VALLUM Magazine

Essay on the Postmodern

2012-02-26T08:24:00.000-08:00

"Postmodern Telos."

BRIEF ESSAY

In this short discussion, I want to say a few things about postmodernism as I have come to understand it through my exploits in university and life. Postmodernity in art, writing and culture in general, is not to be trifled with. It is a force, period. It is embedded in the fabric of new technologies and "new" streams of thought that display randomness, play and often cynicism. We don't need a new term or ethic like "digimodernism" or "post-postmodernism". Yes, there is a sense that we have moved beyond into new territory. And while the reference to modernism which postmodernism plays on may be a little dated, the term still refers to the change that shook consciousness in general around the middle of the 20th C, and this is postmodernism. It is my feeling that postmodernism as a concept, idea and mode of referring to contemporary culture is still relevant and important to maintain.

But. There is one thing that postmodernism has missed, much to the detriment of its ethic. It has caused much debate and confusion with more traditional thinkers. It must be conceded that there is such a thing as a unified, yes, structure, to reality. We are embedded in a cohesive system that governs every little action (refer to the Butterfly Effect, for instance). We cannot escape this, regardless of any opinion. This is my opinion, yes. I also believe there is a definite idea of a centre or origin that refers back directly to the living subject. This is the unique source that creates and gives new life. No matter how much scientists try to capture this source, or to recreate it artificially, I believe they will fail. They create biologically-based machines etc., but the creation of biological Life, I think, will never be achieved.

Where does this life come from? It is the origin of the cohesive system that plays around us. Postmodernism is the height of this original unity EVEN THOUGH IT CAN MANIFEST AS RANDOM, FRAGMENT, PARTS, (even in terms of cynicism as a response to repressive ideologies and other abusive systems of thought). It is the height because it expresses more spirit, thought, presence, than other past media. Of course, more traditional art forms depict unity and origin directly. This is true. Classical art reflects perfect order and symmetry. But this is not the only way. The postmodern has speeded up the symmetry, broken it up in pieces BUT it is still there, part of the underlying fabric of reality that coheres.

Break it up, throw it up to chance, scratch, play, dance madly in partial, broken syncopations, enjoy, celebrate, rant, despair, criticize, whatever. It all still coheres. There is order in chaos. And this is postmodernism. It is not to be mocked. There is nothing beyond postmodernism. No need to be hyper, or post-post, or what have you. One neither has to be witty to coin a new "term" for our contemporary experiences. Postmodernism is what shook consciousness and it is fitting to keep the term as a homage to the opening of emotional and creative space.

BUT. We have to stop thinking of postmodernism as something with no recourse to a point of truth and unity. Postmodernism is both these things. It may be relative, but the hidden (true) spark is there, it is there. Try to move consciousness above the material. Think of how many times things have connected in your experience, by fluke or chance, how many times "psychic" occurrences have surprised you. This is the underlying, invisible unifying substratum of reality. Who's behind this? It may be God. It might just be the way it is. And the postmodern is part of It.

--ez

______________________________________________
***"Postmodern Telos." Published in Angel and Air, Montreal, 2012, and is forthcoming in Vallum Issue 9:2 (Spring/Summer, 2012).
All rights reserved.

Montreal Poet Jeffrey Mackie Reads

2012-02-22T08:03:00.000-08:00

Local Montreal poet, Jeffrey Mackie, read his poems at the Fleurbain on Feb 18, 2012. His workis edgy and often captures what is at the essence of things, with a sardonic wit and a keen eye for the subtle nature of things.

New Vallum Chapbooks have arrived!

2012-02-02T18:30:00.000-08:00

The Vallum Chapbook Series

Two new titles:

-- Recurring Awakening by Franz Wright
-- little pink book by Claire Huot and Robert Majzels

Read reviews below, written by Alisha Mascarenhas, one of Vallum's interns.

Recurring Awakening by Franz Wright

Recurring Awakening tilts precariously on the threshold of dream and waking reality, resting neither in physical, sensory experience nor bodiless spatial exploration. In this collection of poems and prose, Franz Wright traverses time and space, visiting the stars, childhood and the unexplored microcosm of the buds of a familiar peach tree. From a place of solitude, he urgently asks large and largely unanswerable questions directed at nobody, everybody and you. He comes to meet his own mortality and mutely inquires the validity of his existence altogether. As he draws back to observe present reality and painful memories, Wright’s words taste bitter and cold. Then, soon enough, he takes to the curious exploration of both the minutely detailed and infinitely expansive. Pages turn over like someone inspecting his own hands, asking, “I am still here. Aren’t I?”

***

little pink book by Claire Huot and Robert Majzels

Though the cover pre-supposes a fun, maybe even cute, little pink book, Claire Huot and Robert Majzels’ collection of translated Chinese poetry is sudden and subtly challenging. Each poem is laid out in a dense series of boxes: rows of 17 and columns of 5, housing individual letters and ignoring spacing and punctuation. Do not expect a soft, gentle introduction, disclaimer or preface. Sit in the winter sunshine on a hardwood floor and let the words play out.

You will be immediately confronted by the work; the words “weight” and “death” two of the first to be quietly mouthed as you re-learn the shapes and sounds of once familiar words. This first poem might be read in a single breath, with little need to skip back. As you continue, though, you cannot avoid the misreading, re-calculating, starting again, starting again. “weal... no, we allk, no, we all know...”. You struggle through simply getting the words, then twenty seconds and 85 individually boxed letters later it’s over, and some form of meaning seeps in. The words feel impersonal, even when “my” and “i” are introduced, with a kind of objective, detached confidence rarely seen in western poetry. Though the weight and intensity of the poems varies, the restriction of time, breath and space for each piece is constant, creating a sort of framework for the experience.

The little pink book is part of the 85 Project by Claire Huot and Robert Majzels, which challenges and questions the ethics of translation through experiments and performances using various forms of media. Learn more the project at 85bawu.com.

Next theme is here! ...(sorry we're a little late...)

2012-01-25T13:12:00.000-08:00

Upcoming Theme:

VALLUM 9:2 - INVISIBLE 'CITYSCAPE' (HIDDEN URBAN LANDSCAPES)

The 'Cityscape' has fascinated people since the flâneurs of Paris and beyond. But what is unseen, underground or hidden eludes us. What are some of these hidden aspects of the 'cityscape,' the hidden urban landscape?

Deadline: April 30, 2012

A Spot of Winter & Bliss Carman

2012-01-19T20:10:00.000-08:00

In the middle of winter, we may pause and wonder how the early settlers of Canada fared in the near-wilderness. Below, notable Canadian poet, Bliss Carman, writes a lengthy poem on winter, painting a picture that in some ways still resonates with us. But where is the beauty of such lines today: "Now is the time, with winter o'er the world,/For books and friends and yellow candle-light,/And timeless lingering by the settling fire"? I hope it hasn't entirely been replaced by artificial fireplaces at Second Cup coffee shops, with readers of newspapers or books in passing. But I think in some places it is still alive. Alas, such is the passage of time, imaginings of more than a century ago... /ez

* * *

THE WINTER SCENE

by Bliss Carman (1861-1929)

The rutted roads are all like iron; skies
Are keen and brilliant; only the oak-leaves cling
In the bare woods, or the hardy bitter-sweet;
Drivers have put their sheepskin jackets on;
And all the ponds are sealed with sheeted ice
That rings with stroke of skate and hockey-stick,
Or in the twilight cracks with running whoop.
Bring in the logs of oak and hickory,
And make an ample blaze on the wide hearth.
Now is the time, with winter o'er the world,
For books and friends and yellow candle-light,
And timeless lingering by the settling fire.

While all the shuddering stars are keen with cold.

2.

Out from the silent portal of the hours,
When frosts are come and all the hosts put on.
Their burnished gear to march across the night
And o'er a darkened earth in splendor shine,
Slowly above the world Orion wheels
His glittering square, while on the shadowy hill
And throbbing like a sea-light through the dusk,
Great Sirius rises in his flashing blue.
Lord of the winter night, august and pure,
Returning year on year untouched by time,
To hearten faith with thine unfaltering fire,
There are no hurts that beauty cannot ease,
No ills that love cannot at last repair,
In the victorious progress of the soul.

3.

Russet and white and gray is the oak wood
In the great snow. Still from the North it comes,
Whispering, settling, sifting through the trees,
O'erloading branch and twig. The road is lost.
Clearing and meadow, stream and ice-bound pond
Are made once more a trackless wilderness
In the white hush where not a creature stirs;
And the pale sun is blotted from the sky.
In that strange twilight the lone traveller halts
To listen to the stealthy snowflakes fall.
And then far off toward the Stamford shore,
Where through the storm the coastwise liners go,
Faint and recurrent on the muffled air,
A foghorn booming through the Smother--hark!

4.

When the day changed and the mad wind died down,
The powdery drifts that all day long had blown
Across the meadows and the open fields,
Or whirled like diamond dust in the bright sun,
Settled to rest, and for a tranquil hour
The lengthening bluish shadows on the snow
Stole down the orchard slope, and a rose light
Flooded the earth with beauty and with peace.
Then in the west behind the cedars black
The sinking sun stained red the winter dusk
With sullen flare upon the snowy ridge,--
As in a masterpiece by Hokusai,
Where on a background gray, with flaming breath
A scarlet dragon dies in dusky gold.

moment of reflection

2012-01-06T19:24:00.000-08:00

The let-down after the sugar rush. Yes, holidays came and went, and now, well, are we a little sad and dejected perhaps? Oh, no! We've got poetry! In our toes and in our souls. But for some reason I can't seem to get into my hibernation mode, where I write and write. I am sad for the state of worldly affairs. And resolutions never work. Maybe sometimes they do, but I can't even resolve to do one thing and not the other. I guess decisions and change are the biggest disturbances in a person's life.

My favourite poet is HD (Hilda Doolittle 1886-1961). Her poetry is deep with reflection and amazing imagery. She differentiates between what is important and beautiful and what is not. It is important to see beauty even when the weather wears us down and every climate--personal, political--makes us feel weak and inefficient. Hope your holidays were meaningful, truly, and not wasted or cynical energy. We are here now, in the midst of winter 2012. Chinese New Year looms near. It is a new year for everyone. Here is a poem by HD, to remind us about the greatness of poetry and its ability to move the spirit: /ez

SONG

by Hilda Doolittle

You are as gold

as the half-ripe grain

that merges to gold again,

as white as the white rain

that beats through

the half-opened flowers

of the great flower tufts

thick on the black limbs

of an Illyrian apple bough.

Can honey distill such fragrance

as your bright hair--

for your face is as fair as rain,

yet as rain that lies clear

on white honey-comb,

lends radiance to the white wax,

so your hair on your brow

casts light for a shadow.

Jean Pear Sartre (Guest Post from Angry Pear)

2012-01-05T12:15:00.000-08:00

Hell is other pears.

Angry Pear is a comic created by Vallum's Managing Editor Drew McKevitt. Visit Angry Pear for more pear comics.

"God Particle" found?

2011-12-13T20:57:00.000-08:00

There has been talk today of the "God Particle" or the Higgs Boson and its potential existence as "a never-before-seen subatomic particle long thought to be a fundamental building block of the universe." Interesting. Read more...

http://www.cnn.com/2011/12/13/world/europe/higgs-boson-q-and-a/index.html?npt=NP1

eclipse contest winner

2011-12-12T06:41:00.001-08:00

The mini-symbol contest was won by Selena Rosenthal who wrote that "One of the most important symbols in society today is the "celebrity figure" which is a symbol of power and greatness and the promise of eternal life."

Selena will receive a copy of Paul Muldoon's book, Horse Latitudes. Thanks to all who participated. Hope your eclipse was a good one!

A Challenge to the Wise: Symbols

2011-12-04T19:53:00.001-08:00

What is a symbol? That central part of a lot of poetry. A symbol is something that stands for something else.

"A symbol is like a rock dropped into a pool: it sends out ripples in all directions, and the ripples are in motion. Who can say where the last ripple disappears? One may have a sense that he knows the approximate center point of the ripples, the point at which the stone struck the water. Yet even then he has trouble marking it surely. How does one make a mark on water?"

--John Ciardi (from "Robert Frost: The Way to the Poem," Saturday Review, XLII (April 12, 1958)).

What becomes a symbol to someone? Is white a symbol for madness or purity or transcendence?

I'd like to hold a mini-challenge: Send a maximum of 50 words outlining what is one of the most important symbols, in your opinion, circulating in society today. Send to: vallumcontest@gmail.com. You have until the lunar eclipse, December 10, 2011, to submit. Write the word "Symbol" in the subject line. You will get a free poetry book if you are selected. /ez

Conquering "the Box," some reflections

2011-11-30T07:03:00.001-08:00

Here is an interesting article, from a psychological perspective, by noted Montreal writer, James Zisimatos. It focuses on the importance of the "here and now" and reflects on the walls people erect around themselves as a form of denial about their lives. Poetry, and art in general, often help break down such impenetrable walls of despair and alienation. /ez

"This is Not a Dress Rehearsal"

The Past, Present & Future.

What does it all mean? Some would say that these are experiences that govern and formulate opinions throughout the daily operations of life. A collection of information and references that define who you are and how your world is perceived. Others would say learn from the past and apply it to the present so that you may shape your future. Is this accurate? Is it a good way to go?

Many reasonable philosophies exist. However, there are many factors that affect the outcome and sometimes or most times (in my opinion), the information and events become corrupt. Did things really unfold as how you perceived them? Perhaps… Or did events and references become shaped by individual perception, misunderstanding and past historical references? Most information is absorbed and processed by individuals based on an understanding of the world they live in. How valid is this perception? Is there possible misinterpretation? Absolutely.

The Box.

This concept is key in understanding yourself and realizing how you perceive your surroundings. The box is a place that people create to make sense of their world. Depending on an individual’s character it may take on many forms but the outcome is the same. It’s a safe zone… It is a place in the mind that one creates to handle unknowns. Fear of the unknown is one of the catalysts for behavior. It’s easy to hide and make conclusions to avoid reality and confrontation. Some create perimeters around them for protection. Walls are built over time and inside these walls the world makes sense. Unfortunately, it only makes sense to the creator of a given world….

This problem fundamentally affects behavior and perception! It’s difficult to see yourself and sometimes seeing is purposefully suppressed to prevent facing one's true reality and perhaps learning what one already knows about him or herself. Why does this happen? Many reasons… In my opinion, many emotions converge to formulate a behavior that allows the individual to cope. Shame, fear, self-esteem, confidence and many more items affect how one sees him or herself and how he or she interacts with the existing world. There is great pain associated in accepting one's faults and one's natural instinct is to prevent such faults and to preserve the world you think is safe and orderly.

Almost always, in my experience the problems at hand are buried and suppressed. It’s easy to withdraw and/or force unrelated issues to avoid dealing with the root cause. Given enough time one begins to only know what he believes in his box and will defend the perimeter against all perceived attacks.

Why do we do it? I believe it’s a natural mechanism and is not understood well by most…. The box can be a place of darkness and despair or a place of light and happiness. Understanding what you do unconsciously is imperative to how the picture of your world is painted.

Emotions.

How do you feel? Happy, Sad, frustrated, rejected… Which is it? Here we are on a roller coaster…. This is an ever-changing cause and effect system that affects what you bring back to the box. If there is no balance and proper understanding of events over time it becomes a masonry project. Given enough time you become a brick layer cementing your wall brick by brick until one day there is no more light entering your world. Eventually your world only exists inside the box where the walls created provide comfort and shape your reality. A loop of perceptions and understanding that are almost always false. How can you be certain things are the way you see them? The answer is that they are not certain… Some individuals formulate positive behaviors to cope with the underlying issues, others are negative. Many factors play here in that they depend on character and belief systems and actual issues. Emotions can come in many forms blended with feelings of hope, anger, resentment, pride, anxiety and so on… Depending on one's character the results will vary but really don’t address the root cause. Simply, it’s just another battle and the picture inside one’s fortress is defended in every way possible to protect their reality.

The Lie.

"I am not the problem! It’s the other person’s fault!" The lie justifies the means and if examined carefully, (in my opinion), it is the key to growth and development. But as long as denial is in play the outcome is a stalemate. As long as you believe “your” world is the only world, you cannot move forward. Realization that everyone’s world is different and perceived as such opens the door to resolution. Step outside the box and look at things from the outside in. This is not a trivial task and unfortunately requires extreme circumstances to force the change. Face the fear and look at yourself in the mirror no matter how terrifying it may seem…. The view is not clear at first; however the more you look the more you realize what’s happening. Put it all aside for a time and really explore yourself, truthfully…. Do you like what you see? Probably not… It’s time to make changes and get on with life!

Communication.

How do I fix this? Nothing changes overnight…. Small steps are required to balance things. Stop living in the past and stop worrying about the future. These two things are the cement used to build the wall. If you continue to use them, they continue to fortify and isolate your existence. The past cannot be changed and dwelling on your version of it is non productive. Learn from it but don’t live there…. Same can be said for the future. Nobody knows what the future holds and so let the path take you where it may. You have little control over it and your entire existence can change from hour to hour. The focus must be on now… The only way to live in a peaceful and harmonious world is to properly communicate how you feel to the people around you. Never assume or speculate; you will most certainly walk away with the wrong impression. Different people, different speeds… Everyone is different and views most often conflict. This is a good thing and one simply needs to look at the other side and learn from it, not reject it. Sometimes an exchange is not understood and may need further clarification. Moreover, an exchange may end up unresolved depending on circumstances. Even here the correct thing to do is come to a mutual agreement without negative emotional outbursts. Success depends on flexibility and mutual respect…. If you don’t respect the other's opinion you cannot expect to receive respect for yours. It is imperative to be synchronized with different views in and around your environment. Failing to do this closes the door to a balanced existence. This is not to say compromise your beliefs, only add to them and tune them in with other people's perceptions.

Conclusion.

What really matters? Above all in my opinion the most important thing is family, health and good friends… Without these, what do you really have?

Mistakes are made and will continue to be made, but with the proper balance and understanding you gain wisdom. This is part of the equation and cannot be removed. Turn negativity into positive energy…. Turn down the volume on negative emotions and blast the good ones. Fill in the void by helping someone in need, listen carefully, be patient, reap the rewards that follow.

Go after what matters with a vengeance. Embrace happiness, laughter, love and sunshine at all times. There is no room for darkness. Tear down the walls, fire the mason!

Time on this earth is short enough…. This is not a dress rehearsal…

Happy American Thanksgiving!!

2011-11-24T14:14:00.001-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving to our American neighbours, or should I say "neighbors?" Hope
you all have a splendid time on one of your most festive feast days. We all give thanks! /ez

http://www.timeanddate.com/holidays/us/thanksgiving-day

Naani blog poetry contest winner announced!

2011-11-24T08:40:00.001-08:00

Vallum is happy toannounce the results of our November 2011 Naani poetry contest.

Desmond KonZhicheng-Mingdé’s poem, Grenouille Bleue,has been selected as the winner.

Here is hispoem for all to enjoy. It will also be appearing on Vallum’s website as well asin an upcoming newsletter.

Grenouille Bleue

Maybe between shouts

an urging, stress of weather

like a fissure, an impasse.

Maybe a blanket?

A coat and towel too.

For the draftsman howling

at the sky, and angels

through the sugar maple.

Wading monastics

washing muslin robes.

Stalk of lemongrass in hand;

raw hemp around ankles.

Twelve shoes tethered,

laced into a bouquet —

quiet love seating itself,

of moonstone and a dirt road.

Have the bluebells

turned cerulean? At sundown,

an emphatic stress. Of hope,

our soft bundle of ballads.

Many thanks to all who submitted! As always, it was adifficult choice, and we encourage all those who participated to continuesending their work to our contests as well as the magazine.

Have a wonderful week,

--Vallum

A.M. Klein Launch & Reading at Concordia University

2011-11-22T10:04:00.001-08:00

Tomorrow night, Nov. 23, 2011, at Concordia University, a launch
for FAILURE'S OPPOSITE, Listening to A.M. Klein (McGill-Queen's) will be held.
The book was edited by Norman Ravvin and Sherry Simon.

Readings will accompany the book celebration, based on poems by Canadian poets published in chapbook form and relating to A.M. Klein's poem "The Mountain." The chapbook was compiled and edited by Concordia's notable English scholar, Prof. Jason Camlot.

http://cissc.concordia.ca/lecturesconferencesandevents/

EXPOZINE 2011--

2011-11-22T10:00:00.001-08:00

This weekend the famed Expozine fair will be held in Montreal. The place is usually jam-packed
with artist-types of all kinds. Books, comics, muffins, buttons and art culture... be there and buy stuff!

http://www.qwf.org/pdf/shortlist_2011.pdf

Tonight QWF Awards Gala!

2011-11-22T09:54:00.001-08:00

Tonight at the Lion d'Or the Quebec Writers' Federation will be selecting winners in various literary categories
for 2011; the shortlist may be viewed here:
http://www.qwf.org/pdf/shortlist_2011.pdf

This event is one of the most prestigious Literary events in Montreal, along with Blue Metropolis.

Vallum Blog Poetry Contest- Naani poems

2011-10-27T08:37:00.001-07:00

Vallum blog poetry contest November 2011: Naani poems

In celebration of our upcoming Winter issue, PAKISTAN, we are announcing our Fall 2011 Vallum blog contest! This time around, we are looking for an innovative twist on a popular Indian and Pakistani form: the Naani poem.

Naani means “an expression of one and all.” Naani poems are 4 lines long and 20 - 25 syllables in length. Naani poems can be composed of one single Naani (one quatrain) or multiple Naanis (each Naani as a stanza).

Rules:

Submit a Naani poem that is between 1 Naani and 5 Naanis in length. This means a minimum of 4 lines and a maximum of 20 lines. Please remain within the line and syllable constraints of the Naani!

Submissions may be in any poetic style and on any subject, but keep in mind that Naani poems are traditionally “an expression of one and all” (interpret as you wish!).

Naani poems can have titles or can be untitled, according to the poet’s preference.

Submissions must be sent to info@vallummag.com with the subject line “November Naani poetry” by midnight, November 7, 2011. Please include your full name, email address, and a brief bio.

Winners will be selected approximately two weeks after the deadline. Winners will receive publication on this blog, in Vallum’s quarterly newsletter, and on our website, http://vallummag.com.

Best of luck and have fun!

failing...(a little)

2011-10-14T15:40:00.000-07:00

Failure is something we have all dealt with. The fear of failure is what keeps a lot of people down and unable to believe in themselves enough to overcome it. But what is failure? Our society places so much emphasis on 'competition' and 'winning.' Sports, business, law, even (disturbingly) matters of the spirit are places where competition thrives. If we didn't place so much weight on being the 'best' at something, then maybe we could be something that is neither 'best' or 'worst,' 'first' or 'last.' Why can't we just BE, exist in harmony with our environment? If we realize that the world is falsely constructed on the basis of competition and struggle, then the idea of failure dissipates. We do not fail if we are just doing something for the love of it. Even poetry contests are difficult. The ones not chosen believe that they 'lost.' But they created something beautiful, or reflective, by the attempt. They did not fail in the overall scheme of things. Competition can be fun. It is nice to be recognized. I write poetry but don't worry if I publish or not. Yes, it would be nice if I became 'Famous,' but who really cares? All these things are overrated. I probably won't give up competing, but I will not be battled down by it if I fail. Things are always subject to change. One day we win, one day we lose. And we never know which day is which. Fear of failure is a deep-rooted condition, stemming from upbringing and childhood experiences. Don't be afraid. Keep at it, and your day will come. Maybe not as a brilliant star, but a victory that will make you feel real and worthy. /ez

WINNERS of the Vallum Award for Poetry Announced!

2011-10-13T12:11:00.000-07:00

The winners for the 2011 VALLUM AWARD FOR POETRY are:

First Place: "Telecommuting Spouses" by Peter Richardson

Second Place: “Veninum Lupinum” by Jack Miller

Honourable Mention: "Dark Matter" by Roxanna Bennett
Honourable Mention: "Tougher Than Leather" by Joseph Anderson
Honourable Mention: "Up Ahead" by Lucy Ricciardi

Congratulations and thank you to all who submitted. All the entries were great!

thanksgiving

2011-10-09T20:31:00.000-07:00

"As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them."

John Fitzgerald Kennedy

Happy (Canadian) Thanksgiving.

Nobel Peace Prize

2011-10-08T22:22:00.000-07:00

The Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to three women this year: Liberian President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, activist Leymah Gbowee of Liberia and rights activist Tawakkul Karman of Yemen.

Yes, people are still striving for peace amidst the chaos. It is strong and noble to search for peace, even though it often clashes with what opposing factions consider to be 'justice.'

http://www.cnn.com/2011/10/07/world/world-nobel-peace-prize/index.html?hpt=wo_t4

Time??

2011-10-06T18:10:00.000-07:00

Time is a mysterious construction. It's been said that it's like a pretzel (whatever that means) and not linear. Then why does it feel linear? Are we totally insane? I know, I know, there are scientific proofs for this. But I still know there is such a thing as a beginning and an end. And our progress through time passes from a start to a finish, and there is a clock that measures it. But Einstein said:

"The only reason for time to exist is so that
we don't do everything all at once."

And here's the crux of it. Time perhaps isn't linear afterall if we lived in an constant present. This is a unifying stream of presence that doesn't consider past and future. It happens all at once, here and now. If we forget that we are in the system of time, then we become mystical, transcendent-like.

But, numbers rule the universe and existence itself. In a constant present, the numbers move around like a code. They can be linear, or perhaps be all jumbled up as part of some cosmic logos. Any mathematicians out there that could shed some light on this? It has been said that math has some affinities with poetry. This is perhaps moving into the twilight zone, but I am a perpetual seeker of truths. Maybe our computer-like bubble-brains haved not evolved enough yet to grasp time's reality. Or presence. But I think some mystical masters of the spirit have figured it out. (Back to work, clock's ticking...) /ez

Tranströmer Wins the Nobel Prize

2011-10-06T09:36:00.000-07:00

Congratulations to Mr. Tranströmer for his accomplishment. Details about him and the Nobel Prize may be read below:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2011/oct/06/nobel-prize-literature-tomas-transtromer?newsfeed=true

VALLUM AWARD FOR POETRY 2011 SHORTLIST

2011-10-05T10:27:00.000-07:00

The finalists for the 2011 Vallum Award for Poetry are:

"Elephants" by Megan Callahan
"1947" by Stephen Kopel
"Telecommuting Spouses" by Peter Richardson
"Crippled Bees, Trying to Emigrate" by Claudia Coutu Radmore
"Copper City" by Carmen Green
“Veninum Lupinum” by Jack Miller
"Dark Matter" by Roxanna Bennett
"Tougher Than Leather" by Joseph Anderson
"Up Ahead" by Lucy Ricciardi
"The Poet Dreams of Her Father" by Nehassaiu deGannes

Winners will be announced October 12. Thanks!

Giller Prize Short-List Announced

2011-10-04T09:03:00.000-07:00

This morning in Toronto the Giller Prize finalists were announced. They are:

Zsuzsi Gartner, short story collection BETTER LIVING THROUGH PLASTIC EXPLOSIVES, (Hamish Hamilton Canada)
Michael Ondaatje, novel THE CAT’S TABLE (McClelland & Stewart)
David Bezmozgis, novel THE FREE WORLD (HarperCollins)
Patrick deWitt, novel THE SISTERS BROTHERS (Anansi)
Esi Edugyan, novel HALF-BLOOD BLUES (Thomas Allen)
Lynn Coady, novel THE ANTAGONIST (Anansi)

I-Ching says 'Time to Act'

2011-10-02T23:28:00.000-07:00

We are preparing for another winter. We hope we will survive. Or we do not think of it. Escapism is a great thing. We spend a lot of time doing it. Think of the many ways you have avoided confronting your reality, by say, procrastination, stubborn refusal to talk or explain yourself, making excuses, partying, etc. One of the things I am guilty of these days is not embracing my creative impulse. I have been busy with everything else under the sun except being truly creative. I know, there is so little time. So I choose to escape what I absolutely need to do for my own well-being by washing the dishes or going to Second Cup for my fifth coffee. I used to go to a Second Cup a while back where they had these amazing, comfy chairs and I would sit there for maybe 3 hours and write and read. It was the best thing I ever did. Volumes of poetry poured out of me. I was in a rhythm. Now, the local coffee shops don't have the same allure. It may well be that I start to get creative around Hallowe'en and when the leaves change. I suck up the energy like a vaccum and I think I carry it through winter to spring. (In fact, for me, spring and summer are the most boring of times. I know, point and shoot. Alas.) If you're struggling to get the important things in your life to the forefront, now is the time to do it. With the Jewish New Year and atonement of Yom Kipur, I always feel a special lift. For some reason this time is more important to me than New Year's in January. It seems that now is the time for renewal and regeneration. So let's get the lead out. I say this, but will I do it? Now begins the new cycle of Poetry (doesn't it?) and we should take action. By action I mean we should prepare "the hearth" for the deep quiet of winter where we will write the masterpiece. I am conscious of the fact that my comments refer mainly to the snowy lands. I don't know how places that don't have snow fare during their winter seasons. I don't know how Californians or Floridians, for instance, deal with things. (It would be interesting to hear from you on any of these matters). So let's put our nightmares of mass destruction on hold and try to get organized. And a little procrastination, just to warm up to being a poet, is ok! /ez

CC Deadline for Creative Writers

2011-09-28T13:36:00.000-07:00

For all you writers and poets, the Canada Council for the Arts grant deadline is October 1, 2011.
It is a stressful time for applicants, but luckily you can apply on-line which makes it easier. All grant deadlines are the worst headache and often there is disppointment at the end. But we must be hopeful that we will eventually be recognized for our talent as poets. We must be grateful to the Canada Council and other grantors on the provincial level for supporting Canadians in their efforts to become successful literary personnages, and we must be adamant that writing and literacy are vital to our Canadian culture.
Good luck applicants! /ez

September almost out!

2011-09-26T13:00:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Vallum’snew fall edition of words on the poetic block! Our Vallum Award contestfinalists will be announced very soon so keep a look-out. Some of you haveasked what the next theme will be. We are happy to say that we are doing aspecial issue on poetry from Pakistan. At first, I thought this as anexperiment that might not prove too successful. But I am astonished by what Ihave read so far from Pakistan. I am shocked at the cutting-edge poetry and artthat has emerged from this country and am thankful to the guest editors, BlaineMarchand and Ilona Yusuf, for encouraging writers from that part of the worldto submit to us. Although the official deadline to submit to this issue isSeptember 30, we already have amassed a great deal of material. Visual artistsfrom Pakistan also produce stunning work. I highly recommend this issue as anantedote to boring, lifeless poetry. You will not be disappointed. Just as somecontemporary Chinese writing has amazed us. The theme for the spring/summer issue will be announced around November. /ez

2011-08-29T21:37:00.001-07:00

Please note that the Canto Contests will not be held this year. Many apologies.

Vallum Staff

Guest-Poet: Bert Almon

2011-07-22T11:42:00.000-07:00

Astral Journey

I had to drive by night from Vancouver to Jasper

From Hope I took the Yellowhead—

the dark highway with hardly a road sign

I counted on a Vancouver classic rock station

to keep me awake, with whole albums from 1968

—Electric Ladyland and Beggars Banquet—

played without a break at 100,000 watts

But at my sleepiest point

the DJ put on Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks

45 minutes of dreamy mysticism

a tranquilizer dart between the eyes

If I ventured in the slipstream

between the viaducts of your dream

backed with quiet jazz

—guitar, bass, flute, and vibes—

and a string quartet overdubbed

We are goin’ up to heaven

We are goin’ to heaven

but a ditch is a bad shortcut to the hereafter:

a viaduct of nightmare where the silver cord snaps

and the cords of all the amps unplug

You breathe out you breathe in you breathe out

And you’re high on your high-flyin’ cloud

Wrapped up in your magic shroud

Ah the quiet footsteps of the walking bass

when I needed In-a-Gadda-da Vida or Wheels of Fire

I could make out the first mountains in growing light

as the signal faded and I was safe

The radio static kept me awake—

foam spun off the carrier wave

_______________________________
Bert Almon was born in Port Arthur, Texas in 1943 during a hurricane. He has lived a fairly quiet life since. He completed a B.A. at the University of Texas at El Paso in 1965 and a Ph.D. at the University of New Mexico in 1971 having written the first dissertation on the Beat poet, Gary Snyder. He came to Canada to teach at the University of Alberta in 1968 and has become a Canadian citizen. He is married to the poet Olga Costopoulos and has four children. He began writing poetry in 1967. He teaches creative writing, modern literature and autobiography. More than thirty of his poetry students have gone on to publish books. He won the Writers' Guild of Alberta Award for poetry in 1998 for Earth Prime (Brick Books). He has been a Hawthornden Fellow in Poetry and a finalist in the Blackwell's / Times Literary Supplement Poetry Competition. His critical works include a study of the Southern novelist, William Humphrey (University of North Texas Press), and a book on autobiographies, This Stubborn Self, (TCU Press, 2002).

Tao

2011-07-21T12:31:00.000-07:00

"Lao the Master (Lao-tze) said, The Great Tao has no bodily form, but it produced and nourishes Heaven and Earth. The Great Tao has no passions, but it causes the sun and moon to revolve as they do. The Great Tao has no name, but it effects the growth and maintenance of all things."
(The Classic of Purity, Ch. I. 1).

Yin, Yang & Baudrillard

2011-07-20T13:06:00.000-07:00

Is it naive to think that the world still has a chance? As long as the world hasn't blown up though, hope springs eternal.

Some of Jean Baudrillard's writing is important, even though he is misogynistic:

"Now woman is but appearance. And it is the feminine as appearance that thwarts masculine depth. Instead of rising up against such 'insulting' counsel, women would do well to let themselves be seduced by its truth, for here lies the secret of their strength, which they are in the process of losing by erecting a contrary, feminine depth."

Despite these misguided, imaginary ramblings about women and their lack of masculine depth, Baudrillard is correct in outlining that society is being increasingly dominated by the seduction of feminine surfaces. I am not talking about women/female here. I am using "feminine" in the Taoist sense of "Yin," an energy that is applicable to both men and women. The feminine is led by fantasy and seduction. The Real, which can be defined in terms of masculine depth (and truth; again not referring to men/male, but to the "Yang" equivalent) is now being challenged by the Imaginary, which is feminine surface. Think of how we are mixing the two, and perhaps being unable to distinguish between truth and fiction any more. Think of all the "theories" out there. What is true and what is a mirror's fantasy? Is this why governments are enforcing (very real masculine) measures to ensure security, because the feminine is over-riding them? Right now, masculine and feminine are at war, instead of being in harmony like the Yin/Yang balance. Which one will win in this ghastly, unbalanced spectacle? Will we be destroyed by masculine world power or drowned by the insane ramblings of fantasy?

A redirection of this almost certain world annihilation is dependent on educating the younger generations about these things. This would mean reading some Baudrillard (or rather deciphering his painfully cryptic meanings) and revisiting some of the thinkers of the past. Without (balanced) knowledge, masculine AND feminine, we are truly going down. /ez

Freud on Writers/Poets

2011-07-19T07:59:00.000-07:00

Sigmund Freud's (1856-1939) psychoanalytic distinction between the conscious and unconscious mind significantly changed our understanding of humanity as being "divided." He has some interesting thoughts about day-dreams that he applies to the creative process of writing literature and poetry:

"...the day-dreamer carefully conceals his phantasies from other people because he feels he has reasons for being ashamed of them. I should now add that even if he were to communicate them to us he would give us no pleasure by his disclosures. Such phantasies, when we learn of them, repel us or at least leave us cold. But when a creative writer presents his plays to us or tells us what we are inclined to take to be his personal day-dreams, we experience a great pleasure...How a writer accomplishes this is his innermost secret; the essential ars poetica...The writer softens the character of his egoistic day-dreams by altering and disguising it, and he bribes us by the purely formal--that is, aesthetic--yield of pleasure which he offers us in the presentation of his phantasies."

All very interesting, with apparent grains of truth (?). For Freud, almost everyone day-dreams but not everyone is a poet or a creative writer. He traces most day-dreams back to childhood experiences and sees creative writers as fulfilling an important function:

"all the aesthetic pleasure which a creative writer affords us has the character of fore-pleasure of this kind, and our actual enjoyment of an imaginative work proceeds from the liberation of tensions in our minds. It may even be that not a little of this effect is due to the writer's enabling us thenceforward to enjoy our own day-dreams without self-reproach or shame." /ez

_______________________

(Quoted material from Freud's lecture, "Creative Writers and Day-Dreaming" (1907), which was subsequently published in the Neue Revue in 1908).

dwindling trust

2011-07-18T18:29:00.000-07:00

Truth is something fleeting today. Of course, literary endeavours are by nature untruthful, which is why they are called fiction. But even in some poetry or non-fiction writing, honesty is not self-evident. An amusing attempt to identify fibbers was on CNN today. The psychological clues are there, experts say. If only we could trust each other, the world would be a better place. But it seems we can't even trust ourselves... /ez

http://www.cnn.com/2011/LIVING/07/18/lying.clues.rs/index.html?

"Blast from the Past"

2011-07-17T16:55:00.000-07:00

The Decameron, by Giovanni Boccaccio (not to be confused with Bocconcino, ha ha), is a collection of 100 stories written circa 1350 in medieval Italy. It is a collection of allegorical, raunchy love tales, told quite sardonically, with wit and humour, but written against the dark backdrop of the Black Death (1348).

In his epilogue, as an apology for his vile sexual comments (nothing compared to today's), Boccaccio makes some interesting points:

"Like all other things in this world, stories, whatever their nature, may be harmful or useful, depending upon the listener. Who will deny that wine, as Tosspot and Bibber and a great many others affirm, is an excellent thing for those who are hale and hearty, but harmful to people suffering from fever? Are we to conclude, because it does harm to the feverish, that therefore it is pernicious?... No word, however pure, was ever wholesomely construed by a mind that was corrupt. And just as seemly language leaves no mark upon the mind that is corrupt, language that is less than seemly cannot sully a mind that is well-ordered, any more than mud will contaminate the rays of the sun, or earthly filth the beauty of the heavens."

So it is important to have a "well-ordered mind" in order not to be led astray by various garbage matter. This is especially important today, with so much random information. What we experience depends on who we are and how we have grown up. Understanding and knowledge are important, especially in one's early years. Print books are good because they allow for more concentration, focus and unity. Of course, one can read print books in fragments too and not get anything out of them. So, there you go. Think clearly and let stuff roll off of you, unharmed. /ez

______________________________
(Quoted material from: Boccaccio, The Decameron, Transl. G.H. McWilliam, Penguin Books: 1983).

2011-07-13T13:12:00.000-07:00

Hi Gary,

It seems I'm not able to post this in the comment box (?). Of course I agree with you, but I was thinking about the theories of Paul Smith, in his book on Derrida called, Discerning the Subject. It is an important book, I think. Check it out. I am an experimental poet myself and have some misgivings about the traditional notions of the Self. Still, I think it is important not to get totally lost in flux. I do think, if taken to extremes, thinking too much in fragments leads to instability. But you are absolutely right, poetry should not be therapy. Thanks so much for your insights. They are valuable discourse. /ez
P.S. Sorry for omitting the other editors!

Good Experimental Poetry

2011-07-13T08:49:00.000-07:00

The poetry anthology, Shift and Switch (Mercury Press), edited by Derek Beaulieu, showcases experimental poets writing in Canada. It gives a sense of how language can be used outside the expected norms of more traditional poetry. This is good poetry, but we must not also forget the importance and relevance of all kinds of poetry, with an international focus. Word-play and the tendency for random synchronization of words is good, but must have a "centre," so to speak--a focal point even if it is random. Is this possible? Does random fragment exclude centricity? When I read experimental poetry, it is sometimes misdirected with a tendency towards meaninglessness. But this kind of poetry can have a point if the poet wishes. And the point is that our societies are so overwhelmed by distraction and fragmented insight that this is what is represented in the poetry. Language, according to Shelley, is "arbitrarily produced by the imagination" and "poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world." Poets must represent the world as it is, but also try to steer towards something more unified (a thing not evident in Derrida's extreme philosophy). Unity of self and mind are important if a person wishes to stay grounded and sane. Good experimental poets achieve this in their art. /ez

What Makes a Poem Good?

2011-07-12T07:26:00.000-07:00

"Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question. . .
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit."

(full poem: http://people.virginia.edu/~sfr/enam312/prufrock.html)

T.S. Eliot's poem, "The Love-Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" (1915), is comprised of one important thing: "life-blood." This is an energy that is sensual, "cutting edge," and alive. In Eliot's dramatic monologue, we encounter vital rhythms that seduce and absorb the reader. Yes, this is a poem about Prufrock, an aged man reflecting on his past. But it is far from drudgery. We sense something very alive about this character, and, in addition, Eliot's choice of diction and imagery makes this poem excellent.

The force behind great poetry lies in its ability to seduce, challenge, and capture the reader. Canadian poetry sometimes approaches the great energy that is behind good writing. Is it the experience of hardship--thoughts and words ripped from the gut--that conjures up this strength? Does it rise out of dangerous liaisons? Our great Canadian icons, Michael Ondaatje, Margaret Atwood, Leonard Cohen, and a few others, have had this "life-blood" in their work. But there are many emerging poets who are raw and alive. This poetic energy (and it is also energy applicable to other areas of life--), comes out of an honest, intelligent and visceral experience (or deep awareness) of suffering. /ez

_______________________________________
Vallum actively looks for poetry with this vital energy. We have seen quite a bit of it by poets from the Canadian Prairies, Toronto, Halifax, California and New York City. (But from other places too....). And also from poets who seem to suffer from a bit of the "manic."

Scream Festival

2011-07-11T06:06:00.000-07:00

The final literary Scream Festival is underway in Toronto. It features innovative Canadian (indie) talent, with contributors like Margaret Christakos and others. It is unfortunate that this is the last year of Screaming. If you're in Toronto, hope you can check it out.

A Reflection on Plato

2011-07-10T07:50:00.000-07:00

The famous Plato (of the Western world) has been dissed by the Academy for not focusing on the natural world but looking to some kind of transcendent realm of Ideas and Forms. For him, the world around us is a copy of the perfect Ideas/Forms. Nature is a second order copy and art is a third order reproduction, even further removed from the Ideas. For Plato, these distant ideas are absolute concepts, like Truth, Beauty and Knowledge. For Plato, it was important for humanity to aspire to such wisdom and truth. The mind, sun, and also eyes, metaphorically held the light of wisdom. Following Plato, Aristotle, and the Middle Ages, humanity embarked on many quests of spiritual enlightenment and sought knowledge through divine enquiry and science. It is when humans first became enslaved to the machine, in the 19th century, that nature was dismissed in favour of new technologies. Plato asked us to transcend and seek perfection. Did he mean for humans to blindly pursue the greed of science and Capitalism, which promised immortality and transcendence, or did he mean for us to look beyond the limits of an unexamined life and find beauty and goodness in the universe, which would ultimately be reflected in the natural world? Did Plato's inquiries begin a snowball effect that led to our current alienation from nature or was it the insatiability and inability of humanity to find a balance between the transcendent and the embodied? In some ways, poetry helps us to find such a balance. In today's world, ideas like knowledge, truth and beauty have been so eroded that Plato would have been shocked if he was alive now. Maybe seeking some kind of ideals is not a bad thing. Is it the same as our quest to transcend via dreams of space or similar conquests? Some will argue it is.

This video was interesting in that it uses imagery like "light," "eyes," "soul" and "mind" and looks to the goal of achievement in some kind of meaningful way: "I will get there somehow." It sounds raunchy, and does reflect instability amidst the grounding imagery. It may be more for our younger audience; but it is a far cry from some of the foul imagery in songs that are in circulation today. /ez

The new generations are the world's hope.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkJZptg-iac

Guest-Poet: Ben Mazer

2011-07-08T08:15:00.000-07:00

Poem
(c) Ben Mazer, 2011

(1)

All that one knows of the world
is known through oneself.
All that the world knows of oneself
one only knows through oneself.
Those people, places and things,
those historical ideas.
What you imagine happened where,
and what it feels like to imagine it.
They don't exist. You don't exist,
except as a hermetically sealed
compound of ideas and feelings,
memories, convictions, impulses,
that the world may know something of
(having loaned them to you with their marker)
but which you only know through yourself.
What the world understands it doesn't necessarily say.
What you understand you don't necessarily say,
is your dream of yourself as much as your dream of them.
It is our terms that we assume we share,
those and our sensation of what appears to be there.
You are not the world. You'll never know
more than a periphery of the world,
which even then is not the world as it is.
It is the world as you imagine it,
therefore it is your self.

This is what poetry is,
a dream of the world,
the world's dream of oneself.
We meet in incomprehension on these terms.
Great poetry must almost be
the least known thing in the world.

( 2 )

Fabulous multitudes, anonymous,
sweep past the fringes of the windy weather.
The world descends into a colder wind.
The wind shines with a brightness as of mountains,
like pages the chirping of birds. The rush of leaves
weaves a lattice over the visiting day.
The wind is so thick it buries the anonymous
crowds. You cannot see their faces.
Yet the sound of the wind rushing through the leaves
is like their hope, is what you hope for them.
When suddenly out of the fog, the rain-streaked streets,
one face will appear. One balloon-like face,
historical and smiling, black and white.
This one face is not what you know of them.
Save this one face and you save the world.

( 3 )

The shoes line up in windows next to prices.
Prices that are unreal. You do not spend
impossible fees just to imagine heaven.
Yet stop and stare there, trying to penetrate
a sense of the world extending as far to mountains
as to the omnidirectional labyrinth of streets
that lead you home. Home where a stranger's house is
is good enough for this. The different walls
are like an impatient impetuosity
longing to run free through the midnight rain
if only to return. The world we gain
we covet mildly with a few dry words.
Magnificent repetitive lines of distances
travel outward past our senses with the shoes.

( 4 )

The shoes face opposite the cafe window.
Coffee is free, a bagel and tea are free.
But the shoes are impossible, belong to another world.
Between them and you, in the space that is the street,
where a thousand travelers turn with their scents and sensations,
one stranger emerges, as impoverished as the self.
This is the sharp particular tack of the wind,
that urges you home, blind as you are blind to the world.
A single bird makes it possible to celebrate
these solitudes, silences, impossible spaces.
There is a bed for this, for the freedom of the will.
And all tomorrow closes in a blanket of cold
that cannot be awoken. The tower bells,
if they toll and are heard, are as personal as kisses.
History snows down, anonymous, being in love.

( 5 )

So too the stranger to the circular rack
of temporary fictions. No one who would emerge
into a dark fissure of rain, with words as dry and crisp
as a silver dollar placed upon the counter.
The oceans of magazines
make no difference, the eye is set on this:
how the absolute imperturbability of the self
can enter and turn, and can laugh carelessly
to participate in a single rolling coin.
A luminosity even the darkness closes.
Yet subliminally what is not understood?
A vast world of lovely breasts in sweaters
fills the entire scrapbook of the peripheries.
The painted cars as shiny as the mountains
may be toward what all conversation tends.

( 6 )

Try to decide whether to go to the movies.
Their dialogue sparkles and crackles in your decision.
There isn't much that you don't already know.
But what surprises you is simply being there.
This room doesn't move, doesn't need to travel the world,
to know the world, to have the world come to it.
A bell rings, the clock is set for eight o'clock,
and all your decisions, all your talk converges.
You are here. You are our own movie.
Entering the theatre you know yourself.
The different times in all the foreign cities
honour your request, one moment to belong.
The birds chirp, but the windows are black within.
No one can stay long in the fabulous world.

-------------------------------------------------------------------
Ben Mazer's recent collections of poems are Poems (The Pen & Anvil Press, 2010) and January 2008 (Dark Sky Books, 2010). His forthcoming chapbook is Veritas Claritas Pocahontas (Cannibal Books, 2011). He is the editor of Selected Poems of Frederick Goddard Tuckerman (Harvard University Press) and, by Landis Everson, Everything Preserved: Poems 1955-2005 (Graywolf Press).

Nino Ricci Receives Order of Canada

2011-07-07T06:55:00.000-07:00

Writer, Nino Ricci, became a member of the Order of Canada on June 30th for his contributions to Canadian literature. His successful first novel was written in 1990 and called Lives of the Saints; it won a Governor General's Award. From an Italian immigrant family, Ricci's awards and novels have been many. He studied at Concordia University, graduating in 1987. His recent novel is entitled The Origin of Species. Congratulations to Mr. Ricci.

Mission to Mars

2011-07-06T13:24:00.000-07:00

Ray Bradbury has got to be an all-time favourite science fiction and fantasy writer. His dystopic novel, Fahrenheit 451 probably changed the lives of all who read it, way back, when it was more popular (it seems). Bradbury astutely writes:

"First of all, I don't write science fiction. I've only done one science fiction book and that's Fahrenheit 451, based on reality. Science fiction is a depiction of the real. Fantasy is a depiction of the unreal. So Martian Chronicles is not science fiction, it's fantasy. It couldn't happen, you see? That's the reason it's going to be around a long time—because it's a Greek Myth, and myths have staying power."

In today's "groundbreaking" CNN article, the writer laments society's current "loss of romance" with space. A quick mission to Mars, with real people in the spacecraft, is a quick fix to spruce up our love affair with space, we are told. The writer quotes Ray Bradbury at the end of his article, in the hopes of eliciting truth from the master. But Bradbury's response, based on the above, would be that a mission to Mars is nothing but fantasy. Book-burning is something we should be wary about, perhaps. We ought not look to grandiose schemes for immortality "out there" in space. Bradbury wanted to live forever through his books, and his love of magic. Perhaps we should conjure up some magic in our own local, earthly lives. Let us write! /ez

For further elucidation read: http://www.cnn.com/2011/US/07/06/romance.space/index.html?hpt=hp_c1

Midsummer thought--

2011-07-05T17:00:00.000-07:00

Lysander:

Or, if there was a sympathy in choice
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it
Making it momentary as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!'
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.

(A Midsummer Night's Dream, William Shakespeare)

Although this excerpt is part of a dialogue on love between Hermia and Lysander, the imagery in this passage is striking, even if taken out of context to refer only to the idea of "choice." Yes, love may be fleeting like a sound, but so is choice in today's world. Interesting. We make a million decisions a day then forget about them, so that in the end it seems like we have made no real choices at all. If we choose "love," or some other thing, how long do we stick to the choice? If we change our mind in an hour, a week, was it really a choice? "So quick bright things come to confusion." Let's mean what we say, or choose, and stick to it! /ez

Snippit

2011-07-05T07:16:00.000-07:00

Now that the Jazz Festival is over, with the rocking music of the B52's, which closed the festival last night, are you already bored? Check out the exhibit at the Musée d'art contemporain de Montréal. Lots more festivals on the horizon, as well. Like the Just for Laughs festival:

http://www.hahaha.com/

http://www.macm.org/en/calendrier/75.html

Still bored? Eat ice-cream and listen to music.

Happy Fourth of July

2011-07-04T05:51:00.000-07:00

Happy Independence Day to our US neighbours! Here is a poem to commemorate the day/night:

Good Night
--Carl Sandburg, 1920

Many ways to say good night.

Fireworks at a pier on the Fourth of July
      spell it with red wheels and yellow spokes.
They fizz in the air, touch the water and quit.
Rockets make a trajectory of gold-and-blue
      and then go out.

Railroad trains at night spell with a smokestack mushrooming a white pillar.

Steamboats turn a curve in the Mississippi crying a baritone that crosses lowland cottonfields to razorback hill.

It is easy to spell good night.
            Many ways to spell good night.

John Tranter

2011-07-04T05:10:00.000-07:00

Australian poet and editor, John Tranter, is the founder of the popular e-zine Jacket2, and has transferred the reigns of his publication this year to the Kelly Writers House and PennSound at the University of Pennsylvania. Jacket2 has been an excellent online magazine under John Tranter's direction. Hopefully, it will continue to be so.

Here are some ideas by Tranter on the social relevance of poetry:

"MB: How is poetry relevant or valuable to contemporary society and culture in Australia or at an international level?

John Tranter: I think it has always been relevant, whatever the period or the society, though it’s hard to say how, except on a personal level. Like prostitution, it has always been with us, right from the campfire in the neolithic cave to the mention of Frank O’Hara’s poetry in the current US television series Mad Men. But I don’t feel that a culture can assure its value by endorsing or authorising it. Poetry is usually a personal artistic practice, and it doesn’t take well to official support. Official support is provided by institutional bureaucrats, and that brings in careerism and opportunism, Key Performance Indicators and Return on Investment Valuations, and the kind of thirty-page application form that makes a Selection Committee and its clerical assistants happy. It helps poetry to thrive, but only the kind of poetry that pleases the kind of public that bureaucrats imagine. We’re better off without it."

Kudos to poetry publishers who can survive without grants; not sure we are better off without government funding, however. It's a slippery slope... /ez

Read full interview: http://australia.poetryinternationalweb.org/piw_cms/cms/cms_module/index.php?obj_id=20531

There is also an old interview of Tranter interviewing John Ashberry, http://jacketmagazine.com/02/jaiv1988.html

21st C: Gone Digital

2011-07-03T07:32:00.000-07:00

Many interesting thoughts and opinions developed during the Modernist period of the early 20th Century. It was a time of great turmoil, with the rise of modern cities, "the masses," and the flâneur, which are well-captured in Charles Baudelaire's, Les Fleurs du Mal (1857), an integral part of the Symbolist and Modernist movements. Paul Valery was another writer who analyzed the conditions of Modernity. About what constitutes a true work of art, he writes:

"We recognize a work of art by the fact that no idea it inspires in us, no mode of behaviour that it suggests we adopt could exhaust it or dispose of it. We may inhale the smell of a flower whose fragrance is agreeable to us for as long as we like; it is impossible for us to rid ourselves of the fragrance by which our senses have been aroused, and no recollection, no thought, no mode of behaviour can obliterate its effect or release us from the hold it has on us. He who has set himself the task of creating a work of art aims at the same effect."

But Walter Benjamin writes that this whole experience has changed with the rise of mechanical reproduction and the advent of photography in the modern landscape. He says: "The perpetual readiness of volitional, discursive memory, encouraged by the technique of mechanical reproduction, reduces the scope for play of the imagination." How would this apply to the extreme digitalization, instead of mechanization, of the 21st Century? Are humans now being exploded into disembodied "information bits?" Pure mind?

It all seems very disturbing. What can be done?

Some of Baudelaire's poems may be read, in both French and English, at:

http://www.piranesia.net/baudelaire/fleurs/index.php

and are reflective of the emotion and angst that poets, writers, and society at large experienced during the big transition from Victorian to Modern. How are we faring with our transition from mechanical to digital? /ez

(Quoted material from: Walter Benjamin, Charles Baudelaire: A Lyric Poet in the Era of High Capitalism, Transl. Harry Zhon, Verso: 1989).

Argo Books to be Sold

2011-07-02T16:18:00.000-07:00

Montreal's established second-hand bookstore, Argo Books, is up for sale. The owner, Christopher Clarke, is seeking to explore a career with the Presbyterian Church. Argo has always been a favourite, with countless books on virtually any subject. Hopefully, a book-loving buyer will be found soon.

Argo Bookshop
1915 Ste Catherine West
Montreal, QC

Canada Day Underway...

2011-07-01T06:56:00.000-07:00

Happy Canada Day! It was on July 1st,1867 that the federal Dominion of Canada, also known as Confederation, was established. Four provinces were formed from three British colonies: Quebec, Ontario, Nova Scotia and New Brunswick.

Here is a poem by Archibald Lampman, known as one of the "Confederation Poets." Below is his poem on the theme of snow, very à propos for our vast, Canadian winters. (Sorry to bring up winter in the middle of summer!)

SNOW

--Archibald Lampman (1861-1899)

White are the far-off plains, and white
The fading forests grow;
The wind dies out along the height,
And denser still the snow,
A gathering weight on roof and tree,
Falls down scarce audibly.

The road before me smooths and fills
Apace, and all about
The fences dwindle, and the hills
Are blotted slowly out;
The naked trees loom spectrally
Into the dim white sky.

The meadows and far-sheeted streams
Lie still without a sound;
Like some soft minister of dreams
The snow-fall hoods me round;
In wood and water, earth and air,
A silence everywhere.

Save when at lonely intervals
Some farmer's sleigh, urged on,
With rustling runners and sharp bells,
Swings by me and is gone;
Or from the empty waste I hear
A sound remote and clear;

The barking of a dog, or call
To cattle, sharply pealed,
Borne echoing from some wayside stall
Or barnyard far a-field;
Then all is silent, and the snow
Falls, settling soft and slow.

The evening deepens, and the gray
Folds closer earth and sky;
The world seems shrouded far away;
Its noises sleep, and I,
As secret as yon buried stream,
Plod dumbly on, and dream.

Support for the CBC

2011-06-30T21:43:00.000-07:00

The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) is asking poets for letters of support in their efforts to secure license renewal. As part of our Canadian heritage and democratic platform, the CBC needs our support. The deadline to submit your letters is July 28, 2011.

"It's been 12 years since CBC/Radio-Canada's licences were last renewed. During this time, broadcasting technology and consumer demand and expectation have changed exponentially. At the same time, significant vertical integration has occurred in the Canadian broadcasting industry, making the stakes for public broadcasting in Canada very high this time around."

Read more at: http://www.cbc.radio-canada.ca/newsreleases/2011/06/20/licence-renewal.shtml

Jazz Fest link

2011-06-30T06:31:00.000-07:00

Montreal is in the middle of its annual Jazz Festival (unfortunately dampened by rain). It runs from June 25 to July 4, and is a period of release and fun not only for the locals but also for all the visitors.

http://www.montrealjazzfest.com/default-en.aspx

Big appearances: our downfall?

2011-06-29T06:07:00.000-07:00

We are often persuaded by packaging. This of course smacks of superficiality. But it is not necessarily something exclusive to our times. Geoffrey Chaucer, in The Canterbury Tales, at the end of the 14th Century, describes his pilgrims in terms of distinct stereotypes based on appearances. We often look at the outside of a thing to give us a clue about the inside. If Othello hadn't been duped by what he saw, externally, then he would not have killed Desdemona. If we didn't consider the outside of things--with our eyes--but tried to discover the true essence, or inside, of a thing by feeling or touching, then we might approach some kind of truth.

But it is not only seeing, but hearing, that leaps into the realm of appearances. There are so many (externalized) stories circulating, along with the explosion of images, that our time has been labeled the age of surfaces. We often forget that people are real flesh and blood underneath. So it is with countries and other cultures. Countries are stereotypically defined according to some external idea of them by other dominant cultures. We should not be so large in our views, but perhaps look deeper into the nest for the tiny eggs of depth and meaning that may be there. Yes, these are big countries, big images; big tends more towards surfaces. Within these countries, bodies, stories, there may be more to consider. /ez

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0vhebiuuLqU&feature=related

Mini-moon contest winner

2011-06-28T08:24:00.000-07:00

Here are two winning poems by a new Montreal poet, Haralambos, who submitted for the mini-moon contest (the eclipse of the moon on June 15th).

MOON CHANGES

Don't forget to say good-bye. I see a moth dying. Two more coupled together. They say they only live one day to multiply.

When I was young I heard the birds and the bees. How did that work, I wondered. Which was the male and which was the female. Now my mom in the evening.

Don't forget to say good-bye.

My mother. The last of five who survived. Almost no one left from the past to remember. Childhood, adulthood, old age. Moon changing.

MOON DREAM

I work with the dream of cutting my debt. The Capitalist system. Any direction I turn, there it is. Another trap. Pain and stiffness invade my body. A cracking shell. I must rest. Respect the phases of the moon.

Vallum Award Contest: Deadline extended--July 15th

2011-06-27T15:06:00.000-07:00

Greetings poets. As you've undoubtedly heard, Canada Postal Services have been on strike for a while now, which has caused havoc for many contests that are underway. Apparently, matters have been resolved and the mail is back on. So, we've decided to give you two more weeks to mail out your poems to us. The deadline is now extended to:

July 15, 2011

You can also still submit by email: vallumcontest@gmail.com

Submit up to 3 poems of approximately 25 lines each, previously unpublished. Please write your name and contact info. in the body of the email and include your poems in an attachment without any identification. The contest is judged blind. Also write "VALLUM AWARD" in subject line of your email.

ENTRY FEE OF $20 must be either mailed in == OR== paid via PAYPAL in order for your submission to be processed. Your contact info. and poem titles must be clearly delineated. Check website contest page: http://www.vallummag.com/

By Regular Mail:

Vallum Contest, PO Box 598 Victoria Station, Montreal, QC H3Z 2Y6 CANADA

AWARDS:   $500, Gold Winner
                   $250, Silver Winner
                      3 Honourable Mentions, free subscription

Ten finalists will be announced shortly before the winner is.

Bonne Chance!!

Yeats' "Second Coming"

2011-06-26T18:36:00.000-07:00

William Bulter Yeats' poem, "Second Coming," has been much anthologized and is known to many. The fact that it was written in 1919, in the aftermath of WWI, is remarkable when it could have been written today by any number of prophetic voices of doom. The events unfolding in the world are indeed disturbing and might make one turn to the bible. But maybe we should all focus on the here and now and not worry. Here is the poem:

THE SECOND COMING

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Yeats died in 1939, before the real horros of WWII. One can only imagine what he would have written if he had lived through that dark time. We're in a dark time now, even with all the hype of "futurism." Maybe most have forgotten about this with the rise of cell phones and iPads. Most are too entangled mentally in data and system information to think about stuff like that. Then there are those who think only of these matters, another brain ailment of its own.

We want peace and we want it now! Poets arise! Yeah, same old, but maybe we poets will be the only sane beings left in a weird world. /ez

Tributes to Robert Kroetsch

2011-06-23T12:05:00.000-07:00

rob mclennan and the League of Canadian Poets have written nice tributes to Robert Kroetsch, who died tragically in a car accident this week:

http://networkedblogs.com/jyQGF

http://poets.ca/wordpress/

Sad News: Robert Kroetsch

2011-06-22T11:01:00.000-07:00

Robert Kroetsch has died at the age (almost) of 84. Born in Alberta in 1927, Kroetsch was one of Canada's best postmodern writers; also a poet and literary critic, subverting traditional narratives and opting for experimental, fragmented writing. His first novel debuted in 1967, But We Are Exiles. He received a Governor General's Award for his novel, Studhorse Man (1969), in which he parodies male stereotypes.

He will be missed amongst the literary community, Canadian and international.

June 21st, officially Summer

2011-06-21T12:57:00.000-07:00

Today is the summer solstice. What is a solstice, you may ask. Solstices take place when the sun is at its greatest distance from the equator. There are two solstices per year: summer and winter. The word solstice is derived from the Latin "sol" (sun) and "sistere" (to stand still). During the summer solstice, the sun is at its highest in the sky at noon. It is the longest day of the year. The North Pole is oriented more directly towards the sun than on any other day of the year. In 2012, the summer solstice will occur June 20th; this solstice is also called "Litha."

"turnisole: Small, or female, turnsole, also called heliotrophium minus...not because
it turns to face the Sun, but because it flowers at the summer solstice. It is a small
trailing plant with little gray and yellow flowers irregularly placed.
Not to be confused with great turnsole."
--Agrippa, 1509-1510

Where are all the safe places?

2011-06-20T18:00:00.000-07:00

As an aside, seemingly little to do with poetry, but perhaps good for mystery (and horror) writers, is the super-prominent concern about security. This concept is completely lost in virtually all domains. Perhaps it remains in instances of spiritual enlightenment and revelation, but for the general, secular population, to be secure is a thing of the past. We look nostalgically to a time when words had reality in their meanings. There was some kind of honour, even in battle. Now that everything is exchangeable, replaceable, on sale, couponed, points worthy, disposable, fake, airbrushed, photoshopped, and so on, it is easy to infiltrate that little part of the mind that is sane and to clobber it with fears and delusions. How can we live if we constantly feel unsafe and threatened? The Psychological Term for this escapes me, right now. But this is the new Reality of the new century. We have to find a way to not focus so much on the dangers. Philosophies that consider that our life is transient anyway, or Zen, or Aquinas, can provide some grounding for us. We have to realize that 100 years is a maximum for (most) lives and that, really, it doesn't matter in the end. Fear (and pain) exist. So does a peaceful flower. A poem.

Here is a loose bit on what some people are doing with their (precious) time...
http://blog.competitivefutures.com/2010/04/05/the-future-of-corporate-espionage-and-security/

A good read is Gaston Bachelard's, The Poetics of Space, where he discusses the importance of a (safe) home or space. /ez

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vf2s7UHUrBw&feature=related

An Old Debate

2011-06-18T00:22:00.000-07:00

It is true, to be fair, that poetry is experienced within a rather closed literary community not accessible to everyone. So people try to understand it, don't, give up, and take it down several notches as a fun favourite. What do we consider "good" poetry? Is it the high literary, the kind of erudite renderings of diction, image, content and form, or is it the straight-forward following of common, everyday speech and experience? This expands further, for instance, into a debate on what is "better": spoken word or poetry "on the page."

Poetry has had its origins in an oral culture, with Latin and the Vulgate Bible and other patristic texts of the Middle Ages remaining the standard written material of the elite well into the Renaissance's insistence on the return to classical Latin. Interestingly, in the publication, The Popular Science Monthly (1906), Charles Keyser Edmunds writes: "In an essay in The Tattler, September 28, 1710, [Swift] gives vehement utterance to his feelings on the shocking carelessness and woeful lack of taste in the use of the vernacular exhibited by his contemporaries...and brought forward...numerous examples of solecisms, which he alleged were constantly employed, to the corruption and deterioration of the [English] language." Who is the keeper of language? Ought it be high or low, slang or literary? It should be both, but in light of the technological changes of our century--changes that are making the high/literary an endangered species--it would seem that the popular is winning out.

In the following interview between poet Nick Thran and Jeff Latosik, Thran writes: "I do think, after I’ve written a poem, about whether or not it will speak to my friends outside of the sometimes insular and occasionally claustrophobic literary community. I sometimes run drafts by friends who are journalists, social justice lawyers—good people with whom I share a lot of interests and who don’t necessarily write poems. I want to engage them. I don’t have any control over how people respond to the work. But I am a people pleaser to a certain extent. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time."

Is the high/literary sometimes insular because it is being threatened by today's fragmented networks, or has it always been a closed, elitist phenomenon, historically speaking? Is it better to write for the many or the few? There is spirit and sensibility in both streams. Nick Thran's interview is interesting, if you want to read some more: http://www.openbooktoronto.com/jeff_latosik/blog/earworms_and_entertainment_interview_with_nick_thran

But in general, this dilemma has been going on for centuries. I tend to think poetry should be more accessible in form--not too dense or heavy, perhaps--a sign of the times. All poetry, however, is good; cliques and elitism are not. /ez

Thanks to our readers and contributors

2011-06-17T00:38:00.000-07:00

Vallum was founded in 2000 and has been actively publishing poetry since 2001. For an exciting ten years or so, we have been spreading words (and images) across borders and are thrilled to have loyal followers like you. We hope to continue publishing for another ten years (at least!) if funding will permit. Joshua Auerbach, poet and editor, is the financial and operations strategist behind Vallum and keeps it in existence and flowing smoothly. Without him, there would be no Vallum. Here is one of his poems, from the very first issue, when we were new at this and hanging around Concordia University's Creative Writing programs:

Silver Mornings
(c) Joshua Auerbach, 2000

Dim light spreads by our feet,
stencils diffuse patterns.

I shoot the basket of oranges
with a rubber sling,

& a stick from the neighbor's poplar.
One shot into dark,

into another day. A
way to mark the grey

clouds hanging heavy over stone,
gathered in one space.

& jackdaws fly swift onto low-lying brick buildings,
follow the season's pace

Artist's Corner: Pear of the Day

2011-06-17T00:08:00.000-07:00

Drew McKevitt, artist, poet and managing editor of Vallum, has uncovered an ingenious plot to take over the world--The Angry Pears are behind it! Her delightful illustrations are great and the accompanying commentary is witty and funny. Such creativity is much needed in today's fraught world. Enjoy!

http://angriestpear.wordpress.com/

Print vs Digital, ha

2011-06-16T16:39:00.000-07:00

There is constant babble about "The Death of Print," which seems to have imploded towards a tiny centre which will eventually disappear, poof. And then what? We will be stuck with screens and movable type. What did Marshall McLuhan have to say about this? We should all pull out a (print) copy and scan a few pages. That is about the extent of our concentration, but then again, McLuhan often writes in short, catchy prose. At any rate, Darryl Whetter has an interesting take on the subject (http://this.org/magazine/2010/03/15/e-books-sex-appeal/). I like the part about being able to take material into the tub. That is one short-coming of electronic devices. Virtually electrocuting our eyes by constant screen focus seems to be all the rage these days. Headaches might be a side-effect (after drinking vats of coffee) of our new mutations. But that is all part of our new digital, electronic consciousness and all the invisible "forces" that seep through the brain. It is impossible to predict what we will be like in a few decades. The Futurists of the 20th C are no doubt delighted (if not stunned) by our "progress." Who's to say what is good or bad? Maybe new, irradiated consciousness will rise and transcend into the heavens and leave behind the stamp of "humanity" in the universe, for aliens to discover and usurp. Who's to say... /ez

Lunar Eclipse

2011-06-15T19:00:00.000-07:00

Were you out writing "mad" poetry today? A total lunar eclipse took place June 15, 2011. Two eclipses will occur in 2011; the next one will happen December 10th. There are so many superstitions about the moon and often poets are mesmerized by moon magic. Although a scientific phenomenon, the moon's eclipse is a force of inspiration for many. If you wrote a "moon" poem today, send it to us and we might turn it into an electronic postcard. It can't be pages long, however. If you didn't, well, there's always December.
Send poem to vallumcontest@gmail.com, with MOON in the subject line. Deadline: June 18, 2011.
X.J. Kennedy's print postcard, "Ladder to the Moon," is still available for $1.

http://www.torontosun.com/2011/06/15/photos-lunar-eclipse

Guest-Poet, Todd Swift

2011-06-14T22:41:00.000-07:00

WADI BIN KHALED
(c) Todd Swift, 2011

Above the red line
           A giant swallowing hand
                      May always come

Cyclone or water dervish
            To break road and home
                          Ruining the perfect desert

By an onrushing act
            Water without place
                        Seeking the lowlands

Firmly shaped by canyons
             Engulfed stones, camel spiders
                        Even yellow scorpions drown

When cloud cover gathers
            As if at prayer
                        Rain is wealth spent

One dives and swims
            Between boulders no djinn
                        Could lift – under

A clean regimen, demands
            That water makes
                        On the breathing body

On a green polo field
            Horse and rider, the leaning
                         Arm curving out to strike

Hooves sending up soil
             The dark gentlemen
                         Rich as clouds

Creased in white
             The poise required to swim
                        Each move underwater

Leads to the humble mat
            To a minaret’s devotion
                       But first, leisure in the shade

And ripple of reflected water
            Against these stones of the wadi
                       No one present but a young guide

Whose tanned limbs speak
           Of vital and languorous days
                      In equal measure – crouching

On the lip of the cold stream
            Figs and cool water are best
                        The palm’s failing cover

Built from mountain rain
           Sluiced and gathered long
                       Hours through narrow walls

The diver and the player shudder
           As thunder falls, swaying
                       Fronds and scattering birds

The boy ferriers scatter
           The wadis flood in succession
                       Drowned guide and tourist

Pilgrim and playboy
            Beggar and boiler-suited roadworker
                        All thrown asunder

As water exceeds
           One limit
                    To describe another

________________________

Todd Swift is a lecturer at Kingston University in English Literature and Creative Writing and a tutor for The Poetry School. He has published six full collections of poetry. His most recent collections are Seaway: New and Selected Poems (Salmon, 2008) and Mainstream Love Hotel (Tall-lighthouse, 2009), and a free-to-download ebook from Argotist, Experimental Sex Hospital. Todd has edited or co-edited many international anthologies, including Poetry Nation, 100 Poets Against The War, and (with Evan Jones) Modern Canadian Poets (Carcanet, 2010). In 2007 he and Jason Camlot published their collection of essays on contemporary Anglo-Quebec poetry, Language Acts (Vehicule). His poems have appeared widely, in places such as Poetry, Poetry London, Poetry Review, Jacket, The Guardian, and The Globe and Mail. His poems have been broadcast on radio around the world - on the ABC, BBC, CBC, and RTE. His poems have been selected to appear in several key recent anthologies, including Starnino's The New Canon, Queyras' Open Field, and Bolster's Best Canadian Poetry 2008. He has reviewed for Books in Canada and Poetry London. He has been Oxfam GB Poet-in-residence, and runs the London-based Oxfam Poetry Series. This project has produced three CDS: Life Lines, Life Lines 2, and Poems for Children; and a DVD, Asking A Shadow To Dance, which have involved over 120 of the leading and emerging poets of Britain. He lives in London. He blogs at Eyewear.

Meg Sircom 1967-2011

2011-06-13T18:16:00.000-07:00

Meg Sircom was a vibrant part of the literary community in Montreal and wife to Andy Brown, of Conundrum Press, as well as the mother of two young boys. She died of cancer this year and is missed by everyone who knew her empathetic and caring nature. Thanks to Dana Bath for instituting this scholarship, at Vanier College, in memory of her.

http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/notes/dana-bath/meg-sircom-memorial-scholarship/10150208168819583

"Pointless" Rant?

2011-06-12T18:59:00.000-07:00

It is interesting to me that people of this world consider poetry to be "a foreign country" as suggested in David Orr's book. It is not so strange when one considers that there are extremists who care nothing for the spirit or for sacral intimacy, as seen in the recent attack on dancer Margie Gillis by Sun News (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LrUfKrQpQbg)

It is deplorable that all the beauty and sincerity of the life force and impulse are so easily squashed in our "progressive" societies. If this was supposed to be the age of spiritual enlightenment, it has a long way to go. Life "force" would seem to be interpreted by some in terms of violence instead of spiritual energy. The real strength, which is inherent in the term "life force" is not inflexible and exclusive, but pliant and tolerant; it is an energy of spirit that welcomes and supports. Of course these fixed radicals would claim that life is dog-eat-dog, filled with violence and destruction, which is "natural." This is precisely why humankind has a brain and a heart, so that it can choose NOT to be the pawns of natural and material chaos and to look for something more transcendent and spiritual. I won't even begin to talk about Capitalist greed, I'll just get even more pissed off.

Poetry, of course, looks to deeper, more transcendent matters; even poetry which is randomly glued together with seeming senselessness considers the chance occurrences that can be linked to the (supernatural) machinations of fate, if you know how to "see." But people don't know how to see because they don't WANT to see. So, we need books like Orr's to enlighten and spoon-feed people on "how to read poetry" and "what it is." People ought to realize that poetry is a central part of the life impulse, and that without it they are dead. /ez

Beautiful and Pointless: A Guide to Modern Poetry, by David Orr

Shane Rhodes gets the Gold!

2011-06-11T06:13:00.000-07:00

Congratulations to Shane Rhodes and The Malahat Review for winning the Gold for Poetry in this years's 34th National Magazine Awards. Steven Heighton from Arc won the Silver prize. The other nominees were:

David O'Meara, Arc

Anne Simpson, Arc

Monty Reid, Event

Dennis Lee, Vallum

Sue Goyette, Fiddlehead

Eric Ormsby, The New Quarterly

Patricia Young, The New Quarterly

88 Canadian Magazines were represented at the NMA.

Rimbaud & Freud

2011-06-10T19:08:00.000-07:00

"Sacred Disorder:
Rimbaud and depth psychology"

by Cliff Bostock

This article is informative and good. Rimbaud has hovered outside Vallum's offices, we are sure of it; something about his energy...

http://www.soulworks.net/writings/essays/site_038.html

Les Murray, The Great Australian

2011-06-09T19:24:00.000-07:00

Ken Babstock writes a great review on Les Murray's new book, in the Globe and Mail. Here is an excerpt: "Murray seems to have chosen to deepen his commitment to poetic and moral compassion and empathy, as evidenced by the best poems in Taller When Prone. The new book sprawls across forms and subgenres: found conversation, compact riddle, elegy, murky allegory, common portraits, inquiries in faith and Murray’s famous ear for bending Australian vernacular to the aims of art."

Les Murray was also published in Vallum a few seasons back. Ken Babstock's full review may be found at:
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/arts/books/taller-when-prone-by-les-murray/article2048895/

interview

2011-06-09T10:02:00.000-07:00

Interview by Eleni Zisimatos, Co-editor of Vallum, kindly posted on rob mclennan's blog

http://robmclennan.blogspot.com/2011/06/12-or-20-questions-second-series-with.html

We are not Dead

2011-06-07T08:42:00.000-07:00

In a report in the American Thinker, Robert Klein Engler writes:

"To write about the end of poetry is to also write about how traditional forms of life that made the poetry narrative possible are disappearing because of global market and political forces. Both Communism and Capitalism advance forms of globalization that undermine traditional narratives.

Progressive critics who announce the end of the arts want to make room for a new narrative wish to make the world safe for progressive propaganda. They would replace integrity, proportion, and clarity with broken shards, bloated forms, and mud; all for the sake of revenge against Western civilization.

Will traditional forms of life, grounded in nature and human nature, survive somewhere, if not on Manhattan or in San Francisco? It is possible, but these traditional forms of life will stand outside the social, educational, and political structures we are building, today. "

Poetry will survive, and it is not true that "anything goes" in the supposed narrative of "relativity." Although there is a tendency to value things equally, it is not true that everything is of equal value. There are standards of quality even in things that seem entirely random and exchangeable. There is a limit with all things and the centre is not eradicated in favour of a void. There is a difference between a mindless "scribble" or a random mix of words, and the same things created with a meaning attached to them. It is important for the artist/poet to hold on to this meaning.

"Traditional forms of life" are what make us real and human. If we become a random flow of babble and progressive propaganda, which is a very real threat, then we are lost. It is true we are moving towards that end. But we need to stop and reflect. This is why poetry and art are important. They shouldn't be simply "fads" like so many modern concerns. Even politics has become a "fad" and a seemingly "unreal" arena. But the reality of suffering is real, and so is the meaning of life. This is why we must fight for the life of poetry and art and artists and poets must care enough about existence to not make their work nihilist, but to have some kind of recovery point in the midst of their random creations. The meaning will come out in words and images. It is the most important move that is historically imminent. And poetry, which is carefully selected by journals (like ours), will open doors to meaningful and truly progressive enlightenment. Poetry and art, in the voice of immortal idealism, perhaps, are not dead! /ez

coffee blurb

2011-06-07T04:50:00.000-07:00

Coffee seems to be an indispensible part of life, especially for a writer/poet/songwriter. Romantically, it has always been "the coffee and the cigarette" that have gone hand in hand. Another stereotype is the "alcoholic" writer (with the cigarette). Is it perhaps changing now with our tough, new anti-smoking policies? I came across this song and thought: Hm, the fuel for the poetic fire within is still going strong. Whatever the case, it seems coffee is here to stay. /ez

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AoznyhSDrek

Going Green??

2011-06-05T16:04:00.000-07:00

Internet pollution: something not always considered when firing up the computer networks.
http://www.montrealgazette.com/life/green-guide/Could+killing+planet+search+time/4891395/story.html

Cohen: another winner!

2011-06-05T15:39:00.000-07:00

Poet/songwriter Leonard Cohen has recently won Spain's prestigious Prince of Asturias literature award.
Earlier this year, he was awarded the coveted Glenn Gould Prize.

The 77 year old master of words continues to reign.

New Book by Robert Munsch!

2011-06-03T16:13:00.000-07:00

Children's author Robert Munsch recently visited Rigolet, on Labrador's northern coast, to launch his new book, Give Me Back My Dad. Munsch is one of Canada's most exalted writers for kids. His books are unusual and unique, often empowering the youngsters portrayed within. His new book is based on a fishing expedition he was on in Newfoundland twenty years ago.

DIONNE BRAND Wins the Griffin Poetry Prize!

2011-06-02T14:45:00.000-07:00

Toronto Poet Leaureate, Dionne Brand, is the winner of the 2011 prestigious Griffin Prize, Canada's largest award for poetry, for her novel-length poem, Ossuaries, announced last night in Toronto.

American poet Gjertrud Schnackenberg won the international prize, also worth $65,000, for Heavenly Questions.

The other two finalists were John Steffler, and Suzanne Buffam, each winning a prize of $10,000.

Congratulations to all! Thank you to Scott Griffin for making this possible for poets.

Review in Re-view

2011-05-31T08:29:00.000-07:00

Here's rob mclennan's insightful review of Rachel Zolf's book--from a few issues back--

Human Resources by Rachel Zolf (Toronto ON: Coach House Books, 2007)

I kill my sentence and Celan is totally blown out of the

water caught up by the Swan's brute squirt.

Not warm hard phallus but Bataille, bleached WASP and

feeling like you've lost your ship.

Can we link this a bit to Leda and his own decomposing,

develop her rhetor-tribadistic touch?

It's a mishmash, witness the orphan organs and Carson

end-dated out of this sixfold slippage.

A few years in the making comes Toronto writer Rachel Zolf's magnificent and deeply rich third poetry collection, Human Resources (Toronto ON: Coach House Books, 2007), on the heels of her Trillium Book Award shortlisted Masque (Toronto ON: The Mercury Press, 2004) and Her absence, this wanderer (Ottawa ON: Buschek Books, 1999). Much in the way Lisa Robertson brought the language of weather into her poetry collection The Weather (Vancouver BC: New Star Books, 2001), or Michael Holmes brought the language of professional wrestling into his Parts Unknown (Toronto ON: Insomniac Press, 2004), so too, Zolf brings in a language traditionally outside of the realm of poetry. For her Human Resources, Zolf incorporates a series of lines and phrases otherwise known as "office language" or "office speak," the kind of middle-management talk that wraps around itself and gets nowhere (that Randy Gervais brilliantly parodied in his original BBC series The Office); a language which, to many working people, is far more the language of the everyday than anything out of any poetry collection. Part essay on the language and ideas of other poets such as Robertson, Paul Celan, as well as language theory, Jewish theory and history, and part lyric poem, Zolf's Human Resources questions the fundamentals of what a communicative language actually is and actually means, working through the so-called effectiveness of how we relate (and fail to relate) to each other.

The work of the sword and 4 relays cross when we try to

give financial advice. Boss heavily edits to get the 'tone'

right: take a holistic approach to risk management,

steer clear of portfolio potholes and don’t get caught

chasing hot 1125 baby method of surface sale returns.

Strange quirk, since you’ve never worked in a big

company (and often toil all day in pyjamas) yet can still

whip off a snappy business-attire policy. Don’t own a car

but expend many a lubricating word on transmission-

fluid theory. Our regular column on diarrhea evangel-

izes the brand traction, floating out key messages

based on current accrued liability. Don’t settle for 170%

passion and impactful equity in la perruque. Concur with

the psychology of tense selection, vet her specificity-

equals-felicity cathexis, how do you like that human-

asset-component grammar?

How do our relations change as our language changes? It's a debate held in the United States pretty regularly these days, watching their own President fumble around the language; how does the language of ideas fall apart once the language itself does? In Zolf's Human Resources, the shape and the theory of language become everything, even as it shapes itself into form after form, refusing to break apart. It's been said, too, that language can't help but be political. What does that leave us in the grammar of the white collar workplace? Where does that leave language as a communicative tool?

Worth a Read

2011-05-30T11:55:00.000-07:00

Pulitzer prize-winning poet, Stephen Dunn, also published in Vallum, has a great poem in the Paris Review. and a new book out. Check them out!

http://www.theparisreview.org/poetry/6076/leaving-the-empty-room-stephen-dunn

VALLUM AWARD FOR POETRY, deadline fast approaching!!

2011-05-29T17:42:00.000-07:00

YOU NOW HAVE THE OPTION TO SEND CONTEST SUBMISSIONS FOR THE VALLUM AWARD FOR POETRY ELECTRONICALLY, FOLLOWING PAYMENT OF ENTRY FEE. Submit up to 3 poems of approximately 25 lines each, previously unpublished. Please write your name and contact info. in the body of the email and include your poems in an attachment without any identification. The contest is judged blind. Also write "VALLUM AWARD" in subject line of your email.

Vallum Contest, PO Box 598 Victoria Station, Montreal, QC H3Z 2Y6 CANADA

AWARDS:   $500, Gold Winner
                   $250, Silver Winner
                    Free subscription, 3 Honourable Mentions

DEADLINE: June 30th, 2011. 12 am EST

NATIONAL MAGAZINE AWARDS 2011

2011-05-29T17:33:00.000-07:00

Congratulations to Dennis Lee for being nominated for a National Magazine Award! This is Vallum's 5th National Magazine Award nomination. We anxiously await the National Magazine Awards ceremony, held June 10th in Toronto. Professor George Elliott Clarke will be representing Vallum at the awards.

Vallum nominates 5-8 poets published in Vallum for a given year (2 issues) every year.

Next issue of Vallum due out soon!

2011-05-29T17:28:00.000-07:00

Mountains/Heights, Vol, 8:2 soon to go to press. Vallum spring/summer 2011. Subscribe or order single issue now! visit our online store: http://www.vallummag.com/

Great deal!

2011-05-29T17:25:00.001-07:00

Get 5 friends to join "Vallum Poetry" on Facebook and get awesome magazine free! Tell us who you are and the friends that joined! Contact: subscription@vallummag.com.

Award

2011-05-29T17:20:00.001-07:00

Congratultions to D.B. Scott for receiving the NMAF's Award for Outstanding Achievement for work in the magazine industry! D.B. Scott was a past consultant for Vallum. He is currently the president of Impresa Communications.

Mega prize!

2011-05-29T17:19:00.001-07:00

Montreal International Poetry prize to be judged by renowned, former British Poet Laureate Andrew Motion, who was also published in Vallum Magazine. $50,000 (CAD) prize.