouver’s downtown eastside.
I was selected as the “random” prize which i suppose isn’t flowered with prestige but that’s not the reason i write and share poetry anyhow. Thanks to Muriel’s Journey 2021 And Beyond (FB) for including me.
My poem “Alchemists Confer with Hypnotists” (below) comes from my fcked up #MECFS medical journey of conundrums and unintended reinvention which took me around the world seeking ways to re-create neural pathways and myself as an existing sentient creature. The poem will be included in a chapbook and reading at some juncture.
Anyhow, congratulations to those acknowledged, those who write, submit, deal with illness and also to the memory of namesake Muriel and the organizers of the campaign, especially Isabella J Mori.
{The prize booty is stashed in a Canadian bank account for Ichiro for when the opportunity comes for him to visit his ancestral homeland of sorts.}
Poetry is everything, distilled.
A note about Muriel:
“Muriel was a social justice activist, poet, and spoken word artist of Indigenous heritage from the Gitxsan nation’s Owl Clan who spent a lot of time in the Downtown Eastside. In her work, she always explored new ways of expressing herself, always talked and wrote about what’s urgent and important. Her energy was like fireworks, and her hugs legendary.”
bizen yaki kiln, forging clay into treasure
Alchemists Confer with Hypnotists
Varying days
of bliss and malaise
I'm busy these days
chasing dubbies away
When the ache nears
the break comes and
light becomes a haze
your soul is so faded,
no hiding, so worn
The alchemists confer
and deny the hypnotists’
clinical opinions.
Retorting,
“He simply needs
more magnesium
injected directly into his bones”
The past-life regression
of painters and pirates
offered no evidence
only barroom stories when
posted up envisioning
a distant yourself
Generate kinetic watts
from my broken soul,
frantic heart and coiled brain
anxiety - I've plenty to power
all of Iowa - roller rinks and all
Please won't you deplete me
save me from me and help me
tell me, to sleep? And you’ll
insist on my compliance,
fading into ease.
note: dubbies is a Jamaican word for ghosts
Update from Muriel’s Journey selection committee:
Thanks for posting this. The randomness is important. Judging poetry (or anything literature) has an element of personal taste and is, therefore, biased. When we first receive poems, Kyle Hawke and I pre”judge” them so that our judges don’t have to Wade through too many poems. Then we present the three judges with about 30 poems. This year the judges were Heidi Greco , WJ Kehewin , and Gilles Cyrenne . All the poems are judged blind – nobody knows the names of the authors. By introducing a random price we give the chance to someone who might have otherwise fallen through the cracks. So far, by chance, all the random prizes went to poets who were already in the preselection.
Slightly mysterious Richard Brautigan postcard, postcard from a boxer in Gifu, lovely poetry book from a generational writer in Utah with block prints and stampsA brilliant anthropologist’s book about technology for kids, a four-color-process fanzine with bleeds, a beautifully produced poetry book (i want you to make one like this), a patch for my jacket or blanket, a packet of coffee prepared in a mailable satchel
wrote a poem (in reply to the great singer songwriter Hawksley Workman who’s playing in #Saskatoon tonight)
boarding pass leaving Saskatoon to Calgary and onwards to Vancouver and Eugene Oregon as an infant (allegedly 10 days old)
Saskatoon I was born here but never lived there (left quickly on a 707) but obliged to print on application forms since– quite literally hundreds or possibly thousands there’s never enough room (especially in Japan) to write: b. Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Aug, 16 1970
Note, I carry a monthly pass (well at the time of this writing) so I didn’t really need a token but you know, doesn’t really matter after all does it?
This is also not the B-Line bus but still beside the point
