By Mariela Griffor
Mayapple Press; $14.95, 62 pp.

Review by Heather McMacken

You’ve probably never been chased by the secret police. Most likely you have never used a code name, had your fiancé murdered by the government, or been involuntarily exiled to a foreign country.

All of those things (and more) happened to the poet Mariela Griffor.

A current resident of Grosse Pointe Park, she is a survivor of the terrifying Pinochet regime (1973-1990) in Chile, a reign which was responsible for the abduction, torture, and murder of thousands of people in concentration camps and secret prisons.

We humans have a particular urge to seek meaning, to transform confusion into conclusion. Griffor’s newest book of poems, House, is one such quest. We can never escape our past, the poet writes.

Released October 2007, this is Griffor’s second full-length collection of poetry. Her first, Exiliana, was published in Toronto, Canada. This time, Griffor can boast a more local publisher: Mayapple Press, located in Bay City.

When I asked Griffor to explain the title of the book, she answered, “For most people a house symbolizes a very concrete and tangible thing. For me, House is my language, my traditions, the abstract fibers of existence. I live in a space where things that should be concrete are not anymore.”

Beyond an interesting title, the book is, simply, gorgeous. Its cover is the most alluring of all the poetry covers on my shelf—and I own A LOT of poetry.

In terms of subject matter, House is about pillow talk, stars in the sky, and childhood innocence. It is about torture chambers, bloodshed done in the name of God. It praises love for an aunt, a grandmother, a daughter, a friend. Its prayers need answers from a God sometimes not felt or found. Have we offended You?, the poet pleads.

The words of House spring from a mind whose mother tongue is not English—therefore we can forgive her sometimes far from bull’s-eye diction. For example, in “Twenty-Nine: Yellow Ribbons,” she writes, My skin is curdled with hope. This expression is odd. When speaking of hope, a writer should select a word more positively charged, such as “brimming” or “shining.” Yet these kinds of mistakes can be forgiven, as Griffor’s art does the important job of reminding one that murder is murder in any country; tears are tears no matter what the nationality.

In tone, House is not ethereal poetry: rather it is useful, made of stone and wood. It will not bring you out of the world, but rather set you flatly on the world, showing you atrocities as well as its beauties.

There is a singular sense of desperation in the work (Notice me! Notice me!) and a sense that only in the writing will any meaning be found—meaning which would heal the past wounds; it is only in language that Griffor’s serenity can be reclaimed. In “Fourteen: Beyond the Red Traffic Light,” she matter-of-factly states, The place where I was born is lost. Money does me no good.

One of the best poems is “Six: Song for Chile,” a version of which was published originally in Exiliana. Here in House, the poem has been revamped. Griffor’s editing is nicely done, and the improvement to the piece is undeniable. In it, Griffor addresses Chile directly, saying:

Everything I love nearby and in the distance,
everything has gone to a tiny place, remote,
where you, like a miracle,
appear five seconds each daybreak.

Griffor recently told me, “‘Song for Chile’ was one of the most painful poems I ever wrote. It came to me when I left Chile for a second time…I knew then I would never return to that place that I love so much.”

The strongest sections of House are the first two and the last two poems. Her prologue and conclusion effectively draw the reader in and close the reader to the work. My ultimate favorite of the entire book is the last, “Hair of Sand” (another revamped poem, first printed in Exiliana), which discusses the need to keep alive her mother tongue of Spanish. She explains that this language:

revives me and wraps me
in her cape of sun and shadows
of water and ice and so
I become myself

Griffor’s sentiment here calls to mind the brilliance of Alice Walker, who wrote in an essay “Coming In from the Cold” (Living by the Word, 1988): “If we kill off the sound of our ancestors, the major portion of us, all that is past, that is history, that is human being is lost, and we become historically and spiritually thin, a mere shadow of who we were, on the earth.”

House is Mariela Griffor’s stubborn mixture of dark reality and bright hope. It is a book of both the sour and the sweet. In “Three: Either-Or,” Griffor writes, there is more hope/in eel soup than in the promises governments want us to buy.

Beyond House, Mariela Griffor is a writer who has done wonders for our local literary arts. She is the Publisher of Marick Press and the founder of the Institute for Creative Writers at Wayne State University. She is the Honorary Consul of Chile in Michigan, and is a dedicated organizer of events and readings across Metro Detroit.

My hope is that she will one day try her hand at short stories or novels. Her voice and style convey narratives well, and the amazing tales from her life deserve to be heard by an even wider audience. In this frivolous time, U.S. citizens need to realize politics are more than flashy presidential debates…no, politics are as serious and crucial as love. Folks need to hear the warnings of the poets; of Mariela Griffor, a woman who sometimes seems almost radical in her simple truisms…like in “Fifteen: Futuristic,” she writes:

Principles are like coals turning into ashes
in an open fire.
To defend life stubbornly has lost its value.
To live without life is not absurd.

And, finally, let’s not forget House’s best line of all, from “Seventeen: Santiago Revisited:”

Suburban life is a bastard.

**

House is available for sale on amazon.com and mayapplepress.com. Check out the poet’s website at http://www.marielagriffor.com

Hear Griffor read from House, December 14th, 6:30pm, at The Poets Follies reading and discussion group.

Poets Follies is located at the Marick Press Offices at 15120 Kercheval in Grosse Pointe Park. For more info. on this event, please contact Griffor directly at mgriffor@marickpress.com, or 313-407-9236.

Detroiters,

Welcome to our December lit section. (…after two months hiatus. Oooff!) Here, we bring you three excerpts from Riopelle, a creative non-fiction piece by Erin Marks. In the full essay, she illustrates the exploration and effects of having a perceived outsider-insider perspective of Detroit, sieved through the lens of contemporary urban abandonment. The two excerpts included in the lit section illustrate the diversity of voice and literary forms she embraces to execute her intention. What drew me to the piece initially was a sense of honesty – despite the fact I have yet to determine whether she perpetuates or eradicates certain stereotypes. Therein, I found my point of entry and my point of intrigue to the work.

Feel free to email me at litsub@thedetroiter.com to continue the dialogue. Let me know if the piece resonates with your opinions/perspectives. Or if it doesn’t. Perhaps we can post some comments in subsequent editions of thedetroiter.com…

To be a part of thedetroiter.com’s lit section, see our Call for Submissions here. (All subs and questions can be sent to litsub@thedetroiter.com).

Thank you & happy reading. David Bartone, Poetry & Fiction Editor

3 Excerpts from Riopelle, a creative non-fiction work by Erin Marks

Interlude

Here on Riopelle Street it’s ok to be afraid. Fear does not always have to be typical or obvious, an enraged, knife bearing lunatic chasing you through moonlight streets. Fear can be born out of silence, desolation, solitude. It begins as an eerie sensation in a small, confined part of the brain when crossing the zone of comfort and stumbling into an environment unpredictable. Soon the fear spreads transmittently throughout every nerve receptor in your body creating a nervous panic gnawing at the edge of your conscious. You then start to ask yourself hypothetical questions like Should I really be afraid of this? or How could I defend myself? or Would anyone hear me cry for help? No, here on Riopelle Street no one would hear your ear-wrenching pleas for help. No one would happen by your struggle and sacrifice their own safety for yours. No one would likely even find your bleeding body oozing its memories, fears, biological ingredients onto the welcoming pavement. Because here on Riopelle Street, no one is ever in sight.

A Dad, a Brother, and a Bottle

Both of my parents grew up in Detroit— which is why I didn’t. Their parents lived there when it was flourishing, but mine got to witness the violent downfall that hit its peak in the 60’s. As a result, Steve and Janet Marks did not want to raise their future children in such a city, and decided to move to the nearby suburbs. While my brother and I didn’t grow up within the city limits, we were exposed to Detroit starting in childhood as we would take countless trips and visit family and friends who lived there. It was always exciting to go to the city and see the taxis and the traffic and the huge buildings. It was so different from the small town I lived in with subdivisions, perfect green lawns, and smooth sidewalks. As we would drive through Detroit when I was little, I knew it was very different from the small town where I was growing up, but at the same time it seemed familiar. The narrow streets, the close set homes, the graffiti covered over passes, the sounds from the freeway became routine. I would go there to visit the people I was close to, and it was in the city, as well as my own hometown, that I felt comfortable. I would return back to my own home after the visits not realizing that the city was a part of who my friends and relatives were, and from a distance, was becoming a part of me as well. I was being exposed to, and becoming a member of two very different co-existing worlds.

When I was about five years old, I remember going to the Detroit Historical Museum with my dad and brother, who was nine at the time. It was the only trip that the three of us had ever taken together by ourselves. My dad held my hand and pointed out the displays to me, explaining the historic events of the city so I could understand them. I remember getting a small souvenir that day– a corked bottle about three inches long, “Detroit Historical Museum” stenciled across it in thin white lettering, with an old fashioned black Ford glued inside. I still have the bottle today, sitting on my desk at home.

Interlude– Part Trois

Ahead of me, the man on the street corner stares forward away from Riopelle, gaze transfixed on nothing in particular- steam streaming up from the sewers, decayed buildings lining the block,

bare tree branches shaking

in the wind, the dirty garbage bag clutched in his hand sways slightly under the weight of whatever is contained

inside, I tell my myself not to stare at him (he could be dangerous) and to look away (don’t get involved) but I fail

miserably, draped in oversized denim and flannel he is worn, torn, sunken within his own shape and

alone, walking towards him I cannot help but look at him and wonder who he is, what’s his sad story,

if he is waiting for someone or something—a wife? a friend? a ride? but coming up

even closer,

I tell myself to stop wondering about truth I cannot see and things I cannot change

now, I pass by him and our heads turn,

our eyes meet for a few seconds until he pulls his away from mine and

for a brief moment in time,

I suddenly realize there are some things I will never truly see,

some realities I will never truly understand— and neither will he (one sad story to the next, transcending time).

Erin Marks is a recent graduate of Grand Valley State University with a B.A. in Literature. While she intends on pursuing graduate school for literature, Erin plans to continue to write non fiction and poetry about things that often go unsaid and unnoticed.

Mary Jo Firth Gillett has done a lot.

She earned a Master of Fine Arts in Poetry from Vermont College. Her work has appeared in the Gettysburg Review, Harvard Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Third Coast, The MacGuffin, and many other important literary journals. She’s won the New York Open Voice Award, and co-edited the anthology Mona Poetica with Diane Shipley DeCillis. She taught high school. Awhile back she was a spot welder, and a lactation consultant. For the past 7 years Gillett has taught advanced poetry workshops for Springfed Arts-Metro Detroit Writers. Oh, and let’s not forget she’s authored three award-winning poetry chapbooks: Not One, Tiger in a Hairnet, and Chandeliers of Fish.

Yes, Mary Jo Firth Gillett has done a lot. And now she can add another accomplishment to her bio…a book!

Her manuscript Soluble Fish won the 2006 Crab Orchard Series in Poetry First Book Award. In September it was published by Southern Illinois University Press. According to Gillett, the book has come together over a span of about ten years. The poet is both thrilled and grateful. “I am very happy to publish with a Midwestern press,” she says. “Southern Illinois was very professional—my book even came out ahead of schedule!”

On Thursday, November 8, Beaner’s Coffee in Royal Oak honored Gillett’s book release. Karin Hoffecker, Beaner’s poetry host, grins as she introduces her Springfed Arts teacher and friend. “I’ve learned so much from her,” she says, as she offers the floor to Gillett.

Dressed in snuggly attire—a purple fleece vest with black jeans and tennis shoes—Gillett rises and begins to read. In a few short moments, it’s clear her poems are as warm and amiable as that fleece.

Mary Jo Firth Gillett shares 7 poems. Her stance at the podium is easy. She jokes, seems at home here. Gillett’s first piece, “Like a Deity, Like a Diatom,” uses the image of her young daughter at the toy store to start a discussion on the subject of desire, the stuff which fuels life.

The poems selected orbit around science and love—two forces which do not oppose. Like in “Polywog,” they work together: connecting a terrarium to a young daughter and then to the human heart, a burglar/of good sense given to sudden extravagance.

My favorite of the night is called “Camping Out in the ‘50s.” Gillett introduces the poem by saying, “Most people are nostalgic about the ‘50s…and I am not one of those people.” In the work, Gillett relays tales from her childhood. The girl in the poem is young, yes, but not too young to understand the sexist societal norms. I hated being female, she reads.

Love poems are the hardest to pull off successfully, and Gillett pleasantly surprises with “Spindrift,” a piece she dedicates to her husband, Greg, who smiles at her from his chair. “We’re nearing our 35th wedding anniversary,” she playfully boasts. In the poem, Gillett praises a bond that is ever renewing, always present. She explains, I marvel at our bodies—/each other’s bookmark.

Her final poem, “Fish Tales,” is a point of origin for the book’s title. The line I must admit I believe in fish stories seems a theme for the book. It appears a credo, a summary of belief. This poem proves Gillett an optimist. It implies she is not waiting dully for a life after death, but rather shows her adoration for the here and the now—the abundant, joyous moments of this fleshly earth. The fish, then, appears a personal symbol of nourishment by way of language, nature, family, and love.

After applause and an open mic have concluded, Gillett and I take a quiet seat at the edge of the coffee shop. She asks me about my writing; explains how it takes a combination of tenacity and talent to earn publication. She then gives a reason why poetry is so important to her. “As a child we are taught to distinguish between apple and orange, dog and cat,” Gillett explains. “But poetry blurs distinctions. For once it is not about seeing differences—it’s about seeing the connections between people and things.”

In addition, she expresses enthusiasm for the current poetry scene in Metro Detroit, saying there is a resurgence of talent, interest, and available venues for poets to share their work. Gillett continues, talking excitedly about an upcoming reading she will perform at the historic Scarab Club in Detroit. She says there are noticeable depressions in the center part of each cement step leading up to Scarab’s front doors, made by so many feet. Walking there, says Gillett, “gives the sensation of following in the footsteps of decades of passionate writers and artists.”

At the end of our conversation, I ask about her hopes for the book. She carefully responds, “Every writer hopes their readers are reading for pleasure. I hope those who read Soluble Fish will enjoy the leaps of metaphor, the language play, and that the stories embedded in the poems connect with the reader.”

Beaner’s Coffee offers great poetry every second Thursday. Stop in from 7-9pm, to hear the featured poet(s), followed by an unpretentious open mic. Next month (Thursday, December 13th) the featured readers will be Vievee Francis and Matthew Olzmann. Beaner’s is in Royal Oak at 30332 Woodward, 2 blocks south of 13 Mile on the east side. For more info., please contact the series director, Karin Hoffecker, at 248-514-0103.

Heather McMacken was thedetroiter.com’s first intern - she continues to be cool.

by Tyler Hill

In Michigan writer Andy Mozina’s newest collection, “The Women Were Leaving The Men,” the author’s short story trail leads through thirteen different experiences that will connect the reader intimately in private relationships with personal demons and cultural phenomena. Each is written with varied tone and unique narration so the reader never picks up on the writer’s proclivities toward a certain style or method.

In “Privacy, Love, Loneliness,” teenagers with unique views on the world a bit beyond their age, begin a romantic relationship, even though both appear to be a little unstable. Mozina creates characters here that are self-aware and funny, while also being conscious of their impending entry into the full time adult world that is both confusing and dangerous. The dialogue between characters is the real charm, as in this excerpt where the two are meeting outside of a class for the first time:

    “Do you mind if I get something out of my locker?” I said, dropping my book bag.

    “Sure,” she said, and she stepped aside.

    When I didn’t care, I had a way of talking that she liked, but now I cared, so I couldn’t talk. I took my English notebook out of my locker and held it with two hands, like a fancy plate. “Can I talk to you later?” I said, walking away. “Please don’t try to follow me.”

    “Hey, I wanted to talk to you.”

    “I’m not safe to be around right now.”

    “You’re telling me,” she yelled, and she stomped the heel of her right foot…

Another favorite is “The Arch,” where lawyer Stephen Wendell Osborne finds himself booted from his corporate job for throwing a deal just so he could have “knowledge” of opposing council’s lovely feet. When he meets Doris Chanilowski, whose fetish is storing things in her vagina, they set out together to fight their demons, but have mixed results. Dialogue is, again, a strength in this story, but Mozina also has ample talent with prose as is demonstrated in the following example:

    “By way of analogy with his own psyche, he sees deep into the pathology of St. Louis: an American city whose butt has been kicked, first by Chicago, then by so many other cities, a metro area that hasn’t felt completely OK since the 1904 World’s Fair left town, a city aware of some deep deficiency in its relationship to all other cities. It must find love and power somehow. It will make do with the Arch’s gleaming, eternally spreading legs.”

In the title story “The Women Were Leaving The Men,” the main character is divorced and, fortunately for him, Mr. Mozina seems to have an absolute understanding of both women’s and men’s confusion and loss over this sad passage of modern life. The understanding of unusual people in varied situations is prevalent throughout this collection and is the real and rare strength of Mr. Mozina’s writing.

“The Women Were Leaving the Men” by Andy Mozina is part of the “Made In Michigan Writers Series.” It is available through Wayne State University Press, and other vendors.

Tyler Hill is a Michigan writer himself. He has written articles for several regional outlets, on topics ranging from the arts to politics. A selection of his poetry ran in the May 2007 thedetroiter.com’s lit section. This is his first book review with thedetroiter.com.

InsideOut Literary Arts Program has teamed up with the Detroit Artists Market in hosting their third annual Writers Reading Series poetry night held Friday October 19th, 2007 from 7pm-9pm. The event features poets Francine Harris, George Henry, Stephan Johnson, Jamaal May, and Thomas Park all delivering their works throughout the evening.

Organized by Dr. Terry Blackhawk in 1995, InsideOut Literary Arts was created to connect children with the satisfaction and power of reading and writing. The organization places professional writers in different schools to encourage students in developing their own eloquent expression and imagination in reading and writing. Many of these children have the opportunity to publish and perform their own work.

Recently, I had the opportunity to work with Suzanne Scarfone, a member of the InsideOut family, with a fourth grade classroom at Hanstein Elementary in Detroit. The children were free to open up their minds and imaginations and explore a clear understanding of reading and writing of poetry. With a number of entertaining and hands on activities, the kids were able to explore and create their own ideas, and had the opportunity to share with others around them.

InsideOut offers their program to many different school districts by coming to the classroom and working directly with teachers and students. Since its founding, InsideOut has worked with over 40 different schools. They are currently active in 26 schools. As their organization continues to grow, they are able to be involved with increasingly more schools. Terry Blackhawk said, “We believe in the power of creative language and creative thinking. Imagination is everyone’s birth right. InsideOut has allowed kids to explore the beauty of language and writing as an art form.”

It’s a special opportunity for kids that might not get such exposure, to really come to appreciate reading and writing in a remarkable way. For more information on InsideOut, or for information on their third annual event please contact them at (313) 965-5332 or visit their website at www.InsideOutdetroit.org.

Christine Stinson is thedetroiter.com’s open minded and hard-working intern.

Detroiters,

Welcome to our September lit section. Here, we bring you two poems by Lea Jeffire, a truly dynamic writer with a surely dynamic set of experiences she’d like to share with us.

To be a part of thedetroiter.com’s lit section, see our Call for Submissions here. (All subs and questions can be sent to litsub@thedetroiter.com).

Thank you & happy reading.

David Bartone
Poetry & Fiction Editor

Detroit, Michigan
March 16th, 2007

Stale piss the dry lawn
On all fours trying to undo
Six months of Michigan winter

Buck hoof tilled the good plot
Eluding nickel-plated Monday
Up north in her breastbones

Like a goat she ate at everyone’s
Blessings and pardons and shit south
Thursday’s County Jail beans and rice

Right on the wrist frost snapped
The missed mitten and tipped
The yellow grass wire with spring snow

When will she give us a year for growing…
Morning after and rhythm methods glove
Nothing more than what she’s made us

Her moons cold and dark off
Lake Michigan where there’s
No room for new water

Gated Community

My double life in a double cell
In a double entendre trading cruel reason
For sad guilt.
I am bending my ear towards heaven
For the slightest sounds
Of breathing.
I am locked in cell 7B2 with an angel
Who addresses me with names I don’t know
And I mostly call her Bitch.
Save yourself or get hip to sitting
And let me eat those wings or
Stuff my shirt for a pillow.
Dante, did you walk this place
Or have poor Virgil carry your sorry load?
I would pimp you both into junk sick
Children and spill in your mouth
The vomit of six years liquor and bad luck.
A cup of water is spit in a forest fire
And a deck of cards is just
A piss on a pile of blown shits.
You die here a hundred times before the
Fluorescents serve up breakfast.

Lea Jeffire is unemployed, and a functionally stilted product of the Michigan Department of Community Corrections. Her writing is the result of alcoholism and a great love of confessional poets like Robert Lowell, Anne Sexton, and Philip Levine.

This struggle, my blessed friends,
is relentless.
Each day we are confronted by a full range of chores,
tasks, burdens,
and sadly, dilemmas.
Problems which we cannot solve
no matter how hard we labor.
So sadly, many people have given up
on the struggle.
I myself have given
this matter
close consideration.
But I finally realized
that WE are the struggle,
and even if I could
give up on myself,
I cannot and will not
ever give up on you, my fair friends.

-Jim Gustafson, From “Sermon: The Struggle,” published in Dispatch Detroit

Illness, money, death, separation, work, ignorance, failure, mistakes, heartbreak, loneliness—these are all struggles that everyone faces at some point. In the ten years that she’s run Dispatch Detroit, an annual book of poetry, editor Christine Monhollen has faced each of the above problems, yet she still wakes up each day to read poetry submissions when she could just let her small press fade as so many do over much less time. While perhaps she could give up on herself, it’s for her friends, her fellow poets, that she continues her publication—to provide them a medium to share their poetry.

Before turning to poetry, Monhollen fought many battles that ultimately defined who she is today. She describes her parents’ role in her life as “non-existent,” which meant she had to learn how to take care of herself, working nonstop since she was fourteen. She got married, but after they’d had two kids her husband left and she raised them on her own. In shouldering all of her own burdens, she’s transformed them into wonderful gifts. Her two boys are grown, and her skills in self-teaching and self-preservation have paid off in starting up Dispatch Detroit.

Work on Dispatch Detroit got off to a rocky start. The idea to do the press came from artist, Paul Schwarz, who had collaborated with Dennis Teichman and Deb King, founders of Past Tents Press. Past Tents Press has a strong, twenty year history of publishing poets, and the experience of the founders would be vital to Monhollen with Dispatch. Teichman contributed work and Deb King did cover designs for the book. With Dispatch Detroit, Monhollen and Schwarz wanted to publish a collaborative book of poetry from writers in the Detroit area. She felt that Detroit had lots of good writers, but they didn’t have the recognition or publishing opportunity as they might coming from New York or Los Angeles. At the same time, being a little bit beneath the radar meant that Detroit writers don’t have the same pressures that face L.A. or N.Y. writers—pressures of writing what an audience wants them to write – they could go further out on a limb. With that in mind, Monhollen and Schwarz set out to create Dispatch Detroit.

Sadly, before their work could really kick off, Schwarz was diagnosed with lung cancer, and things ground to a halt. Monhollen switched her focus to helping care for Schwarz deal with his illness. With their lives wrapped up in the routines of treating him, they decided that in order to get some normalcy back in their lives they needed to continue work on Dispatch Detroit. Monhollen re-typed submissions (as there were no discs or Internet to submit work through) and Schwarz edited them and the entire book. It wasn’t easy work, especially since Monhollen had to learn how to use several new computer programs such as Word and Photoshop on her own. With the work on Dispatch Detroit, the two had something to talk about besides Schwarz’s lung cancer.

In April 1998, Paul Schwarz died of lung cancer – a month before they published Volume One of Dispatch Detroit. Monhollen promised Schwarz she would finish this issue, and continue doing more if it was received well. She jumped into getting it finished while knowing nothing about how to finish it. She had to ask a lot of questions and make a lot of mistakes, and sometimes, she adds with a chuckle, she made the mistakes when she should have asked questions first. She included some of Schwarz’s artwork in volume one and used artwork by Ann Mikolowski for the cover. Monhollen dedicated this issue to the memory of one of her favorite poets, Jim Gustafson, but she would dedicate volume two in memory of Schwarz, and then volume four in memory of Mikolowski after her death in 1999. Schwarz’s death turned into new life in the form of Dispatch Detroit.

Volume one of Dispatch Detroit sold very well, and keeping true to her promise to Schwarz, Monhollen continued the book, releasing an issue almost every year. That initial one was the only issue that has sold very well, but she isn’t publishing the books to make money, just to get stories and poetry out into the literary world. Monhollen feels that poetry must be read, because if it is not, then the communication of poetry is only halfway complete. And Monhollen made sure at least some of her books got out, even if she had to sell them for half the price or even give them away for free because she strongly felt that her writers needed to be read.

As Monhollen learned a lot from publishing these books, she soon expanded her audience beyond Detroit. Fielding Dawson was among the first of the non-Detroit writers who Monhollen published, in volume four. He was a well-known writer whose presence helped expand the audience and bring more writers to Detroit and Detroit to more writers. In volume five, Monhollen decided to include contributor bios, and in volume six, she had a no-war section featuring poems that protested the imminent war in Iraq, many of which were read at the Zeitgeist Gallery. Along with Deb King, she’s also had help with cover designs from several other people including both Kathleen Gross of KPG Studio in San Francisco and Norene Cashen, Monhollen’s co-editor of the last two issues. Monhollen has also worked on two chapbooks, which each required immense amounts of labor: thousands of cuttings and pasting. Each individual chapbook was handmade in a group effort. She also published one book of poetry by a single writer, “Saw Horse” by Mick Vranich. All in all, between 1998 and 2007, Monhollen has published eight volumes of Dispatch Detroit, two chapbooks, one book of poetry, and is currently working on volume nine of Dispatch Detroit. It’s been a busy ten years for her, and she’s still going strong.

Even with the hard work she’s put into Dispatch, Monhollen has been able to find time to do her own artwork. Her own home is a wonderful piece of art, from the tables to the pictures hanging on the wall by Paul Schwarz and others. Her backyard is gorgeous and cozy, with a small, man-made brook surrounded by colorful rocks and ferns. Her brilliant work can be viewed from her porch, made up of neatly arranged bricks that Monhollen put in herself. Inside she has more of her own artwork, in particular her poetry boxes. Poetry boxes are wooden boxes covered with clear hard plastic with a background filled with “visual noise,” or clippings of typed works, such as her own writings. Within each poetry box are several rotatable tubes that have printed upon them about three or four lines of poetry each. The tubes sit in a row vertically and can be turned in order to find a line that the viewer finds interesting. In the end, the viewer can combine the lines in the row in order to make a poem. One of her poetry boxes has fifteen lines, and it was calculated that about six million poems could be created from it. One could say, then, that technically Monhollen has written more than six million poems.

Some of Monhollen’s own poetry is on display at Oakwood Hospital this July, accompanying a series of sculptural pieces by fellow artist, Dolores Slowinski (frequent contributor to thedetroiter.com). Slowinski’s work is like a visual diary structure, where pieces fitted on the structure symbolize a page of a diary. It’s like a cluster of memories or thoughts put into an object. Monhollen’s poetry is based on these diary structures.

In mentioning Monhollen’s creations, her sons must also be included in the picture. Monhollen’s son, Mark Graf, a photographer takes close-up photos of wildlife, and much of his work has been bought by Henry Ford Hospital and others. You can catch his work at www.grafphoto.com. Her other son, Kevin Graf, is also an artist of sorts, taking photographs of motorcycles and also restoring them. Both sons are deeply supportive of Dispatch and Monhollen’s other art ventures.

With all of these rewards in her life, it seems like the hard work and perseverance has more than paid off.

For more information on Dispatch Detroit, including contact information and mailing address, visit www.doorjambpress.org. Issues of Dispatch Detroit can be found at the website, or at the Special Collection Library in SUNY, Buffalo; the University of Wisconsin, Madison; Wayne State University’s library; and Book Beat in Oak Park.

Chris Thompson is an English major at Oakland University, where he learned how to juggle school, work, writing, friends, and fencing.

Dispatch Detroit is holding a poetry contest for Issue nine of its publication. For those who would like to submit, read the following guidelines:

Poetry Contest Rules

1. Submit Poetry only - not open to fiction or short stories
2. Any writer/poet who has been published in Dispatch since 1998 can’t be considered
3. Submit as many poems as you want but the submission should not exceed 10 pages.
4. All submissions must include notations on irregular spelling or formatting.
5. No email submissions will be accepted. Only paper submissions sent to Doorjamb Press PO Box 1296 Royal Oak, MI 48068-1296.
6. Each submission must include a review fee of $5 review with a self addressed/stamped envelope and email address (in case of questions). (note: not $5 per poem)
7. There will be 2 writers selected and featured in the next volume of Dispatch Detroit (Vol. 9)Scheduled for January 2008.
8. Submissions must be postmarked no later than August 31, 2007.

Detroiters –

First summer selections! This month we bring you two poets who know a little something about the area, as well as that big, bad New York City. Bob Laine spends a good portion of his year there, germinating his delightful panache; T.M. Swill takes a version of Gotham on as subject matter for one of the poems here. While there is no necessary need for any more attention to NY, I simply could not resist from sharing these seemingly barbed verses.

Bob Laine with “I’m Not Responsible for What You Think I Mean” and T.M. Swill with “New York City” and “Snobbed.”

Thank you for seeing us through a healthy and vibrant spring of lit selections. We look forward to your continued readership and a basking summer of whatever it is you might enjoy about the summer.

To be a part of thedetroiter.com’s lit section, see our Call for Submissions here.(All subs and questions can be sent to litsub@thedetroiter.com).

Thank you & happy reading.

David Bartone
Poetry & Fiction Editor

I’m Not Responsible for What You Think I Mean

“You don’t have to die alone. Helen. MSW.”

Ads shouldn’t be allowed to say so much

He believes this fervently
Simultaneously as he thinks it

But minutes before he can even begin to verbalize
What those two lines on the back of a FREE
Village voice
That wasn’t because he
    Wasn’t in Manhattan
Say to him

When he does try
Minutes after to verbalize
He voices his first thought
Four times before he actually thinks it once

It takes a fifth time for
Her
To hear it
Because she is busy listening to the ad herself

She is concentrating on
What those two lines on the back of a FREE
Village Voice
That was because he paid for it
Were saying to her

When she finally does hear it/him/his thought
She knows even before he
   With the confidence of finally understanding what he’s saying
Repeats it a sixth time

She knows
That the thought is not about her
That the thought is his sole property

Somewhere between the fifth time he says it
    Which is the first time she hears it
And the sixth time he says it
    Which is the first time he understands it

She sees
    For the first time
That the two stories those two lines tell him
Are not the stories they tell her

Still
Minutes further
She will think
And seconds late firmly believe
What he
Knew fervently
Simultaneously while thinking it
Only many moments ago

Ads shouldn’t be allowed to say so much

Bob Laine is a poet, playwright and actor. A graduate of Eastern Michigan University, he has been performing his original work since 1991 in Metro Detroit, Ann Arbor, Chicago and New York. He was on the 1995 Chicago National Poetry Slam team. His play What’s That Buzz? opened in New York in 1999. A review of a winter performance can be found in thedetroiter.com here.

***

New York City

Instead of writing I tear chunks off cardigan sweaters,
Throw them at the wall: thwap.
Instead of writing I stride topless to the kitchen,
Smear Kraft Singles on my nipples.

Why do I miss my mom?

Instead of writing I kick the wall.
Instead…I sit under my desk;
Ink-scratch the jacket of my favorite book,
Hirschwire’s The Broken Elm
    and weep.

Instead of writing a poem better than this poem
I stuff large droplets in jars.

Snobbed

Want to spit in her pretty
mouth and tear/claw at his over-
bored eyeballs; mount their fresh
    mutilations like five-point bucks.
lovely!

Want to redecorate this Starbucks:
    draw a    new crowd
to watch her lipstick peel and
her (unknowingly) dog-haired hood
accrue a thick swath of dust.

    Metro poets will swarm to this inspiration!

T.M. Swill lives in Detroit and attends Monroe community college. Swill enjoys tennis, coffee, amateur cryptography, and frequent trips to New York City.

Interview by
Heather A. McMacken

After growing up in up in Calcutta, India, Zilka Joseph and her husband moved to Chicago in 1997 before settling in Michigan three years later. The couple currently lives in Auburn Hills, where Joseph tutors at Oakland Community College and teaches poetry workshops for Springfed Arts: Metro Detroit Writers.

Joseph’s first poetry chapbook, Lands I Live In, was released in March by Mayapple Press. The book focuses on themes of home, courage, and displacement. Its poems are divided into 2 sections. The first 9 poems, called “Across Worlds,” documents the move to Chicago, as well as the period of adjustment afterwards. Topics from the first section include phoning her parents long-distance (every Friday), standing in line to get a green card, her irritation at the phrase “God Bless You,” and feeling like an outsider during a book club meeting—of being “terrified of dropping crumbs/or spilling my wine.”

The last group of 7, titled “Old Countries,” captures memories from adulthood and childhood while in India. It deals with universal subjects like food, family, and puberty. “Footprints,” the most fascinating of these, tells of the inexplicable bond between Joseph and the neighborhood cobbler, who was “Skinny and sunburned as Gandhi.

On April 12th, Joseph read poems from Lands I Live In at Sweetwaters Coffee & Tea, in downtown Royal Oak, to a group of about 40 eager listeners (which included a few local poet-celebrities, such as Vievee Francis). Joseph’s outfit complimented her petite frame: black pants and black turtleneck, a brown and gold embroidered scarf, as well as long beaded earrings. Her soothing, musical voice conveyed in turn both seriousness and humor—often evoking gentle laughter from her listeners.

The night began with three poems from her book: “Green Card,” “Ten Takes on Snow,” and “Introduction to Circles.” In a segway to the next group of poems, Joseph admitted that “though food and wine poems are usually my favorite, I’m going to read some nature poems.” The fourth poem, “You Don’t Screw With Scorpions” was positively hilarious, and was then followed by two somber poems: one about insects and the other concerning snakes.

Joseph’s next poem, “Death by Snoring,” pokes fun at her husband’s snoring. The piece was made even more humorous by the fact that she introduced it—with a straight face—as “probably the only serious poem I’ve ever written.” The last poems, “Kaulee Haddi” and “Consider the Sari” contained the richest imagery of the evening, and were both sensual and sad.

The morning after the Sweetwaters reading, I had the chance to sit down with Joseph for a one-on-one…

McMacken: Did you enjoy sharing your poems last night?

Joseph: Yes, I think it went well. There was a bigger crowd than I expected!

M: Your poems have been described as “direct and conversational.” What other words would you use to describe your work?

J: Intense. I feel the moment very intensely, and so then my writing reflects that intensity.

M: Tell me about your publisher.

J: Mayapple is a small press with an independent and discerning woman at the helm (Judith Kerman), and whose support of emerging and established Michigan writers deserves applause.

M: Please describe the process of putting the book together.

J: I liked working closely with Judith. She gave me very useful insight, and allowed me to be very involved in creating the cover. The whole thing was a really great learning experience.

M: What was the most important personal lesson you gained from the writing of this book?

J: All of the poems of the book reflect a certain kind of push-pull thing that happens with a move. I think what I learned—and what I tried to show in the book—is that we carry worlds within us, wherever we go. When I moved to Chicago, I brought India with me. Then when I moved here, I brought India and Chicago with me.

M: What a wonderful lesson!

J: Life is a process, and it is all about learning. I keep on getting surprised. Just when I think: ah, I’ve gotten used to this—then another experience happens!

M: Which poets have you been most influenced by?

J: I have been strongly influenced by Shakespeare, Rabindranath Tagore, Pablo Neruda, Marge Piercy, and Grace Paley. Also, I love the work of William Olsen (he teaches at Western Michigan)…and then, of course, there is Bob Dylan. Many people don’t think of him as a poet, but he really is.

M: Any new poetic projects these days?

J: Recently I was accepted for the University of Michigan’s MFA program, which I’ll be attending this fall. Right now, I’m working on a full-length collection of poems. And soon I’ll be teaching another workshop…you can go to Springfed Arts: Metro Detroit Writers website (http://www.springfed.org/MDWfront.html) for details.

M: Who should register for your workshops?

J: All skill levels are welcome, and financial aid is available. Classes are great for anyone who wants to connect, share ideas, and grow. Poets benefit from the energy of other poets!

Lands I Live In: Poems
Zilka Joseph
Mayapple Press
$12.95
42 pp.

Lands I Live In can be ordered from Mayapplepress.com, Amazon.com, and from Barnes and Noble.

Heather A. McMacken was the detroiter.com's very first intern. A recently graduated English major from Oakland University, she adores poetry. She eats it for breakfast.

Friday June 1, 2007

Event: Godsmack singer, Sully Erna, will be speaking about his upcoming book and possibly signing copies
Location: Borders Books, 1012 Woodward Avenue, Detroit, MI 48226
Time: 12:30 pm
Phone: 313-963-8840
Website: www.borders.com
Price: Free

Saturday June 2, 2007

Event: Craft-o-rama, the “one day only spectacle of local handmade craftin’ fury”
Location: The Book Beat Bookstore, 26010 Greenfield, Oak Park, MI 48237
Time: 11 am to 7 pm
Phone: 248-968-1190
Website: http://www.thebookbeat.com/
Price: Probably free, but call for more details

Event: Valerie Polakow speaks about the child care crisis in America, the subject of her new book
Location: Shaman Drum Bookshop, 315 South State Street, Ann Arbor, MI 48104
Time: 2 pm
Phone: 734-662-7407
Website: http://shamandrum.com/
Price: Free

Event: Detroit Worker-Writer Festival, writers will share their works and thoughts on the nation while celebrating the 70th anniversary of the 1937 sit-down strikes and the 75th anniversary of the Ford Hunger March
Location: Labor Legacy Monument at Hart Plaza, 1 Washington Blvd, Detroit, MI 48226
Time: 2-4 pm
Website: http://www.cobocenter.com/index.php
Price: Free

Monday June 4, 2007

Event: Poetry night at Keena Thomas every Monday night
Location: Keena Thomas, Danni Roche Clothing, 13305 W 7 Mile Rd, Detroit, MI
Time: 7 pm
Phone: (313) 340-1004
Website: http://mi.local.yahoo.biz/DanniRoche/index.html
Price: $5.00

Event: Monday night in the Clouds, open mic poetry every Monday night in June
Location: Coffee Bean, 884 Penniman Ave, Plymouth, MI 48170
Time: 7-10 pm
Phone: 734-454-0178
Website: http://plymouthcoffeebean.com/
Price: Free

Thursday June 7, 2007

Event: A kickoff celebration for the Dzanc Writers in Residence Program, where students of Paul Toth will share their works of fiction
Location: Shaman Drum Bookshop, 315 South State Street, Ann Arbor, MI 48104
Time: 7 pm
Phone: 734-662-7407
Website: http://shamandrum.com/
Price: Free

Friday June 8 through Sunday June 10, 2007

Event: Detroit Festival of the Arts
Location: Wayne State University, on Warren, Anthony Wayne, Woodward, Ferry, and John R streets, Detroit, MI 48201
Time: Fri: 4-11 pm; Sat: 12-11 pm; Sun: 12-9 pm
Website: http://detroitfestival.com/07/
Price: Free

Saturday June 9, 2007

Event: Cartoonist Mikhaela Reid will sign books
Location: Green Brain Comics, 13210 Michigan Ave, Dearborn, MI 48126
Time: 4 pm
Phone: 313-582-9444
Website: http://www.greenbrain.biz/
Price: Free

Thursday June 14, 2007

Event: Steve Hamilton, author of the novel A Cold Day in Paradise, will read at the Baldwin Public Library
Location: Baldwin Public Library, 300 W. Merrill, Birmingham, MI 48009
Time: 7 pm
Phone: 248-968-1190
Website: http://www.metronet.lib.mi.us/
Price: Free

Sunday June 17, 2007

Event: “Out of the Book” program, showing a short film about British Author Ian McEwan. The first of many films on different authors
Location: Michigan Theater, 603 East Liberty Street, Ann Arbor, MI 48104
Time: 1 pm
Phone: (734) 668-8397 or (734) 668-TIME
Website: http://michtheater.org/
Price: $8.50 for non-members; $6.75 for veterans, students with valid ID, children under 12, and senior citizens; $6.00 for theater members

Event: Garrison Keillor at the Max for special father’s day concert
Location: Max M. Fischer Music Center, 3711 Woodward Ave, Detroit, MI 48201
Time: 3 pm
Phone: 313-576-5111
Website: http://www.detroitsymphony.com/
Price: $30-90

Wednesday June 20, 2007

Event: Travis Holland speaks about his debut novel, The Archivist’s Story
Location: Shaman Drum Bookshop, 315 South State Street, Ann Arbor, MI 48104
Time: 7 pm
Phone: 734-662-7407
Website: http://shamandrum.com/
Price: Free

Friday June 22, 2007

Event: Honors Poetry Series and Open Mic with Valerie Layne (Taylor) Kearns
Location: Plymouth Book Cellar, 840 W. Ann Arbor Trail, Plymouth, MI
Time: 7:00-9:00 pm
Phone: 734-455-2704
Website: http://www.blushingskywriters.com/
Price: Call for more info

June 22, 23, 29, & 30, 2007

Event: Abreact Theater at the Zeitgeist, performing the satirical “The Penis Monologues”
Location: Zeitgeist Art Gallery, 2661 Michigan Avenue, Detroit, MI 48216
Time: Contact the Zeitgeist for more info
Phone: 313-965-9192
Website: http://www.zeitgeistdetroit.org/
Price: Contact Zeitgeist for more info

Monday June 25, 2007

Event: Chuck D will offer social commentary, which will be followed by a late night poetry jam
Location: Max M. Fischer Music Center, 3711 Woodward Ave, Detroit, MI 48201
Time: 8 pm, 10 pm
Phone: 313-576-5111
Website: http://www.detroitsymphony.com/
Price: $23.50

Tuesday June 26, 2007

Event: Several authors of Spoken Word Revolution Redux will speak about their book and spoken word poetry
Location: Shaman Drum Bookshop, 315 South State Street, Ann Arbor, MI 48104
Time: 7 pm
Phone: 734-662-7407
Website: http://shamandrum.com/
Price: Free

Wednesday June 27, 2007

Event: Daryl Hafter will speak about working women in preindustrial France, the subject of her new novel
Location: Shaman Drum Bookshop, 315 South State Street, Ann Arbor, MI 48104
Time: 7 pm
Phone: 734-662-7407
Website: http://shamandrum.com/
Price: Free

Event: Music Fights Back, a controversial retelling of Stravinsky’s classic “A Soldier’s Tale” with text by Kurt Vonnegut, featuring Terry O’Quinn from ABC’s Lost
Location: Max M. Fischer Music Center, 3711 Woodward Ave, Detroit, MI 48201
Time: 8 pm
Phone: 313-576-5111
Website: http://www.detroitsymphony.com/
Price: $20-50

Detroiters,

Welcome to the newest Lit Section – May 2007. Here, we feature works by two local writers: “Early Worms” and “Marking Time” by Tyler Hill, and “Listening to Flowers” by Janet Lawless.

The vivacity of our lit section depends entirely on your submissions. So, please keep sending them in, or nudge somebody you know who may be interested. Here is a link to our call for submissions (all subs and questions can be sent to litsub@thedetroiter.com).

Thank you, and
Happy Reading.

David Bartone, Poetry & Fiction Editor
litsub@thedetroiter.com

Early Worms

Allison wanted the cheap TV
that was Wal-Mart’s lost leader
On Nov. 25th, 2005.
Knowing full well there would only be a few
she arrived at 4:30 am to take her place in
line with the other 20 or so early birds
and began the vigil which would end at
6:30 am when they opened the doors to Wal-Mart savings.
By 5:30 am the amount of women had tripled
so that their collective exhalations
created a rising vapor cloud that
puffed and swirled into the black, 20 degree air.
Hats were pulled down
scarves were wrapped tight
and feet were stamped against salt crusted concrete
as faces both pleading and menacing pressed against
the barrier between cold and merchandise.
By 6:00 am the line was blocking traffic
so that parking was difficult.
If a Wal-Mart shopper chopper had been hovering
it would have looked like black bee bees rolling toward
a countersunk hole.
By 6:20 am decorum was breaking down and
a clear line no longer existed
and those in front were getting pushed
nun-too gently against the glass doors.
Allison, who was just behind the very front
heard a woman say,
“If you don’t stop pushing I’m gonna punch you!”
but the chaos was rising so that
who said it could not be discerned.
When a woman in a Wal-Mart smock and
a terrified face appeared with a quivering key
the “there she is-es” started rolling
from front to back
and those in back who were not the early birds
but still intended to get their worm
surged forward mashing those in front
so that the threatening woman
who happened to be in front of Allison
wrenched herself around,
fought to get an arm free
and with a sneer that would scare off any sane bargain hunter
threw a devastating jab
which landed squarely on Allison’s nose.
Just as Allison began to grasp
why her eyes were filling with water
why her nose felt numb
why there was red stuff running over her fingers
the key in the lock was turned
the crowd slid forward like continental shift
and carried Allison inward until
the dispersing shoppers left enough room so
she could drop to a knee with
cupped hands that failed to keep
the red from her purse and coat.
Women stepped around and over
like she was but a minor impediment
until a courageous greeter could wade into
the throng, take an elbow and guide
poor Allison to the safety of a shopping cart return lane.
There Allison was given some Kleenex
which she held to her swollen nose
and staunched the flow of blood.
When the shaken greeter asked if she was OK
Allison wiped away the tears and said
“Where’s the TV’s?”

Marking Time

I’ve taken to timing how often I
look at you
I make deals with myself like –
If I eat these green beans
then I can look again

Today I was looking for ping pong balls in a dollar store
when I saw a clock
that had me thinking of you.
On it was beautiful Saint somebody
hovering
with the hands of time
circling from her abdomen

I don’t get to talk to you
as much as everyone else
because I know you know
but I don’t think you want that attention
so I have to be careful
I don’t want to be a bother

I wonder
why I like you so much,
am I seeing something
that isn’t there
imagining something
missing in me
but isn’t that always the case?

So I count how many times
since I last sat with you,
last talked to you,
last got you to smile
and try to figure if this time
would be OK,
hoping to get closer
to an answer.

Tyler Hill’s writings tend to be driven by the everyday world of everyday people. The Army, college, and four years of living in Chicago returned him to Michigan, where he has written a forthcoming collection about the paper mill where he works, entitled “Ass Time.” In March 2006 Tyler won a fellowship for residency at the Vermont Studio Center, and is also a past winner of the Ellenor B. Mathews Award for creative writing.

Listening to Flowers

A tall silver drum
in a big picture window of
a rustic coffee café
sunny early spring afternoon

bouquet of tall bright white daisies
in a tall narrow silver drum
lacy green bases

they started by starting, you see
no intention
stretch                  out

seedlings strain
push up dirt
stalk, leaves move outward
a silent ballet

make soft satellite dishes
for transmissions from the sun

violet, rose, pink, bold white
golden centers

don’t realize
live to become lovely
unfold & declare

we are

Janet Lawless is a local writer and English instructor at Macomb Community College. She is a graduate of Wayne State University and a native Detroiter. She has edited literary magazines and journals including The Wayne Literary Review, and The Word Enamel. She has also worked as a creative writing instructor and literary organizer.

By Heather A. McMacken

Another capital night at The Zeitgeist! (This suburbanite’s not once regretted the drive out to this gallery.)

Zeitgeist’s monthly series, “Poetry at the Zeitgeist,” hosted/directed by poet James Hart III, has been intriguing Metro-Detroiters for the past five years—and last Saturday, May 12, was no exception. The lineup of Kawita Kandpal and Alan Franklin proved a cool combination.

But before reviewing the combo…

**

I had the pleasure of attending Marick Press’ Spring 2007 launch on Sunday, April 29. The event took place at the Grosse Pointe Tompkins Community Center, in celebration of Marick’s three new titles, one of which included Kawita Kandpal’s debut collection, “Folding a River.”

I’d been friendly with Kandpal via the metro poetry circuit for the past year, but—strangely enough—had never before seen her poetry or heard her read. I’d only been aware of the basics: she’d earned an M.F.A. in Poetry from Bowling Green State University, her work had been published in various journals, and that she taught English at Jackson Community College.

Then…she read.

When she stepped down from the podium that Sunday, I can’t imagine she realized she’d just acquired a huge drooling fan.

Imagine it! Most of my favorite poets usually fall into two of three categories:

1) Dead
2) Live far away
3) Don’t know I exist.

Imagine it! This poet, Kawita Kandpal, is:

1) Definitely not dead.
2) Lives mere minutes from me.
3) Knows I exist…she signed my copy of “Folding a River,” with
“For Heather, who has been kinder than kind to me in our fair city.”

During the two weeks between Marick’s launch and last Saturday’s Zeitgeist reading, I had ample time to absorb her book. And my final decision is this: its poems are intoxicating. They shimmer, glimmer, and often frighten. Kandpal’s voice? Simultaneously solemn and wild. Folding’s 51 pages are not enough pages—they will leave you needing more.

And during those two weeks, I made the following poem…

YOU, KAWITA

You, Kawita:   the first poet
In two months
To touch beyond narrative.

This May afternoon
Consists solely of
Your Folding a River. (This
May afternoon preceded
By a May morning
Where wife comments:
“This is all there is.”)

You, Kawita!   Your imagery

Lily. Vanilla.

       Your timing impeccable,
        Like a lover’s post-sex smile.

Folding’s let me lay with you,
        Let me drape my limbs across the
Satin and jade bed you prepared
For you and your lost lover.
Folding’s allowed me
    To—momentarily at least—take
His place,   in a
Slow
Rush.

Sweet Poet Kawita…your reading this evening!

…I plan to sit unslouching,
Leaning my nose
        Forward

So as to catch a bit of grace

**

Fortunately I have a moment to speak with my new favorite poet a few minutes before she shares her poems. Kandpal expresses gratitude for being able to read at Zeitgeist for this, the second time. “The Zeitgeist is a wonderful space in which to read: it brings a nice cross-section of Detroit artists—which isn’t the case with some other venues.”

“I feel as if I’ve given birth,” Kandpal confides. “I consider this book my baby. At readings, I invite others to hold the baby.”

James Hart III introduces Kandpal to an intimate crowd of 15, seated in the Bar Gallery. He says Kawita’s work is “just like the way she reads: brilliant and sparse.” After applause, the poet stands, wearing a shy smile, a dark pea coat, and a striped orange skirt which seems as if it must be wonderfully soft. She opens her book, and starts with “Before Partition,” a poem about a miraculous moment of longing and light. Kandpal’s soft cadence caresses the last line: “There is no word for the soft opening of sky.”

Next our poet offers “Sweetness,” “Language of Lakes,” and “Apologia,” her body swaying left and right to the rhythm of her voice. The next poem, “Drink” she dedicates to our host James, evoking a cascade of chuckles. Two deadly sad poems then, “After Partition” and “Fuck.” Kandpal concludes with a gorgeous love poem called “Gravity of Days,” which she dedicates to the couple sitting close to her—a man and a woman quite obviously smitten.

The next speaker this evening is Alan Franklin. Hart introduces him as the guitarist/singer/songwriter for the Layabouts, Detroit’s longest-lived anti-authoritarian rock band. Hart says that what we’re about to hear is not poetry nor song lyrics, but “experimental short prose.”

Franklin settles himself casually on a tall chair. His long silver hair meshes well with thin-framed silver glasses; he wears a black suit jacket with jeans. Franklin confides that he wants to collect the following pieces in a book, and title it “The History of the World,” because he is “not afraid to tackle the grandiose.”

With his first vignette, “Christopher Columbus Steps Ashore,” it’s clear this writer occupies quite an opposite pole than the last.

    (Kandpal is lush; Franklin is dry.)
    (Kandpal is personal and immediate; Franklin is more general and historical.)

Tonight he shares seven pieces. Some are small paragraphs; others are longer than a page. Composed in the first-person, these satirical bits take aim at issues like homophobia, the Iraq war, consumerism, America’s prescription drug culture, and dumb phrases like “sit tight.” His style is dark, sharp, and sometimes downright morbid. My favorite of the group is “Dialogue,” a conversation between a psychiatrist and patient. Franklin mocks the “shrink’s phony compassion,” as well as takes a look at the underbelly of human desire.

During the car ride home, my friend Andrew Trahan summarized it best:

“Franklin’s writing is witty and insightful and…odd.”

**

The mixture of Franklin and Kandpal made for a beautifully yin and yang kind of evening. …and what will be the flavor of Zeitgeist’s next gathering? Come and find out! On Friday, May 25, Audra Kubat will headline a fun fundraising event for the "Poetry at the Zeitgeist" monthly series. The evening will also feature jazz from Big Shorty, as well as the poetry of Mariela Griffor, Bill Harris, James Hart III, and Kim Hunter. Proceeds will be used for outreach and helping with the travel expenses of out-of-town writers. The Zeitgeist is located at 2661 Michigan Ave., in Detroit. (West of Tiger Stadium, East of the I-96 Overpass)

For the scoop on future poetry readings, visit www.zeitgeistdetroit.org.
For more on Kawita Kandpal see her website here.

Heather A. McMacken is poet, columnist, freelance writer, server, and an In-Home Trainer with the non-profit Training and Treatment Innovations.
Contact Heather via http://www.myspace.com/passionateone7

Thursday May 3, 2007

Event: Reading and book signing at the Shaman Book Club by three writers awarded the Granta Best of Young American Novelists distinction
Location: Shaman Drum Bookshop, 315 South State Street, Ann Arbor, MI 48104
Time: 7 pm
Phone: 734-662-7407
Website: http://shamandrum.com/
Price: Free

Event: Authors John Sinclair and Pun Plamondon will discuss some of their works as well as have a book signing
Location: Book Beat, 26010 Greenfield Rd, Oak Park, MI 48237
Time: 7:00 pm
Phone: 248-968-1190
Website: http://www.thebookbeat.com/
Price: Call for more information

Friday May 4, 2007

Event: Derek Vitatoe will visit a local Borders
Location: Borders Books, 1012 Woodward Avenue, Detroit, MI 48226
Time: 12:00 pm
Phone: 313-963-8840
Website: www.borders.com
Price: Free

Sunday May 6, 2007

Additional Dates: Sundays May 13 and May 20, same time and place
Event: Award-winning storyteller Yvonne Healy will tell family friendly tales at the DIA
Location: Rivera Court at the Detroit Institute of Arts, 5200 Woodward Ave, Detroit, MI 48202
Time: 2:00 pm
Phone: 313-833-7900
Website: www.dia.org
Price: Call for more information
Disclaimer: Don’t forget to visit the Ansel Adams exhibit going on this month

Thursday May 10, 2007

Event: Diane Wilson, Environmental and Peace Activist and author of the book, An Unreasonable Woman, will be speaking at Wayne State University.
Location: Wayne State University, Detroit, MI 48201
Time: 7:00 pm
Phone: 313-577-2424
Website: http://www.wayne.edu/
Price: Free

Friday May 11, 2007

Event: Mitch Albom will visit a local Borders
Location: Borders Books, 1012 Woodward Avenue, Detroit, MI 48226
Time: 12:00 pm
Phone: 313-963-8840
Website: www.borders.com
Price: Free

Event: Honors Poetry Series and Open Mic with Kawita Kandpal and Marsha Lopez
Location: Plymouth Book Cellar, 840 W. Ann Arbor Trail, Plymouth, MI
Time: 7:00-9:00 pm
Phone: 734-455-2704
Website: http://www.blushingskywriters.com/
Price: Call for more info

Tuesday May 15, 2007

Event: Author K.M. Grant, who wrote most recently Blaze of Glory, will be reading and signing autographs at the Baldwin Public Library
Location: Baldwin Public Library, 300 W. Merrill, Birmingham, MI 48009
Time: 7:00–8:30 pm
Phone: 248-968-1190
Website: http://www.metronet.lib.mi.us/BALD/
Price: Free

Wednesday May 16, 2007

Event: Poetry reading by Hayan Charara and Randa Jarrar, two distinguished writers in the Arab scene
Location: Zeitgeist Art Gallery, 2661 Michigan Avenue, Detroit, MI 48216
Time: Doors open at 7 pm, reading begins at 8 pm
Phone: 313-965-9192
Website: http://www.zeitgeistdetroit.org/

Thursday May 17, 2007

Event: Hill Harper will visit a local Borders
Location: Borders Books, 1012 Woodward Ave., Detroit, MI 48226
Time: 12:00 pm
Phone: 313-963-8840
Website: www.borders.com
Price: Free

Event: Readings by several children’s authors, presentations by Washtenaw Literacy and Reach Out and Read, and singing by the Chenille Sisters, in order to promote literacy
Location: Ann Arbor District Library, 343 South Fifth Ave, Ann Arbor, MI 48104
Time: 7:00-8:00 pm
Phone: 734-327-4200
Website: http://www.aadl.org/events, visit for many more events

Wednesday May 23, 2007

Event: Rwandan genocide survivor, and author of Left to Tell, a telling of her story, Immaculee Ilibagiza will share her tale
Location: Detroit Film Theater in the Detroit Institute of Arts, 5200 Woodward Ave, Detroit, MI 48202
Time: 7:00 pm
Phone: 313-833-7900
Website: www.dia.org
Price: $25, or $50 with afterglow reception and book signing

Now through May 28, 2007

Event: Human Bodies Exhibit at the Detroit Science Center
Location: Detroit Science Center, 5020 John R Street, Detroit, MI 48202
Time: Until May 28
Phone: 313-577-8400
Website: http://www.detroitsciencecenter.org/home.htm
Price:
Adults: $24.95
Seniors: $22.95
Children: $19.95
An additional $3 for adults and $2 for children to see the IMAX Dome Theatre film, The Human Body

By
Chris Thompson

The Poetry Slam Finals kicked off last week at the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, where fifteen poets competed for a chance to go to Austin, Texas to compete at the National Poetry Slam in August. The host, Kalimah Johnson, set the mood for the night when she began the introductory Open Mic with her piece, “I am Detroit,” a poem defending Detroit against those who sneer at the fine city south of Eight Mile. Already the audience went wild.

The audience went wild? If this doesn’t sound like your average poetry reading night, you’re right – it’s not. The occasional finger snaps click throughout these poetry readings, but the roar of the audience is a much more common occurrence. Don’t get me wrong, this is poetry, but it’s poetry with a kick, it’s poetry with a political agenda, it’s poetry that doesn’t want to be remembered just because the language is beautiful and flowery, but wants to be remembered by the message it presents. This poetry is real, it gets to the down and dirty in life, from criticism of racist language in popular hip-hop to pornographic descriptions of sex. Slam poetry is poetry with a hip-hop flavor. As Johnson says, the poetry is as important as the way the artists perform it to the audience. Artists will rap, emphasize puns, wave their hands about, and raise or lower their voices to get the point across. And when what they say sounds good, sounds kick ass, the audience will stomp the floor, roar with laughter, and applaud loudly.

In the Poetry Slam Finals, fifteen poets from Michigan and Ohio competed, scored by five judges picked from the audience before the show began. These judges scored the performers, or artists, or poets (whichever you’d like to call them), on a scale of 0-10, 10, obviously, being the highest. To prevent ties (hopefully, at least), the judges were allowed, even encouraged, to score on a point scale, meaning a judge could score a poet a 9.1, a 5.4, instead of just a straight 9 or 5. It was the audience’s job to influence the judges’ scores, and the judges’ responsibility not to allow the audience to influence them. The scores were averaged, and then time was taken into account—if a poet went over three minutes and ten seconds, they were penalized—then the final scores were tallied and announced to the audience. There were two rounds of poetry. Round one allowed all fifteen poets to say their piece, and in round two, eight of those poets would go on to perform a second piece. After that, four poets would be chosen as the winners who would form the team to compete at Texas. At least, it should have been this simple.

Round one had its share of the controversial: attacks on Don Imus and Snoop Dogg, sex, religion, equality, wrist-slitting, Iraq, Katrina—lots of politics in general. One poet even attacked Poetry Slam competitions: labeling scores as meaningless and transparent, calling out posers, and saying he only wanted to speak truth as a slam poet instead of worrying simply about earning a 10 from judges. Round one had its fair share of the great and the meh, as well as some fun wordplay and inspiring words. One poet even had to pause for several seconds because the laughter from the audience was so loud. When round one ended, seven of those poets were done for the night, at least that was the plan. Due to a tie, nine poets moved on to round two instead of eight.

Round two had a lot of the same topics, with a very memorable and descriptive poem about sex. This time, though, all of the poets were in the audience’s favor, and the seats were quaking with shouts and stomping feet. At the end of round two, as the judges were tallying up scores, Johnson provided some entertainment of her own. The audience begged her to perform her poem, “Li’l Jon,” a crowd favorite, and Johnson announced it would be her last performance of that poem (we believe you, Ms. Johnson). “Li’l Jon” is a great example of the politics within slam poetry, as her poem tears apart the sexism in modern hip-hop, namely one of Li’l Jon’s songs. Her poem is absolutely hilarious, and if you haven’t seen her performance of it, I’m very sorry, you’ll just have to take my word for it.

After Johnson finished her poem and the crowd hushed from their invigorated cheering, Johnson announced the winners. With the hours waning, Johnson announced a tie for the final place! Two performers, Sparrow and Marsha C had to do a two minute round each. Sparrow recycled sections from his poetry he performed earlier in the day, while Marsha had some new material memorized. The scores were tallied again, and Johnson announced the win—wait, what’s this? Another tie! This time each performer had one minute. Sparrow again recycled material, but from a different poem, and Marsha, again, had a new poem. After Johnson read off the scores, it was evident that Marsha C had the better score.

The winners were Marsha C., ONE, History, and the first place winner, winning a lot of Starbucks’ money, was T. Miller. These four will go to Austin, Texas to perform this August, for those who’d like to keep up with Detroit’s representation in the National Poetry Slam.

Interested in checking out a Poetry Slam competition? Or even just a reading? There are plenty of opportunities during the DSO’s 8 Days in June event at the end of June, as well as the monthly competitions at the DSO starting this fall. For more information, check out the DSO’s website here.

Chris Thompson is an English major at Oakland University, where he learned how to juggle school, work, writing, friends, and fencing. He enjoys juggling.

Photos by Omari Taylor for the DSO.

The Max M. Fischer Music Center will host the Detroit Poetry Slam Finals this Friday, April 27, at 8 pm. Up to five poets, judged and chosen by the audience, will be chosen from a field of many to compete as a team this coming August at the National Poetry Slam Contest in Texas. These poets, or spoken word artists, competing at The Max are the city’s top-rated poets, having been selected as having made the best impression on audiences during the last several months in Poetry Slams across Detroit.

Kalimah Johnson, co-host of the Java Exchange Café’s “Pic-Nap Poetry Series,” will be the host for this year’s Finals, which will take place in the Music Box of The Max. Full bar, food service, and complimentary drinks and desserts will also be on hand throughout the evening.

For more about last year’s champion Versiz, see our interview here.

Tickets are $15, and can be bought at the door, online at www.detroitsymphony.com, or at the box office 313-576-5111. The Max M. Fischer Music Center is 3711 Woodward Ave., Detroit 48201.

- by Chris Thompson, thedetroiter.com Intern

Detroiters,

Welcome to the newest of our monthly lit section – April 2007!

This edition features three talented local writers:

     o Andrew Trahan with “Emergency Room” and “Glass”;
     o Joy Harriet Helton with “Crack Central”; and
     o Christopher Mulrooney with “a theatrical blow” and “the Prague seminar”.

We are endlessly thankful for the scores of work we received; we are sure to deliver more of the hard-working writers and writings from the Detroit area in future editions.

To submit work for a future publication, please see our call for submissions here.

Enjoy,
David Bartone, Poetry & Fiction Editor
litsub@thedetroiter.com

Emergency Room

And the stocky man like a mirror over me
His scrubs
redolent with tobacco His disjointed smile
and hobble down the hall to my stretcher

        I am not going to die here

He applies wires and nobs to my body
I sigh what does your tattoo mean?
        His face makes no sign of reply,
just a tiny curl flowing away from under his
eye

Glass

A strange solicitor visited me
on Lake Huron.

He somersaulted from the moon to the waves
and around my ear.

His hand lightly on my neck. Sometimes his
fingers ran through my hair.

We sprawled alone together on the beach.
No words passed between us, only elements.

Until he put his lips to my ear and opened his mouth,
but before he spoke he took a tiny breath
and evanesced.

I stretched out where my sprite once laid.
I put my head to the sand, but nothing came.

I grazed my hand over its crystals to no avail.
I dreamt of Mercury battling Venus for Mars.

I awoke to a message spelled in the sand:
The hum and the shutter, the hum and the shutter.

Andrew Trahan resides in Madison Heights and works as a substitute teacher, barista, and speech coach. In his free time he enjoys hearty conversation, reading, music, and film.

Crack Central

        Whenever Molly and I got together, we were little monsters. Every time I spotted her disheveled brown ponytail bobbing through the crowd at a bar, I knew the night wouldn’t be dull and that we’d probably end up getting kicked out. She helped me make up for all the trouble I didn’t get into in high school. We spent months one spring couch-hopping from party to party, walking long distances in the middle of the night, and stealing garden gnomes.
        One night Molly and I decided it would be a good idea to take some psychedelic drugs and go for a long walk. The bar was closed, and we felt the need for a late night pilgrimage. We started down the service drive in our skirts and tight blouses with some intense sense of purpose--one that could easily have been misinterpreted, of course. Cars raced past us on our left, drunkenly rushing home from the bars. Abandoned houses loomed on our right underneath broken streetlights. The desolate nature of our surroundings didn’t bother us, though; conversely, they gave an epic feel to our journey.
        About once every five minutes random motorists pulled up alongside us, asking us if we needed a lift. In our altered state we had no concept of how vulnerable we were or what we must have looked like--two petite girls in skirts walking along the expressway at three in the morning. Eventually, a police car pulled up.
        “We’ve gotten several calls about you ladies,” one of the cops said. He was the stereotypical pudgy white cop, probably on his way to Detroit Donut for a past-midnight snack. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?” he continued, giving us a cold stare. “This is crack central.”
        This was news to us; up until this point “crack central” had been a magical path of discovery, not unlike the Oregon Trail. Suddenly we felt like the river had been deeper than we had thought, and our failed attempts to ford it had resulted in the deaths of an ox and our youngest child. Cold hard reality hit us like a premature snowstorm, and we let the cops card us, our illusions shattered. I wasn’t sure if they thought we were drug-addicted prostitutes, innocent suburban girls, crazy people, or all of the above, but it certainly didn’t help that Molly’s first remark upon entering the backseat was, “God these seats are uncomfortable!”
        Fortunately, the cops chose to ignore this sentiment and drove us home. As we sat on the hard seats, watching the yellow streetlights blur by in the night, Molly opened her mouth again. This time she uttered a revelation that would define our night.
        “I’m sorry Officer,” she explained in her sweetest voice. “We’re very naive girls.”

Joy Harriet Helton’s purse always contains a pack of Orbit bubble gum and a flask; she’s a waitress because she has a liberal arts degree; and when she’s not doing that, she’s riding around town with the rest of the girl bike gang.

a theatrical blow

rosin
gloves
glass in bowl and pitcher
for house wrench sound

       
thus the property plot
       

of the old play they do not say
in the back of the book
how they made the river sounds
and of course the rain effect

the Prague seminar

If you go to the Prague Summer Seminars,
you must realize that the rest of your life
will be a disappointment in comparison.
        - from a brochure

what's doing in Prague
where the gentle animals live?

in the streets do they go
about like cats and dogs here?

wallow they in the memory of the past?

or do they seek the larger issues
we have to take up withal

the barely memory now shreds of a city
hard to focus on

the amateur artists
the street scenes

and our intellectuals

Christopher Mulrooney has written poems and translations in Red River Review, Merge, Calque and Cake, criticism in Blue Fifth Review, Small Press Review and Parameter.

Beginning this spring, we will resurrect thedetroiter.com’s Literature & Poetry Section. Over the past several months we have received many submissions, and now we will have a chance to review and publish selections on a monthly basis.

We ask for previously unpublished poetry and/or short fiction. We will consider everything. Send all submissions with a brief bio to litsub@thedetroiter.com. If you have any questions, please contact the same address. Author retains all copyrights; thedetroiter.com retains first-time publication rights.

The goal of thedetroiter.com’s Literature & Poetry Section is to offer quality literature to our readers and greater visibility to Detroit-area writers.

We look forward to your continued submissions.

Thank you, and happy reading…

David Bartone

David Bartone is a published historian, poet, and short fiction writer. He is Poetry & Fiction Editor for thedetroiter.com. He lives in Pontiac with his cat, Hey Molly.

A selection of his poetry appears in thedetroiter.com’s lit section here.

Four Porches Now

I went back to the house where I’d come from,
Was it always brown?

I wrestled my memories
onto the front porch.
I thought of the time mom
soaked cold water
on the Halloween hoodlums.
I chanted and cheered
behind a straight face
that only brought itself
to peek through the blinds.

She left candy out for them later, but
I don’t think they came back.
I still haven’t decided
whether that makes her more human
or them.

But now someone built a whole new house, it seems,
right on top, as if my memories are
only good enough to fill a single room of
someone else’s dream.

***************

The Slush Beaten Road

She practices hopping along the sidewalk
and is told to come over when she's ready.
Over to the middle of the road
where it's much clearer and safe.

Like the time she once said she liked jelly beans and was gifted them forever after,
she finds twigs and sticks for daddy
to collect by the door of his lake house.

She's turning nine soon, and by the looks of it
she probably won't be the smart one in her family,
or the good-looking one,
or the funny one,
or the happy one.
She'll dance very well and travel a whole lot
and have a great taste for jigsaw puzzles and stir fry.
But she'll never understand the things she sees.

And she makes the leap over the bright bill of snow
piled up from another failed spring and
rushes to daddy's hand
who, by now, has forgotten

what her mother said,
“If you keep her up past 10, you'll have to try getting that goddamn girl
out of bed in the morning.”

Instead he is immersed in the sound of slush,
trying to figure out how many cars have crossed
the thin inch of snow since it stopped coming down some hours ago.

And Claudette is safe in daddy's hand,
staring high up at the gently lit tree branches,
watching flakes jump from pine to fir.
It reminds her of the time they went on vacation to the Outer Banks
and how her mother made her feel about enjoying the dunes
more than the ocean.

They walk like this,
picking new things to think about every so often,
and when they reach their turn in the road
and see their porch light still on,
they decide to keep walking along the middle of the slush beaten road.

*************************

At a Museum a Fat Man (Was Told the Bus Would Leave Soon and Inside Himself He Cried Something Greater Than Unnoticed Sorrow. I Noticed; Moved – I Wrote This Poem)

        Sunday, I went to a poetry reading at the museum. They set up chairs in the gallery hall, half circle around a podium. As if poetry readings aren’t intimidating enough, they put it in a museum. Maybe 20 people showed up. I was there to cover it for the local paper.

Just as the Russian lady got up to introduce the event, a fire alarm went off.

We had to go outside until they figured it out. An ice storm the night before put the system in frenzy. So, we huddled under the covering out front, packed close to the door like penguins.

A couple of us on the outskirts of the rookery lit up cigarettes and traded small talk: Better before the show than during, or Figures, this couldn’t happen in July.

Before long, they let us stand in the foyer. Our choice: icy cold or the fire alarm.

I don’t mean to make a big fuss about it. It was during the thick of those winter doldrums, and I was happy to have something to do for the day.

        Settled and ready to begin, the Russian lady apologized and said that any of us who took the shuttle from downtown shouldn’t worry; the driver knew what was going on. He’d wait until the reading is over.

Some parts were better than others, but it was a good reading in total.

After all was said and done, she thanked the performers and she thanked us for coming. She said, “Feel free to stick around and have a discussion for as long as you’d like. Oh, wait…if you took the shuttle, he’ll be outside and ready to go in a few minutes. Who took the bus?”

Only one man, a fat man, raised his hand. And bam! It hit me.

        I don’t know how to say this, but every so often, a couple times a year, I suppose, I see some stranger for just a second and it puts me in a state I’ve never been able to describe very well. It’s always something like pity, or sorrow, or just plain sadness. It’s always a fat man. He’s always pathetic. Not despicable or like a feral cat, but in the real sense of the word, pathos.

This man at the museum evoked that in me.

        I looked through his chubby cheeks; I saw past his eyes. I found his heartache, I suppose. Or mine?

I was aware of everyone else’s chit-chatter, and how they were all waiting for someone to kick-start a discussion so they could chime in their brilliant nothings, but I was trapped in him.

        I wondered if I saw him on the shuttle, alone, coming to the museum. I would have been in a passing car below, my head pressed against a steamy window. He would have been looking straight ahead, at some graffiti on the back of the seat. He wouldn’t make much of it.

I felt like I knew him my whole life, like I invented him to make me feel compassionate and righteous once in a while.

        If pressed, I would say that he keeps a houseplant on the kitchen windowsill. He barely waters it. I would say that he doesn’t have any pets. Or if he does, it’s a fish.

I would say he used to work at a video store, but now at a bookstore. He likes his boss and he takes 30-minute breaks exactly at noon.

I would say he cried that day, but I don’t know if it was early in the morning, or later that night when he got home.

        I could see him on one of his 30-minute breaks, going through the paper and seeing a preview for the reading. Hell, I probably wrote it.

He must have thought that there would be dozens of people on the free shuttle from downtown, dozens of people just like him. But it was just him.

I could picture him standing outside on the curb, with only the wind and the doldrums, waiting for the bus. His cheeks red; his eyes watery. He isn’t kicking his shoes at an ice patch on the curb. He doesn’t shiver.

He just stands there waiting, waiting for a bus that is sure to be late.

        After all that goes through me – after the Russian lady said, “Who took the bus?” and he alone raised his hand – she looked at him and said, “You don’t want to miss it. It’s the last one today.”

And he nodded politely with his chubby cheeks. He whispered, “Okay,” and turned for the exit, trying to keep his bag from sliding off his shoulder. I noticed, and was gutted, like there was something I should do. Like there was something I could do.

I went home and worked on the review for the local paper. But all I could think about was finding him somehow and telling him not to worry, that the conversation sucked and he didn’t miss much.

But I didn’t. I was afraid he might think I’m crazy.

The “Shrinking Cities” exhibition has taken over Detroit. Everybody wants to get their hands wet with it. A great deal of art was created solely for the exhibition and its theme of de-urbanization in the 21st century.

At “Imaginary Cities: Writers Respond to Shrinking Cities”, a related event hosted at Cranbrook Museum of Art, four local poets read works that voiced their distinct and sober perspectives. These poems, created entirely independent of “Shrinking Cities,” covered Detroit’s urban culture at large. The atmosphere of sincerity throughout the program was entirely refreshing.

All four poets were asked to read works that in some way contribute to the dialogue at hand; all four delivered a sense of ownership and obsession about Detroit, in various manifestations.

The program opened with Will Copeland’s Blues Ghazal, a rhythmic application of spoken word poetry. His smooth and at times flat voice could not be mistaken for drone. Though not singularly about Detroit, Copeland’s performance ultimately defined the emotional dynamism of contemporary urban culture, offering a looking glass into basic human condition. When he performed his coup de grâce, Three Wise Men, the audience sunk into their chairs, unable to clap, in all the right ways.

Lynn Crawford divulged in a rather conceptual approach to a Shrinking Cities commentary. Her prose drew on the subject matter of local artists’ work, casting an evident relationship between visual and literary arts in Detroit. Much of her writing seemed to embed itself in domesticity: hot chocolate in the kitchen, discovery of namesake. One image from Crawford’s after ‘The House’ by Shiva Ahmadi seemed to provide a genuine nugget about Detroit culture, “We discuss replacing the broken mirror. My brother suggests we simply re-hang the empty frame.”

Between reading her poems, Vievee Francis spoke directly about her obsession with Detroit. Born and raised in rural Texas, she moved to Detroit 14 years ago. Placing much heartfelt emphasis on her roots (descended from an Irishman and a slave), she exhumed an unrelenting (however subtle) sense of double-consciousness in her work – a tireless probe into the “outsider” perspective. This might be the definitive challenge of a true Detroiter, to forge through sweeping judgments of one-dimensionality. Kudos Vievee.

Kim Hunter read I Ain’t Your Monkey, a poem that traces the exploration of bewilderment through the interpretations of a measly news headline: Artist Body Found. He riddled the poem with a humorous sense of bitterness and sarcasm, only trumped by the free burdens of disillusionment. He embraced cliché. In the end, he turned the audience on its ear, an apt closing for the program.

“Shrinking Cities” no doubt brings profound international visibility to the urban changes and goings-on of the Detroit area. Yet, it took “Imaginary Cities” to truly deliver a sense of ownership and a well-deserved, humbled obsession.

“Imaginary Cities: Writers Respond to Shrinking Cities” was performed on Sunday, February 25, 2007 at Cranbrook Museum of Art. Readings by Will Copeland, Lynn Crawford, Vievee Francis, and Kim Hunter.

David Bartone is a published historian, poet, and short fiction writer. He lives in Pontiac with his cat, Hey Molly.

Review by Nick Tobier

Paperback: 256 pages
Publisher: Anchor (October 10, 2006)

As Paul Clemens describes it, he was born smack in the middle of America's racial shit storm.

That elegantly described epicenter in the early 1970's was right here--and although there are undoubtedly rivals to claim that title today, Clemens' hometown holds forth on this claim. “Made in Detroit,” is Clemens' testimonial to the city of his birth, a truly singular place that lingers for the author as a pervasive subject. “Made” is framed by the political arc of Coleman Young's rise to power. In this trajectory, starting with Young's first victory in 1973, Clemens describes the accompanying transformations of the city's neighborhoods, schools, and most prominently for him, the relationships between whites and the city.

Setting out to write a novel after college that included Detroit, race, class, and Catholicism--Paul Clemens describes his own attempts at fictionalizing these massive forces as things to play around with. What resulted from this solemn self-realization is “Made in Detroit,” an affectionate autobiography that reveals the author's internal conflicts on race and religion, laced with literary references from Milton to James Baldwin and anchored by the candor of Coleman Young's statements to the press. Young, like Clemens' other intermittent protagonist, Malcolm X, is painted as either a gritty determined realist or a contentious politician hell bent on getting the city's remaining whites out of the picture. Clemens' own appraisals of these men arcs along with accounts of his own life as a perpetual outsider whose status as such is predicated by his city.

“Made in Detroit” describes whites in 1970's Detroit as either among the Last of the Mohicans or something of Custer's Last Stand--that is either a relic or a potentially combative entity.

As Clemens' family stays put in the city (although they do move out from 6 mile to 8 mile) we watch his white neighbors leave for the suburbs, the city rescind its residency requirement for police officers, and Detroit's inversion of the American racial dynamic.

The book traces back and forth between the genuine affection Clemens has for his parents (particularly his father) his childhood friends, and the City that conspires to rend these affections more complex than the average paean to places pasty.

The affection for the place where one grows up is clear in “Made in Detroit,” a portrait that transcends any specific locale. The specifics of his locale however are not negligible. Constantly aware of race growing up, Clemens takes great care to describe whites and blacks through their appraisals of each other, using the words of Young on one hand and the anecdotes of white neighbors on the other to chronicle and inform our views.

The world is more complicated than our upbringings lead us to believe--reading the black canon in college Clemens comes to find kindred spirits in the worlds and words of James Baldwin. As an outsider in a white Western Michigan University, Clemens is closer from his upbringing to kids from Flint. Through his literary touchstones, Clemens finds voices of other outsiders that speak for the empathetic and complex relationships he lived where race is an irreducible factor.

The racial shit storm is the lens through which “Made in Detroit” chronicles the auto parts stores Paul Clemens worked in during the summers, his own unresolved racial tensions surrounding his future wife's past rape by a black man, the impact and influence of his Catholic schools, football games and coaches.

Through this lens also is the admiration Paul Clemens' indicates for his father, a Detroiter whose contact with his black neighbors and the city are portrayed as either more stoic or less anguished and metaphysical than the author's own. Clemens' willingness to reveal his conflicting emotions--about his city, his family, and the context in which they live make Made in Detroit an engrossing individual chronicle. His ability to weave this chronicle within the political and social context that is his life's backdrop allows “Made in Detroit” to transcend the autobiographical.

Nick Tobier, a professor in the Department of Art & Design at the University of Michigan, is a born and raised New Yorker in the process of transferring a good part of his affections for cities to Detroit.

Recently, contributor Holly Smith spoke with Cheryl A. Vatcher-Martin, a local poet, author, college professor and publisher extraordinaire. The following are excerpts from an interview and emails.

Holly: Poetry is a dying art…

Martin: Poetry is not a dying art and I am finding that a lot of individuals who previously were not particularly interested in this art form are newly inspired by my words. I have opened up the poetic door for these people with my book, “Woman Reclining.” I am excited that my words have done this.

Holly: What does “A Woman Reclining” say about you?

Martin: This piece was composed about Ms. Donna Jackson’s art work. This piece weaves together the story of her art and her life. What the poem says about me is that I am able to convey an important message that affects many women. I love to tell a story and create a piece that is universal to my readers.

Holly: Is there a trait or a feeling readers of this book would share?

Martin: I’m not sure whether there would be a singular trait that a reader would feel other than my work has been described as motivational by many, and a good read. A lot of people that have purchased my book have selected favorite pieces and told me about it…I appreciate feedback like that, as I want each reader to find a piece of “Woman Reclining” in him or herself. I truly feel that every reader can find a piece of him or herself in my book.

Holly: What drove your creation and content?

Martin: I felt that it was important to organize a book of poetry that would be read by a wide audience. I made sure to include poems and haiku about the different facets of life, including love, friendship, death, war, and cat poetry. I wanted men and women and teenagers to pick up my book and enjoy it, and learn something about life, and the complicated webs that are woven throughout one’s life. I laid it out so that a reader could flip through it, and find something that sparked their interest right away. I wanted to have a majority of my Haiku in one part of the book, so that those who wanted to read that section first could. I thought long and hard about the placement of each piece, especially my poem, “Woman Reclining” and my War Poetry.

I wanted each reader to absorb the lighter material before reading a piece like “The Wall #2,” and other war poems. I figured that if they were towards the end, it would be easier to get through this very serious poetry. I also decided to add a few short uplifting pieces to complete this poetic compilation, so the reader would be happy with the way it ended.

Holly: When did you know you could write?

Martin: I knew I could write when I was young. My first short story was crafted as an eight year old young lady who was caught up in her imagination. I’d give anything to see that red diary book where I penned my first piece in again. I guess you could say that I knew that I truly had a gift to craft poems and stories was while I was attending New Milford High School, in New Milford, Connecticut. I had an awesome teacher who taught the creative writing class that I too while I was a sophomore there. He told me that someday my Haiku would make me famous. In addition, I had my first poem published that year, and began writing earnestly.

Holly: What is your teaching philosophy, why?

Martin: My teaching philosophy centers around the fact that every student can learn and that it’s important for me as a professor to pull out the absolute best in each student that I teach. I combine books and real life scenarios to add a creative touch to my words. If a student wants to maximize his or her learning potential, I will give that individual the ability to do so, and teach them how to get there. I also believe in Mastery Learning which is a philosophy that encourages students to do their best work, yet, if by chance it still needs some improvement, they’ll have the opportunity to rework a story or essay. A student must be given the time to absorb the material and reduce his or her best work. I believe in the philosophy of “No Child Left Behind.” It’s important that as an educator I can inspire my students to produce their best work and succeed in other classes and in life.

I am always quick to point out to composition students that when they can write an argumentation paper successfully, they can succeed in any class, and of course, in the work world.

I also encourage my students to use real world examples that pertain to their lives when they pen an essay or poem so that it is real to them. I like my students to explore other venues to show them that the possibilities of success are limitless when they apply themselves. When a student says thank you to me for teaching them the subject matter at hand, it sometimes brings tears to my eyes as I feel that pupil actually realized his or her potential, and that’s a wonderful feeling.

Holly: Has a student influenced your work?

Martin: I cannot think of one at this point. However, all students have an impact on my work whether they realize it or not. I am inspired by their stories and their words as well.

Holly: You’ve said Shakespeare is among your favorite poets. Which work in particular and why?

Martin: Yes, I love Shakespeare and all of his works. I am a fan of old English, and I love the stories that are told as each one is based upon the life and times of William Shakespeare and other people that lived during his lifetime. One favorite of mine is titled “Sonnet 73” and this verse speaks volumes to me. His words are so eloquently written.

Holly: Having completed a novel in just one month, what is next?

Martin: Well more novels of course! I’ll be revising the one that I wrote in November and am excited about the possibilities of having that novel available for all to read. I am working on one other poetry book, and two non-fiction books. One will be a how-to for novice writers as well as those who are established. I like to motivate people to write and accomplish their goals. I hope to have these books available by 2008. I also am working on expanding my children’s haiku workbook to include more poems and exercises, plus, have a shorter version of my writing book or chapbook available in 2007.

Cheryl A. Vatcher- Martin has an M.A. from the University of Michigan and is the owner of Pero Inc.; She edits manuscripts and works with clients to help them become published authors. As a professor, she has taught Composition, French, Journalism, Business English, and Technical Writing. And as a continuing education and professional development instructor, she’s designed creative writing and poetry classes.

A selection of hers appeared in thedetroiter.com's lit section here.

Martin’s poetry, writing and photographs have appeared in many local and national publications. Her poetry can be purchased through her or Outskirts Press. Cheryl A. Vatcher-Martin, M.A. Pero Inc. P.O. Box 871692, Canton, Michigan 48187. Or e-mail at Peroinc5@comcast.net.

2/3/2007 Mark Steel, Author Event
Local mystery author leads a writing workshop and reads his work
10:30 a.m. and 1 p.m. Caroline Kennedy Library
Registration required
24590 George Dearborn Heights 48127
313.791.3800
http://www.ci.dearborn-heights.mi.us/library/caroline/caroline.htm

2/3/2007 African American History Month Kick Off
Featuring Slam Poet- Jamaal “Versiz” May
Storyteller- Madeline Porter
11 a.m. Detroit Public Library
5201 Woodward Avenue, Detroit 48202
313.833.1000
http://www.detroit.lib.mi.us

2/3/2007 Gail Hershenzon, Author Event
PowerPoint Presentation, History
2 p.m. Barnes & Noble Booksellers Livonia
17111 Haggerty Rd., Northville 48167
248.348.0696
http://www.barnesandnoble.com

2/5/2005 Book Discussion‘Mountains Beyond Mountains: The Quest of Dr. Paul Farmer, A Man Who Would Change the World’
7 p.m. Pittsfield Branch, Ann Arbor District Library
343 South Fifth Avenue, Ann Arbor
734.327.4200
http://www.aadl.org

2/6/2007 Dr. Frank Wu, Author Event
Wayne State University Law School Dean Discusses his book, ‘Yellow: Race in America Beyond Black and White’
7 p.m. Downtown Library Multi-Purpose Room, Ann Arbor District Library
343 South Fifth Avenue, Ann Arbor
734.327.4200
http://www.aadl.org

2/8/2007 Reads Event with Matt Kaiser of The Lambi Fund of Haiti
Columbus, Colonialism, and Creole: History, Myth, & Hope in Haiti
7 p.m. Downtown Library Multi-Purpose Room, Ann Arbor District Library
343 South Fifth Avenue, Ann Arbor
734.327.4200
http://www.aadl.org

2/9/2007 Asya Raines, Author Event
Recounts her experience as a young Latvian Jewish woman growing up in a Communist Society
2 p.m. Borders Farmington Hills
30995 Orchard Lake Rd. Farmington Hills
248.737.0110
http://www.borders.com

2/10/2007 Mary Ann Green, Author Event
Discusses her Christian based novels, ‘Abbeys Aru’ and ‘Bankrupt Heart’
Jackson District Library
2699 Airport Road, Jackson 49202
517.788.4480
http://www.jackson.lib.mi.us

2/11/2007 Dr. Janet Gilsdorf, Author Event
‘Inside/Outside: A Physician’s Journey with Breast Cancer’
3 p.m. Malletts Creek Branch, Ann Arbor District Library
343 South Fifth Avenue, Ann Arbor
734.327.4200
http://www.aadl.org

2/12/2007 Book Group‘How To Breathe Underwater’ Stories b Julie Orringer
6:30 p.m. Downtown Library Conference Room A, Ann Arbor District Library
Registration Required
734.327.8301
http://www.aadl.org

2/13/2007 Julie Orringer, Author Event
Discusses her short story collection ‘How to Breathe Underwater’
7 p.m. Neutral Zone, Ann Arbor District Library
343 South Fifth Avenue, Ann Arbor
734.327.4200
http://www.aadl.org

February 15 at 7 p.m.
Peter Ho David reads from his new novel, The Welsh Girl, at Shaman Drum in Ann Arbor. Free. More information can be found at www.shamandrum.com.

February 16 at 7 p.m.
InsideOut Writers' Reading Series
Detroit Artists Market
7:00pm--9:00pm

Stacy Aab
Stephan Johnson
Emily Maderal
Cheri L. R. Taylor

InsideOut has a reading set up at Detroit Artists Market in Detroit - four of the authors who teach for InsideOut will read from their own work. More information can be found at www.insideoutdetroit.org.

2/17/2007 Cynthia Kidder, Author Event‘Common Threads: Celebrating Life with Down Syndrome’
1 p.m. Barnes & Noble Booksellers Rochester Hills
2800 S. Rochester Rd., Rochester Hills 48307
248.853.9855
http://www.barnesandnoble.com

2/19/2007 Book Discussion‘An Unfinished Life’ by Mark Spragg
7 p.m. Community Room, Canton Public Library
1200 S. Canton Center Rd., Canton 48188
734.397.0999
http://www.cantonpl.org

Monday, February 19 at 7:30 p.m.
Sandra Seaton will have a new play read at Central Michigan University.

Wednesday February 21, 8:00 PM
Amas Muhammad
The City Wide Poets

Smoke Free, Admission Free,
and, for this show, ALCOHOL FREE
2661 Michigan Ave
West of Tiger Stadium, East of the I-96 Overpass
www.zeitgeistdetroit.org
(313) 965-9192

2/22/2007 Wendy Williams, Author Event
‘Is The Bitch Dead, Or What?’
7:30 p.m. Barnes and Noble Booksellers Fairlane Green
3120 Fairlane Drive, Allen Park 48101
313.271.0688
http://www.borders.com

2/23/2007 Megan Abbott, Author Event
‘The Song Is You’
7 p.m. Borders Downtown Birmingham
34300 Woodward Ave., Birmingham
248.203.0005
http://www.borders.com

Grant Description
This grant is intended to help support the residency of a poet, or, writer at the Grosse Pointe Art Center. It is sponsored by the Frank and Carol Hennessey Poet/Writer-in-Residence G rant with additional support from the Grosse Pointe Artists Association.

Aim
The aim of the Grosse Pointe Artists Association is to have the 2007 resident develop a program or programs that will foster a creative collaboration between the poet/writer resident, the members of the Grosse Pointe Artists Association, and the greater metropolitan community by enhancing the quality of cultural events at the Grosse Pointe Art Center. We encourage our Poet/Writer-in-residence to create a new literary activity.

Eligible Applicants
Poets, and, writers from Michigan who are eighteen years or older may apply.

Duration
Residency will be for 12 months, beginning in April 2007 and ending in April 2008 based on the grantee being present one day/evening per month at the GP Art Center.

Eligible Costs
There is a $1,000 stipend for the resident poet/writer. Costs associated with resident’s activities will require prior approval by the GPAA Board who will also take responsibility for all administrative aspects of the residency.

Application Procedure
The application should be made in the form of a letter to:
Grosse Pointe Art Center

Grosse Pointe Artists Association
1005 Maryland, Grosse Pointe Park,
Michigan, 48230

Attention: Poet/Writer-in-residence Application
Included in that letter should be a description of a proposed program for the residency, the timing of the collaboration, details of the proposed outcomes (e.g. exhibitions, websites or publications), and the anticipated benefits of the residency for both parties.
A resume should be attached. Those who qualify will be invited to present their proposal to the Poet/Writer in Residence Committee. The closing date for “2007 Application” letter is February 28, 2007.

Contact
Susan Macdonald, Grosse Pointe Art Center Director,
313-821-1848 or GPAA1@sbcglobal.net

1/10/2007 Carl Weber, Author Event
‘The First Lady’
12 p.m. Borders, Detroit
1012 Woodward Ave., Detroit 48202
313.963.8840
http://www.borders.com

1/12/2007 Lynn Herring, Author Event
‘Spartan Seasons II: More Triumphs and Turmoil of Michigan State Sports’
7 p.m. Borders, Farmington Hills
30995 Farmington Hills 48335
248.737.0110
http://www.borders.com

1/14/2007 Steve Lehto, Author Event
‘Death’s Door’
2 p.m. Borders, Ann Arbor
612 E. Liberty, Ann Arbor 48104
734.668.7652
http://www.borders.com

1/14/2007 Carol Gibson, Lola Jones, Author Event
‘Another Ann Arbor’ A Pictoral History of African Americans in Washtenaw County
2 p.m. Downtown Library Multi-Purpose Room, Ann Arbor District Library
343 South Fifth Ave., Ann Arbor 48104
734.327.4200
http://www.aadl.org

1/15/2007 Dave Stover, Writing Workshop
‘Get Your Writing Done: Creativity Skills and Support’
12 Week Class begins Jan. 15, Crazy Wisdom Bookstore
$300
114 S. Main St., Ann Arbor 48104
734.663.5790
http://www.crazywisdom.net

1/16/2007 LeAnn Keenan, Writing Workshop
‘A Writer’s Sketchbook: Exercising Your Ingenuity’
12 Week Class begins Jan. 15, Crazy Wisdom Bookstore
$300
114 S. Main St., Ann Arbor 48104
734.663.5790
http://www.crazywisdom.net

1/16/2007 Y. Blak Moore, Author Event
Discusses Work and Street Lit
7 p.m. Neutral Zone, Ann Arbor District Library
310 E. Washington, Ann Arbor
734.327.4200
http://www.aadl.org

1/17/2007 Greg Schutz, Sara DiMaggio, Author Event
Prose Poetry Reading
7 p.m. Crazy Wisdom Bookstore
114 S. Main St., Ann Arbor 48104
734.663.5790
http://www.crazywisdom.net

1/17/2007 Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Readathon
12 p.m. Wayne State University
5155 Guillen Mall, Detroit 48202
313.577.0592
http://www.wayne.edu

1/17/2007 Wayne S. Sapulski, Author Event
Discusses Recent Success Stories in Great Lakes Lighthouse Preservation
7 p.m. Downtown Library Multi-Purpose Room, Ann Arbor District Library
343 South Fifth Ave., Ann Arbor 48104
734.327.4200
http://www.aadl.org

1/20/2007 Karen White-Owens, Author Event
‘Now Until Forever’
1 p.m. Barnes & Noble Booksellers, Rochester Hills
2800 S. Rochester Rd., Rochester Hills 48307
248.853.9855
http://www.barnesandnoble.com

1/24/2007 Ashley David
Poetry Reading
7 p.m. Crazy Wisdom Bookstore
114 S. Main St., Ann Arbor 48104
734.665.2757
http://www.crazywisdom.net

1/25/2007 Tracy Kidder, Author Event
Pulitzer Prize-Winning Author Reads ‘Mountains Beyond Mountains: The Quest of Dr. Paul Farmer, A Man Who Would Cure The World’
7:30 p.m. Morris Lawrence Building, Washtenaw Community College
4800 E. Huron River Dr., Ann Arbor 48106
734.377.4200
http://www.aadl.org

1/30/2007 George Canter, Author Event
‘The Israel B. Richardson Civil War Roundtable’
7:30 p.m. Barnes & Noble Booksellers, Rochester Hills
2800 S. Rochester Rd., Rochester Hills 48307
248.853.9855
http://www.barnesandnoble.com

1/31/2007 Janet Sole, Writing Workshop
‘Proprioceptive Writing’
7 p.m. Crazy Wisdom bookstore
114 S. Main Street, Ann Arbor 48104
517.381.2667
http://www.crazywisdom.net

11/31/2007 Christine Hume, Jeff Parker
Prose Poetry Reading
7 p.m. Crazy Wisdom Bookstore
114 S. Main Street, Ann Arbor 48104
734.665.2757
http://www.crazywisdom.net