Recovering Poem Friday #12

The bronchitis is still lingering, but I finally have enough energy to get back to work on PLR and my packet. I had a 103 fever on and off last week and a horrible cough followed by a 24-hr. migraine this week. I've heard a few other people got sick after AWP, but to my knowledge, bronchitis is not contagious. Anyone else get the hack-wheeze?

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I'm in love with Court Green. And bagelbread.

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POEM FRIDAY #12

(This is not really a poem, per se, but after speaking to Robert Olen Butler at AWP, I've come to the conclusion that the work from his new book is a hybridization of flash fiction and prose poetry. The premise of Severance is based on the idea that a decapitated head can process 240 words before oxygen runs out. There are 62 "stories" in this book.)

Nicole Brown Simpson by Robert Olen Butler

running hard along Venice Beach the clutch of breakers around my
feet I run against the pull and I’ve come to this, to a place
of jasmine smell and sea and car exhaust and stucco walls
and Hollywood spelled across a mountain, and I run easily
with the question what can I be, I’ve got great legs he says,
and he should know because he runs for a living I love to see
him run though he says I don’t really understand but I do I
run with him each time he holds something private in his
arm and all the others rush to bring him down but he cuts
and jukes and surges: run now, my children, run down the
hall and close your doors because I cannot, his sweet slick
child’s face in the faces of my children, such beautiful skin I
draw my hand tender along his cheek and he closes his eyes
the moon out there rising I am large with her inside me, my
child, and glass shatters and the bones of my face vibrate and
my teeth all hurt I draw my hand along my cheek I think to
try to run and he rushes up fast and I can see what’s tucked
there in the crook of his arm and it is me, it is my head, and
I stare into my own eyes and I know the answer always was
his wife.

(from Severance)

I have bronchitis. I have been reading submissions while recuperating from bronchitis (with the help of E., a trustworthy, non-medicine headed PLR reader). My antibiotic, hack-wheeze state has made me a bit more annoyed than usual at the people who submit and fail to include cover letters, submit more than the stated guidelines call for, think that because we have published them in the past that they can be as lazy in their submission presentation as they want, etc. How hard is it to put together a nice looking submission of 2-5 poems, with a cover letter (noting poem titles, contact info, and brief bio), and a SASE? Oh, and PLR = Pebble Lake Review not Pebble Creek Review.

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AWP was fun (Austin was better) and I am glad I went. Jeff & I drove up from Houston on Thurs, which should have taken 13 hours but ended up being like 17 because of the horrible weather and crazy traffic jams. We got to the Marriott after 3 AM only to find out that because we hadn't checked in on time, THEY CANCELLED OUR RESERVATION. Oh, so pissed. We've traveled quite a bit and this has never happened to us. I really almost cried. We had been on the road for almost 17 hours, were hungry, smelly, and without a bed. At first, the woman at the front desk said that we would have to wait until 4 PM to check into another room, but I was so not having that. We finally got into a room around 5:30 AM, had breakfast (the front desk gave us a $25 breakfast voucher), and slept until around noon before making it over to the Hilton to register.

Highlights: Seeing Kim Addonizio play the harmonica. Reading at the Switchback Books reading. Meeting so many great people and reuniting with my Bucknell Seminar buddies. The No Tell Books / Pilot Books reading and party. Seeing that Harpur Palate was still letting people eat my poem, only now in a tastier paper. Meeting Robert Olen Butler and giving him the schoolgirl eyelash bat. Saying hello to Ron and Betsy at West Branch and getting my "more purse for your verse" pouch. Watching Matt accost people with PLR paraphernalia (did you get a magnet? a postcard?)

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Came home to an acceptance from Barrow Street, an invite to be included in Bellevue Literary Review's anniversary anthology, and to news of an honorable mention for the Hunger Mountain/Ruth Stone Prize in Poetry.

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Fun visit with Elizabeth (albeit my hack-wheeze the entire 4 days). Rothko Chapel. Empire Cafe. The Downtown Aquarium. Bucknell Girls and dinner at Collina's followed by a hunt for tacky Texas souvenirs at the Galleria. Sushi with Matt. Movie nights. Slush readings. Hard Rock Cafe. Gone With The Wind embarrassment. Real Tex-Mex. Brazos Bookstore.

Highlight: The Nick Flynn / Adam Zagajewski reading at UH. I introduced E. to Nick after the reading, where, with the help of my friend Halli (post-bronchitis), we determined that Nick is also suffering from the hack-wheeze. "Did anyone vomit?" he asked us. Luckily, no. He signed E.'s copy of Some Ether and drew an arrow pointing to his name with "bronchitis" written in parentheses.

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I'm going to go feed my fever.