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VOLUME 2 ISSUE 2 APRIL 2009

O&S

Lane Timothy
Michelle McEwen
Panika M. C. Dillon
Beth Edwards
Kristy Gordon
Christopher Arigo
Jeff Danley
Chin-Cheng Hung
Alex Rodriguez
Eileen R. Tabios
Rachel Constantine
Karen Hollingsworth
Sean Patrick Hill
Jane Varley

CONTENTS

90 Miles to Nashville
oil on canvas 48” x 36”

Cover Artist

Lane Timothy
page

65

Alley Cat oil on canvas 60” x 48”

Poet

Michelle McEwen
page

58

POETS & ARTISTS
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Panika M. C. Dillon
Beth Edwards
Kristy Gordon
Christopher Arigo
Jeff Danley
Chin-Cheng Hung
Alex Rodriguez
Eileen R. Tabios
Karen Hollingsworth
Sean Patrick Hill
Jane Varley
Rachel Constantine

This issue is also available for a limited time as a free download from the O&S website: www. M.C. please stop by www.poetsandartists. radio. podcasts. BESS Poetry Editors DAVID KRUMP WILLIAM STOBB Interviewer GRACE CAVALIERI Reviewers STEVE HALLE GRADY HARP MELISSA McEWEN MICHAEL PARKER 005 Sandra Simonds Columnists DAVID CADDY GRACE CAVALIERI 081 110 Kristy Odelius Short Story Contributor KIRK CURNUTT 131 Rebecca Foust A Collection of Favorites.com. O&S requests first publisher rights of poems published in future reprints of books.amazon. For submission guidelines and further information on O & S.I. website publications. DIDI MENENDEZ Creative Director I.interviews 014 Claudia Emerson art reviews 035 102 José Parra Wade Reynolds poetry reviews Publisher / E.com.poetsandartists. 2008 short story 024 Heavenly Shades of Night Are Falling miporadio 048 Juliet Cook Copyright reverts back to contributors upon publication.com . Print copies available at www. etc. anthologies.

2008 Review By GRADY HARP Sandra Simonds explodes on the scene as a poet who has the brazen audacity to describe the world as she really sees it! Not only are her topics drawn from her own occasionally too private experiences/fantasies. furs. That’s what they call a “nation. sweat glands. and the result of all this is poetry that not only sings. Huge as zookeeper’s heart. aortas. Who knows how large this zoo is when you take into account all the cages . I AM SMALL but my life is enormous. pins.” That’s what they ask the syringe and turkey baster holding zookeeper . Huge as angels. She seems to delight in poking fun at every available thought others take too seriously. but she also has the courage to delve into areas most poets avoid – yelling secrets of others with one of the richest and most colorful vocabularies imaginable. Let’s get hitched in the roomy cage of the latest newly extinct species.arterial strings. There’s no way out of this one.5 ORANGES & SARDINES Wonderfully Wild Woman Writes Winsome Wisdom: WARSAW BIKINI by Sandra Simonds Bloof Books. In this country they make lists (in hieroglyphics) of all the unions that will ever take place. but also explodes like a crackling sky of fireworks and bursting stars. penises nipples. He’s gone. Sam. There’s room.

flowers/ in false cuttings. Winter lungs are bare white trees. YOU SHOULD PUT A NEIGHBORHOOD ON THAT recalls her school years including: ‘I’ve learned the way/ of the crosswalk. What would the gift-givers say if they saw us now? What will they tell the world? And when you are home: Open all of the windows in your small house . blasé pandas. making the resultant poem more memorable. TOMORROW’S BRIGHT BRACELETS Winter lungs are white trees.take off all of your clothes. the ‘Intelligentsia’. My eyes are pale like a crust of ice over a long river. Some of Simonds’ more powerful works are poems that address her childhood or her past experiences or whatever that arena is that feeds her writer’s imagination. But beneath the brittle caustic veneer of this young medicine man of words lies a tender streak she attempts to shadow with humor. Put a silver ribbon in your hair. There are no ornaments because this isn’t Christmas. Put on all of your bright bracelets and walk out into the feathered snow. In other poems such as THE ACADEMY OF THE FUTURE: SCENARIOS AND MODELS she ingeniously mixes satire and raw humor together with some center target criticisms of education. and then take off all of your underclothes and watch your flushed cheek turn gray in a mirror. and while it takes a poem or two to plug in to her unique style of expression. I fled. and wild fantasies. once there the reader won’t want to leave! Wonderfully Wild Woman Writes Winsome Wisdom . and Fran/ (the guard) who/ held the DO NOT CROSS sign.6 ORANGES & SARDINES to sedate the African elephants and artificially inseminate the black and white./ Her face went puce/ her webbed/ feet never did finish/ her floral cross-stitch on which/ she sets the breakfast table/ to the sound of hornets’ acoustics/ across from the plant pumps/ so much Chevron fuel/ that half the town/ I fled. But communicate she does.’ And with only this small taste of the feast Simonds produces page after page it is difficult to communicate the marksmanship of her verbal jabs and the extent of her at times glossolalia manner of writing.

the words don’t come.7 ORANGES & SARDINES Panika M. you want them. you’re sitting on my chest & the words. depressed breathing. TX. She received her MFA in creative-writing poetry from Sarah Lawrence College. depressed breathing. Dillon Panika M. burn that muffle. too. I have no words. . take the weight off. I can’t breath like this. it’s called. I have only the fog & roads of my lungs & that’s not enough. I for you. like this will take the weight off. I say. AK and Austin. it could be called. C. that’s just not enough. that fog burned off the roads into my lungs.C. Dillon hails from Fairbanks. I can’t breathe. or don’t come the way you want them to. you’re sitting on my chest again. I say.

At times. in other pieces. I am using vintage dolls as stand-ins for people positioned in settings meant to evoke pleasure and joy. they are relishing nature.com “I wish to depict human situations without being obligated to the logic and restrictions of the human form. these characters inhabit ideal interiors appointed with mid-century furniture and modernist art.Beth Edwards www.bethedwards.” .

I take immense pleasure in living with art that I Q&A learn from and enjoy on a daily basis. Ohio. I work in a studio that we built onto our home. and Adam Jaynes and Carlos Estrada-Vega of Los Angeles.Hopper is a kindred spirit. I know I am looking at someone who has guided me profoundly at various points in my work. the Leonard Tachmes Gallery in Miami. Her work appeared on the cover of New American Paintings in 2001 and again in 2004. I also have a passion for Japanese prints of the Edo period and have collected several of those.9 ORANGES & SARDINES Beth Edwards was born in Decatur. Jean Koeller of Dayton. Collecting art is an addiction. Bonnard’s last painting. Laurie Hogin of Chicago. I am interested in making paintings that are literally in pursuit of that emotion through the images themselves. the Plus One Plus Two Gallery in London and is represented by the David Lusk Gallery in Memphis. like most artists. My husband and I have collected the work of Chris Uphues and Helen Beckman of New York. Stanley Whitney. but I share their ability to appreciate their surroundings. the more I am struck by his work’s unconventional power – its rawness. How does your environment influence your work? It is impossible for one’s environment not to affect one’s work. I wish for the paintings to be pleasurable to make although there is obviously a lot of hard work required to make a painting. She received her Bachelor of Fine Arts from Tyler School of Art and her Master of Fine Arts from Indiana University. When I look at Hopper. the Clark Gallery in Lincoln. In my work. I have two walls of windows in my studio – my yard is very lush in the summer. I hope that I can retain some of my belief in the importance of humor. Currently. am interested in the development of artists’ work as they approach the end of their lives. goofiness and sensual beauty at that point of soul searching and stock taking. Jennifer Moses of Boston. But the artist that I admire the most is definitely Matisse. His iconic images are the result of hard work. If you knew your time was up what would be the last image you would leave us with? I hope I am painting the kind of paintings that I would be if my time was up. the Tory Folliard Gallery in Milwaukee. The characters exude joy and are visibly taking pleasure in their surroundings. Alabama in 1960. And I wish for the viewer to feel deeply happy looking at the painting. I regularly collect the work of current and former students. It is a domestic setting and my work is about domestic environments. She has exhibited at the Gallery NAGA in Boston. I. Will Cotton and Lisa Yuskavage. There is a direct relationship between the two. I would collect the work of Amy Sillman. His work has been one of the greatest revelations for me as an artist. My work is about finding pleasure in one’s circumstances. She has taught at the University of Dayton and currently teaches at the University of Memphis. Whose work would you acquire if you were a collector? I do collect art. How do you bring emotion across to a flat surface? Happiness is the emotion that I am interested in conveying. Massachusetts. The more deeply I engage with Matisse. Which artist/photographer do you admire or has had the biggest influence on your work? The artist who has had the greatest influence upon my work is Edward Hopper. I live much more modestly than my characters. Happiness is obviously fleeting. If money was not a consideration. occurs from a myriad of factors and is not credited with much significance. aspects of life which are largely invisible. Her work is in numerous public and private collections including the Howard and Judith Tullman Collection in Chicago and the Brooks Museum of Art in Memphis. American aesthetic. Morandi’s last paintings almost evaporate. I have always been interested in the parts of life which are often overlooked. Matisse’s work is usually characterized as being about sensual beauty. “The Almond Tree”is a quiet and very humble final picture. It is important for me to connect with the emotion in the making of the image – at least sporadically. I feel a deep debt to his down to earth. I came to his work much later and it continues to grow for me in waysthat are hard to even describe. .

10 ORANGES & SARDINES Hot Dog! Beth Edwards oil on canvas 32” x 38” .

11 ORANGES & SARDINES Happy Day Beth Edwards oil on canvas 32” x 38” .

12 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Summer Beth Edwards oil on canvas 42” x 60” .

13 ORANGES & SARDINES Lucky Lad Beth Edwards oil on canvas 40” x 60” .

She is professor of English and Arrington Distinguished Chair in Poetry at Mary Washington College in Fredericksburg. Shenandoah. Claudia is now appointed Poet Laureate of Virginia. Her poems have appeared in Poetry. Virginia. Figure Studies: Poems. TriQuarterly. Each book is a cauldron of power. .14 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Grace Notes: GRACE CAVALIERI INTERVIEWS CLAUDIA EMERSON CLAUDIA EMERSON is a gifted and beloved teacher. was published in 2008 (LSU Press). She was awarded the 2006 Pulitzer Prize in Poetry for the book. She is also the author of the poetry collections Pharaoh. Among honors. and Pinion: An Elegy all volumes published in Dave Smith’s “Southern Messenger Poets” series. Her newest collection.) the most personal and intimate of her works. Late Wife: Poems (LSU Press.Emerson is the Claudia Emerson photo credit: Barry Fitzgerald recipient of a Witter Bynner Fellowship from the Library of Congress and fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Virginia Commission for the Arts. 2005. Southern Review. New England Review. She writes poems that are unequalled in American letters for their intricacies and intensity. Pharaoh. and other journals.

ORANGES & SARDINES Virginia is very rich in poetry. and for . One of my favorite trips was to the Greenspring retirement community in Northern Virginia. She takes great joy in the telling. and I can also expect to be very compulsive about working on it until it’s right. and writers’ groups. and while I know it’s the work of the imagination. etc. with some of the best writing programs in the country as well as several stellar literary magazines and small presses. I can expect a kind of loss of self in the writing. But if everything goes well. but often the main event or the original subject is off to the side. book clubs. or as good as I can make it! Grace Notes Claudia Emerson GC: Does each of your poems have a main event? CE: Not exactly. GC: If you were to write your memoir. Since the appointment. I have continued to do many of the things I did before the appointment—judge local poetry contests for the public library. Shenandoah and Virginia Quarterly Review among them. what do you expect to happen? CE: I tend to think about a poem for a good long while before I write it. and I have already put links to various programs and publications on the website as a beginning. GC: When you start a poem.15 GC: How does the Poet Laureate of Virginia dust the state with poetry consciousness? CE: As Poet Laureate. I see parts of the story as though I am remembering. and mentor emerging poets. or dealt with in another poem in a sequence. something I have been drawn to for much of my writing life. what age would you choose to begin your journey? CE: I’d probably begin not with memory but with my birth narative. I have to be ready and able to lose the kind of intellectual worrythat expectation connotes to me. very interested in hearing poetry and talking about it. and my plan is to make it a gateway to poetry resources in the state. I have received many more inviations to visit schools. The audience may have been retired—but they were not retiring. I have also begun a website called Virginia is for Poetry. for example. and I try not to “expect” anything for fear I’ll jinx it. I found them wonderfully engaged and welcoming. The poems can have a controlling metaphor as the center of gravity. the story my mother tells me every year on my birthday—how I was born in an ice storm so severe even the doctor couldn’t get to the hosptial.

and the small family farm is no longer central to the agricultural economy of southside Virginia. but also in terms of how farming families are regarded in general.16 some reason I see the scenes in black and white. probably because all my childhood photographs are black and white. I hope that the changing ways we think about farming will bring back the importance of local agriculture there. then more notes typed. I am an obsessive brainstormer and note-taker. Growing up. GC: In the act of writing. how to better work the form.) The rural life I grew up around has changeda great deal. though. they try to live as best they can. I surrender the worries of the ordinary. (I have also been interested artistially with animal consciouness and continue to be fascinated by how we interact with other creatures. even though those very concerns are often at the core of the poem that’s taking me away. GC: While writing. I will of course make choices— consider what to cut. what do you reject from the poem? CE: At first. GC: What is a balanced poem? CE: I suppose the notion of balance would mean for me that the poem has all it seems to need--and in the right measures. I leanred that even when people live in prescribed circumstances. particularly in rural areas. my process is very messy involving pages of notes handwritten. absolutely nothing. GC: How is your dignity of the rural world carved from the difficult/the hard lifestyle? CE: The early inspirations for my work ORANGES & SARDINES were firmly in the landscape of southside Virginia. I saw plenty of people living lives defined by the land and the weather. . As I continue to write my way through the ideas. what is reverence? What is chaos? CE: Reverence in writing lies in carefully measured language. then those printed out and scribbled over—all of this before I begin to commit to line and form. the every day. and that the value of such farming will rise not just in terms of how much Grace Notes Claudia Emerson money people can make. defined by class and gender. finding meaning in the land and in family. GC: What is the sweetest thing the writer surrenders? CE: When the writing is at its best.

While Frost warned that we can’t worry a poem into being. journal. GC: Is it true you were once a mail carrier in a rural world? What did you think as you traveled the roads? CE: I actually drove a rural route in a little red and white Chevy S10 with a sign strapped on the back—Caution. (The route was so rural in fact. and within a year and half. though. . GC: What wisdom traditions do you cherish? CE: Life wisdoms? Forgive mistakes made in love. two thirds of it dirt roads. As for writing? I have a quote on my desk attributed ORANGES & SARDINES to Rita Mae Brown: Never hope more than you work. don’t take offense when you know none was intended. Roethke. so the resonances were both fruitful and sobering. I do believe in discipline and dedicating as much time as I can to writing—by giving myself time alone to think. sometimes two or three miles between boxes!) I was part time. don’t trust arrogance. The combination of slow days in the shop with plenty to read switched up by long solitary days driving through the tired but beautiful landscape of Pittsylvania County inspired the first poems I wrote. often a poem a day. obsessions that would not be ignored.17 even when the triggering subject is chaotic. and the thesis I wrote there became (after a lot of revision of course) my first book in 1997. Williams. but I came backto Frost. and Dickinson as an adult maturing into a life not very fulfilling. never be bored. make the messy drafts I mentioned earlier. Bishop. that my stops weren’t really all that frequent. so the rest of the week I worked in a small used Grace Notes Claudia Emerson bookshop. since poetry is for me the highest ordering of langauge. but I have had insistent ideas. Chaos would be to abandon meaning. I read a lot of poetry then that I had read as an undergraduate at the University of Virginia. I began to write with a ferocity I haven’t known in the same way since. GC: Have you ever had a poem burst into existence in spite of you? CE: I can’t say that a poem has ever “burst” into being for me. I had a portfolio that took me to the Unversity of North Carolina at Greensboro for an MFA I completed in 1991. Frequent Stops US Mail—86 miles. or efforts at meaning. and I find particualry chaotic poetry written according to some theoretical fashion. Whitman. I was 34 years old.

Instead I allow the pure truth of the subject to take visual form on the canvas.Kristy Gordon Kristy is an internationally exhibiting fine artist. British Columbia. including the Government of Ontario Art Collection. I resist the temptation to idealize or romanticize. Gordon “I paint people in simple poses with strong. Illinois. psychological evocations. Elmhurst. Best of Show in the National Art Premier.” . she has earned numerous prestigious awards. including Third Prize at the Portrait Society of Canada International Portrait Competition. Born in Nelson. two Awards of Excellence from the Federation of Canadian Artists. and a Juror’s Choice Award from the Orillia Museum of Art and History. Kristy Gordon’s paintings hang in more than 400 collections worldwide.

and most often academies and ateliers are the best place to get that kind of training. often finishing off with some glazes. or using a mirror.  There are just so many things that I love about Rembrandt paintings. trying to think about what mood or concept I want to convey in the painting. or it may be a more conceptual piece. then I select a pose. Do you have a ritual or specific process you follow when creating art? Normally. How do you feel about formal training? I think that getting the fundamentals in drawing and painting techniques is extremely important.  Since I work primarily from life. so both are useful. as I go. Then I start to block it in with oil paint on the canvas. I start with thumbnails or quick drawings to get a basic idea and composition. I can look at a Rembrandt painting again and again and each time see something new and inspiring. so this helps the treatment of the painting “feel” like the emotion that I want to express. selecting the most appealing position of things such as exact placement of hands and hair. Yuqi Wang and David Kassan.  It is that combined with a beautifully painted work that has areas of tight rendering mixed with painterly expressive brushstrokes really impresses me. When we are in a certain mood. what I want to capture or say about the sitter. establishing the larger overall colour patterns.  Sometimes. I will make adjustments to the pose and details Which three other artists would you consider to be your contemporaries? Jeremy Lipking.19 ORANGES & SARDINES Q&A Which artist/photographer do you admire or has had the biggest influence on your work? Rembrandt. Although I also think that accredited post-secondary art schooling can provide many other benefits. How do you bring emotion across to a flat surface? First. gesture and expression that embodies that theme.  It could be the lighting and the chiaroscuro or the textures and paint quality.  I find that I normally call it “done” and then continue to look at it from a distance. Perhaps an inner emotion or feeling. I’ll also put it away for a week and then look at it with fresh eyes and add some final touches before calling it complete. I try to think about what I want to express with the painting. we naturally create brushstrokes and shapes that express that feeling. Generally I block in the light side and shadow side of the main forms. .  Then.  I really enjoy the way each of them include themes in their work. I’ll actually get into the mood that I want to convey in the piece. when I’m doing the painting. then work gradually more and more into the details. and make a few final adjustments to it before it’s really finished.

Easter Sunday oil on panel 20” x 16” Kristy Gordon .

Graciela oil on panel 10” x 8” Kristy Gordon .

Woman and Mannequin oil on linen 28” x 22” Kristy Gordon .

Raven oil on panel 10” x 8” Kristy Gordon .

” To Sis’s disappointment. That’s a flash of time you’ll be too busy to ever even feel. Yet even though Dorothea had grown up in the country. “but I want her to have a little innocence. and she believed in the gentler arts of dollmaking and appliqué and Theorem painting. She understood where venison and sausage came from and was never squeamish when she came across a putrefying squirrel or raccoon while playing at the creek. because he necessarily shared Dorothea’s concern. It won’t cost us any to wait until she’s twelve. as he confided afterward to his daughter.” Sis had overheard Dorothea tell Clinton. and now she was going to see for herself what that meant.” Clinton explained. “I know it’s silly. and Sis didn’t believe anything was beyond her ken. her father had agreed — though not. That seems the right age for a child to handle the chopping block. She’d helped birth a foal and had once driven the tractor when a calf carcass had to be dragged through the pasture for disposal. “It’s only five years. and nothing— not even a steep twenty-five-cent admission price—was going to stop Sis . Sis. A little girlishness. “I just know enough not to run contrary to Ma. she was still a woman. poultry butchering was one thing to which she’d never quite acclimated. Just indulge me. Of all the facts of death on a farm.” But five years was only two less than her age. her father. They’d intervened in the form of a sideshow attraction that rendered five years a moot point.24 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Heavenly Shades of Night Are Falling SHORT STORY BY KIRK CURNUTT (Part One) All her life Sis had been told to stop running around like a chicken with its head off. It was her mother’s fault that at seven she’d yet to learn. Sis was old enough to work the teatcups in her father’s milk barn. Tonight Mike the Headless Chicken was coming to the Shelby County Fair. Higher authorities apparently agreed.

Sis would claim hers was from a sugar sack. So as Sis stepped into the handiwork her mother had helped her guide straight between the feed dogs and the throat plate she pretended the material wasn’t scratchy osnaburg. A feedsack for now will do. so when she ran back to the bedroom Sis made sure to take a breath and think if there was anything else she might not remember. There would be other girls at the fair whose dresses originally arrived at their parents’ farms bagging a hundred pounds of chicken meal or fertilizer. He set a pair of white Mary Janes on the uncarpeted floor. “Your grandma was saving these for Christmas. Sis could hear Horace’s voice over the thump of his heels. She was rubbing the powder into her belly when the door unexpectedly opened. No time to dillydally. “That chicken won’t have nothing on you. As long as she could remember she’d watched Dorothea work the treadle and bobbin on the Singer and now she was old enough to do it herself. no. Because I’m so sweet. You ain’t forgot your money. She was squeezed between her grandma .” After the door closed. “Here’s your shoes. It was a pretty dress. you’ll have to work your way up to that and then to a finer fabric. she’d say. No.” the old woman sighed. anyway. If anybody asked. anyway. As much as my guts been hated around here. She grabbed her shoes and a hairbrush and raced through the house to the porch where her grandma waited. Getting the Mary Janes over her heels wasn’t easy. too. It was the first one she’d sewn on her own—mostly on her own. have you?” She had. his eyes goggling like a horse’s. fixing his gaze to the ceiling. though—I’m starting the car. she slipped into her underwear and sprinkled talcum on her chest. “You got to teach her to throw that bolt. Sis would’ve preferred her Heavenly Shades Of Night Are Falling first one be made of muslin. The dress was as new as her shoes. Once in the black coupe she slipped her quarter into her right sock so she wouldn’t lose it. but the ground’s dry enough you can break them in tonight. the last thing I need is her telling Clinton I caught her in nothing but her skivvies. will he? There’s a pair in the laundry basket.” Sis didn’t wait for the rubbed powder to soften the pink speckles the hot bath had given her skin. From outside she heard the rumble of Horace’s twenty-year-old Ford coupe as he backed it from the barn.” he said. but Dorthea had said. with blue-shaded morning glories and lilacs for a pattern. Ethel. Once dry. but she was more excited about it.25 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S from being there when he took to the stage. The man she’d been told never to call Grandpa froze in the threshold. In her father’s old bedroom in her grandmother’s house she toweled herself from a fresh bath. “You forgot your socks.

I say ‘most of’ because the chop misses the jugular and the brain stem. As freeing as it might seem not to be plagued by selfconsciousness—which is the fall of man. “Don’t get too disappointed if this Mike business turns out to be a fraud. not even knowing his head is under his wing. According to Charlie. which is what controls a chicken’s reflexes. but something about another man rasping clippers across your skull makes a fellow real chatty. that don’t mean he’s done with mirrors or nothin’. .26 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S and the man who wasn’t her grandpa. he was more concerned with how wide Sis had to spread her knees for the gearstick to make it to fourth. They’ve yet to make the glue that’ll hold a phony one in place.” “That doesn’t mean this Mike’s hiding his head.” Sis didn’t understand a word of this. “Charlie Hearns who’s on the fair board was in the other day for a trim. I’m sure for however many dollars he made that Colorado farmer there’s been plenty of men decapitating their flocks in hopes of recreating that miracle lop. this can’t even be the original Mike the Headless Chicken. He gives the critter an odd chop with the hatchet that takes off most of its bean.” he insisted. “There’s a reason you can’t yank the beard on a bearded lady at these sideshows.” “Oh. Ethel finally tucked the girl’s legs onto her own lap. Even then. if you ask me—it was a one in a million stroke what spared Mike from knowing his peculiar condition.” Sis sniffed. It’ll take another million years for it to happen again. One day a farmer in Colorado goes out to butcher a Wyandott rooster for dinner. and whenever Horace shifted gears. He didn’t want to spill any beans. because that one would have to be thirteen years old. Like I said. “You know how this whole monkey business started? Charlie told me all about it. He didn’t seem to notice that. Horace’s bent arm whirled wildly at her.” Ethel answered for Sis: “I would think headlessness’d be far harder to rig up than a fake beard. sitting Sis sidesaddle. it’s a one in a million stroke that not even the best surgeon in France could’ve given Louis the Sixteenth. So this Mike is able to strut around with his own head under his wing. I’ve done my checking up on this.” Horace gave the impression of preferring to listen to himself instead of her. and it’s a rare chicken that’s gonna live a decade.” Horace said as they puttered along Blue Ridge Road. Ethel had to cup her free palm around the bend in Horace’s shirtsleeve to protect her grand-daughter. “Just because he’s not the first one. his elbow inadvertently popped her right above the breadbasket. but that wasn’t unusual when her notgrandpa gabbled. much less a decade and Heavenly Shades Of Night Are Falling some with no noggin.

Not one way. It was a two-word name. “What you know about a chicken could fit on a feather. so this girl and me might talk in confidence. It took several strides along the lines of parked cars before the change didn’t pinch. but as much as your children hate my guts the last thing I need is her telling Clinton we were in the car alone together. I would ask you to step outside. She knew what those were because each morning she helped her father attach the teatcups to the cows’ udders in the milk barn. she tucked the coins evenly at the sides of her ankles and hoped they didn’t slide under her heel. As ragged as Clinton runs his operation. And it’d be about as weighty. When they arrived at the dirt lot a man with dark circles under his shirt arms motioned them into a parking spot. not unlike the rhythm of the tires. I’ve no doubt your ma would appreciate my charity. Sis watched the cornfields peel by. If they do. You at least act Christian toward me. “Well. “I don’t have nothing particular to say. They’re just yakking to give their jaws the workout. It was hard enough to walk on one quarter. I know you’re not too snooty for some jinglejangle. only the second of which Sis understood: teats. “You planning to talk to her. and I’m here to ensure you do. You find the Hokey-Pokey Man. Horace shut off the engine but made no effort to open the coupe’s door. Ethel. “You need to know that some of the folks preening this midway like cocks of the walk may speak less than flatteringly of your grandma and me. to lug a piggy-bank in her socks seemed a monumental task. Her voice was low and humming. the green and gold blurring until stalks and ears seemed to lose shape and become more liquid than solid.27 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S “Horace. too. but I’d rather you be the beneficiary.” He put his arm on the back of the seat and twisted to face Sis.” Nobody spoke the last few miles to the fairground. and you get you some gum drops and some—” He said the funny name he always used for candy corn.” Ethel finally interrupted. hovering above the brown earth like dots of water hurled from the new Zimmatic irrigators the wealthier farmers let prowl their land.” Horace sighed. or you want me to?” he asked the grandmother. “C’mon now. just Heavenly Shades Of Night Are Falling ignore them. You’re here to have a good time. Take them. a pain in his face. Nevertheless. I ought to donate my spare dimes to him.” Her hesitation had nothing to do with the fact that Horace was the man she wasn’t supposed to ever call Grandpa. “I’m giving you every bit of spare change I got today.” He reached into his pocket and jangled a handful of loose coins as if he were throwing dice. not the other. But then the three of them reached the first tents that marked the .

When she craned to see the steel web above the tent tops. It took her a while to find the source. Exactly who the movie star was wasn’t clear. Several yards down the midway a photographer was selling teenage boys the opportunity to have their pictures taken with a movie star. not a bolt. Only it ain’t his head ’cause his got ate by a cat. She wondered which she would see first: a movie or a chicken on the chopping block. “I was with her when she bought it at Murphy’s. someday. she imagined it rotated in tempo to the music. There were more important concerns to debate. If he’s laying an egg he’d be famous for that. I saw her and Pa dance to it when they thought I was sleeping on the davenport. Nobody was quizzing anybody on what their clothes originally bagged. She raced to join her friends without asking permission. but familiar. their dresses were adorned with bold floral patterns and electric colors.” she told her friends. not Heavenly Shades Of Night Are Falling for having no head. “Mine says he’s gotta be a robot.” The other girls stopped talking long enough to listen.” Everybody had an opinion to share. eight-thirty! Don’t waste all that money on candy! And keep them Mary Janes white as they are now!” The girls were her classmates. They’re gonna make a robot person. They kept promising that. all Sis could see on the signboard above the booth were the words MOVIE STAR. though.” Sis didn’t speak. though she didn’t know for sure—Clinton and Dorothea had yet to take her to the Strand Theater.” “I bet he’s not even living. when she was old enough. We have a record player in our house. But it was the music that interested her most.” Phyllis Metcalf answered. tinny and distant.” Bobbie Kissling chimed in. “Back right here. like hers.” “My dad says a headless chicken can still lay eggs. the discomfort gave way to excitement. The woman was brunette and pretty in the way that Sis assumed all movie stars were. “iddn’t gonna make a robot chicken. and when Sis spotted some girls she knew.” “Mike’s a rooster.” Margo Ropp was saying. The whirl of orchestral strings made Sis think of the Ferris wheel. “My ma has this record. Sis wondered if she’d have to wait to turn twelve before that happened. Sis noticed that. they would. She was listening to music. “Anybody goin’ to the trouble of making a robot. In a month and a half they would start second grade together.28 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S midway’s entry. . sure signs that the fabric came from a feedsack. “I heard he keeps his head in a pickle jar. Only vaguely was she aware of her grandmother calling out the evening’s ground rules. “I bet he’s stiff as a board from the taxidermist.

A few yards away Little Pruitt sat elbows to knees on a folding chair. The boy’s name was Walter. a boy from their class rushed up.” Before anyone could plug their ears to save themselves from Lucifer’s tune.” Gaye Caffee grimaced. none of whom seemed to Heavenly Shades Of Night Are Falling move with any more urgency than a glue dab. he was known as Helicopter. She heard a barker with a voice as sharp as a switch call out: “Star of The Magnificent Ambersons. too. Somewhere among the promenade of ring tosses and target shooting. . The Tilt-a-Whirl was all the way down toward the other end of the midway. “Where is it?” Phyllis asked Helicopter. by Indiana’s own Booth Tarkington! Academy Award winner for The Razor’s Edge! Most recently seen in glorious VistaVision as the fetching Nefertari in Cecil B. as he furiously swallowed. It was like lava!” Along with her classmates. Even from a distance you could see his Adam’s apple going up and down. where the line of tents broke open to accommodate the rides. “I like syrup on my pancakes. “My preacher says not to listen to it. like days of old Lighting the spark of love that fills me. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments!” Only when the barker’s voice was too distant for his words to be understood did Sis realize what she hadn’t heard: the song she’d once spied her parents dancing from the davenport where she played possum. Sis was aware of passing the movie star’s booth. He didn’t no more n’ hop off the platform than it jumped straight out his mouth. not in my ears. Gimme Elvis Presley or gimme death.” added Margo. Sis lifted herself onto the railing and scoured the path of grass that lay between it and the rickety ride. too.” “This is colored music. He always did it when he got excited—once in first grade it was so distracting the teacher made him sit on his fingers. Because the devil likes him. The whole time he ran the boy twirled his hands at his wrists. like a shuttle on a sideways loom.29 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Deep in the dark your kiss will thrill me. with dreams untold Each day I pray for evening just to be with you Together at last at twilight time “Ick. The girls were huffing for breath by the time they cut and darted around the clog of adults. Helicopter’s hands were still whirling as he stood next to the railing that kept the line of children from rushing the ride. Thanks to his spinning hands. The devil likes the coloreds’ music. but they did. but nobody called him that. He says Elvis is bad. “Little Pruitt just threw up by the Tilt-aWhirl! Come see!” He was so eager he didn’t wait to see if the girls followed. his face white and pasty. “Should be along here somewhere.

Eddie smiled at Sis and her friends. keep walking. Looking about as thin as a quivering cattail. “Hey. Only when Sis hopped down did she realize where the pulse came from: the carnival worker running the Tilt-a-Whirl’s controls was hitting the rail with a thick metal pipe.” he groaned. the man dug his hand into the can and sprinkled another fistful of shavings over the pile. “I ain’t sitting here for an hour. Little pressed his stomach with his fingertips and cleared his throat. disappointed.’ you hear?” He turned back to Little: “Eight o’clock. I’m a master seamster.” Eddie shot back.” he finally told Little Pruitt. waltzing a cup of water to his queasy sibling. sock-hopped into his barber shop. maybe Little Pruitt’s not done!” Before anyone could check a vibration shot through the rail. Other than a hairstyle. Eddie pointed to a man on the far side of the rail. Jack.” Helicopter suggested. A. the young man could be sure he’d quadrille out with a crew cut. “You have some left in you?” she asked. “I still got fifty cents to my name. “I’ll meet you back here in an hour. It felt like an electrical shock.” “Let’s get you a corn fritter and another ride. was—she’d just heard Horace mention it on occasion. “We didn’t beat the sawdust. A. A. Sis walked over to where Little Pruitt sat. It was Little Pruitt’s brother.30 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S “You’re too late.” “Don’t have a heart attack.” Eddie was still staring down the pig-faced worker with the pipe. Eddie. “Get off there!” a voice growled.” Sis said.” he smirked. Sis didn’t know what a D. He was a fat-faced man who reminded Sis of a storybook illustration she’d seen of the Three Little Pigs. “I gotta go see a girl about a gash in her coon-skin cap. he looked a little like Elvis. the man stood over a small mound swinging a coffee can in one hand while lighting a cigarette with the other. and another jolt burned through the metal. As they watched. I don’t need dear old dad boxing my ears because you were the first munchkin ever to get lost at the fair. “Empty as a gas tank. and thanks to his D. Chief.”the worker snapped. “The line’s over here.” somebody said.” “Can’t she just sew it up?” Phyllis Metcalf asked. I’ve helped a lotta girls with their coon-skin caps. He pointed to the children waiting their turn with one of his black hooffingers.” he told nobody in particular. Heavenly Shades Of Night Are Falling He liked to say that if any greaseball with a D. He could do that—he was a teenager already. “I just got dizzy is all. on the dot. Just don’t go blabbing I said ‘gash. “That’s why she needs my help. He was actually a year older than her but everybody called him Little anyway because he was so much younger than his brother. . “If you’re not riding. “Sure.” Little Pruitt finished the water.

“you’re out one whole ride. Again. She wasn’t sure he could. The lit cigarette barely missed her. Go on. though. too. “You dropped something. chickadee. “You lose this. he clapped his fist shut. Sis knew what those looked like because she’d been in her parents’ bedroom before when Dorothea dressed. “I don’t want to miss Headless Mike.” Bobbie Kissling cut in. but I didn’t. so she wasn’t sure this one was hers. I want a seat on an up-close bleacher so I can see down his neck with mine own eyes. the cattail man took her by the wrist and himself pressed the money into the center of her palm. But once upright he found his feet.31 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S “Maybe you can get sick again. take it. reopening his hand. Only Little Pruitt had waited to make sure she was safe from cattail man.” he told her. This time it was the cattail-quiverer. He quickly yanked his shirt cuff over the image. “You didn’t see that. “Not everybody in this operation’s as honest a man as yours sincerely. Spend it with all the benevolence Mr. Only when she went to take the dime. she discovered the other girls had kept on walking. At first she thought it was a messy scribble of veins.” he snorted. . The man’s grin broke when he realized Sis was looking at his tattoo.” “What we better get is to the show tent. “C’mon on.” Sis didn’t take the dime.” Sis pushed the dime deep in her sock.” The group started walking off. barely missing catching her fingers.” Pinched between the same two fingers as his lit cigarette was a sparkling dime. Sis waited for Little Pruitt to get up. Now I could’a kept your money. Tipton would. He still seemed dizzy. flipping the dime into his palm.” Helicopter offered. One more and I’ll be scraping a griddle somewhere. She wasn’t taking any chances. He was squatting at the rung on the rail where Sis had stood. not the dime. ain’t you?” His features were so sharp his face looked like it’d been whittled from a woodblock. When she turned around. the lit cigarette barely missed her. They started to follow their friends when they heard a “Hey!” It wasn’t the pig-faced man. instantly forgetting his previous suggestion. “I’m just playing with you. but then the form resolved into a familiar shape. so you owe me. All us carnies got families to feed. Heavenly Shades Of Night Are Falling “Aw.” the cattail man said. the one with the can of sawdust. “Don’t lose it again. The man grinned as Sis returned to the rail to claim her money. okay? Bossman done repped me twice already for letting it out to air. let’s go. though.” “I heard they feed him with an eyedropper. Sis could still feel the coins in her socks. It was a naked woman. She was distracted by a blue design on the man’s forearm.” When Sis still didn’t take the dime.

Sis laid two dimes on the platter. “You can’t say that to him. but he shook his head and pointed instead to a little platter of nickels and dimes among the candies.” “We do our own milking. I do a lot of the milking myself. Plenty.” Sis was doubtful. shooing a fly from one of the cups. the one she didn’t understand.” She was about to tell him he was a liar. “A bunch of them live not but a block from here. “It’s all good.” He pushed one from a pile of them to the edge of his platter. I done it myself.” he told her. and her mind went elsewhere.” the Hokey-Pokey man insisted. She caught Little Pruitt staring at her. Little Pruitt was trying to figure out how to dig candy corn from one cup while carrying another of coconut haystacks. “Here’s you a nickel.” Under his supervision. We got a couple who come out to milk for us. She started to hand the man the coins. “Remember the Hokey-Pokey man always makes fair change. she didn’t say anything. As they left the concessionaire. so as they approached. “You’ll get me in trouble passing it over straightaway. “Let’s get some—” She used Horace’s word for candy corn.” she said under her breath.” Heavenly Shades Of Night Are Falling Little Pruitt pulled three cups from the tray. “I just wrestle them down and go to work sawing. waiting for her to order. “The Hokey-Pokey man got enough problems. “Fifteen cents out of twenty means you get a nickel back. not Sis and Little Pruitt. “But it ain’t gonna gain any flavor just from you two staring at it. “How’d you do it?” Little Pruitt shrugged.” he told her.” Sis didn’t understand what he meant.” she answered quickly and defensively. T’aint nothing. In the tray were little cups of gum drops. She just looked over the tray that hung from his neck by a V-shaped strap. “I can tell you ain’t been around many coloreds. but then she saw a familiar figure stationed by the haunted house. licorice bites. Little Pruitt stopped in his tracks. Now his voice was back to normal. and he kept looking at the fair-goers walking past them. He’s likely to pop you. little miss. Sis propped a hand to his shoulder for balance to dig money from her sock.” he said as he ate. His voice was louder than before. Nothing in life ought to be so difficult to choose. but the truth was the HokeyPokey man scared her a bit.” he said. and fudge. “I help my pa. and what Margo Ropp said . shaking a long black finger.” Then she thought of the song that had played at the movie star’s booth.32 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S “You ever seen a chicken butchered?” she asked as they made their way between the rides to the show tent. “There’s the Hokey-Pokey man!” she said. “You do it. “Sure.

leaving Sis to nearly topple onto the ground. Instead. and one of those. As the barker prattled on. a lot of things I say to you don’t sink in. She’d only eaten three by the time they reached the show tent. Apparently. a green one. C’mon. which weren’t sweet enough for her.” The man jerked Bobbie so hard . she’d been relegated to jelly-beans.” Phyllis told one woman in a cherry red dress dotted with the white silhouettes of tulips. Ladies and gentlemen! a barker in a candy-stripe coat declared through a megaphone as he flipped open the tent flap. She’d just about retrieved it when Bobbie was suddenly jerked out from under her.33 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S about it. not by choice—it had melted into the side of a red one. and not stomping other folks’ hands while propping feet on the bleacher backs. but Little Pruitt had kept that cup for himself. “I thought I recognized you. Your ma’s pork sandwich ain’t sitting well.” What Sis had wanted was candy corn. Helicopter and the girls were all in line waiting for the show tent to open. Only he says it’s not always colored music just because coloreds sing it. “My ma listens to colored music.” “Then she don’t really listen to colored music. He got in trouble for driving all the way to Chicago to buy his records. you can bet his mortal remains will fill a belly or two—hopefully mine! All that overripe oratory was followed by decidedly less grandiose directions about keeping the line civilized.” Little Pruitt’s cheeks plumped as he chewed his second coconut haystack. He even likes some of it. Sis threw a hand to Bobbie Kissling’s shoulder and dug into her sock for her quarter. When Sis said. having correct change. You’re about to Heavenly Shades Of Night Are Falling witness what will rightly go down in history as the eighth wonder of the world! And I will tell you here and now I personally think tonight’s spectacle should rank higher than either the Great Pyramid of Giza or the Taj Mahal on any such list! Because no man ever made a night’s dinner out of those marvels! But after the soul of tonight’s special guest passes into the azure coop of sky. sir.” “My ma just buys them at Murphy’s. “Yes. ain’t you?” A man in brown trousers had Bobbie by the wrist.” “But Mike’s about to happen—” “I said your ma’s not feeling well. Bobbie. Phyllis Metcalf waved Sis and Little Pruitt forward. “So does Eddie. “We’ve been holding their places. We need to go home. My pa lets her.” he nodded his head. He’s always teaching me about his music. Sis let herself believe that dress had originally sacked potatoes. Because Eddie says Murphy’s don’t stock none. “You’re Ethel Brandywine’s granddaughter. despite grumblings from the folks they cut in front of.

Something brushed her right hand. “My stomach hurts. They sat together one row behind their friends. too. Whether he held her hand to soothe his own anticipation or to comfort hers didn’t really matter.” he told her indifferently. The barker took her quarter with a smile and patted her head.” Sis overheard Margo whisper to Phyllis.” “Peter. Bobbie stared back bitterly at the line. He obviously hadn’t heard of Ethel Brandywine. Little Pruitt was curling his fingers among hers. Sis pushed her elbows into her knees. She rubbed a wrinkle from her dress and stood straight. crudely snapping off instead of dimming. “Just so you know. Every one else did. (To Be Continued) . “Little Pruitt. He dropped each cup under the footwells of the bleachers and then stuck his head down among the row of shoes to see exactly where and how they might’ve Heavenly Shades Of Night Are Falling landed. she was taller. too. She and her friends watched the man drag his daughter off.” “Me neither. “I saw her ma eating a hamburger. she was spooked. hers wasn’t the only imagination whirling with wonder at the possibilities of what a chicken running around without its head might mean. leaning forward.” But a second later when a spotlight erupted at the front of the tent. As she stumbled to keep up with his pace.” he groaned after a while. This wasn’t the first time it’d happened and it probably wouldn’t be the last. “Not pork. “I ain’t scared of no chicken. It took a long time for the crowd to file in. Sis felt a second startle. Fancy got the better of her and she wondered what kinds of deformities crawled under bleachers in the dark of a carnival.” Sis thought of what Horace had said in the coupe. no matter what happened next. Then she realized what had really given her the scare. The tent swelled with such eagerness that the excitement was almost claustrophobic.” she heard Little Pete whisper. just as he did the head of every child who entered the tent. A fat man in a plain suit hoisted a cage covered by an apron onto a table.34 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Sis thought she might fly out of her shoes. So long that Little Pruitt not only finished the last of his coconut haystacks but the candy corn and Sis’s jellybeans. Sis just felt good knowing that. Before he could unveil his marvel. it’s been so long since I called you anything but Little I can’t even remember your Christian name. She liked it that even though Little Pruitt was older than her. The lights went out. Sis chose the seats because she didn’t want any other friends dragged away simply for sitting in her proximity. A squeal went through the crowd.

tradition versus novelty. and reality as interpreted or transfigured by the glorious excesses of Baroque all contribute to his grand and complex paintings that mark the world as a stage waiting to be illuminated by grand costumes and props. include working in his father’s Tlaquepaque. yet peopled by those actors who surround him in real life. Early influences. outside of introspection and dreams as a child. His subject ideas about power versus fear. Mexico gallery surrounded by paintings and statuary deeply influenced by Spanish baroque decoration and reproductions. he has managed to bridge that chasm between the old and the new in a language that is ecstatically of his own creation.35 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S The Fragile Thread Between Dream and Reality: Encountering the World Of José Parra Review By GRADY HARP The Queen’s Caravan José Parra is a young artist with an old soul. His fertile. Ever a dreamer. royalty versus common. inquisitive mind embraced that precursor school of Mannerism (1520 – 1580) that responded to the harmonious .

pigment and canvas with an infectious hunger for philosophy and the circles that at times fail to define a beginning and an end – the tangent between real and spiritual. beginning and future or past. It is this journey from the intellectual sophistication of Mannerism to the subsequent artificial excesses of the following Baroque period that brought Parra to his mature style. Yet the vivid colorful costumes and . Raphael and early Michelangelo. brush. His paintings are rich in detail as though he painted them from life despite the very obvious fantasy of his floating ships. The young José Parra combines his technical facility with drawing. signature harlequins. and melting worlds.36 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S The Last Great Voyage The Royal Fleet ideals and restrained naturalism associated with artists such as da Vinci. seen and imagined.

an artist whose talent goes beyond the expected surface and invites us to dream. One of the aspects of José Parra’s paintings that makes his work so poignant in our contemporary world is his ability to take the viewer into another space. the fortunate viewers. a place where we. The Queen Of Harlequin Monkeys The False Clothing Of Cleonte accoutrements of his tableaux don’t completely disguise the tinge of sadness or disappointment of unfulfilled expectations. The Last Great Voyage. And this is his goal: his paintings are not complete until we. Here is a young and gifted artist to watch.37 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S creative fantasy. can find at least momentary solace in transporting ourselves into his spaces of . participate and at least temporarily fulfill those seemingly thwarted expectations. the players in a mundane and chaotic world. yet he is also able to paint dramas of touching intimacy as in The False Clothing of Cleonte and the Frida Kahloesque The Queen of Harlequin Monkeys. He is at his strongest in his panoramic paintings such as The Queen’s Caravan. and The Royal Fleet.

and anticivilization theory. . He is an Assistant Professor of English at Washington State University. ethnopoetics. His second collection In the archives (2007) was published by Omnidawn Publishing. Additionally.Christopher Arigo Christopher Arigo’s first poetry collection Lit interim won the 2001-2002 Transcontinental Poetry Prize (selected by David Bromige) and was published by Pavement Saw Press (2003). he co-edits the literary magazine Interim with poet Claudia Keelan and is currently working on a booklength hybrid scholarly/ creative nonfiction project on the intersections of ecopoetics. language extinction. hunter-gatherer culture.

this is a further story a furthering of impulse of water pulsing through maiden-hair ferns into an undrying spring: a dog swims in the water you say the dog—a shepherd (—this is no pastoral)— is happy the cool drip is the sound of undying the air drifts in thermals and there are no jets only the sound of your own blood traveling unpanicked the occasional imagined sound from vultures drifting on thermals you confuse with breeze or the stirring of rabbitbrush or single-leaf ash a desert marigold’s almost blinding wave its leaves drawing fine traceries around its base you say there is plenty written about panic and not enough about origins Christopher Arigo .39 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S from Desert revised 5.

40 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S from Desert revised 9. the light is minor everyday you erode a bit everyday you get to know the light better and better until you predict when the shadow from your eaves falls across the yard between two boulders of granite shipped from who knows where all that remains and remains you gone your remains sufficient to replace you what erases you is not wind-blown sand or freezing and thawing and cracking you are ecstatic in the desert your insistent grip on my arm there is an ecotone between us—-the dust between you and the desert Christopher Arigo .

mountains take rain and leave virga trailing off above the land you live in the rainshadow rain has afterthoughts called smell of sage—several different species whose names you can never remember: which is silver which is dusty green which has purple flowers which is which is reduced which is tridentata called cooled off from the intense heat that preceded it rain calls with steam what is home and why vapors trail also across the near-blue air—algorhythmic lines bisecting ad infinitum the jets have not traveled overhead near enough for you to erase Christopher Arigo .41 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S from Desert revised 10.

Jeff

Danley
“ I have always been interested in the
language of the body – what is being
expressed by posture and movement, as
well as the marks of time on the body itself.
In response to my own physical
malformation, I am acutely aware of such
ideals as beauty, perfection and symmetry
in relation to the human figure.
Through intense observation of the
model, I slowly build up many layers of
paint to create a material form, giving the
inert pigment the illusion of a flesh and
blood presence.”
jeffdanleypaintings@gmail.com

Jeff Danley
grew up in
Georgia,
Florida and
California. He
now lives in
Nashville
where he has
worked as a
drummer and
as art director
for television
commercials
and music
videos.
A self taught
artist, he has
been painting
full-time
since 1991.
He has been
in numerous
juried,
invitational,
and gallery
shows across
the country,
and his work
has been
featured in
many regional
and national
publications
including
New American
Paintings and
The Oxford
American.

Which artist/photographer
do you admire or has had
the biggest influence on
your work?
I’ve been influenced by
artists from Rembrandt to
Rothko and beyond. The
influence can be more
than any obvious style or
subject matter. I try to
search out anyone painting
the human figure, but I’ve
also found much in works of
non-figurative painters, as
well as artists working in
other mediums. There have
been just as many
“unknowns”as there have
been well-recognized ones
that have had an influence
on me.
If I had to pick one, it would
be Caravaggio. Several
years ago I spent several
weeks in Italy for an
independent study. Once I
saw the Caravaggios in
Rome, I would start every
day by going to the S. Luigi
dei Francesi to look at his St.
Matthew triad—and many
times I would also end the
day there. I could not get
enough of those paintings.
Seeing them in person
solidified my desire to be a
figurative painter.

paint, paint, paint, and
paint some more. In my
opinion, that’s the most
valuable type of training
available.
How do you bring emotion
across to a flat surface?
I think just by having the
human figure as my primary
subject brings emotion to
my work. I almost never
paint faces. Most of my
models are posed or
cropped so that you never
see the face, because I
don’t want the work to be
about a specific identity.
We usually think of emotion
as coming from the face,
but I think a lot of
expression can come from
the pose, the gesture, the
body language of the
model. I try to use all of the
components, including
color, lighting, space, and
even the size and
proportions of the canvas
to assist in conveying
emotion. The psychology of
a piece can change
dramatically just by the
amount of space
surrounding the figure, by
what fills that space, by
how it’s lit.

How do you feel about
formal training?
I have no formal training as
a painter, and have
regretted this at times. But
I’ve found that formal
training is no guarantee of
success. With or without
training, you have to do
your work. The most
important thing as a painter
is to pick up your brush and
paint. You might make a lot
of messes—you have to just

Have any of your mistakes
become a success?
When I first started painting
seriously, I wasn’t sure what
I was going to do. I only
knew that I wanted to take
a non-objective approach
to painting. But as I would
work, things would emerge,
like a shoulder, a back, or
maybe a thigh. I would
scrape them away, try to
paint them out. And they
would come back, try as I

Q&A

did to get rid of them. It
was like seeing a shape in
the clouds, once you see it,
it’s there. After much
frustration, I realized—
“PAINT THE FIGURE.” When I
finally let it happen, people
immediately started
connecting to my work in a
way that had never
happened before. And
surprisingly to me, so did I.
The “mistake” was in trying
to control my work into
what I thought it should be
as opposed to letting it
develop into what it was
meant to be.

Must there be a statement
with each creation?
I think there is too much
emphasis placed on every
work having a statement,
so much so that there is
much more concern with
writing about the work
instead of making the work
itself.
In what I do, the focus is on
a body of work, with each
piece contributing to an
affirmation of the whole.
Sometimes there are
paintings that become
more important to me
personally because
something may develop in
them to push me to
another level in thought or
technique.
I hope that the viewer
experiences something
different each time they
encounter the work, that
their experience grows and
continues to engage them
in some way. That to me is
the greatest statement that
someone could give about
my painting.

Medusa
oil on canvas
57 1/2 x 37 1/2

Jeff Danley

45 ORANGES & SARDINES Gabriel Jeff Danley oil on canvas 42” x 42” .

46 ORANGES & SARDINES Leda Jeff Danley oil on canvas 31 1/4” x 48” .

Submerged No.1 oil on canvas 13” x 9” Happy Day Jeff Danley oil on canvas 32” x 38” .

Furry bodies wriggle in sockets. make up as a seasoned delicacy’ (OED 1). Juliet Cook’s Horrific Confection combines elements of magical realism and dark horror in a poetic exploration of the domestic. fertility and eyes and the knife as implement and weapon. and the artificial. The egg registers as nutrition.48 ORANGES & SARDINES SHWA 20: Juliet Cook’s Horrific Confection BY DAVID CADDY I would like to say a few words about Juliet Cook’s Horrific Confection originally published as an e book and now published in hard copy by BlazeVox Books (www.blazevox. The raw seems to permeate and resist the cooked. glowing hot wire ribs and crumb cake crawling out of the narrator’s throat. ‘heat me up’. Leave behind tiny stingers pumping venom into trespassed flesh. which provide both a narrative and analytical structure. ovulation. Throbbing. More than that. mixture. The book is divided into four sections. especially food. ‘heat me up’. straining twisted limbs. ‘Morning Fragment’. a deadly potion’ (OED 5c). a composition. It is set deeply within the meaning of confection as a noun ‘the making or preparation by mixture of ingredients’ (OED 1). inhabits a domestic world that is both sensuously tactile and swerves between the kitchen as a site of sanitised violence and food as nourishment and poison. embryo. the egg and the knife. Little sister ensanguined. introduces two recurring motifs.org) of New York. ‘cool me down’. showing the domestic to be both constructive and destructive. ‘consume me’ and ‘choke on me’. The opening poem. The first section. compound’ (OED 5) and as a verb ‘to make into a confection. (page 15) . Here the narrator attempts to resist the artificial and sinister world of her mother’s domestic regime: A black line blurs into bristling trellis. glistening marmalade. Cook reaches back to older meanings of confection such as ‘a medicinal preparation compounded of various drugs’ (OED 5b) and ‘a prepared poison. Honey bees burst out her eyes. ‘a preparation made by mixing. to mix. within a breakfast image of bloodshot eggs.

and release a steaming shitload of dirty words. ‘Beady-eyed sweetie. smeared. Zombie lips. The artificial is seen most graphically in the poem. (page 15) Cook’s feminism is indirect and subtle. to Barbie dolls. / dragged into the lush desire for even darker disguises. interchangeable crotch panels. from the mother figure. ‘luminesce’. the swarm. (page 17) In the second ‘cool me down’ section. I can’t hide. Excruciating swell and thrall Words sprawl disembodied. Domestic violence lurks and hovers in all manner of unexpected places and weapons.49 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Note how the stressed ‘b’ produces a savage intensity. I surrender to the toxic spill. He wants made-to-order. blinking lights. A husky hum from the filthy darkness underneath a rusty engine. / They know how you want to be a book. Cyanosis-blue and serrated abduction. the poem ‘Grotesque Intimacy’ features a narrator that yearns for the artificial and transgressive desire. ‘She Warns Me’ continues: Mother’s burgeoning tongue. He wants a barely legal doll who can fit a small octopus inside like some kind of mutant nesting doll rape. a bottomless spit valve. to confectionery and the male gaze. ‘deliquesce’. Knivey licks and public restroom reek of chloroform. Here the self and her partner seek invasion: ‘We’re being drained. Ripped open dress. / Feel the baby earwigs tickle your spine. Tendons slashed. ‘Dollophile’. which concerns male fascination with blow-up and other dolls.’ The language is suitably double-edged and shifting into a multilayered universe of possibility.’ David Caddy SHWA 20: Juliet Cook’s Horrific Confection . and occasions some blistering and comic language: He wants to smooth pancake makeup onto already poreless ‘flesh’ He wants her preprogrammed ‘voicebox’ to ‘acquiesce’.

choke on me./ a frosted slice. It wants her -. The section as a whole gives voice to confections that insinuate and fester against the matronly domestic goddess and her opposite the domestic witch. ‘Pink Bird’ and ‘The Angel of Death’ bring this energised collection to a climax full of invective and humour.’ in order to avoid decapitation and gives voice to the Gingerbread Girl that ‘didn’t ask to be cut in the shape of a girl.50 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S The textual solidity of the poems forces through to a world that is less make believe and more credible horror through its constant reminder of the self as consumer and its proximity to the raw. Sample 1. but have nothing real to fill them. ‘A shiny knife winks at her. holding down the tongue depressor gag. ‘Horrific Confection’. These poems show the ways in which the artificial penetrate other parts of a woman’s life and culminate in ‘Costume Party Afterbirth’ where: You’re more like a pinstriped service provider. You have frisked your hollow panda bear head until at least one piece of candy fell out your eye socket. ‘little death scenes’. Your gaping piebald maw. horror cakes and gaping holes oozing slime leading to ‘Self Portrait as Semi-Amorphous Entity’ where ‘she’s beating / her own head against a doll house / door’ and the narrator’s head ends up in the cake pan. fake cakes. (page 42) The final. Gaping and glazed with coagulum. ‘Spilled Milk’. ‘unable to be construed’ and ‘spicy misdeeds’.’ and later from the same poem.’ This is an attack on the artificial as she would prefer to be ‘abstract’.’ The third section begins with ‘Self Portrait as Gingerbread Girl’ and takes the reader into the heart of this culinary dystopia. You have anthropomorphized yourself. Poems such as ‘Oh Those Mercurial Wrists’. Fake Pig Suspended in Silicon Sample 3. Choke on me shows the impact of the artificial on the young girl that veers away from the domestic goddess to the domestic witch in a blistering series of dramatic and satirical poems. Here’s the beginning of David Caddy SHWA 20: Juliet Cook’s Horrific Confection . It is a wonderfully idiosyncratic elegy. You experiment with cup sizes. ‘Swathes of mucus always ooze / from slugs nestled inside her pastel cupcake papers. Fake Secretary Sample 2. section gives voice to more mutant confections. Here the narrator longs ‘for a dress that flaps open’ and to ‘escape this edible mess / of shams. you have felt yourself up for suspicious lumps. Besmirched Cryptozoology.

some of them are trying to turn me off. ‘Faster Lambchop! We must escape the damned rapscallions!’ (page 54) This. over-the-top glamour she calls ‘Tarred & Feathered’. in MY visceral guide to uterine occupation. I’ve cued the seizure-inducing lights and the spew of slashed babymakers. is a mere warm-up for the full violence of ‘The Angel of Death’ that links its sustained attack on the artificial to a Catholic upbringing and explodes in visceral anger. but my motorized blades are still whirring furiously. (page 63) David Caddy SHWA 20: Juliet Cook’s Horrific Confection . The way her lips sizzle then ignite – Bananas Flambé. My womb is a real muckraker and half the congregation’s dirty fingers are stuck inside. The way today’s look is called ‘Little Bo Peep the Whore’ as she wields a tiny riding crop. You see. Some of them are trying to get me off. exclaiming. however. This leads to The way she makes up her own eyes with a languorous. Bang your head to the strains of this heretic cunt. the vagina dententa myth is true.51 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S ‘Oh Those Mercurial Wrists’: The way she froths at the mouth then explodes into sexy blasphemy. Painted flames drizzle down to scintillating nipple ring gleams.

detailed faces.” Chin-Cheng Hung www.chinchenghung. I expressed the sentimental human sense with a powerful visual effect through the huge. as well as abstract figures that involve motion and minimal atmosphere.com . is to create art that reflects the changing times while maintaining the conventional tools and influences of my culture.“My interest. as a Chinese artist.

I personally admire arts that have intense narrative content and can speak by themselves. Who’s Who in American Art.Atlanta. or rather. Maurice Quentin de La Tour (1704-1788). and Odd Nerdrum (1944~). but also a more thoughtful process of creativity. the Southeastern Pastel Society. To me. Whose work would you acquire if you were a collector? If I were a collector and if it is possible. I like the way he portraits his models and demonstrates such poetic and romantic disposition with an artistic and classical atmosphere. I would collect any good figurative work. New American Paintings. Who’s Who in America. He is a member of several prestigious organizations including the Pastel Society of America. Chin-Cheng Hung is a professor of foundation studies at Savannah College of Art and Design . A powerful and meaningful artwork can last forever. His works hang in many private and corporate collections in Taiwan and the United States. Hung has received numerous awards from different juried competitions and has been featured in International Artist. and served as a member and former President of the Chinese-American Academic and Professional Association in Southeastern United States. .Q&A Which artist/photographer do you admire or has had the biggest influence on your work? I admire photographer George Platt Lynes (19071955) deeply like a lot of photographers although I am a painter. His biography was selected to be listed in the newest editions of Marqus Who’s Who in the World. and most recently the cover of The Pastel Journal magazine in June 2008. and Who’s Who among American Teachers and Educators. If you knew your time was up what would be the last image you would leave us with? I would definitely leave my self-portrait with the world as my last image if I knew my time was up. I firmly believe that formal training is important for every artist. A good art education can prepare an artist with not only good skills. a reflection/mirror of an artist. How do you feel about formal training? As a classically trained painter and art educator. An artwork with no rich visual content and clear message won’t be able to impress viewers to keep coming back to visit it again and again. Besides. Must there be a statement with each creation? A good artist must be a good thinker. a self-portrait is a true representation of an artist. His innovative style and mastery of lighting has had a great deal of influence on my work. I would collect paintings of Jacques-Louis David (17481825). One can reform the rules easily when they have learned them.

54 Chin-Cheng Hung ORANGES & SARDINES .

55 ORANGES & SARDINES Besiege pastel 28” x 72” .

56 ORANGES & SARDINES Animosity Chin-Cheng Hung pastel 36” x 63” .

Infatuation pastel 52” x 24” Chin-Cheng Hung .

Michelle McEwen Michelle McEwen – a writer living in Bloomfield. When she isn’t reading. Connecticut – always has her head bent down in some book.blogspot. she’s scribbling or doing something poetry related on http://theblacktelephone.com/ .

but they’d never be able to say they made it out of Coffeyville on account of a Thomasville boy. Michelle McEwen . didn’t care how she looked eating a peach. The Thomasville boys. but they’d never be a main girl— they’d get taken to the prom. with a girl whose mind was always on crossed legs & Sundays? Those were Thomasville girls for you and Thomasville girls did not impress him— they were made to impress mothers and fathers and aunts. he said. Any weekend you could find them on some corner downtown— holding hands. No one ever really intended to make a Coffeyville girl their main girl—except maybe Coffeyville boys who were no match for the boys of Thomasville. the Thomasville boys outshined them and their girls took notice— would do anything to be able to jump down from the bleachers. they called him. Real Coffeyville girls didn’t hold hands—they started at the good stuff. his bunch. lean against the fence and holler out the name of a Thomasville athlete. Sucker. Gwendolyn Lee. he said.59 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Sucker   Gwendolyn Lee was the first Coffeyville girl to pay daddy any real attention. but he didn’t mind because to him Gwendolyn Lee was just the sort you hung on to— maybe married. Even on the football field. Daddy says he was one of the first in Thomasville to fall hard for a Coffeyville girl. they’d get shoved in the river and not complain. What did he want. made fun of him for this.

I wish I could have known her like this— loose as jelly and not all-the-time-worrying Michelle McEwen . of my mother in little yellow shorts and white boots knee-high— claims at one point my mother drops to the ground. long-haired women would have been jealous. Darren thinks my mother should have been a Soul Train dancer— bets the camera would’ve zoomed in the most on her. The wedding: Sunday clothes.60 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Jelly My cousin Darren is determined to tell me about who my mother really is— who she was before the twins took over her belly. which I have yet to see. then hops right back up as if her body was jelly. Even the lightskinned. rushed her into marriage. court house & a witness. he says. He has a video tape.

he says. Uncle James got the tame Sarah. my cousin says and he means it— knows and holds on to what he saw that afternoon when a sweet-talking-old-flame came bursting through the door— high or drunk or both. the butcher knife my mother pressed up against that man’s throat. Michelle McEwen Jelly .61 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S about whether James will like the meatloaf she put in his lunchbox for work. Darren will never forget.

will last all summer. Ma says it’s just butter— and the falling out begins. Da always loses his cool in July. Da says we can’t afford to let butter melt. just in time for kitchen flies & butterflies & wild blueberries for the pies that never get made because it is too hot to bake. gets hotblooded when he can’t sleep off the heat.62 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S July The baby came home in July— right in the middle of summertime. too hot to be messing around with some oven. Makes like he’s smoking no more. says Michelle McEwen . how everything’s melting— just like the butter left out all day on the counter. Look how everything’s ripening.

but we don’t have it made.63 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S it’s a breeze being cigarette-less and a father now of four girls. in July— and there is never ever enough shade. Michelle McEwen July . Ma could use a maid. so she keeps a tight hold on the four of us because the boys on our street can’t wait for us to get older. But there is never a breeze. it seems like.

For change for a soda. the Thomasville gym would be filled with them. just threw on any old  thing. on prom night. Thomasville folks joked. on Monday. Those girls were something else: part-boy the way they slung rocks and ducked just in time. Michelle McEwen . were already planning what they’d wear  on Sunday. who’d let you. said who needed city women when you had Coffeyville— where the girls didn’t think twice before climbing up trees and into backseats.64 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Even on Sunday The Thomasville girls. father says. Gloria-Jean was one of these girls out of Coffeyville. unzip. you could un-tuck. The Coffeyville girls. even on Sunday. feel up on all the Coffeyville girls and for that. unbutton. but all girl when it counted— when it mattered most who’s boy  and who’s girl. They leaped into creeks and waterholes with the boys— didn’t mind it when their hair drew up from the water.

O& S P O R T F O L I O LANE TIMOTHY .

lanetimothyprints.com Lane Timothy grew up in Missoula. MT. and he finds one of his biggest challenges is keeping up with demand. AZ and Peterson Cody Gallery in Santa Fe.com www. Lane Timothy’s art is represented by Waterhouse Gallery in Santa Barbara.lanetimothy. Lane’s nostalgic work is acquired by many well known collectors. CA. and is a self taught artist. .Lane Timothy www. Skywest Airlines and American Art Collector Magazine among others. and his paintings have graced the covers of American Traveler. NM. Bonner David Galleries in Scottsdale. At the age of 11 he sold his first painting and at the age of 21 he had his first sold out show. His work has been featured in numerous magazines.

while my composition and color pallettes are very modern and contemporary.” . My vintage figures are reminiscent of an earlier more innocent time.“I spend most of my time researching and daydreaming of stories I can tell through my work. I love the challenge of trying to marry both styles.

American Dreamer oil on canvas 48” x 60” .

Cadillac Blues oil on canvas 60” x 40” .

The Bare Necessities oil on canvas 60” x 48” .

Departure oil on canvas 60” x 48” .

Eye Of The Beholder oil on canvas 48” x 36” .

Solitude oil on canvas 48” x 36” .

Boys And Their Toys oil on canvas 48” x 60” .

Learning The Links oil on canvas 48” x 60” .

Eye Catching oil on canvas 36” x 48” .

My Girl oil on canvas 30” x 40” .

Patiently Waiting oil on canvas 36” x 24” .

Will She Say Yes oil on canvas 48” x 36” .

.

as we find out who might trade “Stomach for knuckle” or “‘L’ for ‘P’”. Jeffrey Beaumont. we’ll find out what we got. 2008.” and this Tiresian situation/situating fuels many of the resonant poems in Odelius’s collection. this scene is crucial to the film because it brings together the disparate worlds the main character. Even though Ebert objects to Lynch’s alleged mishandling of Rossellini. finds itself examining its terrain by straddling two worlds a la Lynch’s Beaumont in “Blue Velvet. ISBN-10: 1905700849. ISBN-13: 978-1905700844 Recently viewing David Lynch’s film “Blue Velvet.” from the book’s second of three sections. Only another’s . his female lead. and sadomasochism. straddles—the normal world of suburban Lumberton and the seedy underworld of gangsters. In a way.81 ORANGES & SARDINES STRANGE TRADES by Kristy Odelius REVIEW BY STEVE HALLE Shearsman Books. 92 pages. Having fear of both death and breath situates the poet-speaker between life and death. readers discover the title’s “we” is a stand-in for poets or makers.” and readers get a taste of what the poet-speaker has given up and received in return: I trade my fear of death for fear of breath and puzzled. the collective “we” is traded for the first-person “I. in which Isabella Rossellini’s character Dorothy Vallens is dumped naked on Detective Williams’s lawn. an irremediable betweenness. Looking firstly at the poem from which the collection draws its title “We Make Strange Trades.” I found myself caught up in thinking about the famous scene Roger Ebert took offense to. I end up with both— some morning in a classroom whisper. Strange Trades. Later in the poem. kidnappings. Kristy Odelius’s first full-length collection of poems.

the shareholders and businessmen (its STRANGE TRADES BY KRISTY ODELIUS . In the first part of the book. with its cabin window. walnut grove plantation. you hear?” Odelius offers a connection to Wallace Stevens.’ They like welding. from sinking. The title’s curtain. ars poetica. The final stanza. / blowing sugar bubbles at that guy / in the snazzy black hood?” Again. faded gray paint / suggests “submerged rock”.” a five-poem series all sharing that title. ars poetica” also echoes the situation of Robert Frost’s “Neither Out Far Nor in Deep”and Lucille Clifton’s use of the homophonic “hear” and “here” at the conclusion of her poem “at the cemetery. separates or prevents the bubbles’ attempt to connect life and death via the oval window or eye. death and life are straddled. setting speaker on the dock to connect with aforementioned location of speaker at window. there. too. // Underwater. you there. The “faded gray paint” failing to prevent the ship.” This situation again puts the speaker between. The “oeil-de-boeuf” of an apartment above a cityscape precedes “window winks [of] a seadrowned cabin” later in the poem. The “faded gray paint” from “It’s curtains” also presents an important connection to betweenness running throughout Strange Trades.”Again the speaker is not exactly of the virgins.” both allusions further complicating what’s being done in this poem. leaving the speaker to call after the separated self or selves. The color gray reappears in “The Virgins of Chicago (3). “It’s curtains. simultaneously there submerged and “here” on the dock.” the speaker has set us up for the fulcrum poem “We Make Strange Trades” by showing us a courting of death: “Is this why I stand at my oeil-de-boeuf.82 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S “classroom whisper” knows the trade’s outcome. only this time its between Chicago’s wealthy. brings readers a sea of allusion: “On the dock. which presents the mythical virgins as tradespeople who “work nights at ‘Federal Screw / Products. mixing bubble blowing (breath) with the black-hooded man (death). rising above them in an elevator only to later fly in a helicopter “an octave / below the shareholders. / sweating and wearing / gray aprons. when it turns out to be here”). “It’s curtains. who she incessantly echoes and reinterprets. 1989. then. by reinventing the end of “Crude Foyer” (“At last. south carolina.

past due” to stave off inevitability. “the nostalgic green toy in the window. a world of real weather. blue-collar workers. Influenced heavily by Stevens. Odelius presents us with an eminently readable collection of poems. In Strange Trades.” see “Dutch Graves in Bucks County”) as the imagination and truth. in the best sense of that word. Loved by All” the reader gets more Stevens (see “The Man on the Dump. the thought that any or all of us can be “meaner. which Stevens denies being part of the present. In Lynch’s “Blue Velvet. STRANGE TRADES BY KRISTY ODELIUS . intimate with both. and Jeffrey Beaumont.” get eschewed for the struggle of betweenness.” among the “dunes. and Robert Desnos. and its Sandburg-echoing.83 ORANGES & SARDINES mercantile traders). sure. upon first reading. very translatable. wordplay.” the “Mojave landfill.” The past. or does it? In the final poem of the book “Ineffable Green Thing. only to arrive at an idea of green. finds a resolution in the normal. affects Odelius’s poem differently as “The past pages the horizon. and her poems preserve mystery rather than offer ready-made answers. unresolved. past due. however. which offers resonant possibility through multiple readings. Color finally gets the reader somewhere. real world. the “real” and “inevitable. and prettiness. / meaner.” Yet the weather is real. Strange Trades both surprises and pleases with its melopoeia. but outcomes remain unsettled. giving readers a both instead of an either/or.” Odelius infuses Strange Trades with the color red (her virgins are redheads. for example). or singularly “What we see we think we see” get characterized in this poem and “wakes up and climbs the dunes” and “cloud-gazing” then “become[s] entranced by glare and a proper saint sighting. odd juxtapositions. Kristy Odelius does not provide readers an easy resolution. Rosmarie Waldrop.” And the imagination and truth.” and the suggestion is that we be “very predictable. Odelius entrenches herself in the lineage of poets that mingle attention to image and language with philosophy. Trades can be made. not red as in Stevens’s “Disillusionment of Ten O’Clock. big-shouldered.” the mystery of the opposing worlds is rectified.

itsajackal.Alex Rodriguez www.com .

I don’t have a tv. and patrick nagel. when I go back it’s become more of a place I get some of my ideas. But not that i’ve gone away from Miami. too many distractions. I honestly feel like such a joke without it. Then when I lived in California. but that again is due to another friend. it’s amazing how nagel can convae shadows with lines. I’m always jealous when I look at one of my best friends’ work. i started thinking more abstract. How do you feel about formal training? I think formal training is great. sit down with my iPod. it’s all about the lines. but the computer is a vortex of time. Two of them are best friends. Andrew Wyeth. although i think those three guys do some stuff that can go toe to toe with some of the poeple out there. Warcraft is my art’s biggest enemy. Cuba and raised in Miami. i’d be doing work as good as him. brian christopher. but I think that was more to do with the friend I was living with. He’s a freelance artist. the thing i love about wyeth is how a body of work can be centered on one subject. for a bit. and mike marsh. I can’t draw at home. I moved from Miamia’cause I was drawing less and less. . and it was driving me insane. My art also became more organic. Born in Which artist/photographer do you admire or has had the biggest influence on your work? There are 2 famous artists that influence my art every time I draw. he’s the foundation of my portraits. Do you have a ritual or specific process you follow when creating art? My biggest ritual is going to a Q&A coffee shop. quad mocca and sketch book and draw. “the helga pictures” is my bible. artists have “muses” but i have yet to see an artist that has done such an intimate portrait of a single subject like “the helga pictures”. I’d be alot better. Three guys I went to high school with. How does your environment influence your work? Well.a’cause I think “if i actually stayed and worked hard in college. When I moved to Seattle it was like a flood gate. Like Zoe. I wish I had it. Which three other artists would you consider to be your contemporaries? Tony roman.” and if another best friend went to art school he’d be off the charts.85 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Alex Rodriguez is a pizza slinger with delusions of grandeur. he’s constantly flying from one place to another. doing portraits of friends and clients. I’d be full of it if I said anyone famous. I’m hoping to go back to school in the near future. Alex currently resides in Seattle with his faithful flying squirrel Zoe.

watercolor. photoshop 9” x 12” Alex Rodriguez .00 ORANGES & SARDINES apnea pencil.

watercolor.kayden pencil. photoshop 9” x 12” Alex Rodriguez .

88 Alex Rodriguez ORANGES & SARDINES kelly mechanical pencil. photoshop 6” x 7” .

89 Alex Rodriguez ORANGES & SARDINES jaz sneakerpimps pencil. photoshop 14” x 14” . watercolor.

Nota Bene Eiswein (Ahadada. She writes the poetics blog. extends a unique body of work for melding ekphrasis with transcolonialism. Tabios also edited or co-edited five books of poetry. CA.com and steers Meritage Press (http:// meritagepress. a poetry essay/ interview anthology. blogspot. Tabios Eileen R.com. Tabios’ publications includes 16 poetry collections. and a short story book. Ms. fiction and essays released in the United States. “The Blind Chatelaine’s Keys” at http://chatelainepoet.Eileen R. her most recent poetry collection. edits the popular poetry review journal “Galatea Resurrects” at http:// galatearesurrects. 2009). . an art essay collection.com) from St. Recipient of the Philippines’ National Book Award for Poetry. Helena.blogspot.

they say. [In the rose bush. a yellow bud opens.”] I confess to being unable to empathize with Shakespeare’s appreciation of Titus Maccius Plautus: perhaps “greatest comic” is like “giant shrimp”? Eileen R.] The fat dog is shedding hair on the sidewalk and observers are buffeted by the choice between focusing on its fur or its distended stomach.] Once. [He said he tore up a skyscraper.] Now I understand why some barkers call Oliver Stone un-American. [They long had wished to arrive in the same bed.91 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Roman Synopsis #5 I could be happy in Alphabet City. “kittens with flue. [The kids have painted their noses yellow to mirror. the symbol for Local Government Official aka Tour Guide In Search Of Tips.] Dangling from his chest. buildings crumbling around my notepad. [It will be a familiar gesture.] With an impassive face. [When you reach the edge of the Black Forest the glade moves away and. once more.] I heard the beat of wings during a migration. the soles on my feet recoiled but my smile never slipped. I reply before walking towards an open window framing a nude moon with an absolutely stunning belly. judging by the scuffs.] She shows him the run on her stocking. [Auden said you can’t write a poem about dropping a bomb.] When I stepped on pine cones. and fails to see how his eyes linger. she summoned sufficient energy to fix him a martini as they stood in a stranger’s penthouse. but it was unexpected when it occurred. Tabios . wide windows. behind every leaf a stinger lurks. [He wears a hat emblazoned with a yellow happy face. [I ripped a page in a beloved book of poetry and wondered whether the act was truly inadvertent. the baby plays with his beard. an entire city blazing its lights through tall. That’s why Billy serves hors d’ouevres.

92 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Roman Synopsis #7 I could be happy with your hand on my waist as you try to identify the scent hollowing my throat. one can tell he’s about to deliver the boot. She totters on ice despite thick ankles. Something nearby adds as he gropes himself for additional emphasis. stunned. Tabios .” [Whatever. [The bicyclists steal because they have transportation.] He looks at me as if I had spoken my question. wrote elegies in Latin that had been attributed to Tibullus. ignored me—to this day his indifference leaves me breathless. True love is never chaste.] Billy is deaf but insists on serving hors d’ouevres. another birth concluded.] Someone is insisting. a Mr. How nice.] He has a gaze like a mirror.] It transcends the feminine gesture. [He has never placed his lips on my forehead. [By his face.” [On every path a branch waits for your step. my twin. that’s a far cry. [The tears huddle around a bonfire. even most momentarily. a Roman woman writer.] Her lapis lazuli blouse evokes a Mediterranean summer and I think. “But. [There is nothing like an infant tugging on a daddy’s white whiskers. Mother Jones. from calling Oliver Stone ‘commercial’.] Eileen R. [Consolation defined as the bat never reappeared]. [Have you noticed how stuffed animals often look wise?] Roy. [A poet finally looks up.] “Sulpicia.

” . To blend the common objects of everyday life.com “I love to create paintings that evoke a sense of the familiar. My ‘windowscapes’ are intended to provide the viewer with a sense of solitude. a painting is successful if I wish I were there. and well being. placed within the interior of a room. through an open window. A comfortable world bathed in sunlight and cool breezes from the sea.Karen Hollingsworth karenhollingsworth. with a glimpse of the ocean or mountains. For me.

while concentrating on painting still life’s. including the view of oceans and mountains from the windows. . I say. still life’s. not necessarily a statement that you can put in words. I always loved to draw faces. so the last image I had in my head were all the details of their beautiful faces. and really have to force myself to travel.94 ORANGES & SARDINES Karen Hollingsworth knew from a young age that she wanted to be an artist. learn how to handle the medium of your choice. a pair of jeans on the floor. I was disappointed with the focus of the art schools I had access to. I get inspired watching the clouds. For many years she focused on portraiture and has several portrait awards to her credit. which I did. Nancy Honea. But it wasn’t till her mid thirties that she could devote herself fully to studying art. Selfishly. then quick as you can. or narrative. and decided to focus on studying Portraiture. landscapes and sometime’s even birds into one painting. as do all animals. With a well known Atlanta Portrait artist. as well as overall composition and technique. she suddenly decided to add a chair into the composition and from that day on. Her work can now be found in galleries across the US . If you knew your time was up what would be the last image you would leave us with? Probably. For me that is a combination of the story. So I have to travel to the ocean at least twice a year. Q&A How do you feel about formal training? When I graduated highschool in 1973 and wanted to study art. and I see how the sunlight lands here and there. But at some point. a degree in Nursing. and then to be practical. or the way the treetops flow in the breeze. and that training made a huge impact on my portrait work. but as you can tell the ocean affects me greatly. played out in beautiful lines and colors. Later. with any instruction you can find. I’m mostly a homebody. I have a beautiful park near my home. The combination of painting rooms. it was a difficult time for artists interested in pursuing realism. and I try to walk there every day weather permitting. and make you change the way you see the world in just a moment. she has been intrigued with painting room interiors and windowscapes. I also try to spend some time each day meditating. That way every painting stays interesting and exciting. and realism had started to make a comeback. Most formal art programs discouraged realism in favor of other more contemporary styles. I ended up in science. has allowed her to combine her love of painting interiors. and transforms ordinary things into the most beautiful things. How do you bring emotion across to a flat surface? I think most of the power from a painting happens in the composition. I didn’t go back to art school till I was in my thirties. I find the most incredible inspirations can happen during meditation. follow your own style and passion. When I walk through my house. But a strong image can impact your whole being. my toaster. Must there be a statement with each creation? Maybe. a portrait of my husband and my cats. And of course chairs and tables. I had to turn my back on any training and let my heart choose what and how to paint. and decided to change my field of study completely. How does your environment influence your work? The biggest environmental influence on me is sunlight. the sky and land.

Karen Hollingsworth Deep Breathing oil on canvas 36” x 48” .

Karen Hollingsworth Overcast oil on canvas 40” x 40” .

Karen Hollingsworth Symmetrical oil on canvas 40” x 40” .

98 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Karen Hollingsworth Annie’s Place oil on canvas 36” x 60” .

and Quarter After Eight. diode. Weave. Juked. In Posse Review. Oregon. Taiga. New York Quarterly. Willow Springs. His poems appear or are forthcoming in Exquisite Corpse.Sean Patrick Hill Sean Patrick Hill is a freelance writer in Portland.blogspot. theimaginedfield. RealPoetik. . where he earned his MA in Writing from Portland State University. He is a regular blogger for Fringe Magazine. Copper Nickel.com.

carrying so much spoiled milk. Sean Patrick Hilll . To horses blind as Homer. it tinkles like glass.100 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S When This Rose Parade Burns maybe then you’ll stumble on an undying understanding of why the Panhandle hung on to its cherry trees. To rusted floats. Ask the pilots and they’ll tell you. To sock puppets stuffed with dirt. We had no idea that kid was in the barn. To its mortgaged plows. Break a widow’s web. To hymns written on sandpaper. The bombers had sights with crosshairs strung with such vicious gossamer. One afternoon is enough to know why black widows prefer outhouses.

the doors unhinged. Survey markers nailed to crucifixes. Sean Patrick Hilll . the way a drift fence can only view the world askance. To desire to map at all. What is significant enough to tie the map in place. What drove cartographers to the rotten bottle. fulcrum and task. Spindle and lathe. Snow allowed to scatter allows everyone to sleep in the barn at night.101 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S When This Drift Fence Burns no need to hold the weather to its lines. You are right. Without roads or open range. I’m sure— the self tires of itself.

faces.102 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S A Different Vantage: Wade Reynolds and The Figure As Landscape Review By GRADY HARP ‘Only through art can we get outside of ourselves and know another’s universe which is not the same as ours and see landscapes which otherwise have remained unknown to us like the landscapes of the moon. Reynolds seems determined to visually inspect the world until even the most microscopic elements of what his eyes encounter are described in light and color. expressions. and while other elder artists have settled to concentrate on successful subject matter as their careers advance. we see it multiply until we have before us as many worlds as there are original artists. but the human figure. interaction with props . he succeeded in subtracting those elements of Figure as Landscape 1 the figure that invite the viewer into the personality of the model –eyes. instead of seeing a single world. 2 only half the female form reflects the light source while the remainder of the ‘body’becomes the .and instead discovered a manner of plinth or support for the figure that suspends the need for focusing on any surface except the molded configuration of the body as a receptor and reflector or absorber of light. Wade Reynolds elected to devote a period of time during this century to wed his experiences of observation in a series of ten paintings collectively called The Figure as Landscape. Similarly in No. so rich in specific details. and his view of the natural world offered the opportunity to redefine how we look at the nude figure.’ Marcel Proust (1871 – 1922) Wade Reynolds has been painting from life for over a half century. meticulously recreated with his deft sense of structure. It is through it that I best succeed in expressing the almost religious feeling I have towards life. composition and the effects that light absorbed or reflected define. our own. his dramatic figurative art as well as his subtly glowing still lifes and his images from intimate gardens to vistas of water in nature. Selecting ten models. the upper portion of the flank and the buttocks resemble those glimpses of mountaintops as the sun rises.’ For Reynolds. both male and female. his familiarity with the human figure. Thanks to art. In Figure as Landscape 1 the male model is viewed from behind. Henri Matisse said ‘What interests me most is neither still life nor landscape. Long respected for his portraiture of famous and ordinary people.

Figure as Landscape 2

Figure as Landscape 3

Figure as Landscape 6

incidental features of the
surrounding landscape. In
No. 3 Reynolds has included
glimpses of the personal
aspects of the male model
but only in the sheer curtain of
shadow as a passing cloud
might obscure. Similar uses of
body form in Nos. 4 and 5
allow Reynolds to spread light
and shadow as on a range of
hills, while in Nos. 6 and 7 he
pulls our attention to the
ground surface, finding
perspective and incidental
configurations of more
complexity – still defined
solely by light and shade. We
do not see these models as
individuals: we see them as
‘bodyscapes’ or landscapes.
The final three
paintings in this luminous
series, Nos. 8, 9, and 10, seem
to be pulling Reynolds’
attention back to the figure
as a figure, or more acutely
involving the viewer’s eye as
a return to the reality of the
model while still projecting the
quality of
incorporating
the nude figure
as being at one
with the
landscape: we
begin to see
folds in the
covering of the
plinths as well
as back
reflections onto
corporal details
such as the
breast, the ear,
the axilla –now

doorways returning to the
figure as figure. The body is
becoming a mirror of the
landscape as the light and
shadows define it.
Though Wade
Reynolds is not the first artist
to repeatedly paint a subject
until the possibilities of
variation seem exhausted
(think Monet’s water lilies,
Thiebaud’s San Francisco
streets), but there are few
artists who at the peak of
their careers celebrate the
simple basics of their craft –
light and dark and the spatial
relations they create –with
the skill and sense of
discovery as we see in this
series The Figure as
Landscape.
‘Only in men’s
imagination does every truth
find an effective and
undeniable existence.
Imagination, not invention, is
the supreme master of art as
of life.’ Joseph Conrad (1857
– 1924)

Figure as Landscape 9

Jane

Varley
Jane Varley has published
poems and reviews in
literary magazines, and
she is the author of a
memoir, Flood Stage and
Rising, published by the
University of Nebraska
Press. She has a Ph.D. in
poetry and creative
writing from the
University of North
Dakota, and she is an
associate professor and
coordinator of creative
writing at Muskingum
College in Ohio.
Her travels to Iceland
have inspired her to write
poetry again after a few
years’ hiatus. “I find that
northern climates give me
clear thinking and acute
perceptions of what it
feels like to be alive on
this earth.”

105 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S

International Travel
In the night before, fear comes, that old bed visitor.
You sweat through insomnia—you can feel movement
of blood inside your body, and your parts feel out of place.
Is that your heart beating in your throat?
There is the suitcase you worked on.
Clothes that can be layered, imagined in weather and culture.
You have the essential pair of carefully selected shoes.
The shoes. Pressure point of body against earth,
sturdy, long-range. Black is the color,
black volcanic rocks, black as the imagined place you go
when you think you can disappear.

Jane Varley

I’d like to try this business of dropping hope into the shiny waters to see what comes back through the perfect circle. tarp-draped and hammered. Fix your hooks with smelt and minnow. Oh Fishermen. a palace of the deep. You hinge your doors on wooden floors and auger holes into the ice-ceiling. Silvery shapes flash at the bottom like the sharp sudden lightning of a dream. Jane Varley . like that one that fell through. bobhouses wheeled across the lake.106 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S The Ice Fishermen I love the fish houses. and feed the lines into darkness with no fear of what happens in the underworld. invite me in! At twenty below I see you snow tracking over the frosty road to a private city of shanties. made from good wood or metal. Some are expensive. plywood and particle board. I can picture the interior.

Winter deepened and we hung plastic over the windows to keep the outside out and inside in. all the poetry lost in my rote repetition. stretched and blurring.107 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Beautiful Arrangements One misty afternoon in November in a basement office on campus. Line by line I pronounced “The Idea of Order at Key West. all those dusky pieces that seemed alike. I searched for the ones with the gold and white. to make the dogwood tree and mustardcolored weeds. That winter I chewed sunflower seeds and worked a jigsaw puzzle of a landscape scene. no poetry in my voice but a wishful thought for the poetry of sitting alone. Jane Varley .” words I had filed like exact and obedient soldiers of fortune. thick plastic with a bit of luster. making abstract and interesting the looks of the world. in front of the window at home where I cried for beauty and the freezing wind cut through the aged window pane. the easy ones. I recited Stevens to no dramatic effect.

I want to cut grass and weed the garden. Do you know. hard on the uphill. flesh and bone. lover. Be with the dog in the bright field by the river. with you. partner of my body. all that I crave? My greed. Jane Varley .108 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Greed I want to play basketball and golf. To find evidence of love in us. Run to my companion. Stretch and strip to my bare human flesh and become unmuscled. Paw the tiled floor. Be the dog. Eat grass and lie in the sun. ride my bike in the mountains. bone to bone and flesh. fast going down. Sweat. Frolic. lax. Walk the dog. I live inside this body.

we drive on. and sky. I will go and sit by the river. The river. mismatching our lives. It is a daguerreotype of the mind. even further.109 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S The Bells of Akureyri No one will find me here. mountain. standing still with a whole world of young mountains. arctic terns angling the sky. As the bells of Akureyri close down the afternoon. I can hear them inside laughing. crossing the shallow fjord to the village where a furnace takes in damp rectangles of peat. Jane Varley . inspect the gray-white layering of water. Why do the gods in our hearts do this? Bring us out and turn us free? Rattling around. urging me on. the sea not broken into shape or song. snow.

[it is] sad. without shoe the first. one of this year’s most fascinating book titles.” Ammons speaks to themes familiar to her back-country upbringing –the community.. it is a “sorrow song that sizzles out of the tops of long leaf and yellow pine.” which is a back-country “twanging guttural octave” type song. exits. We are entreated with narrative and song. walking.that I missed out on the vibrant voice and the intriguing stories surely present in that debut. and the razor-sharp edge between the old ways of living and the new. Finney seems to explain. forlorn. I had never heard of Ammons until receiving it from Carolina Wren Press. You hear harmonica solos and the irregular meter of holiness praise houses. Ammons’ poetry is the “high un-lonesome.” Finney unabashedly explains.” And perhaps at its core. goodbad love. with the vibrancy of today and the echoes of her heritage.. her qualities as a human being.” Finney is accurate. Introducing Matching Skin is the gloriously written preface “The High Un-Lonesome of Shirlette Ammons. 2008) Matching Skin. [etc. And it is this preface that acts like a grand soliloquy – it sets the stage for us to know her past.]” Ammons is not the “high lonesome. forsaken. exist the still fresh footprints of history – “you hear the smooth slide of African feet. and the stage is given up to Ammons to carry us through to the end.. and tethered. Specifically. is also Shirlette Ammons sophomore book of poems.” which consists of impressions such as secure. dancing. Rather. emotionally-trenched.110 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S A Collection Of Favorites. In the section “Ain’t No Shame. sequestered. a sound that celebrates hard times. Finney first describes the “high lonesome.” you ask? Well. Matching Skin is an absorbing collection patched together in four parts. and sometimes running for their lives. estranged. it establishes a measurement for what we can expect when Finney closes her remarks. More significantly.”written by the poet Nikky Finney. depressed. reclusive. maudlin. I immediately realized what a pity it all was -. What is the “high un-lonesome. 2008 Reviews By MICHAEL PARKER MATCHING SKIN by Shirlette Ammons (Carolina Wren Press. the family. She takes on the wealthy and . spoken and sung. and her skill as a poet.

It also is the title to the accompanying CD included with the book.” “Juju Man. clever. Also within Matching Skin are poems penned to many of the greats we sense have been mentors to Ammons: Gwendolyn Brooks.” were joyful experiences. street-smarts. There is yet another accolade paid by Finney to Shirlette Ammons that I not only echo but I magnify it to the level of celebration: “[Ammons is] a young poet intent on rolling hard on the back roads until the road ends or something new begins or the hurricane hits.” In other words. But for someone like me. and commanding.” It’s a title rich with meaning and could be the theme of an extraordinary. article. bra-burning feminist. homes. and the concluding song on that CD. Grace Palley. In fact. prophetess. and back-country fields and forests of the middle-class. Ammons is going to be a driving force in the weave of American poetry.” and “John Anonymous. Her language is the type you might hear in the streets. Amiri Baraka.” “Tattooed Smile. fully fleshed-out. rap-star. speak-it-how-it-is. It’s the heart of the entire CD.111 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S the bourgeois. 2008 . interpreting the stories and visions she experiences on the “back roads” and “hurricanes”of life until there are no roads or hurricanes left to interpret. singing in the melody of reality and veins of hope needed to make it to the end of hard times. I cannot stop listening. Matching Skin ends with the section “John Anonymous. The male bass vocalist for “Ain’t it (A Shame)” transforms Ammons poem into a classic black spiritual. Long before I placed the CD “John Anonymous” in the CD player. who has never yet had the opportunity to see or listen to Shirlette Ammons perform her work. It’s a pleasure to introduce my favorite list of 2008 with Matching Skin A Collection Of Favorites. singing and rapping with such soul poured into the music enraptured me. I joyed in her vocal abilities. I felt an empowerment in her narrative voice as powerful as a hurricane and a self-assuredness the width of the Bible Belt States. the messages woven throughout this John Anonymous (both on page on in music) resonate with me profoundly. especially in regards to describing characteristics. the poor. They are full of various rhythms with beats and soaring melodies. powerhouse. churches. don’t-ya-pity me. wise. Adjectives that came to mind as I experienced Ammons’ poetry: self-assured. Reading the poems “Ain’t it (A Shame).” “Looking Glass. witty. spunky. I wrote earlier about Finney setting the stage for us. I read the poetry section of the same title with the greatest passion. In all. and the simple country folk. and even an astoundingly witty “Do the Funny”for Dave Chappelle. I cannot stop hearing them and aching for them when that need to touch that innersoul strikes.

by Pris Campbell and Tammy F. What is it to “see each thing separate and enough”? Simple. Campbell has an amazing insight when it comes to seeing the “whole” of the human experience – the aptitude she has for interpreting the human. whether it be physically reading their movements. Campbell courageously turns inward to interpret for us the images of the lost lovers and meaningful affairs of yesteryear (and the affairs not so meaningful but needed in order to soothe the ache of loneliness. Campbell takes us on journey’s to the romantic Greek Isles. Rome.” “redemption”. Jack Gilbert describes the worth of good poetry: “Poetry fishes us to find a world part by part. Campbell reveals her heart – that she was always searching for “paradise. being at the “last blink of innocence”. the sadness to be drawn out of the shadows. the European continent. And in all of these moments of significant connection. 2008) INTERCHANGEABLE GODDESSES. where her loves are Odysseus and she is Cleopatra. In Campbell’s poetry exist narratives that embody these raw intentions. Campbell’s poetry A Collection Of Favorites. 2008 . Tremble (Rose of Sharon Press. 2006) In his poem “Beyond Pleasure. Hesitant Commitments is a significant work. Because Campbell suffers from the debilitating disorder CFIDS.. and to “see the face/ of her true love reflected in the one panting/ above. I always turn to the poetry of Pris Campbell. London. gentle awareness of the minute “parts” of the vast whole.. when I read Jack Gilbert’s poetry and his thoughts here on the raw intentions of poetry.” from his National Book Critics Circle Awardwinning collection of poetry. To have within one’s skill the thoughtful. Some might considerthis brave.” Undoubtedly. or.112 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S HESITANT COMMITMENTS by Pris Campbell (Lummox Press. and New Zealand./to give us time to see each thing separate and enough. Paris. their expressions (intentionally displayed or not intentionally). as Campbell describes them. or their simple (sexual) and complicated (conjoining of hearts) relationships. In Hesitant Commitments. “black holes”)./ The poem chooses part of our endless flowing forward/to know its merit with attention. Refusing Heaven.

2007) Robert Hass is a noted translator and teacher at the University of California at Berkeley. both poets poignantly address themes of womanhood. But Campbell gives us amazing stories and images seemingly right out of the mind of Mrs. Again. and also my heartstrings. this skill comes easy because she knows the intricacies of life and the important lasting impressions of connecting. structurally. Echoing Gilbert again. Campbell’s insights hint toward a wise and humane soul who’s forever opening doors for us to walk through. love. romantic notions of aging with grace. It is not an uncommon trait for editors and publishers to seek out poetry and voices that challenge them. His latest work. But if I might focus on Campbell again. With this in mind. Campbell is engrossing – how she masterfully develops a fully-breathing depiction of a person. the ravaging effect of CFIDS. Campbell has the gift of sentience and the understanding of human behavior that equates with knowing the “endless flowing forward” of life. or the old woman across the street dancing alone in the night. Because she is the one in control! And neither does Hesitant Commitments feel like an elegy or funeral pyre. Campbell writes these in the tone of celebration. 2008 . a soul whose passion. The joint chapbook “Interchangeable Goddesses”by Pris Cambell and Tammy Trendle also became a beloved collection after listening to The Jane Crow Show interview in June (2008). the ghosts of her dead soldier brother. We are very fortunate to have her beautiful narrative voice and poetics becoming recognized. and life. motherhood. Her work really shines and warms. dynamic enough to enrapture me. thematically. the first collection from the A Collection Of Favorites. For Campbell. and sex-drive is at its peak and not willing to let the reins of time pull or control her. In this collection. Time & Materials is winner of the National Book Award of 2007 and the Pulitzer Prize in Poetry 2008. I introduce to you Time & Materials. longing. or otherwise – work that has the feeling of now written all over it. the memories of lovers of year’s past.113 ORANGES & SARDINES could easily wallow in the more maudlin. TIME & MATERIALS by Robert Hass (HarperCollins. capture my attention. I stress how adept her skill at depicting the human condition so keenly and thoughtfully. Robinson. Whether she is writing about her visit with Eleanor Roosevelt. He served as poet laureate for two years in the mid-’90s. marriage.

And the other is to say what Ed Wilson. One way is to say what Wittgenstein said. even a tree. Hass’ narrative poetics can appear at first glance so nondescript and unchallenging that the unseasoned or impatient reader may not venture in. in which Hass defended the importance of writing about “anything”: JEFFREY BROWN: By implication.” which I don’t think is quite true. you are thinking. the environmentalist and entomologist. It’s like sitting in tutelage of a master at work at his most brilliant. though I’ve been thinking about them for weeks. his penchant to take the seemingly mundane conversation. “The limits of my language are the limits of my world. language philosophy in the early 20th century. a fox or a robin. the desire to enchant is his furthest intent. Consider Hass’interview with PBS. event.or there are a million ways of saying this. So. some of Hass’objects for his poems are of the I-see-them-daily variety: the dawn. ROBERT HASS: Yes. But I will say that the need to be enchanted seems to come from the mind of an amateur. After all. I mean. which is that every species lives in its own sensory world and. and the color red.” What does he mean by this? Is he speaking of subject matter or structure? And what about the art of “enchanting” or being challenging? Does poetry have to enchant us to be relevant? It is not my intent to answer these questions in this review. at some point. where. I say this holding as evidence Hass’ collection. it dawns on you that you just -we don’t have a language for what would be the experience of a tree or. undoubtedly. JEFFREY BROWN: So much of your work is about trying to examine or A Collection Of Favorites. birds. Hardly enchanting. or scene and treat it with such poetic skill is. the eating of cucumbers. biogeographer said. 2008 .114 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S esteemed Robert Hass in nearly a decade. nothing more than enchanting to experience. For this astutely. masterful Time & Materials. But let me expound. In “The Problem of Describing Trees. there are limits to say anything. a tree. it is true.org after receiving the Pulitzer Prize.. a field mouse. for that matter.” Hass hints about enchantment in poetry: “It is good sometimes for poetry to disenchant us. if you would allow me. on Hass’ masterful skill at writing about anything. there are two ways of saying this -. the interior of a house.. Because possibly it sheds light on the nature of the poet.

Mexico. man’s inhumanity. you know? JEFFREY BROWN: If he didn’t get it down into a poem. Specifically. life. war. One of his poems begins. ROBERT HASS: . the border of North & South Korea. and A Collection Of Favorites..is. and as close as the forests of the High Sierras and the California coast line. what is it in words?” I came to understand about him that he’d lost so much that he felt like everything he didn’t get down -. JEFFREY BROWN: Great poet. why the need to describe trees? What is the burden on you that you must come up with a way to describe the world? ROBERT HASS: My mind goes straight to my dear friend and mentor. nature. 2008 .. great poet. and he was born in Lithuania in 1911. nothingness won. “Reality. and Thailand.I came to understand about him.” well that is their prerogative.. if art doesn’t somehow preserve our memory of the gift of life on Earth we’ve lost. But I can attest that within Time & Materials are ruminations on various images and themes that are fleshed out concisely.and maybe this is what distinguishes poets from the rest of us -. so something like that.” If anyone dare look upon Hass’ work and call it droll narrative or “nothingness. ROBERT HASS: Yes. So there you have the purpose of writing about the mundane and unenchanting – “to preserve our memory of the gift of life. Czeslaw Milosz. He had this sense that. expressively and with language that is a treasure. He lost so much that I know -.. who.. nothingness won. Hass introduces us to expansive landscapes or solitary landmarks or object (familiar and unfamiliar) in locations as far away as Berlin..if he didn’t get it down. And he lived through much of the worst violence of the 20th century in Europe. he raises themes that analyze art. But what I am not sure I understand -.115 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S describe things like that. And I think I can understand the problem of finding the right words or any words. And in these locations.

heart and reputation is seen weighing down its back. In the sections Repeat and Pause.” we get a sense of Brown.116 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S relationships. for consideration. It’s upon these thoughts that I introduce Jericho Brown’s stunning and passionate collection “Please.” the grandmother rubbing his sister’s neck so hard with a washcloth that she draws blood. love. confusion. 2008) The word “please” is employed to enhance or soften the sincerest of requests. and in some regard.” “the braided belt. “Please”. longing. From the poem “Pause. lust. as the narrator. the narrator feeling as vulnerable as an “open field. reply with allowance or acceptance. life has been a long song full of dichotomy: abuse. As a final note. In truth. consider it. when spoken. is called forth with a cold-cocked and drawn out desperation for assistance.” to name a few. the sleeve to this timeless collection adds an exemplary quote from the New York Times Book Review that evokes my exact sentiments: “It has always been Mr. * PBS interview can be read in its entirety at http://www.” This mission statement hardly could be considered by a poet not in full understanding of his craft and the importance of the art. the work song – the best music A Collection Of Favorites. clarity and selfacceptance.”a work of poetry that at its core are pieces of Brown’s life narrative that he offers to the reader on the outreached palms of his hands. empowerment. violence.” is an expression offered with emotional gravity –that the hearer will understand the offering. To Brown.org/newshour/bb/entertainment/jan-june08/ poetry_04-30. 2008 . head and heart and hands and everything else.html PLEASE by Jericho Brown (Western Michigan University. “please. into his poetry. fulfillment.pbs. there are images of abuses and the innerbattle for self-acceptance: “father’s leather belt. trying to escape: If they ever heard of slavery. It’s the song of a not-so-easy family life and the realization of his sexual orientation. relationship. or for understanding. Hass’aim to get the whole man.

the mark of the beast. Make full this dimpled cheek Unworthy of its unfisted print And forgive my forgetting The love of a hand Hungry for reflex. I bear the bridge Of what might have been A broken nose. holding nothing tightly Against me and not wrapped In leather. save the man whose arm Like an angel’s invisible wing A Collection Of Favorites. calling it love. I lift to you What was a busted lip. not the broomstick. fast. a hand that took No thought of its target Like hail from a blind sky. His desire to transcend this past is most apparent in “Prayer of the Backhanded.117 ORANGES & SARDINES is made of substraction. the singer seeks an exit from the scarred body and opens his mouth trying to get out. not his braided belt. Nor the closest extension Cord. not the pear tree Switch. Bless The boy who believes His best beatings lack Intention. but God. Father. Involuntary. but brutal In its bruising. eliminated the air Between itself and my cheek. 2008 . God. Bring back to life the son Who glories in the sin Of immediacy.” Not the palm. Bless the back of my daddy’s hand Which.

welcomes millions of tourists. and musicals of yesteryear making up oxygen of their atmosphere. A Collection Of Favorites. But these are not so much tributes as they are realizations that Brown and his lovers are the representations of these singers as they grope and spread and climb and join and “give in to [the] mouth/tongue and not bite. explained that the writer is “someone who pays attention to the world. family-life. In closing. but for Rumble’s unique repetition of phrases and his syntax.C. Diana Ross. Brown’s poetry is written with songs. death. in “The Art of Fiction” interview published in The Paris Review (Issue 137. probably one of the most courageous in my memory. And 2) I appreciate poetry that crosses the border of surface emotions and gives us poetry that exhibits emotional depth. Janis Joplin. 1995).” Sontag’s remark comes to mind when I consider my review of Ken Rumble’s Key Bridge. vocalists. and sincerity.” It’s in these poems in which Brown’s poems are most powerful and passionate. Rumble uses the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Washington. Help me hold in place my blazing jaw As I think to say excuse me. which helps accentuate the narrator’s internal conflict with the subject matter at hand. two last points: 1) Brown’s poetics throughout “Please”are as finetuned as a professional. all of beauty and ugliness of his experience with the city. Key Bridge captures. with the eye of an insider. In the last section of the book. Experiences are enhanced with the sounds of Minnie Ripperton.C. Natalie Cole. “Please”is a very courageous work. and yet has continually through the years struggled with high poverty rates. despite the effects. sex.118 ORANGES & SARDINES May fly backward in fury Whether or not his son stands near. 2007) Susan Sontag. as the backdrop and symbol around a collection of date-titled poems that address themes of race. D. But not only do I love Key Bridge for its poetics. the city of contrasts: houses the federal government. and growing up in Washington. integrity. 2008 . drugs. D. and Danny Hathaway.. Luther Vandross. KEY BRIDGE by Ken Rumble (Carolina Wren Press. the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz. street-life. Power.

ripcords for certain threads. as if it were an intentional choice to never mention the name again. Hitler’s mustache pulls strings for certain elevators.. starts something else but forgets what.. I quickly noticed Davis’ callout to Elie Wiesel’s quote: “But when later we evoke the 20th century. has contempt for the law. zippers for certain ovens. in any manner. Upon opening the book.119 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S HITLER’S MUSTACHE by Peter Davis When I first saw Peter Davis’ book Hitler’s Mustache. loses track of it. be an apologist of Hitler’s nature and actions. latches for certain trapdoors. brutality.. 2008 . All the while. ridicule.turns up its nose..” “Hitler’s mustache is a cancer.. except it can’t be answered A Collection Of Favorites. there are 76+ poems that all begin with the phrase “Hitler’s Mustache:”. cables for certain women.. And I determined that Davis’ work would have to meet two criteria: 1) the content within these poems could not in any manner deflect.” Any student of this historical period would catch the correlation of these characteristics with the early days of the Nazi Party in pre-holocaust Germany. the contrary was the case. .. . And Hitler’s Mustache never failed the criteria I set forth. Nor 2) could the collection.” In all. Davis’work is every much a hilarious fixation on the square mustache in general as it is social commentary on the utter absurdity of everything Hitler/Nazi and everyone Nazi/Hitler. atrocities. Davis continues: “Hitler’s mustache begins something. and genocide of Jews during the dominance of Nazi Germany. And Davis clearly spotlights this in the very opening poem: “Hitler’s Mustache: The List of Facts. Hitler’s mustache does not believe in peace. killing Jews.” And I immediately gloried that Davis chose a quote in which the name Hitler wasn’t even used. A sampling of titles looks like this: Hitler’s Mustache: The Mustache is a riddle. triggers for certain bullets. among the first names that will surge to mind will be that of a fanatic with a mustache. In fact. two disparate thoughts came to mind: the audacity and how ingenious... moves on to something else. inhumanity. does not respect university professors. levers for certain pulleys. or lesson the severe gravity of the horrors.

and the shriveled faces in mass graves that are not discovered. all dreaming of super-humans. [A] mustache says to the bartender. All the clawed Fascists are ashamed to seek medical attention. You know things you wouldn’t tell the police. “Well. Therefore. The. 1 “You are aware of the fur trade and the killing of animals. Mustachio”) 3 . I think of dead soldiers tying neckties with pinky fingers. you look like a mustache to me. one dome of flesh grows. pussing to be healed. black trapdoor... and the fecal-impacted colons of German mystics. in the middle years of the twentieth century. Their wounds swell with infection.mustache says “What’s this? I’m not a cannibal!” And the bartender says..” A Collection Of Favorites.” (From “Hitler’s Mustache: The Basic Situation of the Clandestine Mustache”) 2 In the Mustache Museum of untrue truth.. I”m leaving you with these sections of poems. “I’m bored.120 ORANGES & SARDINES Hitler’s Mustache: The Punk Band Hitler’s Mustache:Of All the Possible Face Fur Hitler’s Mustache: The Short Story Hitler’s Mustache: The Basic Situation of the Clandestine Mustache And to prove my point that Davis ingeniously uses this form of satire to scrutinize Hitler. 2008 .. can I have a drink made of something other than boredom?” The bartender gives him a drink made of mustache. (From “Hitler’s Mustache: Mustache Begins in Martin’s Ferry. and one upper lip tussles wildly with the fur latch on this small.

She also stunningly analyzes sub-themes such as love as service. and love as the brilliant chameleon set against the fierce play of love – the joy and peace. March 2008... the hunger and longing.. Under the auspices of love. love as the religious experience. FEAR.121 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S .” UNRAVELING THE BED by Mia Leonin (Ahinga Press. (From “Hitler’s Mustache: The Jokes”) Davis employs a wide range of poetic structures to build this truly incredible narrative about the most controversial mustache in the history of the world.” “historically relevant. screams. Here is a joyous collection! And here is an impressive poet whose star just may be rising into a more prominent space of sky. In the poems. July 2008. 2008 . This collection.” “amazing.” I might add: “undeniably memorable. on the other hand. and even the spoken word of Unraveling the Bed.. Mia Leonin tackles the highly arduous task of interpreting love. the first collection from the Cuban-American poet. What’s the difference between a mustache and a black hole? A black hole isn’t attached to your face and growing from your face pores. 2008) Reviewed by Michael Parker in the Cuban-American issue of MiPoesias. Poetry can read like a great river. SOME by Douglas Kearney (Red Hen Press. . is more intimate and vital: it is like a heartbeat.” “poignant. 2006) Reviewed by Michael Parket in the first issue of Oranges & Sardines.” “surprising.. stories. the sacred act and the shared meal. and the magic and the miracle. Leonin specifically highlights desire. A Collection Of Favorites.” and “innovative..” and “furiously good fun. Douglas Kearney’s writing is an explosively energetic and hypnotic style that mixes moments of self-examination and societal analysis in a flight of words. longing. and the sexual connection. The poet Nin Andrews called Hitler’s Mustache “refreshing.

our past is stitched into our soul. then interpreting it for us. his voice doesn’t preach. His references to and reflection of the past. 2008 . Yes. especially those speaking to race-related issues . as many of his themes. won him the A Collection Of Favorites. Walking to Martha’s Vineyard. and vision of the future never crosses emotional or sentimental lines. not ever comfortable with who it is or what it wants to be. Kearney interrupts his work with a seeming plea to break down the walls of hatred and racism. timeless. or heritage past. In this. Kearney walks with his past as if he’s walking with a wise mentor. and how it will be –based off of a predictable causal framework. Discovering Kearney at this time seemed fate. Kearney’s work is a storm of reckoning and awakening. But underlying this are the echoes of the dreams of the greats of past and present. Yet.122 ORANGES & SARDINES and apparent songs. and that reverberate in any human with a heart. societal. linger awhile in these poems and you sense you aren’t reading Kearney as much as sensing he’s performing a full-cast play somewhere behind the text. One can never divorce themself from their personal. the multifarious abuses on the black man. Fear.are the same themes beating in Senator Barak Obama’s magnificent speech on race relations in America in February 2008. 2008) The last Franz Wright collection. idea of the now. in flux. the slave trade. and the activists that are ever prescient. At its backbone are the dreams of the courageous. gleaning what needs to be gleaned. the dreamers. It’s part call-down-heaven’s-power Sunday sermon and part shake-the-foundations-of-the-earth gospel hymn.the strokes of the heart beating behind his words . we see the brutal ugliness of our treatment of others.” a extraneous work that addresses his muses. for our time. familial. Some is a collection of vibrant verse that is as much performance art (a one-man play) as it is a work of immense historical significance on the past and upon the time we breathe in. and the sheer idiocy of how the black performer was treated. It’s straight-forward – this is how it was and what it is. And they resonate in me – knocking wildly around the rafters of this heart! GOD’S SILENCE by Franz Wright (Knopf. Near the middle of Kearney’s extraordinary poem “The Poet Writes the poem that will certainly make him famous. Like Peter Pan’s shadow being stitched to the sole of his foot. Kearney’s poetry depicts a society always at diverging tides.

And this conflict of believing arises in part to the estrangement that we feel from God. This theme is most evident in the jarring reality behind his own revelation: “I have heard God’s silence like the sun. To me. God’s Silence is a collection that tackles this very internal conflict of having connection. because of the silence. A Collection Of Favorites. as proved in the line: “Proved faithless. You’ve captured me. One of the primary conflicts in literature and poetry is loneliness.that universal connection that means that no matter my experience and no matter your experience.” Though Wright wrestles with the demons of doubt and physical trials. faith. the themes. still I wait.M. God’s Silence is his first publication since that award. and more poignantly. despair. that haunts me while falling into dreams. the continual search for meaning. I have selected God’s Silence by Franz Wright as my favorite poetry work of the year. being selfdeprecating another moment. This is effect many of the works on this list had on me. personal trials. Rising from the pages of God’s Silence are the refrains of a haunted soul trying to come to terms with all of the contradictions of his faith. That was in 2003. You’ve reached me. sincerely. he counteracts this with poems and insights full of hope. get in contact with me either through O&S or personally.” I adore poetry that resonates in me long after I shut the book and walk away. Franz Wright steps onto the same plane as R. and addiction at other moments. This is the core of Franz Wright’s work and it breathes with mystical manifestations of faith and adoration at one moment. a singular sense that we are absolutely alone . Rilke and shows he is the voice that can circle around the concept of God and do it convincingly.no man knows my story. I understand you. and even redemption – structured under Wright’s compassionate perspective – transcends the tide of genre-like religious poetry.123 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S Pulitzer Prize. 2008 . but analyzes it on the spiritual plane of the human soul connecting with God. but Wright’s poetry followed me into my dreams and rattled around in the back of my head in my days. We search for and write about the strings that connect us . So we write for understanding. * If you released a collection/chapbook last year and your publisher didn’t send me a copy. and then being courageous to even express his own struggle with doubt. my sorrow. In all. the seemingly loud silence from the God he seems so intent on hearing. and realistically.

Rachel

Constantine
www.rachelconstantine.com

“I seek qualities of repose, balance and visual harmony in my
compositions. These delicate and elusive traits could never be
achieved without a dedication to depicting each situation’s
unique and distinctive quality of light.”

Rachel Constantine was born
in Philadelphia in 1973. She
discovered her passion for portraiture
early on, and the desire for academic
figurative training would lead her on
an adventure that would culminate
in 2003 with a certificate in Painting
from the Pennsylvania Academy of
the Fine Arts, where she graduated
with honors. Since then, she has
participated in 20 exhibitions, won
three awards from the Woodmere Art
Museum in Pennsylvania and another
from Allied Artists of America in
New York City.
In 2006, Rachel was invited to exhibit
in Artworks Gallery at the
Philadelphia Museum of Art as the
local compliment to the Museum’s
blockbuster exhibition: ‘Andrew
Wyeth: Memory and Magic’. Her
work can be found in The Vivian O.
and Meyer P. Potamkin Collection in
the Pennsylvania Academy of the
Fine Arts, and is featured in the new
hard-cover illustrated book Alla
Prima: A Contemporary Guide to
Traditional Direct Painting, written
by Al Gury, the chairman of the
Pennsyvania Academy’s painting
department.
Photography by Denise Guerin

126

ORANGES & SARDINES

Which artist/photographer do you admire or has had
the biggest influence on your work?
The painters whose works have inspired me most are
undeniably John Singer Sargent and Cecilia Beaux.
Books of their paintings are always strewn about my
studio, ready for me to pick up and study whenever
I get stumped in a piece. I’ve also always been a
great admirer of the early French Impressionists and
their influences on late 19th century American art.
I’m fascinated by their economy of brushstroke, the
attempt to say more with less.
How do you feel about formal training?
I happen to be of the mind that there are some
fundamental “rules” in painting, and that a
foundation in anatomy, color theory, perspective, art
history, etc., is very important. This might not be
entirely the case for artists who are either inherent
genuises or who paint more abstractly. But as a
classical representational painter, I’ve found formal
training to be pretty inescapable. I’ve seen many
young painters who eskew formal training and whose
foundational mistakes—some easily correctable early
on—become deeply entrenched. But there’s always
a balance. I’m also not one to endorse endless
training. At some point one has to jump in and pick
up a paintbrush.
Do you have a ritual or specific process you follow
when creating art?
Like most artists, my projects are typically sparked by
a particular quality I observe in someone (and less
often, but occassionally, in some thing or some
place) that I feel compelled to try to capture and
translate visually. I almost always paint people I
know—even if it’s just casually—because I prefer to
have that emotional connection going in. At the
same time, my paintings don’t necessarily aim to be
“about” the person I’m working with; it’s the
characteristic of the individual that I try to use as a
vehicle to express larger concepts. Typically, I’ll bring
a subject into my studio, try my best to get them to
relax and not “model,”and then photograph them in
an attempt to achieve a specific pose that speaks to
me. I try to have as few preconceptions as possible
at this point, because my whole goal is to capture a
“found moment.”Once the pose is set, I bring the
model back for sittings, as needed.
How do you bring emotion across to a flat surface?
For me, classical painting is all about light; I find in my
Rachel Constantine

Q&A

own work that a piece’s success often rises and falls
according to the accuracy of it’s depiction. An
instructor of mine once said that in learning to paint
light, one learns to capture emotion, and I think that’s
true. So it’s through the subtleties of the way light
falls that essential things like tone and mood are
conveyed. And, on a more pratical level, I’d mention
that this is why I rarely use artificial light sources;
there’s a limitlessness about the color and range of
natural light that artificial light just can’t reproduce.
As a painter who doesn’t subscribe so
wholeheartedly to the concepts espoused by
modernism and postmodernism—or at least, I should
say, isn’t particularly affected by them—I’d also
argue that the foundation of any solid painting is
solid drawing. To my thinking, color in and of itself
does not make art. There’s form, function and
foundation there. It’s one thing to say something’s
beautiful—because there’s beauty in almost
everything, if you take the time to stop and really
look hard enough—but it’s another to call it a work of
art. So I tend to admire painters who are strong
draftsmen first.
How does your environment influence your work?
To me, this is among the more interesting questions
to think about. Environment, of course, can be
physical—as in locale, the place where you’re
physically working—or emotional, that is the place
you’re painting from internally. The latter, as you
might expect, permeates every aspect of my art.
As I look back over my body of work, among the
emotions that seem to stand out most is longing.
And by that I don’t mean to imply depressiveness
per se. It’s more so the human instinct to connect—
connection between the subject and the artist, the
subject and the viewer, but also between the subject
and something larger, something metaphysical,
I suppose.
In terms of physical environment, I’m frequently torn
between my own instinct to flee for newness and
what I’ve come to appreciate as an advantage to
“soaking in” one’s surroundings over a longer term.
Having lived—and painted—in Philadelphia for the
better part of my life, I’m always surprised by the
constant possibility for new subjects. And I’m
humbled by the legacy of a painter like Andrew
Wyeth, who spent all of his 91 years in nearby Chester
County, and whose paintings betray a profound
sense of physical and emotional place.

Rachel Constantine Dove oil on canvas 40” x 36” .

128 Rachel Constantine ORANGES & SARDINES Michaela charcoal and graphitie 22” x 30” .

129 Rachel Constantine ORANGES & SARDINES Pause oil on canvas 30” x 30” .

130 Rachel Constantine ORANGES & SARDINES The Sculptor oil on canvas 30” x 30” .

You will know of:   [the]. — from “Altoona to Anywhere”               And in your poems!   In Rebecca Foust’s Mom’s Canoe.. even if you “aspired to transcend.. 30 pages. in your dreams your syntax./But when you’ve left it behind you may find it still there. times were hard.[and] escape. And after reading Mom’s Canoe. — from “Things Burn Down” ..roots.. and  going back home for a visit — that is how vivid Foust’s poems are in this chapbook. Rebecca Foust was born in Altoona.thick smoke from the papermill all day and night. 2008.. instead she expects you to know... stopping over to pay her a visit. she now lives in Northern California.” In Mom’s Canoe. the reader is “back  home” in the Allegheny Mountains of western Pennsylvania as if he were born there. eventually.... but it is as though she never left western Pennsylvania.131 O R A N G E S & S A R D I N E S MOM’S CANOE by Rebecca Foust REVIEW BY MELISSA MCEWEN Texas Review Press./escape the small-minded tyranny of your small-minded Midwestern coalmining town.. Foust falls back comfortably into her native town.[it]. Sometimes one has to leave to appreciate “back home” and understand that “back home” shapes you and makes you who you are and if you are a poet. as if you are an outsider. as if you were an inhabitant. the smell of your hair. you will feel as if you were. even though... it will find its way into your poems. Pennsylvania and grew up in a small town made up of coal mines and farmland. And she does not explain things that may be unique to her town. too. Go ahead…aspire to transcend your. she is reliving with you. from the first poem to the last. sometimes..

. — from “Allegheny Mountain Bowl” [the]./second husband..beer/served on an unfolded Altoona Mirror.. Rebecca Foust’s chapbook./laid off. and you’ll nod in remembrance:   Do you remember your old canoe? Wooden wide-bellied. The poems in here can hold their own in any literary journal or anthology.. Not damask.. like shadow…/Remember how it glowed like honey in summer.the men…[and how]/their coats exhale wet wool and wood smoke../How could you after he blackened/your eye.. your swaggering.. you won’t have to ask” about Mom’s canoe.. — from “Once was a River”   “And if you understand. is the epitome of what a chapbook should be. tapered ends made to slip through tight river bends swiftly. dumb-bitched you and wrecked your canoe? — from “Backwoods”               Overall. thick vines choking/everything.... to me.../their feet beat a work boot tattoo.132 ORANGES & SARDINES   .        MOM’S CANOE BY REBECCA FOUST .. — from “Things Burn  Down”                         [the].. from page one to page thirty. Mom’s Canoe. laid off.. laid off. you’ll listen as if you’ve heard the story before.... is a strong compilation.cottage down in the Cove —mildew and wild roses. but not how Foust tells it.      — from “Mom’s Canoe”   You’d go back to him.

poetsandartists.com .

com .Front & Back Cover Art by Lane Timotny www.poetsandartists.