MOM— by CRAIG COTTER

2.5 cups of rice
water up two and a half knuckle points
boil, when boiling, let boiling open-lidded until water is gone
then ten minutes reduced heat
--Mom's recipe for making rice outside of the ubiquitous rice-cooker

 

This is another Poems-For-All booklet from the generous gift of curator Richard Hansen! This 1.75" X 2” mini-book features a poem, “mom—“ by Craig Cotter:

As you can see by the above cover, it’s an image of rice and then the red band with the title and byline.  This design is seemingly simple, but has more depth after one has read the poem (below).  Seemingly simple, too, because the interior is just one folded page to show a title page and the poem:

Here is the text of the poem:

mom—

the boy

doesn't want

another spoonful of steamed

buddha brand jasmine rice—

he reaches for a chopstick

propped on a bowl of tom yum instead.

     now

tapping the stick everywhere

and waving it in the air

he accepts a spoonful of red fish.

Reading the poem, one understands the cover design: the preferred red (of the “red fish”) in the foreground with the rice in the background.

The synchronistic reference to rice, and thus its cover image, works nicely on the back cover because of Poems-For-All’s featured slogan, “SCATTER LIKE SEEDS.”  The rice, then, becomes a visual metaphor for poems which PFA wishes to scatter “like seeds” throughout the universe.

Nicely done!  And where shall we “shelve” this book?  Well, as befits the Filipino tradition of having white rice with each and every meal, Mom used to cook rice for the household.  So, I immediately thought of shelving this book on the mini sewing chair I associate with Mom.  It already has a book shelved on it, “I’M NOBODY! WHO ARE YOU?” by Emily Dickinson.  But I thought Craig Cotter’s “mom—“ might be a nice companion for Emily (that poem sounds like Emily needs it), might even provide some comic relief.  Entonces:

FOUR BUTTONS TWO HOLES FOUR BROOMS by JEAN ARP

This is another Poems-For-All  booklet from the generous gift of curator Richard Hansen! This mini-book features a poem, “Four buttons two holes four brooms” by Jean Arp.

You open the 1 ¾” x 2” book to read some background, i.e. that the book is “a collaboration with artist Marc Snyder. He suggested using the poetry of Dada artist and writer Jean Arp and provided the superlative impression of Arp you see on the cover. “

Marc also runs the co-publisher of this mini-book, Fiji Island Mermaid Press.  Anyway, you’d turn the page to see the text of the poem

Four buttons two holes four brooms

By Jean Arp

in the hollow-cheeked hollow of a

  pause

roll     fireproof gilded baits

down unchallenged staircases of

  eloquence

the catafalcons and catasparrows

  lie down

in their sneeze coffins

the tables follow the chairs like

     males after

females

     and what hovers over the tables and

     chairs in

the shape of a farewell-cloud

   declares in verse the situation to be

     hopeless

Here’s an image of both the front and back covers—strikingly designed!

And where shall we “shelve” this book?  Well, because the cover has an orange-ish background, I thought of an orange chair—the orange Eames chair!

Naturally, the surrealist tome doesn’t just allow itself to lie flat.  It must be slant, hang over the chair!

EDOUARD'S NOSE by GREG BOYD

And this is another Poems-For-All booklet from the generous gift of curator Richard Hansen! This mini-book features a witty short story entitled EDOUARD'S NOSE by Greg Boyd: 

Because the interior just features the text, I thought I'd just replicate the text here for easier reading.  Here it is--enjoy reading! 

EDOUARD'S NOSE

Edouard doesn't have a head. A torso and limbs, but no head. Facial features in the middle of his back. He smokes a pipe, which he keeps in his mouth most of th etime because it's awkward for him to reach his arms around to the middle of his back. "Ceci n'est pas une pipe," painted Magritte, an allusion to the idea that symbol does not necessarily correspond to the actual physical reality it's intended to represent. Same goes for the word nose and for the name Edouard, etc.

So much for background information. One day Edouard decided to take a walk. He put his nose on a leash and set out for the park. By the artificial lake he shared a bench with a woman with only one leg. "May I pet your nose?" she asked.

"Certainly," he replied, "but be careful, he's not always nice. Would you like a Kleenex?" he added, taking one out of the box he carried with him."

"No, thanks, I'm on a diet," she said, so he ate it himself as she stroked his nose. "Nice nose," she said when it dripped on her hand.

She caught him staring at her missing leg, though there was nothing to stare at. "It's an old football injury," she explained, pointing at the nothing. "By the way, if you don't mind, if it's not too personal, what happened to your head?"

"Problem with my nose. Complications in surgery. Had to amputate," Edouard sighed and lit his pipe. "Dreadful business."

They talked like this for several minutes. By chance they met again in the same place the next day. In time they became lovers. She started wearing more revealing clothes and got her nose pierced. He took up Tarot card reading as an exotic hobby. They rode nude together on a bicycle on the streets of Paris in the morning. They both claimed to have a total disregard for symbols.

Neither of the two would admit to being in love. "Love my nose," said Edouard. Socially they were a big hit. It was fashionable to be seen at the same restaurants as Edouard and Edouardetta. Everyone ordered boiled nose. That was before the war when nose was still plentiful.

 Isn't it a fun read?  Here's an image of the front and back covers of this 1 5/8" x 2" mini-book:

The back cover features Poems-For-All's vision:

scattered around town -- on buses,

trains, cabs, in restrooms, bars, left

along with the tip; stuffed into a

 stranger's back pocket. Whatever. Wherever.

And now, where shall we "shelve" EDOUARD'S NOSE?  Well, it's such a playful piece that I thought to shelve it on a toy chair, a cheerful rocker! 

 

I'M NOBODY! WHO ARE YOU? by EMILY DICKINSON

[Related Post: 39 POEM SEEDS FROM POEMS-FOR-ALL]


And this is about another Poems-For-All booklet from the generous gift of curator Richard Hansen! This is I'M NOBODY! WHO ARE YOU?, one of the most famous poems by Emily Dickinson.

Here is the front cover:

This is an effectively-designed book, in part because the partially blinded women extend to the back cover:

You open to the title page:

You turn the page to the poem:

I'm Nobody! Who are you?

Are you--Nobody--too?

Then there's a pair of us?

Don't tell! they'd advertise--you know!

How dreary--to be--Somebody!

How public--like a Frog--

To tell one's name--the livelong June--

To an admiring Bog!

You turn the page to some background information as to how this booklet was created:

In case you can't read the above image, it says that the booklet was

"Published on the occasion of the Academy of American Poets' Poem in your Pocket Day, April 17th, 2009.  The idea is simple: select a poem you love during National Poetry Month then carry it with you to share with co-workers, family, and friends on April 17th."

Much has been said about this poem, one of the most popular by Emily Dickinson (for example, HERE).  I don't need to add to the analysis per se -- but for purpose of "shelving" the booklet on a mini-chair, I choose to focus on its very compelling first line: I'm Nobody! Who are you?

I focus on that line because I will "shelve" this booklet on the Sewing Chair.  If you recall from this post, I associate this chair with Mom who often stitched various items for me (I have one memory of her on her knees with pins in her mouth stitching a hem on my very first long dress for a high school dance; I remember looking down on her and noticing how her hair was thinning -- a detail that unnerved me as it may be my first consciousness that Mom was aging, thus mortal ... a detail so unnerving that it would pop up unexpectedly in a poem I'd write decades later...but I digress).

Anyway, when my father died, Mom moved into our house and I was blessed to live with her for six years.  During that time, she witnessed my daily lifestyle as a writer.  She was so proud of me ... such that she often described herself to friends and acquaintances as "Eileen's Mom -- the goose who laid the Golden Egg."

While appreciating her support, I was always a tad disturbed (though never told her) about her description of herself.  I thought Mom was more than just my mother and deserved respect as such: she was an effective teacher (just the other week I heard yet again from one of her students about 50 years ago about what a great teacher she was), a beloved member of her church and community, a well-respected elder in the clan ... I could go on. But within my household, it seemed that she was just a retired woman who loved her family (which by itself is a lot since I know the hard way that loving one's family can't be taken for granted).

Fortunately, we were able to see Mom's book, DAWAC, released before her death (it came out two months before she died).  That's yet another major achievement by Mom: a first book at age 82!  And so in one of our last phone conversations together, I was able to tell her -- in a way that she understood deeply -- how proud I was of her but specifically articulate my pride by saying:

"Mom, you know how you always say you're the goose who laid the Golden Egg?  What I want to say to you, Mom, is that YOU are the Golden Egg."

It was a moment -- a way of articulation -- whose significance only she and I could really understand.  I believe she was crying (happy tears!) as she replied simply on the phone, "Yes. I hear you."

Here is the book I am recalling

even as I shelve Emily Dickinson's I'M NOBODY! WHO ARE YOU? on Mom's mini-sewing chair:

We opened our eyes, Mom. You, were, the Golden Egg ...

HAIKU by COLIN WILL

[Related Post: 39 POEM SEEDS FROM POEMS-FOR-ALL]

And this is about another Poems-For-All booklet from the generous gift of curator Richard Hansen: HAIKU by Colin Will.

You open this charming mini-book to the title page

which is followed by the book's haiku:

Here is the text -- niftily related to the cover image -- in case you can't read my poorly-photographed image (I've got a first-generation Iphone and until it breaks down I ain't replacin' it!):

the poet reads--

lavender wafts

in the sunshine

The back cover image replicates Poems-For-All's Johnny Appleseed-like reference to scattering poems like seeds throughout the universe:

An enchanting project, which is why I've chosen to shelve this 1 5/8" x 2" book on an enchanting eye-opener of a chair:

 

 

 

 

OTHERWORLDLY by KARYNE DE CONTRERAS

[Related Post: 39 POEM SEEDS FROM POEMS-FOR-ALL]

Of course I'm delighted to showcase another Poems-For-All booklet from the generous gift of curator Richard Hansen!  This is otherwordly, a poem-booklet by Karyne De Contreras.  Here's its book cover (I do apologize for the poor quality of the images in this and many posts -- all a function of my first-generation Iphone camera ... but Moi thinks y'all get the drift anyway coz you're all smart peeps, right!?)

It's a slim booklet since the poem is short, requiring only one page:

Here's the poem's text in case you can't read the image:

otherworldly

bruise

to bruise

we angle

toward the sun

for healing

eyes closed

book ends

breathing

And the back cover reiterates Poems-For-All's mission:

scattered around town -- on buses,

trains, cabs, in restrooms, bars, left

along with the tip; stuffed into a

 stranger's back pocket. Whatever. Wherever.

So where shall we "shelve" Contreras' 1 5/8" x 2" mini-book?  Well, its ending lines -- "book ends / breathing" -- suggests that Moi indeed shelf it on one of the two bookend chairs!

These are cast-iron bookends, which means they can bear the pain within the poem ...

TO THE EDITOR WHOSE NAME WILL APPEAR ON MY NEXT REJECTION SLIP by G. Murray Thomas

[Related Post: 39 POEM SEEDS FROM POEMS-FOR-ALL]



Ahhhh those Bukowski imitations.  A genre on its own! 

I'm not saying "To The Editor Whose Name Will Appear on My Next Rejection Slip" by G. Murray Thomas is merely an imitation of another poet.  But it is the subject of another Poems-For-All booklet sent by curator Richard Hansen to the ever-grateful SitWithMoi.  Here's what the 1 5/8" x 2" book looks like, starting with the front cover:

This is the book's text, the poem itself -- which is good for quite a few chortles:

To The Editor Whose Name Will Appear on My Next Rejection Slip


I sat up all night
drinking beer
and going over my
unpublished poems
searching for one written
in the cheap, Bukowski-imitation style
your magazines seems
to like so much.
At 5 a.m. I gave up
and wrote this one.

Here's the last page of the book, which notes that this poem is from Thomas' selected poems collection, COWS ON THE FREEWAY (Writers Club Press, 2000).  I even chortled over that title!

Where shall we "shelve" this wit?  Where else but with Charles Bukowski's LUCK himself on The Bukowski Chair! 

THE TRUTH by TED JOANS

[Related Post: 39 POEM SEEDS FROM POEMS-FOR-ALL]


"The Truth" by Ted Joans is one of the 38 Poems-For-All booklets sent to Moi by PFA curator Richard Hansen.  As soon as I read it, I knew I had found the book to "shelve" on the mini "Director's Chair."  Because the poem is a directive of sorts ...:

THE TRUTH

if you should see

a man

walking down a crowded street

talking aloud

to himself

don't run

in the opposite direction

but run towards him

for he is a POET!

you have NOTHING to fear

from the poet

but the TRUTH

Here's the cover of the mini-book:

You open the book to see the emphasized "you have NOTHING to fear from the poet but the TRUTH":

You then open to the centerfold which presents the poem itself:

And this is the back cover, which reiterates part of PFA's wonderful mission:

scattered around town -- on buses,

trains, cabs, in restrooms, bars, left

along with the tip; stuffed into a

 stranger's back pocket. Whatever. Wherever.

I'm pleased several PFA booklets made it to SitWithMoi as part of their "Whatever. Wherever."  Here, then, is Ted Joans' 1 5/8" x 2" poem-book "shelved" on the Director's Chair:

39 POEM SEEDS from POEMS-FOR-ALL

What a fabulous snail-mail of a day today!  Today, I received 38 -- I know! 38! -- mini-books for SitWithMoi's "Books on Chairs"!  Here's a fabulous picture of them all (plus one by Ed Baker from the same series):

These gems are booklets from Poems-For-All curated by Richard Hansen.  As their website notes about Poems-For-All, the books are

... scattered around town -- on buses, trains, cabs, in restrooms, bars, left along with the tip; stuffed into a stranger's back pocket. Whatever. Wherever. Small poems in small booklets half the size of a business card. A project of the 24th street irregular press, which cranks them out to be taken by the handful and scattered like seeds by those who want to see poetry grow in a barren cultural landscape.

The series has been releasing these books since 2001, and are perfect for SitWithMoi since they're slightly less than 2" x 2".  The 38 books I received comprise just a small portion of their list (which you can see HERE). I'm so grateful to Richard for sending me these.  And thanks, too, to Ed Baker who turned me on to Poems-For-All by sending a copy of his 2007 PFA book, BETWEEN TWO HOUSES, for SitWithMoi, and thus also raising the PFA count to 39 books.

I can't wait to start engaging with the books as part of "shelving" them on the SitWithMoi mini-chair collection! How FUN!

Meanwhile, here then is the list below of the Poems-For-All booklets currently in SitWithMoi's mini-book collection (if any of you readers have any others and want to send them over, I'll be grateful and promise to give them a good home as well as blather about them on the internet; email Moi at GalateaTen@aol.com).  As I blog about each title, I will update the list to incorporate the link:

Poems-For-All:

#002: THE TRUTH by Ted Joans (2)

#007: FIRST CATCH THE RABBIT by Jack Spicer

#91: RICHARD WRIGHT by Steve Dalachinsky

#102: FOUR BUTTONS TWO HOLES FOUR BROOMS by Jean Arp with illustration by Marc Snyder

#116: CONCEPTION by Angela Boyce

#153: BARE BRANCHES by Gail Ghai

#167: EDOUARD'S NOSE by Greg Boyd

#352: THIS, AFTER AN ARGUMENT by Dese 'Rae L. Stage

#360: THEORY OF THE LEISURE CLASS, REVISED

#407: THREE KISSES by Arthur Rimbaud

#475: THE COMPACT EDITION OF THE HEAD by Andrew Paul Sullivan

#507: THE WAR by Scott Wannberg

#508: WE DO IT BECAUSE by Scott Wannberg

#515: THE TROUBLE WITH PALM TREES by Iris Berry

#531: MUSIC TO YOUR EARS by Brian Beatty

#572: RIMBAUD POEMS by Sean Finney

#590: THE MORNING AFTER by Murray Thomas

#615: OTHERWORLDLY by Karyne de Contreras

#589: TO THE EDITOR WHOSE NAME WILL APPEAR ON MY NEXT REJECTION SLIP by G. Murray Thomas

#595: AUTHENTICITY OVER ORIGINALITY by Billy Childish

#600: IMAGINARY STUDIES OF JOSHUA TREES BY VINCENT VAN GOGH by Charles Graham Macdonald

#636: FIG by Albert Garcia

#778: BETWEEN TWO HOUSES by Ed Baker

#870: THE SHY CARTOGRAPHER by Kevin Jones

#871: A MECHANIC'S PROVERB by Adam Deutsch

#900: I'M NOBODY! WHO ARE YOU? by Emily Dickinson

#948: ALCINOUS TO ODYSSEUS by Ken Cockburn

#950: 16th & VALENCIA by Alejandro Murgula

#1026: FIRST FIG by Edna St. Vincent Millay

#1027: THURSDAY by Edna St. Vincent Millay

#1041: A RIDDLE by Edwin Morgan

#1042: SMUGGLER by Norman MacCaig (2)

#1046: MOM-- by Craig Cotter

#1061: THE THREE STOOGES AT A HOLLYWOOD PARTY by Paul Fericano

#1082: IDLENESS by Douglas Dunn

#1098: IS THIS A POEM? by Karen Patricia Hoyt

#1112: HAIKU by Colin Will

Dear Richard: THANK YOU! Not just for the booklets but for your wonderful idea!