Contest final judge Christopher Howell says. “This book is about time, time as measured, experienced, prefigured, remembered, projected, thought of, not thought of; time as it inhabits language, dreams, visions, desire; how it relates to physical movement both in and of the world; how it is framed. All of this is conducted through the window of a real or imagined “On the Road” experience during which two people, lovers, try to see themselves and each other, in spite of the persistent change brought on by shifts in both temporal and spatial context, and the expansion and contraction of the frame.”
And from Alan Michael Parker, “Reflective and refractive, the poems in this shimmering collection offer us the promise of indeterminacy as solace, in a world where the Unknown and the Possible are one and the same. In Johnson’s unerring poems, what we don’t know seems a version of what we might wish—“maybe this is where / we see something beautiful,” she writes. Traveler, trust these fine poems, and this fine poet: profound comforts lie here, in the arms of language.”
Tagus Press and the Center for Portuguese Studies and Culture is coming out with a new expanded edition of Sam Pereira’s Marriage of the Portuguese, which originally published by L’Epervier in 1978. Congratulations to Sam!
We are now reading entries for the Powder Horn Prize, a first-book award.
The winning poet will not have had a full-length manuscript published previously.
The winner will receive $250 and 50 copies of the book, to be published in 2013.
Manuscripts should be accompanied by a cover letter, and the ms should not have the author’s name on it.
You can submit online, or send entries to:
Sage Hill Press / Powder Horn Prize
1848 W. Bridge Ave.
Spokane WA 99201
Entry fee is $20, make checks payable to Sage Hill Press.
Postmark deadline of June 1, 2012.
The final judge for the Powder Horn Prize is Laurie Lamon, author of The Fork Without Hunger and Without Wings (CavanKerry).
2011 Powder Horn Prize-winning manuscript The Eyes the Window by Marci Rae Johnson is nearly complete. The most pesky element has been the selection of the type used for poem titles. Am leaning toward Century Gothic.
Stay tuned for details on the release of the book, as well as the reading period for the 2012 Powder Horn Prize.
Alan Botsford’s most recent book, Walt Whitman of Cosmic Folklore, was released in 2010 by Sage Hill Press. Alan lives in Kamakura, Japan with his wife, and is the senior editor of Poetry Kanto.
The interview was conducted on the campus of Whitworth University in September 2010.
Thom Caraway: You’re eight years removed from having published your first collection, mamaist: learning a new language now, so maybe ten years removed from the writing of those poems. Looking back on that first collection, how do you think about it now?
Alan Botsford: Its inception was in New York City, and it grew out of, in a word, love – how can I say? – it grew out of my relationship with my wife. It felt like a collaborative work in many ways. And I think that ‘mamaist’ has taken on many different meanings in the ensuing years, so as an origin, it was in New York, my wife was pregnant with our only child and ‘mamaist’ came up. It was a “why not?” kind of title, presenting itself in a creative fashion, and it was an important turning point in my life. There were many things happening in that year, including getting married, having a child, leaving Hunter College and NYU, and moving to Japan. So it is a profound expression and celebration of that time of my life. So that’s why I used the word “love” and I never really used that word before, but in a nutshell.
TC: There was no intentional nod to the Dadaists?
AB: I had read them, of course, as much I suppose as the next guy, Dadaists, surrealists–I loved French surrealist poets for years, and had even translated some in early years. I could name many different writers, but I wasn’t trying to go up against the Dadaists; I wasn’t trying to make a statement. I liked the humor of it and I wanted to explore where it would take me as a word. Later I discovered that the very syllable itself, ‘ma,’ interestingly, can be found in most languages. The etymology of the word is ‘food,’ because the mother is the source of food for the child. When I found that out, it seemed fitting, because it was very much a beginning for me and my wife, and our life together. It speaks to the many creative and personal dimensions at that particular point in my life. But I have not stopped writing mamaist poems, and I intend to publish mamaist books in the future. I like to think of it as a lifelong journey.
TC: So you’ll have half a dozen books by the same title.
AB: With different subtitles. The first book’s subtitle is “learning a new language.”
TC: “learning a new language.” Now, those were written in or before 1989?
AB: The poem “nothing,” if I’m not mistaken, was written in New York. So the poem that begins that volume, was written while I was in America. But I went on to write more of that kind of poem in Japan, and it evolved into what I call “generic” poems. And what that is, as opposed to brand-name poems, is that you can play with language or you can ring the changes on turns of phrases and idioms that are fairly commonplace in such a way that they have not only new context, but they provide you with a two-way mirror, of an experience of how life itself—existence— is structured, that is, temporally, there’s always a before. What precedes the sentence and what comes after the sentence is going to determine the meaning of that sentence. And that very much comes into play with those generic poems.
TC: This idea of language, the meanings of the very syllables that make up the words we use is in many ways central to a lot of things that you do. You have an essay in the new Whitman book that examines the words ‘leaves’ and ‘of’ and ‘grass.’ So there’s an entire section on the word ‘of.’ You left nothing unturned in terms of examining all of the various implications and connotations and denotations. Is that something that comes out of linguistic training, or just a particular interest you have in sound?
AB: I think it’s related to sound and music. I don’t have any real linguistic training; I mean I have taken a linguistics class here and there, but my training and interests grows out of music. At that time, syllables were the building blocks, naturally, of words, so I seemed to find words and phrases, and I would construct a lexicon. I would makes lists. I was very much immersed in language. And that immersion was just one discovery after another. I mean, for me, if you gave me a word I would go to an etymological dictionary and try to find what the origin was. And I would never tire of that.