Episode 18: Jersey Guernsey, a Frenchman, and 2 Ho's

This episode is extra special because we had Erika Meitner, winner of the National Poetry Series and professor at Virginia Tech. She is currently working on a “documentary poetry project” on the 2016 Republican National Convention...

 

Welcome to Episode 18 of the PBQ’s Slush Pile! This episode is extra special because we had guest, Erika Meitner, winner of the National Poetry Series and professor at Virginia Tech. She is currently working on a “documentary poetry project” on the 2016 Republican National Convention in Cleveland for Virginia Quarterly Review.

 

All of the poems we’ll consider on today’s episode were submitted by Maureen Seaton: "West Ho," "West Ho 2," & "Love in the Time of Snow." Maureen Seaton currently lives in three states of art—Florida, New Mexico, and Colorado (ocean, desert, mountain range)—all bordering on our next-door neighbors, the world.

We start with the “West Ho,” and Tim points out that the poet’s use of specific facts ultimately aids the piece. The wonderful descriptions of sunshine from Jersey to Colorado warms us up to this poem.

We go on to discuss “West Ho 2,” a seeming counterpart. This poem brings nods to the Jersey accent, and leaves us wondering who Lizzy Tish is. The “constellation of places” keeps us “tawlking” about this one for a bit longer than “West Ho.”

We were all a little intimidated by the French in “Love in the Time of Snow,” but Erika reads for us using her “Jersey French.” We love the historical allusions in this poem, and Jason, who grew up in a military family, recounts for us the story of Lafayette in the Revolutionary War.

You can listen to Maureen read her poem “Hybrid” at the University of Miami here, and at a POG reading with collaborator Sam Ace here.

Listen to find out which poems we accepted and comment on our Facebook event page or on Twitter with #WestHo!

Sign for our email list if you’re in the area, and even if you’re not!

Send us a self-addressed stamped envelope, and we’ll send you a PBQ Podcast Slushpile sticker!

Read on!

 

 

Present at the Editorial Table:

Kathleen Volk Miller

Erika Meitner

Marion Wrenn

Jason Schneiderman

Miriam Haier

Tim Fitts

 

Production Engineer:

Joe Zang

 

PBQ Box Score: 3=0

 -------------------------

 

West Ho

Colorado ties with Texas for 6th sunniest

state in the USA. Who cares? The sun’s

 

not racing against itself, why should it?

I will not be buried in Elizabethport nor

 

one of the Oranges like the rest of my clan.

My body will not be flown home in a crate

 

to be clucked over by who knows which

Irish relatives. The way the sun rises here,

 

clanging its huge cowbell, easing the East

right out of you, you’d think everybody’d

 

be tinted silt and rouge and worshipping

The Bright Solar Prince of the Solar Palace.

 

(Who?) I’m but one who recently drifted

from old New Jersey, the 27th sunniest state

 

where the sun shines 56% of the time. Don’t

underestimate the operatic trill and maw

 

of this western sun as it blazes over you

and laughs behind the Rockies. It will draw

 

you to it and sear you like a steak, Jersey

girl, Golden Guernsey, little pail of milk.

  

West Ho 2

I also live in the state of New Mexico, the second sunniest state, and in Florida, the eighth. I live in three places but I don’t have three faces. This is not exactly a metaphor, yet I can see the metaphor coming at me, a satellite in the hard dark sky.

 

Deputy Azevedo placed Dexter’s head in an evidence bag and took it out to his cruiser:

the last words I read as I fell asleep last night.

 

Here in Colorado everyone skis obsessively on Sunday. People break their legs and arms and sometimes their necks.

 

I’m feeling a little Jersey today.

 

Don’t get me talking about dogs or coffee.

 

There are no real characters in this poem, only those who have escaped from Totawa.

 

Lizzy Tish, for example.

 

Lizzy will not be buried in Totowa nor Newark nor Hoboken. Her musical body will be laid to rest somewhere on the plains of Colorado.

 

Personally, I both do and don’t believe in the efficacy of death and dying.

 

Eggcream, potsy, stoop, stickball.

 

These are some of the words a Jersey girl might remember while under the influence of the Colorado sun.

 

Her musical body will be buried in Boulder Valley under the lid of a baby grand piano, her soul accompanied into the afterlife by a flashmob of multigenerational percussionists.

 

 

Love in the Time of Snow Poem

Lafayette, Colorado

 

People who live here

speak very little French.

 

Lafayette, nous voilà!

they sometimes say.

 

Although Lafayette,

famous Hero of Two

 

Worlds, (our world et

le monde de Lafayette)

 

never skied much past

the bunny slope and

 

few remember him slip-

ping bourbon in cocoa

 

after snowboarding—

in fact, few remember

 

him at all—it’s still

historical as hell here,

 

a veritable winter love-

fest de la révolution,

 

hippies and nobles lug-

ing down the Rockies.