Announcing the

Squaw Valley Review 2008

Poetry Reading


at the

Sacramento Poetry Center



featuring:


Joseph Atkins

L. A. Jones

Lawrence Kaplun

Theresa McCourt

and

Wendy Trevino



Monday Dec. 14, 2009 at 7:30 PM

719 25th Street at HQ for the Arts

Host: Bob Stanley, Sacramento Poet Laureate



Scroll down for sample poems, more information about the Squaw Valley Community of Writers, and the readers.


Buy The Squaw Valley Review here.


Come enjoy the diverse styles of five poets who contributed to the latest Squaw Valley Review (2008). There will be a brief period for questions and answers about the workshop experience and proceeds of all books purchased go to the scholarship fund for Squaw Valley Poetry Workshop participants seeking financial assistance with the cost of the workshop.



Poems


Poems by Theresa McCourt



Folding Laundry


Across the fence, white magnolias open.

I fold cloth, slowly, gently,

as if someone were leaving.


Across each sheet, I place my palm,

hold it there as if over a body breathing.

I smooth after every folding

to erase each crease.


Outside, the magnolia’s thick

white petals spread to their reach,

yielding so freely to summer heat.

Inside, I fold from whole, to half,

to quarter.



published at Peter Parasol





Rearview Mirror


The sun, neon orange,

stalls on the asphalt

where the road meets the sky.


Hard to look forward

with such intensity behind.



published at mamazine.com




Poems by Wendy Trevino



Slowly Across California


Passing honeyed mountains—two of them

rose, asking for it, but not one for climbing,

not one for callings, the worst isn’t over yet.


What one does on a train with these layered views

as a hawk falls back, bears its silent cross, sets

the rest in relief, slowly across California thought gathers.


One poorly planned is a suburb

surrounded by orchards or a calico barn.

I’ve been the latter. A small girl looking down,

I’ve been up. A wall of trees arches toward the glass

like a bubble I see myself in, reflected. The idea of you

breaks it, smiles there with a mouthful of pins, light scatters

across a watermelon field. What was I thinking?


Nothing grows forgetful but emerges so.

That sounds like nothing I hear you saying—

that forgetting in the limbs you translate.


In ignoring a thing, I discover it’s everywhere.

Off the concrete it rises, the power lines crazy with buzz, spark

only to rip away this particular blue


that, as it turns out, wasn’t mine to begin with.

Still, the water is lovely—how the waves hit & slip

from the loam-colored rocks, how the surface shimmers

with you sitting here peacefully. I don’t buy it, but I know you

will be happy here. I will be happy with you.

You haven’t known me long. I know.

But, I like the way you put your hands together.






Writing


you & I

paper dolls

before aspens


timing

our cigarettes’

encroaching ash


as I begin

to see different

the knotted


threads

pinned to a

child’s jeans


patience

made rings of

to connect


the late amber

afternoon’s

exfoliated cool


to this crumpled

feeling

wanting


not to let go




[sleep trees systems]


sleep trees systems

of brittle settings


pearls blossoms only

vibrating a spell





Three poems by Joe Atkins can be found here.



Two poems by Lawrence Kaplun can be found here.



Click below on "older posts" for poems by L. A. Jones.



About the Squaw Valley Community of Writers


The Squaw Valley Community of Writers Poetry Program is a one week workshop "founded on the belief that when poets gather in a community to write new poems, each poet may well break through old habits and write something stronger and truer than before. To help this happen poets work together to create an atmosphere in which everyone might feel free to try anything." Although the experience is non-competitive and prioritizes encouragement over critique, admission is competitive (only about 10% of new applicants were accepted in 2008) and determined by the staff poets who facilitate the workshops that year (the Director of the Poetry Program, Robert Hass, and the faculty; 2008--Lucille Clifton, Sharon Olds, Dean Young and C.D. Wright).



Bios:


Joe Atkins, an alumni of CSUS & UCD, lives in Sacramento. Currently he is a freelance writer and homeowner. He enjoys facebook, twitter, blogs, hulu, netflix, movies, bookstores, MP3s, concerts, drinking, poker, his spouse, his cat, and google/excel spreadsheets.


Lisa Jones (L. A. Jones) co-edited The Squaw Valley Review 2008 and is the Interview Editor for Poetry Now. Her work has won local prizes, is forthcoming in Tule Review, and published in Tea Party, Convergence (on-line), Poetry Now, and Qarrtsiluni's Journaling the Apocaplypse (on-line and print anthology). She has a Ph.D. in sociology, but is most proud of her studies with Camille Norton, Kim Addonizio, Susan Kelly-Dewitt, and the great staff at Squaw Valley and the Napa Valley Writer's Conference.


Lawrence Kaplun co-edited the Squaw Valley Review 2008. He was raised in Los Angeles and currently lives in San Francisco, where he works for the California Academy of Sciences. His poems have appeared online in Limp Wrist Magazine.


Theresa McCourt won an Albert and Elaine Borchard Fellowship in poetry in October 2008, and in November 2008, graduated from the Artist Residency Institute through the Sacramento Metropolitan Arts Commission. Her credits include a 1st place in the 2007 Maggi H. Meyer Memorial Contest, and publications include Peter Parasol, mamazine.com, Poetry Now, Rattlesnake Review, and Toyon.


Wendy Trevino lives and writes in San Francisco. Her work has previously appeared in Makeout Creek and Faultline and is forthcoming in the super-fun journal West Wind Review.

Notes on the Nature of Things

1.
On the trail, the naturalist points
to the muted scarlet berries of manzanita,
“Why would the plant pack its seeds
in such hard little bundles?" he asks,

then he explains: parent plants avoid
competition with their offspring.
When fox and coyote carry the seeds
away, the young plants grow
in another wellspring

some other shaft of light.
Inside every story, a strategy.

I don't blame him for the language of why.
We demand the raven have a reason
for her black feathers.


2.
Language for Monkshood:

The flower hooded itself for God.

After a cost-benefit analysis, the flower
made a pact with the bees.

Before they called her Aconite or Wolfbane, before bees,
she chose her own name, curled inward
let her sepals go violet.


3.
A bird can't smell--she needs to travel lightly.
Her empty brain, carrying 300 songs.

The human ear can only hear a portion of these songs
They drop down canyons, between our conventions
of thought, or lift up above us, like the birds themselves.



4.
Desire has its reasons, sure.

They tell us it's all in the pheromones.
How comforting to know: we are who we are,

but first, we are children of stories,
stories of damp forests, heavy with scent.




This poem appears in Squaw Valley Review 2008 this Spring. Purchase the book at http://www.squawvalleywriters.org/poetry_anthology.html


****
"Wild Seed" was published on-line in Convergence.

"Of Asphalt" was published in Qarrtsiluni's Journaling the Apocalypse. Now in print, it can also be viewed on-line.


This site is under construction. More poems (by additional authors) and links (to Lisa's interviews) to come.

Lisa