A call for papers for a Special Session at the 51st International Congress on Medieval Studies in Kalamazoo, MI (May 12-15, 2016). Send abstracts to eric.weiskott@bc.edu by September 15, 2015.
Late Old English Verse
This session focuses on Old English poetry datable to between c. 950 and 1150. Many of these poems are embedded in late annals in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle; most of them were snubbed by being excluded from the standard edition of Old English verse, the Anglo-Saxon Poetic Records (Columbia Univ. Press, 1931-53). As a result, late Old English poems as a group are severely understudied. Indeed, because Old English verse is written out in unlineated text blocks in manuscript, and because most theories of Old English meter are based on putatively pre-950 poems like Beowulf, scholars disagree about the exact number of extant late Old English poems. As recently as 2007, Thomas Bredehoft could identify an entirely new, never-before-discussed poem. This session…
Feral Jackson’s chameleon from a population introduced to Hawaii in the 1970s
The lizards are out in my neighborhood—on footpaths, sidewalks and in the garage. I kind of like them—the way they scurry to and fro…
From Professor Wikipedia I have learned that “many lizards have highly acute color vision. Most lizards rely heavily on body language, using specific postures, gestures, and movements to define territory, resolve disputes, and entice mates.”
Now I watch my lizards more closely to see what they are up to. Mine are, of course, not so brightly defined as the Jackson’s chameleon. They are only little brown squamatereptiles yet they are no less charming.
But sitting here the afternoon, I’ve come to believe we do share a love affair and a belief — in wink, blink, stone,
The Garden of Love BY WILLIAM BLAKE I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green.
“Chapelle Palatine”. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons – photo courtesy of Urban
The White Buffalo Bar at the Gage Hotel was hopping last night. There were tourists from Illinois and Massachusetts, several bikers (always), and a group of a dozen some ladies marking a friend’s birthday. We were enjoying pre-dinner drinks when a random man stood up and announced, “Attention, please! I have something important to say.” His look was urgent so the room grew suddenly silent.
“I just proposed to this beautiful woman,” he began, “and she said yes. To celebrate, I’d like to buy you all a drink.” We clapped hands and cheered. Of course! One of the biker guys walked over to the soon-to-be-groom and shook his hand. “Congratulations, man” while the group of ladies who were beginning to feel their margaritas began to sing “Chapel of Love.” (Click the link!) How fun was that! Ok, I admit, you probably had to be there …. but it does take us back to William Blake.
Blake is a slippery fellow. His poems begin here but before you know it you’re there and sometimes you’re not sure where there is. In “The Garden of Love,” we begin with a chapel constructed where the speaker “used to play on the green” and soon we’re staring at clergy and death and theological restriction.
But, really William! Life can just be fun, too—margaritas, a marriage proposal and a round of “Chapel of Love.”
Blake’s The Lovers’ Whirlwind illustrates Hell in Canto V of Dante’s Inferno
As I drew nearer to the end of all desire, I brought my longing’s ardor to a final height, Just as I ought. My vision, becoming pure,
Dante and Beatrice speak to the teachers of wisdom Thomas Aquinas, Albertus Magnus, Peter Lombard and Sigier of Brabant in the Sphere of the Sun (fresco by Philipp Veit), Canto 10.
Although I’m good at establishing deadlines and deliverables in my work, I tend to fall apart when it comes to personal goal setting. Perhaps, you are like this too. So—instead of bemoaning my failure as a human being, I decided to be bold and dynamic. I find short-term goals are more doable than long so here are this month’s goals:
1. Work up to running (jogging?) the 3 mile loop in my hood. I’m a walker not a runner so vamos a ver on this one.
2. Memorize a stanza from Paradiso each morning–in English and Italian. As Caroline Kennedy explains, “If we learn poems by heart, we will always have their wisdom to draw on, and we gain an understanding that no one can take away.”
I’ll be reading from the Paradiso each morning at 7 am at the Post before my walk/run. Come join me!
The Wading Pool BY GEORGE BILGERE The toddlers in their tadpole bodies, with their squirt guns and snorkels, their beautiful mommies and inflatable whales, are still too young to understand that this is as good as it gets.
Austin, Texas June 7, 2015 photo by Alice-Catherine Jennings
A day at the neighborhood pool screams summer. Everyone’s in a good mood. The kids are electric; the parents can chill; and the singlets’ skin glow.
Born in 1951, George Bilgere has been called the baby boomer’s poet. You can watch a video of Bilgere talking about his poetry here.
Cat, Failing BY ROBIN ROBERTSON A figment, a thumbed maquette of a cat, some ditched plaything, something brought in from outside: his white fur stiff and grey, coming apart at the seams
photo by Alice-Catherine Jennings cat courtesy of a friend
I’m still writing cat, cat, cat…but I’m getting better. I’m now reading poems about cats.
…when i can taste the rare culture of cuchifritos y lechón chitterlins & black-eyed peas & corn bread
Photo By Toby Hudson (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0}I’d been spying the food trucks on East 11th St for quite some time. Located close to East Side Yoga, I knew that one day after my noon stretch, I’d stop by one of those vegan/vegetarian food trucks circled around chairs and grass and a dose of East Austin funk.
Yesterday, the vegan African food sign lured me in past the partial metal fence. I entered food truck land. I was tempted by the Colombian choice. I’ve been to Colombia so thought at least I could make an educated choice but I was feeling hot and steamy so I stayed the course and headed towards Wasota African Cuisine.
I ordered the V. 6 Jollof Rice and Spinach and V10. Akara (Black- eyed Peas Fritters). I wasn’t quite sure what I was getting but the owner said to sit in the shade as it would take awhile to blend and cook everything. He likes to make everything fresh for his customers—and, the food was guaranteed. Guaranteed? Like authentic? No, like I will give you your money back if you do not like it. For $10.72, why not?
Here are my ratings on a 5 star system.
Hot and spicy: 5 (You can order it less spicy but I like the heat!)
Taste and texture: 3 1/2
Value: 5 (There was enough food for 4.)
Service and Friendliness: 5
Authenticity: Have no idea???
If you check out Wasota’s FB page, there is a special offer for 15% off.
Jesus Papoleto Melendez on the fire escape of his building on East 111th Street in East Harlem New York City. Photo By vagabond (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0}The akaras, or black-eyed pea fritters led me to “Oye Mundo/sometimes” and I discovered Jesús Papoleto Meléndez, poet and playwright and one of the founding poets of the Nuyorican poetry movement. You can watch him read “¡HEY YO / YO SOY!” here.
& i can feel a conglomeration of vibrations / heat waves body waves people waves of real gente / & i feel gooooooood
Yesterday the egg so fresh it felt hot in his hand…
caught up inside his fist, not ready to give it over to the refrigerator or the rest of the day.
One of my favorite ways to refresh my look after a travel day in airports and planes—that dead air of space—is to get my hair done—the whole enchilada—base color, highlights and cut, especially if your hair stylist is Mel Martel, Creative Director at Ricky Hodge Salon. She rocks! Not only am I “re-doed” but I got a bonus—a gift from her chickens, 1/2 dozen eggs.
These eggs never made it to refrigerator as after the hard workout in the salon chair, I was hungry—voila! An omelet with spinach and cherry tomatoes for lunch. Thank you Mel!
Good things build on good so after the omelet, I found the “Boy and Egg” poem by Naomi Shihab Nye, one of my favorite poets.
Keep away, son, these lakes are salt. These flowers Eat insects. Here private lunatics Yell and skip in a very dry country.
Dish on Market Louisville, KY
Downtown Louisville is far from being a “dry country.” Instead, it is wet, very wet indeed especially on the urban bourbon trail. I know from experience. I took my virgin #urbanbourbon trip last Thursday afternoon with a group of fellow writers. My rating:
I’d would have given it a 5 star but one of the bartenders had an angry air. Fortunately, at every other place, the bartenders were super professional and friendly–especially at our final stop at Dish on Market.
Plaque in Louisville, KY
Or where some haywire monument Some badfaced daddy of fear Commands an unintelligent rite.
In a fuzzy haze, I was walking back to the Brown Hotel and ran into this plaque to Thomas Merton. Had I wondered around a bit more I would have discovered another Thomas Merton plaque, the one that celebrates “a mystical experience — one that happened to the monk Thomas Merton on March 18, 1958:
‘In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers….There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.’
… It is a field of the wild carrot taking the field by force; the grass does not raise above it.
“Daucus carota May 2008-1 edit” by Alvesgaspar – Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons –
Saturday in Mano Prieto north of Marfa, TX~
After high winds that were making me nettled and grumpy, a black storm pummeled rain on the south side of my studio. The weather shifted to cool, actually bristly so—yes, bristly, the hairs were sticking up from my skin.
I threw on a flannel shirt and starting chopping carrots. I craved soup!
I pulled out one of my “heritage recipes”—a recipe ripped from a magazine or newspaper years ago for a creamy but not too spicy Carrot and Jalapeño soup. Here’s the recipe by Marilyn Harris online. It’s delicious!
Alice-Catherine 