WESTERN MASS REVIEWS

WESTERN MASS REVIEWS Poetry and Book reviews of poetry-related events and books by poets visiting or living in Western Massachusetts. Edited by Lori Desrosiers. Please send reviews to lori@thepoetrynews.com

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Review of Joshua Michael Stewart's chapbook “Vintage Gray”

I had the pleasure of reading Joshua Michael Stewart’s new chapbook “Vintage Gray.” This well-crafted little volume from Pudding House Press (2007) contains something for every discerning reader of poetry. On opening the book this reader was immediately struck with refreshingly original imagery. In the opening piece “A Covenant and a Busted Tooth” he writes I’m eating a slice of toast thin as an angelfish / and my coffee’s cold as a frog’s belly.
The poems continue to both amuse and astound. The reader soon discovers playful poems about punctuation, playing air guitar, and pajamas. Stewart also explores the more serious theme of death in “When the Surrealist No Longer Remembers His Dreams”(which is a surrealist gem), in “Ghosts” and the book’s penultimate poem “On Being Asked If I Believe in an Afterlife.” “Internal Bleeding” depicts an encounter with a deer where the hunted becomes the hunter. Nestled within the volume, almost hidden on page 23 of 32 is a scintillating little piece.called "If I Had a Hammer...and Some Nails...Maybe Some Wood." Is it about building a house or the tremulous stirrings of the beginning of a new love? I hope both.
If you give / the signal: blink your eyes or breathe, / I’d have an old borrowed machine idling, / coughing black smoke. It may not look like much / but this rusty heart’s a thundering juggernaut.
“Vintage Gray” is available from Pudding House Publishers http://www.puddinghouse.com/
Joshua Michael Stewart lives and writes in Ware, Massachusetts.

by Lori Desrosiers

Thursday, August 02, 2007

Book Review from Sympetalous

Namaste...
and I can't think of a better way
to share that Light than offering up an awesome book tout...
Your summer reading assignment is Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth
This cherubic bad boy from the NYTimes cherished list
takes on the deeply entrenched Ego-driven mindset
like some single seated Monk chanting tones of full Acceptance
in the looming face of the invading hordes of screaming Huns
Cue the thundering hooves amidst a swirling wind machine
and the rising, clearly resonant surround sound of AAHHHHH...

oh but then their horsies pull up and start to neigh
and somehow most seem to just sorta fade away...
while some now bow and graze in this future pasture
and as the dust clears to a cloudless cobalt sky
we see several former barbarous types
sitting zen in a semi-circle around
a still enchanting David Carradine
(who's working for scale cuz he loves the script!)
Quick zoom to ground level ultra close-up
of a Graaass-hoppahhhh about to launch...
Fade to soft focus earth-tones
after slo mo/strobe light effect
shows the sweeping arcing motion
of those spindley green appendages
having their springing way with the world

Monday, April 30, 2007

Gilbert, Kinnell, Dickinson (not Emily) and Bidart: Reviews by Twilite

A Tribute to Jack Gilbert
April 29, 2007
APE ltd Gallery,
Thornes Market
Northampton, MA

Tributes can be maudlin affairs with lots of tedious gushing and fawning over the honoree, who is often drawing his agonal breaths. Maybe that's what tributes are supposed to be, and maybe there was some of that here, but by god, I'm glad I didn't miss this one. The whole thing built steadily, with the readers, and the stories, and the poetry, just getting better and better. Everyone read a Gilbert poem and one of their own, and offered some personal recollections. Kerry O'Keefe recalled a story of how one of Gilbert's poems had finished off her marriage. Doug Anderson's reading was wonderfully expressive, and Henry Lyman was sage and erudite and soulful at the same time. The afternoon built to a crescendo when Gilbert himself read a piece, "Sing Going Down". Impressively moving and effective, Gilbert gathered his powers and delivered the goods. If one reading of one poem can sum up a lifetime of work then this was it. Simply amazing.
Twilite's rating - 9.2
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Galway Kinnell and Josephine Dickenson
Smith College
April 24, 2007

Galway Kinnell is god, well maybe not the God, but definitely a poetry god, at least to me. Even though he is 80 years old this year, he remains at the height of his power and relevance. Wow, just unbelievable! I was a huge thrill to hear him read and to talk with him afterwards and have him sign a book for me. He is a most gracious and wonderful man. He has found an incredible protegee in Josephine Dickenson. What an unexpected pleasure. She completely blew my mind with her earthy, deep poetry and heart felt delivery. Nothing artificial here.
Twilite's rating - 9.4
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Frank Bidart
Smith College
April 17, 2007

Frank Bidart has an amazing cobra head, stilted, elliptical poems and a delivery in which he punctuates the reading using his free hand like a sock puppet. He lets the words hang in the air for effect, carving space like some partially deranged puppeteer. With his dark clothes and contrived persona, he cuts an odd figure to say the least. I'm not quite sure what to make of his stuff. His long piece, "Giselle", I found self-indulgent and lacking in music. Interesting, I guess. Good, but certainly not great. Somewhat perplexing.Twilite's rating - 7.9

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Naomi Shihab Nye at Smith by Kat

Wednesday night I heard a wonderfully life-affirming poetry reading by Naomi Shihab Nye... have you read anything by her? I think you would like her; what a beautiful and caring person. She's the type who can have everyone waiting at an airport gate start talking to each other. She goes up to soldiers and engages them in warm conversation, then writes empassioned anti-war poems with the conviction of a mother who cares for the world so much it hurts.

Poets.org features this beautiful description of her writing:
The poet William Stafford has said, "her poems combine transcendent
liveliness and sparkle along with warmth and human insight. She is a c
hampion of the literature of encouragement and heart. Reading her work
enhances life.

"From Nye's poem "Streets"
If we stand quietly enough evenings
there grows a whole company of us
standing quietly together.
overhead loud grackles are claiming their trees
and the sky which sews and sews, tirelessly sewing,
drops her purple hem.
Each thing in its time, in its place,
it would be nice to think the same about people.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Bach's Birthday & Blue Guitar Gallery by Twilite

Bach's Birthday Bash and the Rites of Spring!
Poetry and Music Performance
Harry Azmitia and Saundra Dubow, Poets
Lynne Camenga, Violin - Sonya Lawson, Viola
Westfield Atheneum
March 21

On rare occasions magic occurs. There are those moments in life and art that completely blow yer freakin' mind. This performance caught me totally by surprise. Lori Desrosiers poetry, read by Saundra, captured something like a sunny day from childhood, elusive and ebullient and brilliantly performed. Harry hit the mark with his well read, traditional verse straight from the inner soul. The music was delicious compliment, especially the expressive violin of Lynne Camenga, and Sonya Lawson capped off the evening with her toneful renditions of Bach on a Dali inspired, ergonomically correct viola. What a triumph!

Twilite's rating - 9.4

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Poetry Reading and Performance - Karen Randall (art and poetry), Christina Svane, Bill O'Haire, Erica Russo
Blue Guitar Gallery, Easthampton - March 31, 2007

Is it possible for Twilite to be taken aback? The short answer is yes, absolutely! Guitar virtuoso O'Haire provided effective backdrop to the abstract, atmospheric poetry of Randall, while O'Haire's better half, Svane, performed almost yogaesque movement, poetry in French, and something that sounded like Middle Eastern wail. It was all brilliantly weird as we all sat around in a circle on the floor and didn't really watch or listen, but experienced. I even got up during the "open" part of the performance and read a poem which fell almost completely flat. Apparently, I just couldn't dial in my mojo to the appropriate cosmic strangeness. Oh well, just give 'em hell!

Twilite's rating - 8.4

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Naomi Shihab Nye at Smith College 4/3/07

POETRY REVIEWS WESTERN MASS

I went to hear Naomi Shihab Nye at Smith College on April 3, 2007. What a pleasure to experience her sincere, poignant and image rich poetry, peppered with humor. I was particularly touched by her narratives of women in war and her anecdotes of her life. She told us that when we need to look at language in a new way we should talk to people older than ninety and to children under three. This was a delightful, moving and inspiring evening.
Lori's rating five stars out of five. *****

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Reviews and Remembrances from Sympetalous

POETRY REVIEWS WESTERN MASS

So '07's off an' runnin', kinda gettin' warm
in the white hot micro universe of spoken form
and formless poetry it's free an' still early on
an' hence not too late to honor and appreciate
the still shimmering residue of our '06 spin,
a revolution it was around the sun just passed

In addition to the aforeposted and reviewed
(or rather words o' mine that swiftly ensued)
re: the hipster Chris Chandler on 5/02/06
at quaint, funky Oobah's Deli
in old-school down-bound-town
Main Street, Willi-mantic, Conn
~ and ~
the Queen o' Cool, she's La Blue Belle Patricia Smith
on a Brainiac-Black-Smith-Word-Smith College Gig
in Northamp-tone on an 09/28/06 eve...
there were others on which to report,
five of shiny sterling note
still compounding interest
in my confounded memory bank

1/ Patti Smith reads on 2/08/06 at Cooper Union in The Village, NYC
proudly standing at an ancient massive lectern once used by Lincoln to announce
his opposition to slavery in 1859 and later by Twain no doubt wrly musing on the
sadly humorous fall from grace of a clearly unevolved human race, while literally
Mark-ing his territory via salivated tobacco stains still visible these five long
quarter centuries later to Patti, our dear speaker, the feisty, long in the tooth, forever young at a still growing heart warmed by an everpresent fire in the belly
of a beat-nik-chip-monk-punk-poet-shaman sharing her latest penned musings,
these sooth-said so dubbed "Auguries of Innocence", these icy hot & fiery cool incantations on a future still to be "plenty fucked with", miraculously chanted,
carved deep and clean in dark soapstone, then brought down the mountainside
to be cast upon the waters amongst adoring masses masquerading as a precious few dozen, and all as if by divine calling, then soulfully held in sacrosanct retrospect,
the destiny of this sweet pleasured, painfully shy, self-deprecating yet supremely brash and bold jersey word warrior with an uncompromising passion for the ragged
edges of life, and true compassion for the outcast and the downtrodden exceeded
only by her stunning vision of our world as Peaceable Kingdom where the instinctive Artist simultaneously on street, stage & endless galleria blends seemlessly with her
Art as well as an Audience of Clear Light Seekers whose very existence depends on their subtle merging with the various pulsating, luminous creations...

(alright, I didn't get alllll o' that from just one ever so slightly awkward reading...
cuz Hall o' Fame Rocker Patti girl, now thrice score in years, has shaken and stirred
my conscious soul to its uncompromising core for 30 years now, cuz she and I sweet
sister brother nama-stay we're still dancin' bare-foot bein' re-born til dyin' day
headin' most sure enough for a spinnnnn...an' then some strange music draws me in,
makes me come on naturally...like some speara-chewal hero-in(e)))))))

2/ Hugh Ogden reads on 5/04 at Bacon Academy in Colchester, CT
(and then drowns in Rangeley Lake on New Year's Eve)
The straggley long gray maned quixote/coyote rebel marchin' into the maw of hell
on a heavenly cause, twinkling eyes at once at seeming rest and now fully ablaze
fueled by a blend of light, wry, dry wit...and a piece of the deep uncommon wisdom
that would 241 days later barely freeze then draw him gently in and smoothly under...
Now and forever the image of an aging american gothic bard artist as flannel clad
guru slo-mo slip slidin away and between those thin, cool, white sheets... of ice,
the dear lake his eternal bed indeed, perpetually warmed and comforted by the
lofty irony that the Maine waters that Hugh so wholly loved would swallow him whole

3/ Roger Bonair-Agard on 10/25 at Molton Java in Bethel, CT
So Rajah B.A. you rocka my world say
feel like I'm smokin' purpley haired sinse-ay
Hey Roger B.Ar, the Be-All an' End-All
before you were born but af-ter the fall
from grace stilla trace, the only thing that's all
that will be droppin' would be our slackened jaw
from your pure power pipes and those silkychops
yeah, he's Ace, he'smoooooth Roger Bonair-Agard

4/ Martin Espada on 11/02 at RealArtWays in Hartford, CT
Then there's the cooly cerebral sword o'
the Esteemed Professa Marteen Espada
and you just know he was mo' than just riffin' by sorta
pitchin' perfecto while pluggin pure Pablo Neruda
like some newfound Johnny Jumpin Jesus Appleseeder
sowin' fertile mindsouls as would any Buddha feeder

Sadly he seemed a little distant and lacking in the fiery spark that
must have named his and now my "Mayan Astronomer in Hell's Kitchen"
as he generically signed this skinny, steely blue scintillating volume

5/Magpie Ulysses on 11/21 at Reflections Cafe in Providence
Why you brilliant, instinctive, rhythmic, twitching, slightly damaged
slammer, you! workin' both sides of the tracks on the Vancouver docks,
baby's helpin' folks with needle tracks, maybe layin' soulful slammin' tracks
for torn and reborn troubadors and minstrel whores who seemed to slip right
on thru the invisible cracks of amorphous life, a coupla which may've held a
piece o' you after just wriggling past in your adventure travels and travails,
all the while living on the prayerful edge and then surviving therefore
thriving on the Pure Power of the Words and your staggering ability
to mount your special passion and then hump that quivering truth,
conveying climax and sweet release as a rarified free juice for those
fortunate enough to be present and then ready and willing to go deep
within and ride that baby blue wave and catch that violet wind...

and now if she'd only return my e-mails...like she said she would on the
last goddamn page of her book... hey, whuddup with that?