Mapping The Stars

-Book Reviewed by Matthew Falk–

If Mark Strand hadn’t already used the title, Rachel Wooley’s new collection, Mapping the Stars could have also been called “Reasons for Moving.” These poems are driven by the tension between the future and the past, between the desire to connect with others and the desire to flee. “The recurring dream,” one poem explains, is “to slip / into someone else’s life.” But of course, Wooley is aware that’s impossible. Traveling only pushes us deeper into our own lives, constantly reminding us of the things we’ve tried to leave behind.

On the book’s cover, a colorful old-world cityscape, painted by the author, invites readers to imagine strolling through quaint narrow streets or loitering in a café or pub. Now notice what’s missing: in Wooley’s picture there are no streets, no people, no place for the observer to rest. Viewers sense that they are passing through—or, more precisely, passing over, looking down from above, en route to the endless night sky that beckons us ever onward. We might like to touch down and stay a while, but the poet has other plans.

The book begins in medias res. We first meet our poet/tour guide “In an Airplane, Suspended” over Belgium. Subsequently, we accompany her to France, Ireland, even outer space. In between we stifle and chafe in various American airports and urban centers, awaiting the next opportunity to take again to the open air: “The clutter of home overwhelms…. // Each moment here means / less.”

The speaker of “Nine Types of Loneliness” informs us that the light of a dying star “stretches / into the universe / reaching blindly for contact.” Is she a dying star? Are we dying stars? Is our blind stretching and reaching the reason we need that map promised by the book’s title? The poem doesn’t answer these questions, of course, but it does tell us that another type of loneliness is: “A photograph in which the subject / will always look away.”

So it goes: Always reaching for contact, always looking away.

Is our blindness, then, somehow willful or at least foreseeable? Are we unable to take in what’s in front of us, to look at one another, because we are too busy looking elsewhere—into the past and future?

It’s worth noticing that this same photo, or a very similar one, has already appeared in an earlier poem, “Circumstantial Detourists”: “I take only / a single picture of you; in it, you’ve turned / away.” That particular poem ends with the speaker standing on a hilltop in Derry, “survey[ing] / the possibilities on either side.” The reticence to choose a side, to remain aloof and above it all, as if to preserve the possibility of a future choice  indefinitely, is typical of Wooley’s speakers.

But who is it, exactly, who has turned away, and from whom? The “you” addressed in these poems is as various and shifting as the landscapes over which the poet roams. Sometimes it’s a boy who may or may not be waiting for her at home (wherever “home” might turn out to be). Sometimes it’s a fellow traveler. Occasionally, it’s just you—yes, you. But often it’s an aspect of the poet herself, as in “Last Day of a Month in Armagh,” where the speaker tells herself: “Yet you are the mystery / revealed. Can you tell? / The American, the American….”

The effortlessness with which Wooley moves between and among these various second-person pronoun referents is admirable and represents, once again, the creative tension at the heart of these poems. As a line in “Blending Geographies” would have it: “You forget the distance / between separate lives, transpose the two”—an echo of the same recurring dream described elsewhere.

Eventually, if we let her, this poet will train us to be less ashamed of our own voyeuristic curiosity. She has, after all, invited us here to eavesdrop on her dialogues. Let’s take it all in. Let’s stop looking away.

***

Postscript: An old Chinese phrase, often translated as “free and easy wandering,” kept coming to mind as I was writing this review. Among other things, it’s the title of a chapter of a text attributed to the fourth century BCE philosopher Chuang Tzu. In American parlance, I suppose it’s roughly equivalent to some cheesy platitude like, “The journey is its own destination.” And although I’m not sure it’s such an apt reference to use in connection with Mapping the Stars—Wooley’s wanderings are neither easy nor entirely free—I thought I’d leave it here for you on my way out.

Chuang Tzu writes (in Burton Watson’s translation):

In the Midwestern darkness, there lives a big fish. She changes and becomes a bird, rises up and flies off for the Southern darkness.

The cicada and the little dove laugh at her, saying, ‘When we make a great effort, we can fly as far as that sapwood tree. Where does she think she’s going?’

And in the barren North, there is a Great Lake. It is home to a great bird whose wings fill the sky like clouds.

The quail laughs at her, saying, ‘Watch me! I can make a great leap and fly for ten or even twelve yards! Where does she think she’s going?’

“Could discoveries be made / by standing still?” asks the speaker of “Last Day of a Month in Armagh.” Once again, no answer is forthcoming. “Patience / is not your virtue; it’s a viewless plain / of nothing but grass waiting / for the sun….”

-Matthew Falk

Post Photo Courtesy of Rachelswriting.com

Big Screen Streaming: Dog Day Afternoon

-Film Reflections by Roger Market–

On a hot summer day in 1972, John Wojtowicz and two friends attempted to rob a bank in Brooklyn, New York, with Wojtowicz hoping to raise funds for his male lover’s sex change operation. But one thing after another went wrong. The robbery quickly escalated into a 14-hour hostage situation when the police showed up and surrounded the bank. These events were the basis for the legendary 1975 film, Dog Day Afternoon, directed by Sidney Lumet. Decades later, the movie still speaks volumes about the American class system, not to mention the LGBT movement.

Al Pacino plays fictional bank robber Sonny Wortzik, delivering a mesmerizing performance. At a time when Hollywood was leery of the public reception of a gay protagonist, the makers of Dog Day Afternoon decided (whether consciously or not) on a brilliant screenplay structure that waits until moments after the midpoint of the film to disclose Sonny’s sexuality and his unconventional motivations for committing the crime. By then, with Pacino’s expert finesse, Sonny’s character is already fully realized. The audience has fallen in love with the character, despite his illegal actions, and there’s no going back; viewers are enthralled and ready to see the film through to the end. They are on team Sonny.

Sympathy for the robbers is not limited to the viewer, however. On several occasions, Sonny goes outside the bank to talk to Moretti, the policeman in charge. There, he encounters an increasingly captivated audience of New York onlookers who have gathered to watch the drama unfold. Recalling the 1971 prison riot in Attica, New York, where the police used brutal and deadly tactics to suppress insurrection, both Sonny and the crowd have mixed feelings about the NYPD. Sonny turns the crowd’s sentiments to his advantage. He reacts harshly to the scores of policemen with guns trained on him, screaming at them to put their guns down, and then starts the chant, “Attica! Attica! Attica!” Astoundingly, and yet somewhat understandably, it seems the public is actually on Sonny’s side. He’s become a star, a champion for the people, in a matter of hours.

Inside the bank, a more intimate story unfolds. Here, we get to know Sal, the accomplice who actually stuck around for the heist (Sonny’s other friend backs out in the opening scene). Sal keeps quiet for the most part, but he’s arguably the more dangerous of the two robbers, ready to “start throwing bodies out the door” at a moment’s notice. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, he also provides some comic relief. In the midst of Sonny’s bold negotiations for escape, Sal serves up one of the movie’s funniest lines when he names Wyoming as the “country” he’d like to escape to. The comedy here is not only in the line itself but also in the delivery. Sal appears dead serious. He honestly believes Wyoming is an independent country.

The bank staff members are equally interesting. Sylvia, played by the incredible Penelope Allen, is the head bank teller. She assumes the role of mother hen to her all-female teller team, refusing to leave her girls even though she is offered several opportunities to escape amid the chaos. In her elevated position, she also becomes a confidante to Sonny. When he is forced to trade hostages to have his demands met, Sonny asks Sylvia to choose who will go. When he decides to write a will, Sylvia pens the document.

Pacino is unstoppable in the third act of the film. In a phone call with his “wife,” Leon, Sonny says, “I don’t know what I’m doing,” essentially admitting the foolishness of his actions. But a minute later, he seems to have some idea: “I saw you there lying in the hospital like that, and I said…shit, man, I got to get this guy some money…I know you didn’t ask me. You didn’t ask me, but I did it.” Sonny still may not know, consciously, why he did it, but the viewer can guess the answer is love, and that’s down to Pacino’s enduring portrayal of a man who will do anything for the people he cares about. Next, Sonny calls his legal wife, Angela, who erupts in a stream of self-pity. Unable to get a word in, Sonny ultimately hangs up, exhausted. Both calls are powerhouse performances for all involved, realistic mixtures of both drama and comedy. These phone conversations are not about reconciling or apologizing, paving the way for a fluffy ending in which everything turns out well. On the contrary, they reveal the complex underpinnings of life, love, and loss, and they serve as heartbreaking goodbyes.

The scenes leading up to the film’s climax display Sonny in his most vulnerable state. The third act of the movie effectively erases any doubt that this unlikely hero is the embodiment of the flawed everyman—the everyday American male who simply happens to love another man and is free to make one grievous mistake after the other in the pursuit of love, acceptance, and happiness. In the end, Sonny has to pay for his mistakes, but he leaves behind a notable legacy in the process. For a short time, he is a powerful call to action. He inspires people to rebel against a corrupt system and is the embodiment of the belief that life can and should be better for all. At the very least, it should be fair.

Deservingly so, Dog Day Afternoon won the 1976 Oscar for Best Original Screenplay. That same year, Pacino’s performance won him a BAFTA for Best Actor, and he claimed several other acting awards for the film in 1975. Dog Day Afternoon became an instant classic when it was released, and 39 years later, its themes resonate with the public of a politically divided America. As such, it is very highly recommended.

***

Post Photo Courtesy of Amazon.com

Downtown Chicago, Photo Courtesy of Jeffrey F. Barken

Monologging

On the Road

Earlier this month Monologging.org founder and editor, Jeffrey F. Barken took a trip to Chicago where he met fellow author and judge of this year’s Monologue contest, Ben Tanzer. Before Jeffrey departed, the two sat down to record a podcast about Monologging and Jeffrey’s recent book tour in Israel. For those monologging fans and followers still wondering what, exactly, this site full of collaborative multimedia projects and arts-related reporting is all about, this podcast reveals all!

Ben Tanzer, author of the books My Father’s House, You Can Make Him Like You, Lost in Space, and Four Fathers is absolutely correct that his website: This Blog Will Change Your Life, has unparalleled powers to entertain, advise and improve your daily existence.

Ben Tanzer

Click above to listen to the interview, then visit Tanzer’s site for inspiration!

 This Blog Will Change Your Life

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The Dustbowl Revival

-Album Reviewed by Diana Mumford–

The Dustbowl Revival’s first full-length album, Carry Me Home, is a refreshing jaunt to the past. The Venice, California-based band has an old-school sound that transcends genre. The band borrows and fuses together a little bit of everything, from jazz to folk to bluegrass. Mix together one part front porch jamboree, one part dingy nightclub blues, and add in a dash of whooping and hollering and you’ve got The Dustbowl Revival.

The band has eight core members with a rotating cast of special musical guests. Drawing on a wide range of musical talent, the main collective and their special guests are able to incorporate an eclectic combination of instruments—everything from big band brass to washboards and kazoos. The group integrates the sounds of these instruments with finesse, seamlessly jumping from twanging banjos in one song to brassy trumpet solos in the next.

This album is full of gems, but a few songs in particular stand out. John the Revelator, a cover of a traditional 1930’s gospel blues song, opens with a chanting call-and-response style and dives into a slinking jazz ensemble. “Who’s that calling?” Z. Lupetin growls, his voice staying true to the raw temper of the original, but slightly changing the lyrics. In fact, half of the album is comprised of covers of traditional songs yet the band has improvised considerably, passionately adding their unique point-of-view.

Another standout is Riverboat Queen, a creeping jazz song about love and desire. The talented Liz Beebe, the band’s lead female vocalist, headlines on this track. Her voice is meant for crooning. Paired with the band’s musical accompaniment, The Dustbowl Revival echoes the streets of New Orleans circa 1930.

The best description of The Dustbowl Revival’s sound comes from the band themselves: “Old Crow Medicine Show meeting Louis Armstrong’s Hot Seven Band in New Orleans or Bob Dylan and Fats Waller jamming with Mumford & Sons on a front porch in 1938.” Simply put, they make music that makes you want to boogie down, cut a rug, and all that jazz. With their heartfelt and fresh take on music borrowed from another time, The Dustbowl Revival sounds like pure Americana; they sound like home.

Currently touring in venues across the States, The Dustbowl Revival is one to watch for 2014. Interested in giving their new album a listen? It’s now available at Bandcamp.com: http://thedustbowlrevivalcollective.bandcamp.com/

Or you can check out their official website: http://www.dustbowlrevival.com/

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Post Photo Courtesy of: http://themintla.com

Cast of ‘The Exonerated.’ Photo by Tom Lauer. Photo Courtesy of http://vagabondplayers.org

The Exonerated

-Theatre Review by Rachel Wooley–

The Vagabond Theater’s production of “The Exonerated,” showing now through July 6, 2014, brilliantly conveys the powerful narratives of six wrongly incarcerated Americans who find themselves victims of an imperfect criminal justice system. Director Josh Shoemaker has cast six incredible actors to share their testimony, successfully drawing audiences into their nightmare experiences.

The show doesn’t rely heavily on set, props, or costumes to engage the audience. The stage offers only a row of black folding chairs at the back and three white benches downstage. Enter: Delbert (Doug Goldman), Gary (David Shoemaker), David (Don Murray), Kerry (Don Kammann), Sunny (Beverly Shannon), and Robert (Tyrone Requer). These six characters (based on real people) were all imprisoned for murders they didn’t commit. In some cases, it was a matter of “wrong place, wrong time” and false witness testimony. In others, blatant racism or corrupt police work led to poorly informed arrests. In the courtroom, the accused were deprived of due process and badly represented by council. David and Gary recall being intimidated, manipulated and ultimately coerced into making false confessions. In every case, despite lacking hard evidence, the police force made assumptions or overlooked facts in their haste to make arrests and push through convictions.

The details of each story drive the play. In turn, the characters take their place on one of the white benches to tell parts of their story, as straightforward as if they were sitting one-on-one with a trusted friend. In this case, the audience plays confidant. The six actors portraying the exonerated bring emotional authenticity to their stories without ever crossing the line into melodrama. David Shoemaker so completely masters the voice and mannerisms of Gary that audiences quickly forget he’s portraying a character roughly twice his age. Don Murray’s subdued portrayal of David Keaton effectively demonstrates how much the character’s experiences in prison have changed him from the lively, spiritual teenager he once was. Likewise, Kerry’s story reveals the heartbreaking events that occurred during his time in prison after his conviction, and actor Don Kammann keeps the audience riveted throughout the entire re-telling of his trauma. The variety of personalities in the cast makes each story unique and intriguing, capturing the audience’s attention.

Doug W. Goldman. Photo by Tom Lauer. Courtesy of: http://vagabondplayers.org

The play is formatted to use a small ensemble cast to recreate some of the storytellers’ most powerful memories – among them, the arrests, police interrogations, and courtroom scenes. Here, perhaps, lies the production’s only weakness. Company member Justin Johnson portrays, in turn, police officers, lawyers, and other peripheral characters. His depiction of the prosecuting attorney in Kerry’s case is inspired – one gets the sense that the lawyer was almost enjoying his closing argument in which he labels Kerry a “sick pervert” who must be “put to death” as would be a deranged animal. Yet some of his other characters – Robert’s friend in another scene, for example – seem almost caricatures instead of real people. And it’s not immediately clear why Sunny’s husband, Jesse, isn’t portrayed as the age he was in her memories, instead of the age he would have been in the play’s present-day.

But these issues are minor, and they don’t detract from the unsettling truth behind the stories of the exonerated. As Kerry says, if it can happen to him, who’s to say it couldn’t happen to any of us? And as is the case with Sunny’s husband Jesse, how many people – innocent people – didn’t make it out of the American criminal justice system alive?

The play doesn’t push an agenda, letting audiences interpret the characters’ stories independently. Suffering on account of injustice is a dominant theme, but the play’s message concerning healing also comes through. As each of the exonerated Americans reflects on their experience in prison and their lives afterward, they reveal personal triumphs. Somehow they have all managed to carry on, in their own way. Despite our justice system’s major flaws, as Doug Goldman’s Delbert Tibbs says, “I love this country – I really do.” But, he points out; in order to fix the problems you have to look at what’s wrong, not at what’s right. Maybe this love gives him, and some of the other characters, the energy to think critically about their experiences and to try and make some good of them.

One of the wonderful things about theater is that it can create a non-confrontational place to look critically at our society and culture. The stories of the exonerated, despite having taken place nearly 40 years ago in some cases, are still creating an incredibly relevant dialogue – one that will hopefully continue long after the play is over.

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Tribes-It’s Not What It Sounds Like

-Theatre Review by Judith Krummeck–

Tribes, the second play by the English theatre director and playwright Nina Raine, is, in its simplest terms, a coming of age story about a deaf son growing up in a family with uncompromised hearing. The play also weaves together many ideas concerning human communication in group contexts or, the “tribes” to which we belong. The award-winning play was first produced at the Royal Court Theatre in London in 2010 and had its North American premiere in New York City in 2012. Now, it has reached Baltimore’s Everyman Theatre in a production directed by the company’s Founding Artistic Director, Vincent Lancisi.

Billy (played by John McGinty, who is himself deaf, and is also the Executive Director and Co-Founder of Senses Askew Company in New York) is the youngest of three siblings in a dysfunctional Jewish British family (Raine is Jewish on her mother’s side). The older son, Daniel (Alexander Strain), is a would-be academic, who still lives at home. The sister, Ruth (Annie Grier), also still living at home, fancies herself a singer, and performs opera in nightclubs. The highly opinionated father, Christopher (James Whalen), is a writer, and a firm believer in brutal honesty at all costs. The mother, Beth (Deborah Hazlett), meanwhile, writes thrillers in which she goes back and plants the clues once she knows how the book will end. In contrast to Billy’s silent world, the family is always screaming at, or over each other. In other words, even though these four family members can hear, they rarely communicate.

Sylvia (the always luminous Megan Anderson) enters the mix. Born to deaf parents, she is also going deaf when we meet her. This character brings with her the fascinating debate about whether it is better for deaf people to learn to lip-read, or to learn sign language. Everyman Theatre’s Dramaturg for this production, Naomi Greenberg-Slovin, writes an interesting program note about the evolution of sign language, and its gradual acceptance as another, valid language. The performance this reviewer attended included American Sign Language interpretation (there will be other ASL interpretations on June 10^th and 19^th). Watching the interpreters certainly enriches the experience in unexpected ways. Add the vividness of Anderson’s own signing (which, she most likely had to learn specifically for this production) and McGinty’s, as Billy makes the progression from lip-reader to signer, and audiences begin to realize the vast scope of expression that this silent language allows.

Nina Raine explains that she was inspired to write “Tribes” after seeing a documentary about a deaf couple expecting a child. Those of us for whom hearing is “normal,” might expect that all couples want their child to be able to hear. On the contrary, the couple in the film actually hoped their child would be deaf. Just as any parent wishes to pass on to their children their beliefs, their values, and their language, so the deaf couple wanted to pass on their life experience, including deafness. At the heart of Raine’s play is the supposition of Billy’s family (particularly the father, Christopher) that if they could raise him as a lip-reader, he would be more “normal,” and not an “outsider” belonging to a deaf tribe. What Billy learns, through Sylvia, is the opposite: he is an outsider in his own family, and finds a sense of belonging in the extended family of the deaf community.

The play raises other intriguing issues. For instance, as Sylvia’s deafness progresses, she finds that belonging to the tribe of deaf people, makes her fear that her expressive personality is narrowing. Also, as Billy’s self-confidence improves, his brother, Daniel, regresses to the extent that his childhood stammer returns. Christopher, rather than learning sign language so that he can communicate with Billy on his son’s terms, learns Chinese instead. The metaphors here couldn’t be clearer.

Tribes is a heart-searching play, raising important questions. Many compelling ideas are laid out in the first act; however, an over-stuffed plot weakens concepts. There are red herrings about Billy’s dubious career as a lip reader for legal litigators, and about his on-again, off-again relationship with Sylvia. Nevertheless, the play lingers and probes. Its fundamental message that being a fully hearing and speaking person by no means guarantees empathetic communication, comes through loud and clear.

Vincent Lancisi’s fine production, including sound design by Elisheba Ittoop, uncannily creates a sense of what it must be like to be deaf. Tribes is playing at Everyman Theatre until June 22^nd. Catch it this week!

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Post Photo Courtesy of http://everymantheatre.org

Cilvia Demo

-Album Reviewed By Jacob Kresovich–

Isaiah Rashad, out of Chattanooga, TN, released his much anticipated debut album Cilvia Demo on January 28, 2014. He is currently signed to the California-based Top Dawg Entertainment (TDE) record label. Other notable artists signed to TDE include Schoolboy Q, Kendrick Lamar and Ab-Soul. Rashad is in good company and his style fits in nicely with that of his colleagues. Although Rashad is one of the younger talents on TDE, his presence in the music industry has been expected for some time. In late 2013, HipHopDX declared him the runner up for the “Rising star of the Year” award. He has also been recognized by Complex and XXL this year, with the latter naming in to the 2014 Freshman Class. This list features other well-known young lyricists: Chance the Rapper, Vic Mensa, Lil Bibby and Lil Durk (all out of Chicago), along with others from around the country.

Cilvia Demo opens with ‘Hereditary’ which mimics the west-coast, mellow style of the ‘Black Hippy’ members of TDE. Rashad opens with “My daddy taught me how to drink my pain away/ My daddy taught me how to leave somebody” in his first verse. Are these tough-skinned skills essential to Manhood? Rashad’s tone doesn’t lament the hard-learned lessons his father imparted to him when he abandoned his son at a young age. On the contrary, Rashad presents his unfortunate and deprived schooling as matters of fact—something that cannot and will not be changed about his personality.

Later in the album, Rashad delivers another smooth and sedated tune with ‘West Savannah.’ In the hook of this song, Rashad gives a nod to one of his main musical influences, Outkast, with the rhyme “Now can we fall in love while/ Southernplayalistic banging through the night,” referencing Outkast’s debut album Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik. Unlike ‘Hereditary,’ earlier in the album, this song focuses on young love and the risks one takes, often foolishly, to be with the object of his or her affection. Rashad sings “I will travel for you” / “battle for you” reminding the listener of the stubbornness that often accompanies young love.

In the track ‘Heavenly Father’ Rashad begins to reconcile with God as well as with his absent father. The song repeats the question “Heavenly Father, why are you so far away?” offering two possible interpretations for whom the title of the song is addressed. In the third verse on this track, Rashad drops his silver-tongued style of flow, adopting a blunt tone as the beat fades. He begins rhyming a cappella about his problems with drinking and smoking weed, struggling with his fear that he will die young.

Rashad has said that Cilvia Demo is meant to be an album that you can “just vibe out to.” He delivers. The music covers a wide range of topics stirring up childhood memories to which audiences will relate, and analyzing old scars. Engrossing lyrics reveal a therapeutic tool that Rashad has used to overcome his uncertainty and assert his self-esteem. He treats listeners to a rich, deep and thoughtful expression of his struggle and triumph in the face of abandonment. The artist is immensely talented and this EP will put any doubts about him to rest.

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Post Photo Courtesy of: recognisethemovement.com

Cover Image Courtesy of Goodreads.com

WASH YOUR BOWL

-Reviewed by Kendra Bartell–

Wallace Steven’s taunting epigraph, “The poem must resist the intelligence / almost successfully,” opens Matthew Falk’s collection of poems, Wash Your Bowl. Falk’s poetry hits the mark. The poems are at the same time witty, empathetic, emotive, and imagistic. One poem may have a little more of one flavor than the other, but each reveals aspects of Falk’s searing gaze into what it’s like to be alive.

The poems alternate between swift vignettes meditating on nature and portraits of the earth’s human inhabitants. Falk shifts effortlessly between these two themes as though they are the two sides of one coin he’s tossed high in the air. One poem pictures a poet speaker as a man of the streets almost shouting for connection to other humans. The next, “Imago,” contemplates a cicada’s exoskeleton. On the surface, these movements appear abrupt and disjointed, but taken as a whole, the grand-scale natural images and precise portraits of humanity fit together neatly, like puzzle pieces.

“Corner of Guilford and 29th St., Tuesday, August 6th, 10 am,”immediately announces itself as an ode to Frank O’Hara, situated in modern day Baltimore. The poet speaker declares himself to be a man of the people, praising poets past: “I know you; I am you. Help me / summon the ghost of Walt Whitman!.. Let his mighty beard be / Baltimore, and each of us as / unique and interchangeable / as hairs in that beard.”On first read, it’s hard to see the poem as anything other than an evocation of Whitman and of O’Hara, but Falk brings his own eye to their poetic legacies. Falk isn’t presuming to be either of these greats, but he adopts their impulse to include, speaking to readers as though they are his friends and he has called them on the telephone. Caring tones of humility, friendliness, and due pause for equality underlie the collection.

“Imago,”the third poem, is striking. This is the first poem in the collection that moves beyond the talky, O’Hara-esque beat on the street voice, offering lyrical strides. Here the speaker meditates on a cicada skeleton clinging to his screen door:

I don’t know how to know
if he was really a he,
but the act of naming
made it so. He was,
and is, iridescent.

Again, the surface meaning of the poem is easy to grasp, but Falk’s diction is layered. On one level, the poem is merely a description of this physical thing, the exoskeleton, something a man can carelessly name. On another level, the Cicada is something hollowed of life, though still permanent—a memory. This question of permanence captures the speaker’s imagination. How do enduring forms impact the soul and poetry? By speaking of naming, and the power of naming, Falk explores the influence that writing and poetry have on our lives. The cicada’s “affront to the doctrine / of non-attachment”can be read as a poetic philosophy, akin to Shakespeare’s sonnets predicting that the words will live on long after the author’s death. Words can and do cling to “whatever surface / present[s] itself,”if we only let them. In many ways, Falk’s diction is just as sticky, grabbing and holding onto us as we read through the collection.

The lyric poems are the most fluid and remarkable in the collection. The voice is predominately introspective, but one that surprises. In the poem, “Unmapped,” the lines as “My words turn/into fingers, my fingers / into flowers,” project a playful though distorted reality, each word operating as a medium that carries multiple meanings across and into the next line. Witness Falk’s blur of rapidly changing imagery, captured in snapshots by his supervising consciousness. Falk demonstrates impressive control of line throughout the entire collection—allowing breaks to do their complete work and create arresting double-exposures in the reader’s mind as they parse through the white space.

Falk’s work moves from sadness to humor, from lyric to conversational, and covers the range in between. In its wide approach to aesthetic and creation, the poems in this collection offer something unique to each reader and each re-read of the poem is rewarding. Especially endearing for a poetry collection, there is an Index at the end, where readers can glance to find poems that contain “Faces,”“Salt,”or even “Unicycles,” at once a helpful gesture and one that pokes fun at reducing these poems to singular meanings or images. Falk’s poems offer us much more than one face or one pinch of salt, showing the complex nature of a human being witnessing the world around him. Wash Your Bowl is an engaging, layered collection that will resonate uniquely with each reader, so grab a copy and check it out!

Purchase Copies At: http://mephistofalafel.blogspot.com

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Post Photo Courtesy of Goodreads.com

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The Summer Monologue Contest is Back!

Today’s Prompt:

Stranded

According to Whatculture.com, the number one “most badass” movie monologue is spoken by Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction. Your monologue could be just as memorable….

Ever feel like a good idea or positive thought slips your mind? Monologging.org is interested in your daily stream of consciousness. Whether it’s the first thing you think of when you wake up, or your last coherent sentence before you go to bed, a brief 250 word monologue could make you a winner.

Here’s how it works:

1.) Visit monologging.org every weekday morning to learn the day’s prompt word or phrase.

2.) Contemplate your monologue.

(ADVICE: Let your mind wander! We want to be surprised and so should you. There’s no telling where the word “Socks” or the phrase “The posters in my apartment” may take you by the end of 250 words.)

3.) Submit via submittable. $3.00 per entry.

1st place winner receives: $50.

2nd place winner: $25.

3rd place winner: $15.

(proceeds will determine additional prizes. A selection of the best monologues will be published on monologging.org)

4.)  If you miss a prompt, don’t worry, a list of past prompts is maintained below. Don’t forget, 250 word limit.

5.)Tell your friends!

The contest will begin Monday, June 2, and conclude Sunday August, 31. That means over 60 different prompts will be issued. Write a weekly piece, write every day! Submissions are unlimited and will be judged by monologging editor and fiction author, Jeffrey F. Barken, last years Monologue Contest winner and Kentucky-based poet, Kelsey McMurtrey, and the Chicago-based author, Ben Tanzer.  For more information about the game, monologue, the contest judges, and to read transcripts of the game played in person, click here!

PAST PROMPTS:

1.) Hoop Earring 6/2/14

2.) Walking the Dog 6/3/14

3.) Moments of Silence 6/4/14

4.) Stranded 6/5/14

5.)

Post Photo Courtesy of: sandbox.spcollege.edu

Cover Image Courtesy of Saralyn Lyons

The Skin Beneath

-Book Review by Rachel Wooley–

Saralyn Lyons’ first chapbook, “The Skin Beneath,” released on May 9, 2014, is a vibrant new collection of poetry. Throughout these 25 poems, the female speaker (or speakers — the poems are linked but not necessarily the same voice) explores her identity. She relates physical and emotional experiences, thinking about what she is not (“sorry I’m not / such a patriot either”) as well as what she is.

Relationships and sexual encounters feature prominently throughout the collection: the good and the bad, beginnings and endings, liaisons that shouldn’t have occurred but couldn’t be resisted. But these poems are not sentimental. They are visceral, physical, and sensual. They’re grounded and celestial, vivid and colorful. Some are a little rough around the edges, but the roughness works — this speaker isn’t the polished “long cool woman / swilling whiskey in bars” — she’s more the type to “shake the words and promises off… / and, like a warrior, take charge / of her own mistakes.” Lyons’ characters own their experiences and their imperfections, bringing the reader in close as if sharing secrets with a best friend.

Balancing the celebratory nature of some of the poems in this collection are a few pieces that explore more serious themes. Moments of tenderness occur when a speaker stops to “marvel / at the sudden smallness of you” or, in a moment of fear, to “feel her hand small in mine.” Among the best poems are a beautiful and haunting three-part series called “Visitations,” about the speaker’s dreams of motherhood. Speaking of haunting, a voice-driven poem of that title explores the notion that the speaker’s house might be more attentive than the lover with whom she is living: “my / nerves crackle at the idea / that I could be watched at every moment.”

The speaker in this collection feels young but not naïve – she’s still invigorated by the world and has not become jaded, and the reader gets to share her joie de vivre. The collection explores a woman’s various roles – daughter, sister, mother, lover – in domesticity and day-to-day life as well as her more transcendental moments: “I am Mars burning red / in the pocket of the sky”; “I take my body like a juniper tree / and twist my branches round in hurricane delight.”

The cover of the book – a photographic blur of bright colors – suits its contents perfectly. Lyons designed the book cover and layout herself, crafting a clean, inviting package full of energy and light.

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