Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Destinations? Stephen Poleskie

Steve Poleskie performing over Southampton, England, 1989
Pilgrimage: Inner and Outer Destinations

We can none of us step into the same river twice, but the river flows on and the other river we step into is cool and refreshing, too. W. Somerset Maugham, The Razor’s Edge.

What was my journey? Pilgrims do not normally carry their destinations with them. When what you are seeking is the sky, however, your goal surrounds you constantly, its lightness weighing on your shoulders. It even extends to the ground, so you step lightly. Or did I? Or was it merely “up” that I was seeking - and hating the way?
            Yes, I once sought the sky; to put my brand on it, stripe it, circle it, bore holes in it. But that was then. Now I leave it alone.
            In 1985, I traveled to Toledo, Ohio, to do an Aerial Theater performance. I made numerous drawings preparatory to that event which I called “Sky Dances of the Maumee,” the Maumee being the river that sliced through the city’s downtown. My program was wedded to that river, the only space I was permitted to fly over. If the airplane was to go down it must be only me who would be injured, or perhaps die. Thanks to a requirement of the FAA, the sponsors provided a rescue boat with a doctor in it cruising below. I later found out that the “doctor” had been a veterinarian, the only person they could find who would volunteer his services. Toledo was not my destination, only a stop on what I thought at the time was my great journey.
For my performance in Toledo I had dancers on the ground, the Valois Dance Company, accompanied by musicians, the Tower Brass Quintet. All went well. It was probably the most coordinated event I have ever presented. But Toledo is not a destination for major art critics, unless you bring your own. There were nice articles in the local newspapers, and on television. When it was all over I was paid $2000.00. The woman from Chamber of Commerce said that this was as much as they usually paid rock stars. I was also taken out to dinner at a restaurant owned by a popular actor, who hailed from Toledo, and whose name I have forgotten, who once played Corporal Klinger on the TV series MASH.
In 1986, Kassel, in Germany, was a grander destination. I would be going farther on the great journey. I had a whole room filled with of my drawings in the Kasseler Kunstverein. I also did a thirty-three foot tall “sky drawing” on the museum’s main stairwell wall with blue chalk. The wall drawing was erased after the exhibition, just as my drawings in the sky were dispersed by the wind. There were drawings in the sky, but I was not allowed to fly the airplane. Instead they were executed by a professional skywriter from Hamburg.
A year later I was invited to participate in Documenta, a major international art exhibition also held in Kassel, but at a different venue. Then my invitation was suddenly withdrawn. I subsequently learned that the organizers had been unaware of my previous exhibition when they had invited me. Documenta needed to have the latest thing, at least for Kassel, where I was last year’s stuff.
Now I am headed in a different direction. I have no idea how far I shall go, but the destination, as always, is up. The one thing I am sure of though is that this time I have fewer days remaining to get there.
                                                                                                                    
From a piece written by Stephen Poleskie, Ithaca NY, 21 July 2007

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Stephen Poleskie’s writing has appeared in journals in Australia, Czech Republic, Germany, India, Italy, Mexico, the Philippines, and the UK, as well as in the USA, and in the anthologies The Book of Love, (W.W. Norton) and Being Human, and been twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize.  He has published seven novels. Poleskie has taught at a number of schools, including: The School of Visual Arts, NYC, the University of California/Berkeley and Cornell University, and been a resident at the American Academy in Rome. His artworks are in the collection of the MoMA and the Metropolitan Museum in New York and the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, among others. He currently lives in Ithaca, NY, with his wife the novelist Jeanne Mackin.

Stephen Poleskie's web site: www.StephenPoleskie.com

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Sunday, January 10, 2016

Two Poems - Mike Foldes

The best time to read poetry

So, when is the best time to read Poetry?
In the morning, I think, when mind
is clear as the sky at night, dark space
to be filled with the light of Poetry’s fire.
Where else can one find inspiration
set like a lens over the wandering eye?
The focus, there, is on the meaning behind
the words, the float a lender takes between
sleep and dream, that willfully unconscious,
self-inflicted unguent of parallelism.
In the afternoon, I think, when the words
like rain settles dust settle doubt
raised in rooms of ambition and conflict.
We are strung like amber beads in the thread
from breakfast table to work, and home again.
At night, in blue chair’s pocket beside stones
warm from the hiss and crackle of orange flame.
And, wherever one is astride the jealous universe
whose hands cup the beating heart
dripping sparks into mouths of caves,
the existential uterus where
galaxies and amnesia mix
in sweet harmonics that direct
the dance of mating dragonflies.



leave me alone

the beauty of the land,
i think from the edge of the road
between cut cliffs that rise
left and right, a man-made crevice
clefting the horizon,
is the freedom they evince.

an elder shepherd rugged
as the land admires
snow-covered peaks, takes
comfort knowing it is his land;
he has learned to live with it
hand to mouth, mother and moth.

i walk into the morning mist,
a low-hanging cloud
that scrapes the earth
like a zeppelin’s belly
scrapes treetops,
breathe deeply my damp air.

i love this dreary december
that feels like october.
am as refreshed by it
as the man on horseback
is refreshed by a calm cold
sea of stars in a desert sky.

leave me alone, each of us
says soundlessly. leave me
alone to live the life
i’ve been given. i made this
choice before i was born.
leave me. let me alone.

Mike Foldes


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These poems originally appeared in the French magazine Francopolis

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Mike Foldes is the founder and managing editor of Ragazine, an online literary magazine. He is also the author of "Sleeping Dogs, A true story of the Lindbergh baby kidnapping," and "Sandy: Chronicles of a Superstorm," with artist Christine Devereaux." 
Download at www.Smashwords.Com and www.Amazon.Com

editor@ ragazine.cc 
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Join Mike on MySpace & Facebook



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Saturday, December 26, 2015

Happy New Year 2016



photo by Stephen Poleskie
www.stephenpoleskie.com


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Friday, December 11, 2015

Ode To Tommy


Sasha Thurmond

Tommy, my timeless love
You left me up North
A split second to oblivion
Black blanket, a starless night
Rain daggers stabbing my heart
An iron beast dragged your body
Down the highway to no where
A figurehead  on a ship lost at sea
You whispered in my ear
"Go South with our menagerie
Start a new life
I'll be beside you
Trust me, You must be brave."


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Sasha Thurmond is a graduate of the Cornell University MFA program where she majored in printmaking. She lives on a farm in South Carolina with her horse and other animals, and sometimes finds time to make art or write poems or stories.

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photo by Sasha Thurmond

                          


Sunday, November 22, 2015

Violent Outbursts, Thaddeus Rutkowski

READING THADDEUS RUTKOWSKI’S latest book “Violent Outbursts” is addictive. You pick it up planning to read one or two short stories, or are they flash fiction, or poetry, and then you find yourself unable to put the book down until you have finished the whole thing. So what exactly are these compelling short pieces, most only one page long?
           Alan Catlin, writing in MisFit Magazine states that “Rutkowski’s pieces are to prose poems what Russell Edson’s are to fiction. Thad’s work has many of the same elements of Edson’s best work: absurd, outrageous situations and resolutions, deft biting satirical humor, and a mock, generally self-effacing narrator.  So go with flash fictions. It works as well as any other designation does. This is good, highly charged, terrific, distinctive writing no matter what you call it.”
          The book has gotten numerous favorable comments. Author Ed Lin calls Rutkowski; “the original language gangster (who) tips over words and lets them fall on you.” And Max Blagg states that Rutkowski’s collection: “skirts the edge of psychological revelation, with hints of darker meaning coursing below the surface.”
          Emerson has said that a writer, in order to write well, must give oneself wholly to their feelings as one has them, and not to thesauri or dictionaries. In “Violent Outbursts” it appears that Thaddeus Rutkowski has taken this direction to a good end.

SG

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Violent Outbursts
Thaddeus Rutkowski
ISBN 978-1-941550-58-8
124 pages 16.00 USD
Spuyten Duyvil
Brooklyn, New York



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Tuesday, November 10, 2015

From the Finger Lakes, A Prose Anthology

From the Finger Lakes: A Prose Anthology contains the work of 44 highly-talented local authors of fiction, memoir, and reportage writing both about the Ithaca area and parts of the world less "centrally isolated."  Cayuga Lake Books launched the book at two readings.  The first took place on Sunday, November 8, to a large crowd in the Borg Warner Room of the Tompkins Country Public Library between 2:00 and 5:00.  The second was held on Sunday, November 15 at Buffalo Street Books.  The following authors participated:

NOVEMBER 8,   TOMPKINS COUNTY PUBLIC LIBRARY

Rhian Ellis, Guest Editor, Mary Gilliland, Ann Gold, Daniel Gold, Stephen Poleskie, Jeanne Mackin, David Guaspari, Amber Donosio, Barbara Adams, Gene Endres, and Nino Lama

NOVEMBER 15 AT BUFFALO STREET BOOKS

Rhian Ellis, Guest Editor, Carol Kammen, Brad Edmondson, Gerard A. Cox, Katharyn Howd Machan, Douglas Green, James McConkey, Lamar Herrin, Fred Wilcox, Ira Rabois, and Alison Lurie


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Monday, October 19, 2015

In Memory of Paul West

Paul West  1930 - 2015
Paul West, noted novelist, essayist, and poet, passed away peacefully on October 18, 2015 at his home in Ithaca, New York after a long illness. Paul was born in Eckington, Derbyshire in England to Alfred and Mildred (Noden) West. He was a graduate of Oxford University and served in the Royal Air Force. He taught at Penn State University for many years, and was a literary critic for the Washington Post. Paul is survived by his wife Diane Ackerman, a writer, poet, and naturalist. 

In his lifetime Paul was the author of 54 books. The last four of which were published by Onager Editions. He has received awards from the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters, the Lannan Prize for Fiction and the Halperin-Kaminsky Prize. He was named a Literary Lion by the New York Public Library and a Chevalier of the Order of Arts and Letters by the French Government. He has also been a runner-up for the National Book Circle Award and the Nobel Prize for Literature. 

We are reprinting here one of Paul's poems from his book Tea With Osiris, which was previously published in in this journal in August 2006: 

One summer's day in winter
      when the snow was raining fast, 
      a barefooted boy with clogs on
      stood sitting on the grass.
      He went to the movies that night
      and bought two front seats at the back, 
      ate a big plain cake with currents in, 
      and when he'd eaten it he gave it back.

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