Short Takes

Check out my poem in DANSE MACABRE

2012-02-13T17:12:00.000-08:00

Check out the poem du jour at Danse Macabre: Smiley's People: Precis & Appreciation

31st Annual Case Western Reserve Writers' Conference

2012-01-27T06:27:00.000-08:00

The 31st Annual Case Western Reserve Writers' Conference will be held at Lakeland Community College, 7700 Clocktower Drive, Kirtland, Oh, on March 31st. For more details go to http://deannaadams.com/conference.htm

The Day After Thanksgiving, a (humorous) essay

2011-11-25T11:49:00.000-08:00

It’s the day after Thanksgiving—“Black Friday,” as the media calls it. We are taking care of our three grandchildren—Natalie, age 8 (in 3 months), Zach, age 9 (in 2 months), and Dylan, age 11 (in 20 days).

Natalie and I have pie for breakfast. I have pumpkin with huge clouds of whipped cream—the kind that squirts from a can. Natalie has Marie Callender razzleberry, a family favorite, without whipped cream. She had four slices yesterday. She will undoubtedly bargain for another piece after lunch. Good thing I baked two.

The boys have not had pie, but I've found silver wrappers and ribbons from Hershey’s kisses lying around. That was the dessert for non-pie lovers, and they have been sneaking candy from the freezer.

Nathan, our autistic adult son, is foraging for food—his favorite pastime. He loves pie, both kinds.

Mollie, our Lhasa-poo, is harassing Mikey, the kids’ tiger cat, and Mikey is inviting the harassment. Occasionally, they stop to sniff each other—curiosity overcoming the natural dog-cat animosity.

Dylan runs through the house periodically, talking baby talk to Mikey and Molly (“M & M”). He wavers between pre-teen cynicism and innocent joy. Zach, as usual, is entranced by a computer game, but makes a kitchen stop for grapes and a brief spat with Natalie. (Who hit who first?) Zach is getting along with Dylan today. He wavers between hero worship of and bitter disputes with Dylan, often about the Wii or other electronic games.

Natalie plunks the Christmas suggestion box on my half-solved crossword puzzle, insisting that I might want to read the contents. She has put in a lot of suggestions. The boys haven’t put in any. They are too busy with computer games.

Natalie is watching a show about women shopping for wedding dresses. (I worry that her interest in this program means that she will do something rash like get married at age 16.) She discusses the dresses with her grandpa. I smile when I hear him give his opinion that one is too ruffled and frilly. He walks into the kitchen and says, “I had planned to go to my office this morning—and here I am watching a show about dresses.” I am relieved when Natalie abandons the show and demands a turn on the computer.

My husband takes Nathan for a walk, and then escapes to his office, leaving me as referee among opposing forces and unreliable guardian of candy and pie.

At lunch, Dylan tells me a joke:

Dylan: Grandma, you need to call a doctor for me.

Me: Why is that?

Dylan: My butt has a crack in it, and I need a new one.

Tell me this isn’t better than venturing out into the shopping hordes where crazy ladies might assault you with pepper spray.

THE TRIGGERING TOWN by Richard Hugo

2011-04-18T09:57:00.000-07:00

The Triggering Town; Lectures and Essays on Poetry and Writing, by Richard Hugo, was published in 1979. Hugo, a poet who won several honors and who directed the creative writing program at the University of Montana , died in 1982. Recently, I came across his book and found myself stimulated by his commentary on the writing process.

Consider the following advice:

Once a spectator said, after Jack Nicklaus had chipped a shot in from a sand trap, "That's pretty lucky." Nicklaus is suppose to have replied, "Right. But I notice the more I practice, the luckier I get." If you write often, perhaps every day, you will stay in shape and will be better able to receive those good poems, which are finally a matter of luck, and get them down. Lucky accidents seldom happen to writers who don't work. You will find that you may rewrite and rewrite a poem and it never seems quite right. Then a much better poem may come rather fast and you wonder why you bothered with all that work on the earlier poem. Actually, the hard work on the first poem is responsible for the sudden ease of the second. If you just sit around waiting for the easy ones, nothing will come. Get to work.

So, if you're like me and sometimes wonder why you spent two hours writing something that later seems less than stellar, Hugo's advice may provide the motivation to write without guilt about your unmade bed or your unmopped floor.

January 2011 issue of Still Crazy

2010-12-15T06:56:00.001-08:00

Still Crazy will begin its fourth year of publication in 2011. The January issue will be out the first part of the month.

American Life in Poetry

2010-12-03T17:26:00.000-08:00

American Life in Poetry provides newspapers and online publications with a free weekly column featuring contemporary American poems. Sponsored by the Library of Congress, The Poetry Foundation, and the University of Nebraska at Lincoln, the project is an initiative of Ted Kooser, Poet Laureate of the United States, 2004-2006. The column's sole mission is to promote poetry. To receive American Life in Poetry via email, sign up on the web site: http://www.americanlifeinpoetry.org/

W. S. Merwin named Poet Laureate

2010-12-03T17:17:00.000-08:00

For news on poet laureates - past and present - go to the Library of Congress web site:
http://www.loc.gov/poetry/

79th Annual Writer's Digest placement

2010-11-09T07:01:00.000-08:00

Barbara Kussow's entry placed 27th in the top 100 in the Genre Short Story category of the 79th Annual Writer's Digest competition:
http://www.writersdigest.com/article/annualwinners79_genre

Call me conventional

2010-09-18T08:17:00.000-07:00

Call me conventional or bourgeois. Say my taste is all in my mouth, if you want to be crude and unimaginative. Or call me a philistine, or say I have a "sour grapes" attitude, or a literal mentality.

Much of contemporary poetry leaves me cold.

I just bought a current issue of a literary magazine at one of the local bookstores. One of the elite in the literary world.

I read the fiction and non-fiction pieces with enjoyment, not so the poetry.
I had the same feeling I often have when reading poetry that gets published in literary magazines. Oh, yes, there are images that are arresting but very little I'd call memorable or quotable. It's nothing I would ever want to spend my time rereading or pondering.

It's not that I am unwilling to work a bit to understand a poem when its meaning is not apparent to me at first reading. I find poems that intrigue me enough to reread from time to time, but they seem to be the exception rather than the rule.

I tend to have favorite poems, rather than favorite poets, but here are a few contemporary poets I like: Billy Collins, Maxine Kumin, Rita Dove, and Ted Kooser.

I would like to see more "accessible" poetry (and that doesn't mean Hallmark sentimentality). If this were the case, then I think poetry would have a broader audience and not just belong primarily to the world of academia.

Garrison Keillor's Good Poems is an example of a collection of poetry that I consider more "accessible."

The poetry of Wallace Stevens

2010-09-05T17:17:00.001-07:00

Lately, I've been reading the poetry of Wallace Stevens. I find his poetry of ideas powerful and transcendent. Here are a couple of his poems on the subject of poetry:

THE HIGH-TONED OLD CHRISTIAN WOMAN

Poetry is the supreme fiction, madame.
Take the moral law and make a nave of it
And from the nave build haunted heaven. Thus,
the conscience is converted into palms,
like windy citherns hankering for hymns.
We agree in principle. That's clear. But take
the opposing law and make a peristyle,
and from the peristyle project a masque
beyond the planets. Thus, our bawdiness,
unpurged by epitaph, indulged at last,
is equally converted into palms,
squiggling like saxophones. And palm for palm,
madame, we are where we began. Allow,
therefore, that in the planetary scene
your disaffected flagellants, well-stuffed,
smacking their muzzy bellies in parade,
proud of such novelties of the sublime,
such tink and tank and tunk-a-tunk-tunk,
may, merely may, madame, whip from themselves
a jovial hullabaloo among the spheres.
This will make widows wince. But fictive things
wink as they will. Wink most when widows wince.

POETRY IS A DESTRUCTIVE FORCE

That's what misery is,
Nothing to have at heart.
It is to have or nothing

It is a thing to have,
a lion, an ox in his breast,
to feel it breathing there.

Corazon, stout dog,
Young ox, bow-leged bear,
He tastes its blood, not spit.

He is like a man
In the body of a violent beast.
Its muscles are his own...

The lion sleeps in the sun
Its nose is on its paws.
It can kill a man.

Columbus Dispatch essay by B. Kussow

2010-07-20T11:02:00.001-07:00

www.dispatch.com

Article by Barbara Kussow

2010-06-26T12:31:00.000-07:00

"The Case of Rapist Dr. Edward F. Jackson" in Crime Magazine:

www.crimemagazine.com/case-rapist-dr-edward-f-jackson

Speaking of Poet Laureates...

2010-05-12T09:15:00.000-07:00

I was fascinated to read that Brooklyn, New York, has a Poet Laureate. (See the New York Times, March 19, 2010.) Her name is Tina Chang, and she has a web site at
www.tinachang.com

Poet Laureate

2010-05-12T09:03:00.001-07:00

Are you familiar with the poetry of Kay Ryan? She is the current Poet Laureate of the United States. She has a spare, ironic style that I admire. You can find information about her and some of her poetry at www.loc.gov/poetry.

Poem in Danse Macabre

2010-04-03T09:27:00.001-07:00

To read a poem by Barbara Kussow in Danse Macabre, click on this link:
http://dansemacabre.art.officelive.com/TrouverePoesie.aspx

To read B. Kussow's poems published in Danse Macabre, click on the following link:

2009-10-07T07:28:00.001-07:00

http://dansemacabre.art.officelive.com/dancers.aspx

The Fabulous Short Story

2009-09-23T07:08:00.000-07:00

During my 4-year tenure at a 2-year career college, I taught a literature class based on the short story. Usually, I could count on one or more students grumbling during the first few class sessions that this class had nothing to do with what they were studying and they did not understand why they had to take it. Some told me that they never read fiction. Well, I'm not sure whether I ever converted any of these students to eager short story readers, but I'd like to think they left the class with a little more respect for the form.

I used several strategies to reach the reluctant students.

First, of course, I justified the course from the school's point of view. It sharpens students evaluative and writing skills. It acquaints them with several famous authors and broadens them. (I was always amazed that many of them had never even heard of Ernest Hemingway.) This defense of the course was probably the weakest in my toolkit. It was the "party line," and most had already heard it from advisers or other students.

Second, I tried to relate the short story to other familiar written and oral forms. The Bible, I told them, has many parables or short stories. Then, I said we all tell short stories. The oral form of the short story is alive and well in the everyday experiences and adventures we recount to our family and friends.

A good strategy was to make the most of the stories they were likely to find most interesting. I could count on almost everyone liking "The Most Dangerous Game," by Richard Connell. It was the first story in the text anthology, and a good one to teach the different types of conflict--man vs. man, man vs. nature, man vs. self. Another story that had broad appeal was Joyce Carol Oates' "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?"

Another technique for stories that had dialogue was to assign students to read character parts. Again, "The Most Dangerous Game" was good for this.

I also showed several films based on short stories. Some excellent films I used were "Paul's Case" (Willa Cather), "Everyday Use" (Alice Walker), "The Lottery" (Shirley Jackson), and "Smooth Talk" (based on "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been") with great acting by Laura Dern and Treat Williams. Though William Faulker's "Barn Burning" was not in the text, I would sometimes show the excellent film based on it to give them a feel for Faulkner's writing. (Faulkner's "A Rose for Emily" was the short story in the text.) I found all these films at the public library.

To read B. Kussow's poem published in HOSPITAL DRIVE, the online literary magazine of the Univ. of VA School of Medicine, click on the following

2009-09-16T18:05:00.000-07:00

http://hospitaldrive.med.virginia.edu/Issue4/Poetry/Kussow.html

Still Crazy magazine

2009-09-04T20:41:00.000-07:00

To visit Still Crazy, a magazine that publishes poetry, fiction and non-fiction by and/or about people over age fifty, go to http://www.crazylitmag.com/. The editor's blog is also found on the web site.

Two good books about poetry

2009-08-19T18:52:00.000-07:00

Two books about poetry that I highly recommend are:

1) The Eye of the Poet; Six Views of the Art and Craft of Poetry, edited by David Citino (Oxford University Press, 2002). The book is written by practicing poets and teachers of poetry. The poets represented are David Baker, David Citino, Billy Collins, Yusef Komunyakaa, Maxine Kumin, Carol Muske, and Ann Townsend. That's seven, if you're counting. David Baker and Ann Townsend co-write a chapter. Each essay offers a different slant on writing and reading poetry.

2) The Poetry Home Repair Manual, by Ted Kooser (University of Nebraska Press, 2005).
Ted Kooser was the 13th Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress.
The title provides a clue to Mr. Kooser's approach. He gives practical advice in plain language.
I particularly like the chapters on writing about feelings and writing from memory.

Both are books to which I return from time to time, always finding new insights.

POETRY

2009-07-03T08:22:00.000-07:00

OUR GOOD WOODEN FENCE

by Barbara Kussow
(Published in Kaleidoscope, Akron, OH Summer/Fall 2005)

"Good fences make good neighbors." - The Mending Wall, by Robert Frost

The cottonwood tree
that towers taller than our house
conspires with the wind
to scatter its autumn leaves
beyond our backyard fence
to our neighbor's well-kept lawn.

I wonder if they grumble
over their evening meal, saying
"We should ask them to rake our yard!"
Our good wooden fence does not suffice.

The knotted rope that holds the gate,
my autistic son cleverly unties
lacking that, there is the door
he slyly unbolts
to visit another deck
where he is not welcome

It reminds him of another
where he sat for hours
transfixed by the dance of leaves
and limbs against the sky
that has no property lines.

Our good wooden fence does not suffice.

Copyright 2005, Barbara Kussow

POETRY

2009-06-22T16:40:00.000-07:00

PUBLIC DREAMING

by Barbara Kussow
(published in ByLine magazine, February 2007)

scrunched down in a chair not meant for sleeping
I awaken with a prolonged sweetness like savoring

the last pages of a novel I don’t want to end
a sometime insomniac in my own bed I have become

a public napper in the afternoon hush of the public library
fiction section unfolding my curved spine among readers

too preoccupied or polite to notice near the “B” section
where the brothers have been shifted again twins

one better known than the other I knew in another library
long ago we were discontented clerks insufferable I’m sure

handing other people’s novels across the counter even then
his ambition an intriguing book jacket he was certain to fill

he had the slouch the beret worn atilt over thin red hair
pale blue go-to-hell eyes behind round wire-rimmed glasses

a brash manner with feigned contrition if anyone took offense
I keep meaning to take one of his books to the circulation

desk and slide it across the counter but I’ve gotten no further
than the photograph showing his fuller visage and somewhat

satisfied smile his plots less compelling than his persona—
a developing character in the novel I’m still planning to write

Copyright 2007, Barbara Kussow

B. J. Kussow's poem, published in MAIN CHANNEL VOICES, June 2009:

2009-06-21T07:37:00.000-07:00

LANDSCAPING A LONG MARRIAGE

The woebegone Boston fern
I unceremoniously dumped
in the woods near our backyard

my husband rescued with an injured
air and hung in a place of honor
from a limb of the decorative apple tree.

Now in its second season the fern still
mostly a matted tangle of roots and straw
mocks me with its few tenacious fronds.

The Canadian hemlock failed to thrive
more brown than green last year, a scrawny
specimen among five vigorous peers

I suggested a warranty replacement.
“Give it time,” he replied, and I thought
“Oh, do we have to go through this again?”

This spring the tree is a gangly adolescent
challenging nature with a layer of lush new
growth, accusing me of shortsightedness.

The blue spruce has a different history.
Bred for special service, a living Christmas
tree. We took it from its element, bestowed

it with our glitter, celebrated it yet burdened it,
exploited it not noticing as its needles dried
and shriveled. Were we guilty of neglect?

Then, we thrust it back into the cold, familiar
earth where it struggled under our common
watch, finally becoming a tree for more seasons.

To read a poem by B. J. Kussow, published in DANSE MACABRE, June 2009, click on the following link:

2009-06-21T07:31:00.001-07:00

http://dansemacabre.art.officelive.com/aneveningatthesymphony.aspx