Pearl Pirie’s lists, reviews, interviews, etc. since 2005

VERSeFest Day 5: A B Series

cookie!
If you came at the right time, there was a cookie fairy at the door, a volunteer who brought fresh warm cookies to those who arrived. Oh my, just the energy burst one needed halfway thru a day, and most of the way thru a festival.
Kevin Max introducing
Kevin Matthews welcomed people back for the evening events then Max Middle introduced the A B Series sponsored readers. (The next reading is April 3 with Colin Morton and Susan McMaster at the Sunnyside branch of the library.)
I think the picture of Ewan Whyte below is better than what I got in his reading…
Lidner, Babstock and Whyte
Lidner, Babstock and Whyte in a conversational circle.
Ewan Whyte is a classic writer in the sense of having his head about the classics. His translation of the poetry of Catullus was published a few years ago. He has recently completed a book of poetry and a translation of the odes of Horace. He shared some of these (adding to the surfeit of poems about dicks the week) and the story of St. Francis de Assisi who, born rich, became a deft businessman, nonetheless got the dream-vision to become a penniless monk. In the town square he renounced his old life,

In front of the crowd that had gathered he said, “Pietro Bernardone is no longer my father. From now on I can say with complete freedom, ‘Our Father who art in heaven.'” Wearing nothing but castoff rags, he went off into the freezing woods — singing.

In Whyte’s account, the father disinherited him first, but in any case it was a tumultuous relationship with the son being impulsively generous and the father being shrewd, the son drawn the church and the father deflecting it. Francis did not try to abolish poverty, he tried to make it holy. Ah, generational difference.
In one poem Ewan Whyte read it was an account of being dragged against his will to an air show. (They are horrid things to be me as well. I went once, under duress, for the experience which was noise and pro-destruction trumpeting shiny happy people luring kids to the glory of war with stickers and coloring books. Frightening.)
In Whyte’s case, there was a plane crash, and the show going on as if nothing had happened amid the spectacle, apart from an occasional loudspeaker announcing that emergency crews were attending. A [non-lineated here] portion of his poem went: A child ahead of me asked her mother if the pilot will be okay and then burst into tears at being told the truth or at not being told the truth. Profound salvaged from the wreckage of military commercial complexities of modern life.
Claudia reading
Author of Your Hands Discover Me /tes mains me découvrent (2010), a minute or two/ without remembering, (2010) of poems of centuries of French Canada history, Ms. Radmore wrote the foreword to, and edited, Arctic Twilight; Leonard Budgell and the Changing North. (2010)
Since 2011, she has edited and published Murray Citron’s There is a Tree: shteyt a boim, and David Blaikie’s Farewell to Coney Island (2012, Tree Press) and has edited The Haiku Canada Anthology for several years.
One of the most striking ideas in this reading of hers was “at what point do questions get so complex that you need language to answer them?”
She plays with the surreal and against linear meaning and story, with mashup for new jutxapostions to see what shakes out, as you can see at her blog Ynklings.
She takes inspiration from eclectic spurs from history, science, art and music. One poem was with phrases from the art exhibition, Wyse Works, Exposing the Inevitable, Alex Wyse. June, 2011, The Ottawa Art Gallery. Wyse’s “truly great rural flying church” was rolled into pondering in how we understand information, “the human condition[…]and its soft underbelly”, what pre-dated the data stream, a time when bits back when they only meant “a small piece of something”, not digitalis.
She takes cues from Schubert sonatas to organ music to Owen Pallett’s Heartland which the singer called deliberately preposterous, a pseudo-medieval mix of pop and bulgarian men’s choir. Only underscoring that we have all of existence to bring onto our canvasses and see what jostles, joins or joists. It was wonderfully non-linear.

VF: Hall of Honour

A new tradition to thank some people who inspired started at this VERSeFest…
Inductees
The first inductees into the VERSeFest Hall of Honour: William Hawkins and Greg “Ritallin” Frankson.
Hall of Honour Ceremony, William  Hawkins
rob mclennan welcomed in William Hawkins with this introduction.

William Hawkins has lived most of his life in Ottawa, with side trips to Vancouver, Toronto, Tallahassee and Mexico. He is a veteran driver of the Blue Line taxi corps and includes prominent MPs, judges, journalists and bagmen among his regular clients. In recent years, Hawkins made a CD of his best songs, titled Dancing Alone, and was subject of an onstage tribute at the Ottawa Folk Festival for his contributions to the music scene. His collections of poetry include Ottawa Poems (Kitchener: weed/flower press, 1966), The Gift of Space (Toronto: New Press, 1971) and Dancing Alone: Selected Poems(Fredericton NB: Broken Jaw Press, 2005), with more recent chapbook publications through above/ground press and Apt. 9 Press. His online home is www.wmhawkins.com

Apt 9 Press, for the event, took into a second printing his 2010 collection Sweet Nothings.
Apt 9 press
William Hawkins
Hawkins said this ceremony was something of a circle for him since this Presbyterian church was where he was baptized. He said a little of his life path, from taking a course from Creeley and Olsen in 1963 to turning into the music scene.
He related getting lost for a decade or so in the booze and schmooze of the music business. He said I’d learned to live with the fact that I was a drunk but knew that I wasn’t a fool so I decided to drive a taxi because I can’t drink and drive. When rob mclennan found me driving a taxi I learned that while I was in music, people out there were still writing poetry.
People were still reading his work. He started looking at poetry again. His Dancing Alone: selected Poems was released in 2005. A sample there offers,

From the Ottawa Poems: #11
Your hair electric, on legs &
traces on breasts, skin tone,
sly ripples of pleasure,
distant explosions
in my ears & always
a burning within
& me lost in my own confusions.
You see I am not inclined
to discretion,
can offer only
obvious love
to all beautiful people–
at night your silence
keeps me awake.

There was a feature on his literary life and poems in Get Guerilla
There’s something of a plainspoken wit to him that reminds me of Robert Kroetsch. For example in his poem where he says (and I think I’m close but not quite right) birds shit all over Beethoven’s statue[…] I used to like birds. But now me and Ludwig don’t know what to think.
He read a few of his poems, further charming an already enchanted audience who gave an immediate whole crowd standing ovation at the end.
Hall of Honour Greg Frankson
Rusty Priske did the honours to give Greg his award. Greg made a graceful speech about how he didn’t start the scene and won’t end it but was glad to be a part of it and called out people and series as being instrumental in adding vitality to it including Kevin Matthews and The Dusty Owl series. You can see him at TEDx here.

Greg Frankson debuted as Ritallin in Ottawa in 2003. In 2004 he represented Ottawa at the Wordlympics (now known as the Canadian Festival of Spoken Word), and did so again in 2006. In addition to being a full-time professional artist, Greg recently was on the team that won the 2012 Canadian Slam Championships (though now representing Toronto).
Immediately following the Wordlympics in 2004, Greg co-founded Capital Slam, now one of the longest running monthly slam series in the country. He ran Capital Slam and the Capital Poetry Collective for 2 years where he created the template for a stable, supportive, inspiring slam series. He also founded the Bill Brown 1-2-3 series.
Before moving to Toronto, Greg co-founded the Ottawa Youth Poetry Slam. Creating this environment for young poets to come and share their work was a crucial step in the evolution of the spoken word poetry scene in Ottawa. The poets coming out of the slam have received great accolades, but even more important is the fact that it is a place where all youth can have a voice and share their art.
So while Greg’s work was crucial to help create the current Ottawa spoken word scene, through the Youth Slam his work is just as crucial to the future of the scene as well.

Greg Frankson
For one number he was accompanied by ArRay-of-WoRds on the drum instead of the usual Bodhran in the Boom Clap.
Greg Frankson
Greg did a poem that he does in cycles at schools about the plight of the immigrant farm workers which you can watch here. A compilation of videos of his performances, including the 10 Commandments which he also did there, are at his Cytopoetics channel on youtube.
Inductees

Super Squirrels in Stetsons Rule the Wor(l)d: This Call's for Poems

[Edit: Deadline extended to September 15th, 2013]
That’s as much the tone, or more, than the substance. A departure point…from left field.
Squirrelly poems. Those tangental to space. Absurd. Offbeat goats. Wondrous. Whimsical. Funny, kind. An offbeat optimistic. Mouse-sized flash fiction. Surreal. Silly. Vispo. Amuse me. (Hints: limericks do not amuse me. Dead squirrels need not apply.)
So, this here is a call for a “Squirrels in Stetsons Take Over Earth”, (or the “wor(l)d” or something) [flip over chapbook and it’s] “A Goat on Mars”.
Two covers. Some sort of woodblock look. If I can get someone to transfer the image in my head to ink.
At least one of of a squirrel. Why? Love the critters. There aren’t that many species more adaptive than people, or who look better looking than us in a tux. Or a tux and a stetson.

With their chocolate brown eyes batting their eyelashes like Zsa Zsa Gabor, they can leap small buildings in a single bound. Squirrels can do trigonometry better than you. They can probably do your taxes if there were nuts in it for them. Should there be a nuclear power plant incident, they may take over our homes, collecting rents from cockroaches and rats while making a little money on the side from fixing the results at their small scale casinos.

I’m thinking submissions accepted as of now to pagehalffull [at] yahoo.com with a subject line of “Goats”, deadline of Aug 15th, with a goal to it coming out this fall with my phafours press.
A 20 word bio included would help facilitate as well, or we can work that out if its among the poems that work together with the others that come into something interesting.

VERSeFest Day 5: Factory Series

The matinee event for 2pm on March 14th was a Factory Series event with Markotić and McElroy who both work with components of language more than starting from components of story. Their work in poetry seems more whole person some how instead of using the heart as a morphine pump while the rest atrophies. They consider the sound and rhythm and effect but also allow the head into the room. The effect is less defined and confined. Not his-story not i-story, more or-y.
Nicole Markotić
Nicole Markotić read a bit from Bent at the Spine (Bookthug) which is a disjunctured practice. She mentioned how a former student reference Prairie poetry as now meaning disjunctured poetry, not stories of grainfields like they used to. In her book “each stammer confesses grammar”.
She talked in her lecture on how we appropriate terms of disability for poetry when we speak of “accessible poetry”. We misuse the term “accessible” to suggest that the poem is a place we willfully bar access to and, the reader, by extension, is disabled and needs a ramp or other adaption to get equal access.
By good design in physical architecture, one doesn’t need to adapt to the user, but considers the user from the start. The design that helps those in a chair also is a good idea for those with strollers, delivery carts, with balance issues. Wide corridors that permit chairs, also permit conversations of the deaf where people may walk 3 abreast so see each other talk.
She said, if you need a ramp you often have to travel much farther than those who take the stairs just to end up at some awkward back corridor. She asked us to examine this idea of accessible.
Good design in poetry is by nature that which considers various end-users, not one that accommodates an unreasonable reader subset.
Gil McElroy
Gil McElroy read from various bits he read and wrote. He started off by saying he has a soft spot for the misheard and misread because, in part, random chance is fundamental to our existence in our universe.
He pointed out this story about the older Y-chromosome from New Scientist as how things can come to light by a random chain of events. And Markov chain, a mathematical theory of randomness in statistics, that first tested in the pattern of the first 20,000 letters of Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin.
One of his older projects he returned to was a prefix project that he did for a 10-day festival in Peterborough where he took stencils and chalk and added his prefix poems around town at 4 a.m. (The police were noticing.) He took words and made them into other words by cleaving off the “a”. In front of churches he added “a quire” and by bus stops “a go”.
Going entirely programmatically would make it too static. He wanted to reinject himself back into the material by messing with inserting himself back into the flow. For example within a poetly O! part series of reverse engineering new words into being,

o asis
o blique
o ccult
o gee
o be a fine girl, kiss me
o kay

The humour allowed out isn’t just a song lyric. It’s a mnemonic device for remembering the main spectral types of stars.
As I’ve mentioned before the meaty, interactive discussion bits are some of my favourite parts of literary events. I can read the word, or find recordings but writers fielding questions is a whole other level of depths.
Factory reading panel
Factory reading panel
Nicole Markotić and Gil McElroy on stage with host rob mclennan.
There were a lot of audience questions in this. I didn’t time it but perhaps more than a half hour.
The question of access came back again.
She said, in poetry aspects that help access and mobility are not parts that explain and elaborate and simplify. They are elements that keep you moving into the structure. The structure can remain complex. Where do you put the door in poetry? Wherever you put it, it doesn’t fix problems or make us all the same any more than it would in architectural terms.
In her experience it means a sweet spot, not too opaque, not too obvious. In practice it means a friendly poetry in form and tone. In practice accessible means customized. No simpler and no harder than it needs to be for any particular reader. But she made the point, if one wants only something pitched exactly at your level, what you want isn’t poetry. Maybe to be told a story. But poetry should have that extra something to chew on, unpack with more readings. “The pleasure is in not understanding. The pleasure is in the re-reading.”
The term access is problematic. It has implicit a patronizing, condescending position as if we need to dumb ourselves down so others can get it.
[Rather like the frame of “giving equal rights” rather than those being inherent dignities that are not ours to give and yet are ours to withhold. I’m not sure about the logic. Accessible is a new term in disability, predating the political consciousness. It seems more a homophone with the term as used in disability when it is used in poetry. And except in my experience I do have to dumb things down. Connections aren’t universal. People need a lot of dots. Unless you are all co-explorers and don’t want ledgers to match at the end, just enjoy the process of speculating together, which is also gratifying].
One thing Markotić pointed out is that once people are told her poetry has no narrative and you just enjoy the sounds and ideas, people had no trouble embracing it. Second year students found it “accessible”. It is a matter of where you place expectation of outcomes.
McElroy’s lists within language, playing with sound and erosion and err-osion was one of the more fascinating poems of the festival for me. Already my mind tends to cut up words and find words within words as a habit. The idea of making prefixes from a poem within a day already rolled into a new poem draft. It’s a fractured way of looking at elements for what they could do or be.
One of the audience member on McElroy’s neologism of “u niform” remarked that the word had a feel to it, saying, it’s as if I don’t even not know what it means but I’ll fight you if you call me that.
When asked something McElroy said he liked how “you can bend language and put it under stress but you can’t break it.”
rob gave a report on the lectures and other events that day.

VERSeFest Women's Slam Showcase

Jenna Tenn-Yuk hosting the Women's Showcase
Day 3 of VERSeFest was The Women’s Slam Showcase of V, Kay’la Fraser, Kimbit and Missaralee, hosted by Jenna Tenn-Yuk.
Miss Saralee
Missaralee told of being stuck speechless, except for the “words sanctioned by Shakespeare”, the right time and place being the stage, not interpersonal space. Girls are told to be quiet and obey. (Know that upbringing!)
She gave fair warning, if you are being a creep, I will shame you, and laid out the law of no means no, which you could also buy as take home posters.
Missaralee's posters
She also gave a poem on navigating the L word; “Love is a verb and I know we were friends. look at where we are.”
Kay’la Fraser
Kay’la Fraser gave her poem of how she’d love, hard as trigonometry so no matter what you’ll be part of the equation and love like Bambi skating on ice. Awkward but so damned adorable.
Kay’la also has a book “What’s Come of This”. Was that at the merch table? I forgot to check.
Kimbit
Kimbit tried out new material and interspersed some of it with her gorgeous singing voice. Romance was also on her mind on a romance that hasn’t dared yet. “How many times must we miss each other before we miss each other?”
In her other piece she related the story of being a boat person, how many countries turned the boats away, how many people were accepted, how many tens of thousands were killed outright in Vietnam and how perhaps as many as 165,000 more died in prison before boats escaped. (Her hat reads “BOAT”). She told the history with a personal connect from the point of view of being in her mom’s womb when they made the journey. Some groups landed in the night and burned their boats just so that they couldn’t be put back on them and sent away. If I copied right, Canada accepted 107,000 refugees in that 70s wave.
Was it she or V who said, “my heart is not empty. It is just full of the wrong stuff”.
V
V got the crowd all stomping and reacting. She did a poem from the point of view of modern Juliet bawling him out for dumb decisions.
She again talked way close to the mic so I could only listen from the next room and it was still too loud. I didn’t follow her threads. Something about adults can play in the snow too. Someone buried in the driveway? I’m not sure, but she’s a crowd pleaser of raw energy.
There were spoken word CDs, including one by Kimbit, but not in this shot.
CDs