200! This is the 200th monthly episode of PoemTalk. To mark the occasion, we celebrated Evie Shockley with a day of events and recordings and conversation and it was all informally dubbed “Evie Day.” Before a live audience in the Arts Café of KWH we talk about two of Evie’s poems: “My last modernist poem, #4 (or, re-re-birth of a nation)” from The New Black; and “studies in antebellum literature (or, topsy-turvy)” from Semi-automatic. Evie’s expansive PennSound page happens to include recordings of her performing both of these poems, but since we were feeling the honor of having Evie there with us in person, we asked her if she wouldn’t mind reading these poems. She did, and you'll be hearing them as part of the PoemTalk discussion after the introductions. It was the annual gathering of a group that had been meeting for some years: Aldon Nielsen, William J. Harris, and the late and much-missed Tyrone Williams.
From left to right: Carlos Soto-Román, Soto-Román's book “11,” and Leanne Tory-Murphy.
I met Carlos Soto-Román in Santiago this January not long after Ugly Duckling Presse’s publication of the English translation of his book 11. Drawing from archival state documents and other found materials, 11 is an experimental work of documentary poetics addressing the dictatorship and its aftermath in Chile starting from the military coup on September 11, 1973.
From left to right: the cover of “Indigo Angel,” Jeanne Hueving (photo by Marc Studer).
The well-worn apothegm text, texture, textile gets reversed in Jeanne Heuving’s remarkable new book, Indigo Angel, which is comprised of three long poems that, read as one, become something greater, much in the way the ecology of a place gives rise to a human drama, our civilization’s history unfolding within a natural order.
Indigo Angel Jeanne Heuving Black Square Editions, 2023, 220 pages, ISBN 979–8–986036–91–5
The covers of “Further Adventures” and “To Go Into the Words” by Norman Finkelstein.
The lot of the committed poet-critic is a tricky one; the hyphen can be precarious. For some of the greatest dual practitioners in the language — I’m thinking here of Dr. Johnson, Coleridge, William Empson, Laura Riding — prose sooner or later seems to become the “easier” medium, the poetry either slowing down considerably, drying up completely, or being turned away from consciously.
Further Adventures Norman Finkelstein Dos Madres Press 2023, 108 pages, paperback $23 ISBN 9781953252821
To Go Into the Words Norman Finkelstein University of Michigan Press 2023, 222 pages, paperback $34.95 ISBN 9780472039418
After the event, Jose and I chatted briefly, but he had to jet off to class. So we decided to continue our conversation in a slightly more formal context. We corresponded via email on December 31, 2023 and through the first weeks of the new year, first discussing Black Box Syndrome and then Yaguareté White.
In August of 2023, just as the Fall term commenced, poet and scholar Jose-Luis Moctezuma reached out to me about celebrating Latinx Heritage Month at Wilbur Wright College, where he teaches Literature and Composition in the English department. Jose invited me to read from my forthcoming debut poetry collection, Yaguareté White, which was published by University of Arizona Press in February. As a fellow faculty member at the City Colleges of Chicago, I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to spend time with a new group of students talking about poetry.
You see, sometime back, I came up with a zippy formula meant to clarify how we might arrive at “political poetry.” It goes like this: if metapolitics is the seedbed of realpolitik, poetics is the mulch of metapolitics.
V. Joshua Adams: Let’s start at the beginning. The title of the upcoming 2025 book: WHITMAN. CANNONBALL. PUEBLA. It comes from the opening of “Caras y Mascaras,” which juxtaposes the names of poets and literary practices with those of military hardware and politico-historical places and events a total of 14 times, by way of tercets, like this:
April Matthis (right foreground) and “Help” cast, 2022. Photo: Kate Glicksberg. Courtesy The Shed.
Covival, not just survival.
There are many chairs and no tables in this depressingly uplifting play, Help, which is about a new table we need right NOW, “NOW that is the ‘n-word,’” as the play says: a kind of roundtable, virtual and actual, where we can all sit around to talk “us,” cohabitus, especially the souls of White folks.
Before the first poem of Afghan poet Hajar Hussaini’s debut collection Disbound, Hussaini already resists the limits of the book’s form, positioning her text in a conflict between sequence and chaos, what is threaded together and what imminently, and presently, comes apart.
Disbound Hajar Hussaini University of Iowa Press, 2022, 77 pages, $19.95, ISBN 9781609388676
From left to right: Laura Mullen, Mullen’s new book “EtC,” and Benjamin Morris.
EtC takes as its subject an iconic bovine mascot who has lived one of the longest and strangest lives of any corporate emblem in history — and whom Mullen here examines in a collection that serves equally as send-up, as critique, and as lament, but above all as trip through the capitalist funhouse: a trip in which, with the knives out and sharpened, we discover there is very little fun to be had after all.
Having recently returned to school as a mature student, once a week I drive from New Orleans, Louisiana, to Jackson, Mississippi on my way to campus, about a three-hour drive. Most of my commute takes place along Interstate 55, along which I often see a truck from one of the Sanderson Farms chicken plants in nearby Hammond, Louisiana, or McComb, Mississippi. These trucks are loaded up with thousands of live birds, their crowded cages stacked ten rows high and twenty rows deep, likely on their final journey ever taken in the open air.
