Here is a rough image of the cover from Even the Weapons (BuschekBooks, 2014). The image is from a digital black and white photograph by Maria Parrella-Ilaria from OpenARTStudios

Even the Weapons

I am happy to announce that a new book of my poems will be coming out this fall. It's too early to say much more. The title is _Even the Weapons_. I've been working on it for about two years, starting just before _Fancy Clapping_ was published. I am as happy with the poems as it is possible for me to be about my own writing, and I look forward to sharing it. Will post sample poems and the cover once details have been worked out.

Alanna F. Bondar (1968 - 2014)

“I join the lake // I slip in // a quieter echo” – Alanna F. Bondar

               We’ve lost a poet, a teacher, and a friend to the arts.

               I can’t remember the first time I met Alanna F. Bondar but think it may have been in 1997 at Maria’s Fireball Coffee and Arts House in Sault Ste. Marie. There were many conversations about books and writers, and I learned a great deal from her. The first quality I remember admiring about Alanna (and there was much to admire) was her openness, her ability to engender a feeling of familiarity. Alanna was working toward her PhD at Memorial University in those days. When in town, she was always open for a chat over tea or on the phone. It was Alanna who introduced me to Don McKay’s poetry.

               Now that I think about it, we may have met at a reading at Algoma University organized by Karl Jirgens. I do remember several readings Alanna gave at those events. I remember listening with admiration.

               Some years later, Alanna kindly read at the Alt-Shift performance series Maria and I organized through the Art Gallery of Algoma. Alanna had the audience entranced with a piece about a cockroach. When we collaborated with Lake Superior State University for a reading in Sault, Michigan, Alanna was there too. I still have the poster from that event (with Alanna’s name misspelled).

               We grew up in the same city, with only a few months between us. We may have met in high school, had mutual friends. I remember her shock upon learning of the difference in our ages. “Don’t tell me I am older than you,” she said. From then on, I referred to her as my nerdy older sister, which she didn’t seem to mind.

               I realize now I don’t remember when I met Alanna; it’s like I’ve always known her.         

               In the early 2000s, I was fortunate to be in her Modernist Poetry class at Algoma University. She was still working on that PhD, a pursuit she enriched by waitressing tables, travelling the world, reading, and writing. Of that Modernists class, I recall three things most clearly: Alanna’s bill bissett imitation; the generous critiques and corrections she made to my essays, which rank among the most useful writing advice I’ve ever received; and the concern she had for her students. It was clear even then, in the early days of her teaching life, that Alanna loved the classroom, loved her students, and was invested in our success and development.

               In 2011, Alanna’s first book there are many ways to die while travelling in Peru (Scrivener Press) was published. It’s an extraordinary book: challenging, infuriating, lyrical, and wonderful. I spent a good part of last night rereading it. The inscription brought me to tears: “So wonderful to be a part of these events with you. Thank you for your voice, and for sharing it – A.” It's a classic Alanna encouragement. There, at the delayed launch for her book (she had been too weak to give readings the previous year), Alanna was encouraging others to share their voices. I will always cherish her reading at the Art Gallery of Sudbury in 2012 and at the massive celebration held for her at the Art Gallery of Algoma the following year.

               I wish I’d been a better friend, that we’d spent more time together, that I’d called her up or invited her over more often. Life can dictate its trajectory.

               All I can say at this sad time is: Thank you, Alanna. I love you. I miss you.

New Scrivener Press site

Ordering your favourite Scrivener Press titles just got easier: http://www.scrivenerpress.com/store/p26/Fancy_Clapping.html

 

 

 

 

 

Summer

It's carnival time in my town. The main street, where I live, is closed to traffic. Musicians and antique cars fill the lanes. A band shell has sprouted in the park near the river. Stores are open late tonight. Everywhere is fun and frolic. It is summertime, after all, and the living -- if not exactly easy -- is less difficult than in the months of chill and cold that preceded.

I have a feeling about my town. For as long as I can remember, it has been the place that is about to happen. We have legitimately great musicians living here. There are brilliant minds at work. There is a generation about to take the reins that will make the impossible manifest. I have great hope.

As culturally interesting as Sault Ste. Marie is, it is also poised to become one of the best places on Earth in which to live. Geographically and ecologically, the city is in the middle of the largely pristine (by 21st century standards) land. Lake Superior, the second-largest body of freshwater in the world, rolls right by not a quarter kilometer from my door. To the north, we have expanses of forest. To the east, some pretty good farmland. And recently, that new generation of leaders has been organizing the heck out of the agricultural providers.

It's a great place to live...in the summer.

Double-Think

The act of "liking" on Facebook and "following" on either FB or Twitter defines the user's information preference. Both platforms respond to these preferences by flagging and sending stories to match. The user then draws his/her worldview through an ever-narrowing and ever-specializing, self-designed filter. And we think still think Big Brother is watching us

 

 

 

Emediacy revisited

The act of "liking" on Facebook and "following" on either FB or Twitter defines the user's personal preferences. Both platforms respond to these preferences by flagging and sending stories to match. The user then draws his/her worldview through an ever-narrowing and ever-specializing, self-designed filter.