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I am so excited to hear that Marita Dachsel is launching her debut collection this week.   

"all things said & done" is described by her publisher as "a visceral exploration of the moments of life that stand out in the pages of a family album and the intervals of memory."

Marita was born and raised in Williams Lake, BC, and has lived in Kamloops, Dawson City, Auckland and Montpellier, France. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from UBC and has been published widely in Canadian literary journals. She currently lives in Vancouver with her husband, playwright Kevin Kerr, and their son, Atticus.

First crushes, first times, weddings and trips across town, across water, and across continents. Sounds awesome.

Dachsel perceptively sprinkles these moments with the details photographs don’t reveal, as in "Dispatches from an Impending Marriage": "Don't talk to me about photographers./ Nothing will capture this. A printed paper/ will only mock—/ a gaudy misrepresentation/ a plastic jesus on the mantle—/ two dimensions of fabric, teeth and skin."

This is a triple book launch so Marita will also be reading with Nancy and Sean.
See below....

Nancy Pagh was born and raised on Fidalgo Island in Anacortes, Washington. She burst onto the literary scene at age twelve with the publication of her poem 'Is a Clam Clammy, or Is It Just Wet?' in a local boating magazine. Before earning Master's degrees in Literature and Creative Writing at the University of New Hampshire, and a Ph.D. in Interdisciplinary Studies at the University of British Columbia, she worked in the scientific publications unit of the National Oceanic & Atmospheric Administration in Seattle. She teaches English and Canadian Studies at Western Washington University and lives in Bellingham.

Sean Horlor was born in Edmonton and lived in Victoria for many years before making Vancouver his home. He has published his poetry widely in literary journals, including Arc, Event, The Fiddlehead, Grain, Pine Magazine, THIS Magazine, The Claremont Review, Inner Harbour Review, and The Malahat Review. His poem "In Praise of Beauty" won first place in This Magazine s 2006 Great Canadian Literary Hunt and was an Editor s Choice in Arc s International Poem of the Year contest. Made Beautiful by Use is his first collection of poetry.

Dewinetz published a broadside or a chapbook of her work. Check it out! Oh Dewinetz! How the hell are you, dude? Long time no talk?!?!?

why not be a W R I T E R ? ? ?

found this on The Sheebeen Club

I slept with Margaret Atwood too!

'kay this is wrong on so many levels but at least they are reading and referencing Canadian writers! Let me know if you laughed or not.

WE DON'T HAVE TO S T O R Y

We don't have to story ourselves to live good - deep - lives. ------------------------------------------------

Susan MacRae  picked up a copy of Rilke's Collected Poems recently, and she found the poem, "For the Sake of a Single Poem" by Rainer Maria Rilke, again. She blogged about it. Check it out.

LINK TO SUSAN'S BLOG HERE: SUSAN'S BLOG.   If you want more Susan, more of the time, you can also read her other blog. CLICK HERE: WHITE FOX PUBLISHING - FOX THOTS CONTINUED.

FOR THE SAKE OF A SINGLE POEM

.....Ah, poems amount to so little when you write them too early in your life.  You ought to wait and gather sense and sweetness for a whole lifetime, and a long one if possible, and then, at the very end, you might perhaps be able to write ten good lines.  For poems are not, as people think, simply emotions (one has emotions early enough) - they are experiences.  For the sake of a single poem, you must see many cities, many people and Things, you must understand animals, must feel how birds fly, and know the gesture which small flowers make when they open in the morning.  You must be able to think back to streets in unknown neighborhoods, to unexpected encounters, and to partings you had long seen coming; to days of childhood whose mystery is still unexplained, to parents whom you had to hurt when they brought in a joy and you didn't pick it up (it was a joy meant for somebody else -); to childhood illnesses that began so strangely with so many profound and difficult transformations, to days in quiet, restrained rooms and to mornings by the sea, to the sea itself, to seas, to nights of travel that rushed along high overhead and went flying with all the stars, - and it is still not enough to be able to think of all that.  You must have memories of nights of love, each one different from all the others, memories of women screaming in labor, and of light, pale, sleeping girls who have just given birth and are closing again.  But you must have also been beside the dying, must have sat beside the dead in the room with the open window and the scattered noises.  And it is not yet enough to have memories.  You must be able to forget them when they are many, and you must have the immense patience to wait until they return. For the memories themselves are not important.  Only when they have changed into our very blood, into glance and gesture, and are nameless, no longer to be distinguished from ourselves - only then can it happen in some rare hour the first word of a poem arises in the midst and goes forth from them.

GOOD NEWS: I rec'd the keys to my NEW WRITING STUDIO last night during ladiez poker nite. It's located on Broadway and Main. Deanne and I will be hosting an open house in the next few weeks and we hope you can join us for a cuppa.

Here's an interesting article from the Guardian that references the poem: LINK

Susan MacRae  picked up a copy of Rilke's Collected Poems recently, and she found the poem, "For the Sake of a Single Poem" by Rainer Maria Rilke, again. She blogged about it. Check it out.

LINK TO SUSAN'S BLOG HERE: SUSAN'S BLOG.   If you want more Susan, more of the time, you can also read her other blog. CLICK HERE: WHITE FOX PUBLISHING - FOX THOTS CONTINUED.

FOR THE SAKE OF A SINGLE POEM

.....Ah, poems amount to so little when you write them too early in your life.  You ought to wait and gather sense and sweetness for a whole lifetime, and a long one if possible, and then, at the very end, you might perhaps be able to write ten good lines.  For poems are not, as people think, simply emotions (one has emotions early enough) - they are experiences.  For the sake of a single poem, you must see many cities, many people and Things, you must understand animals, must feel how birds fly, and know the gesture which small flowers make when they open in the morning.  You must be able to think back to streets in unknown neighborhoods, to unexpected encounters, and to partings you had long seen coming; to days of childhood whose mystery is still unexplained, to parents whom you had to hurt when they brought in a joy and you didn't pick it up (it was a joy meant for somebody else -); to childhood illnesses that began so strangely with so many profound and difficult transformations, to days in quiet, restrained rooms and to mornings by the sea, to the sea itself, to seas, to nights of travel that rushed along high overhead and went flying with all the stars, - and it is still not enough to be able to think of all that.  You must have memories of nights of love, each one different from all the others, memories of women screaming in labor, and of light, pale, sleeping girls who have just given birth and are closing again.  But you must have also been beside the dying, must have sat beside the dead in the room with the open window and the scattered noises.  And it is not yet enough to have memories.  You must be able to forget them when they are many, and you must have the immense patience to wait until they return. For the memories themselves are not important.  Only when they have changed into our very blood, into glance and gesture, and are nameless, no longer to be distinguished from ourselves - only then can it happen in some rare hour the first word of a poem arises in the midst and goes forth from them.

GOOD NEWS: I rec'd the keys to my NEW WRITING STUDIO last night during ladiez poker nite. It's located on Broadway and Main. Deanne and I will be hosting an open house in the next few weeks and we hope you can join us for a cuppa.

I WILL RETURN TO THIS POEM, TIME & TIME A G A I N

I know I will return to this poem

time and time again

throughout my life.

It is our favorite.

Suzanne Buffam
Please Take Back the Sparrows

Please take back the sparrows. They are bothersome and cute. They are brown and daily all year long. They make a plaything of the wind and the spruce. They come too close. They look right at me with their tiny black eyes. They dart through spaces. They pick up the pieces and the pace. From rooftop to eavetrough to wire to branch -- they spring spring spring spring spring spring spring. They are not sorry. They are not singing. Many they are one they are never not somewhere. They are not not singing. They are not slack. They fear the bluejay and the airedale. They drink from the pond! They scatter thinking. They are not asking or telling they are scattering thinking they are shivering. They are awake or they are shivering. Please, take back the sparrows. They bathe in dust.

--Suzanne Buffam, from jubilat and reprinted on Poetry Daily

BUY HER BOOK – PAST IMPERFECT – on amazon.com

blogdigger: http://community.livejournal.com/greatpoets/1504530.html

BUFFAM - the brother - got me into a headlock on the eve of the Poetry Bash. It was awesome! He's the only person in my life that can call me by my childhood nickname and get away with it. He's a doll and is really into hamstring stretches!

November 11th

Wilfred Owen

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Wilfred Edward Salter Owen, MC (March 18, 1893 – November 4, 1918) was an English poet and soldier, regarded by some as the leading poet of the First World War. His shocking, realistic war poetry on the horrors of trench and gas warfare was heavily influenced by his friend Siegfried Sassoon and sat in stark contrast to both the public perception of war at the time, and to the patriotic verse written earlier by war poets such as Rupert Brooke. Some of his best-known works - most of which remained unpublished until after his death - include Dulce Et Decorum Est, Anthem for Doomed Youth, Futility, and Strange Meeting. His preface intended for a book of poems to be published in 1919 contains numerous well-known phrases, especially 'War, and the pity of War', and 'the Poetry is in the pity'.

He is perhaps just as well-known for having been killed in action at the Sambre-Oise Canal just a week before the war ended, causing news of his death to reach home as the town's church bells declared peace.

The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells....

All a poet can do today is warn. That is why the true Poets must be truthful. rip

1,600 words

NATIONAL NOVEL WRITING MONTH - NOV '06 - what's going on?

come and check out how we're all doing with the novel-in-a-month thang.

i got togetha with sadie6 and the crew last night for a "write-in" from 7.00 - 9.00 pm in her coolio apt that she shares with her actor/husband. i believe he's also a painter/director too. he's also crazy/beautiful. watch him tues nights on cbc television on haddock's latest series, intelligence. 

soes when sadie6 and i were out during a break hacking a butt, we ran into tracy smith. she's inspired! and she's writing a comedy pilot! hope to party with her at the whistler film festival in about 3 weeks time.

i've only got about 1,600 words all togetha so far but plan on digging in shortly. i'm a lame ass who is addicted to myspace. it's the devil. turns out i'm writing a sci-fi romance but we'll see where it goes. yah, you thot that was a link to blade runner but sorry to disappoint.

Lunch Poems - Mary Ruefle

Buff suggested this poetry reading by Mary Ruefle ....it was all too much for me. I could only make it through one poem. Mary is so brilliant it is heartbreakin'. I'm weepy, a little lonely and feel sorry for myself. Mary Ruefle has written seven books of poetry. She lives in Massachusetts.

SO TORN UP OVER IT....

so torn over /up all over it /what to mention.

i'm excited by so many things. i'm a happy grrrrl. obsessed with myspace and, well, my space and space in general.

i'm reading a fresh new voice that I'm liking: LINKAGE. Lindsay is all that's all cool. I also have a killer, killer pix of  Canadian author Alden Nowlan that I wanted to share that my brother-in-law, Kent Nason, took back in the day (MAYBE LATER I'LL POST IT. ANOTHA DAY.).

but then i also wanted to mention that CHEEKS

one of my favs, if not fav, male poet has a new collection out and you can buy it here. and i'm buying mine today! i wept when i heard him read at the poetry bash '04 (or was it '05? or was it '03?). and i've never wept over poetry. GDAMN YOU CHICU REDDY!

to top it off, BUFF

one of my favs, in fact my fav fem poet also has a new collection out! you can buy it HERE. and i'm spending a lot of cash on poetry today.

and how can a day get any better, i tell ya?

shout out to my friend and slayer of chaos (in the TV world and the real world) , musses jeanne slater. it's her birthday. all good wishes my friend!

A D D I C T I V E FIRST COLLECTION

What a lovely review of Past Imperfect that I discovered on the Arc Poetry Magazine website. Written by Anita Lahey. I must 'google' Anita. And so it goes! Read more of Suzanne's work on La Petite Zine. I'VE POSTED TOO MANY LINKS IN THIS POST ALREADY. GET YR OWN GDAMN LINK TO LPZ!