PoetryBootCamp




When I started Poetry Boot Camp four years ago, I didn’t realize what a community it would become for me, as well as for participants. When people began to join us from out-of-the-way places like Nicosia, Cyprus and Dede, Guam I was thrilled, and looked them up in my atlas, trying to imagine their landscapes and figure out the time difference between us. Now we have a Boot Camper who is writing her poems at the South Pole! This seems a fitting time to provide a forum so we can hear more about where people are and what they’re doing, and I’m going to start things off with this blog (dreadful word!) from three of us: Lynette Harper at the South Pole, Lisa Suhair Majaj from Nicosia, Cyprus, and me in the foothills of California’s Sierra Nevada. I’d love to have you check in and post your comments!

To be added to Molly's e-list to receive the weekly essays she writes for radio as they are written (text only), please contact her at molly@mollyfisk.com.

August 3, 2008

Poetry News

Filed under: Uncategorized — Lisa @ 6:06 pm

It’s been ages since I logged onto this blog and it looks like I’m not the only one! But, today I have good news I wanted to share. My poetry manuscript Geographies of LIght just won the Del Sol Press poetry prize. Which means it’s finally coming out as a book. This manuscript has been a refugee for so long it’s hard to think of it as being housed. But I’m glad! Because it took so long to find a home, it grew quite large, and is now 100 pages long. I am ready to let it go and start the next manuscript.

I hope 2008 has been good for everyone. It hasn’t been the easiest year on my side of the globe, but as I age I’m finally beginning to learn to be grateful for the minutes as they tick by, one by one. It’s where we live,after all, in that infinitesimal space between clock ticks, between the in breath and the outbreath, the moment of now. I try to remind myself of this, day by day, as the sun rises and sets, my children grow taller and I grow older. Growing older is not as bad as I used to make it out to be, my bad back and bum knees notwithstanding: it means I’m still around to witness and partake of life. I’ll take that any day!

I wish all of you out there sunny days, starry nights, and endtables groaning with poetry books.

Lisa

July 19, 2008

Anyone out there?

Filed under: Uncategorized — Joan @ 12:50 am

Hi folks,
It’s been two years since I last logged on to read this blog, and Boot Camped.
It seems noone has posted for quite a while. Am I missing something?
Glad to be back, Joan

December 31, 2007

New Year

Filed under: Uncategorized — Lisa @ 8:28 pm

It’s 2008 in Cyprus. Two hours and 23 minutes into 2008, to be exact. I suppose that for those of you in the US, if you happen to be reading this, you still have a few hours to go before you crack that champagne or whatever you do for new year’s. So, it gives me a chance to get first dibs at wishing you a wonderful new year.

2007 was a year I’d like to let go. Too many bad things happened in 2007, some of which are still ongoing. We can’t wipe away the past on new year’s eve, alas. But we can vow to start fresh with some things.

I’d like this to be a year of paying attention. Life is going by too quickly, and I need it to slow down right about now. I don’t know of any other way to slow down time except by paying attention. It’s not always possible, depending on the demands being levied on one, but I’d like to try. And therein lies the stuff of poetry, after all.
I wish you all out there in cyberspace a year of health, happiness and poetry. May you dream dreams, and may some of them come true. May your bodies carry your forward into the futures you’ve dreamed. May you wake to another morning, and another, and another, and may the sun be shining each time you awaken. May you be well. May you be at peace. May you be happy.

Happy new year, from my house to yours.

Lisa

Nicosia, Cyprus

May 3, 2007

Yuba College

Filed under: Uncategorized — Molly @ 3:33 pm

This is just after a reading I did there on Tuesday, standing with Professor Sally Harvey. Good audience of students and faculty. Batting practice outside with aluminum bats that sounded to me like rigging hitting a mast (also aluminum, I guess). It was a nice day.IMGP1205.JPG

February 16, 2007

The Vagina Monologues

Filed under: Uncategorized — Molly @ 7:59 pm

Well, after five rehearsals and several weeks of practicing, I got up on stage Wednesday night (Valentine’s Day), and moaned. I moaned in 18 different ways. Luckily, our director, Sheila O’Connor, had the bright idea of including all the other cast-members in the moaning, so probably no one in the audience will remember what I sound like specifically.

It was a big challenge to moan, not to mention to say “vagina” so many times, but I’m glad I did it. I wanted to get over being embarrassed by the word itself, and also the location, and I wanted to contribute to a political cause that I believe in: the ending of violence toward women. But mostly, I wanted to have fun.

And I did!!

I also wanted to get up on this stage that Mark Twain stood on and see how it felt, just in case I should maybe rent the Nevada Theater and put on a talk there. I like being in the audience, but I like being on the stage even more. 250 seats, and then a balcony for overflow. The seats are arranged in a slight curve, so you feel like you’re in the arms of a hug. It’s wonderful.

I seem to be unable to get photos on this page that are the right size, so here are two tiny hints, and for more, go to: http://www.tommyg.com/VaginaMonologues/index.html

VM cast, cropped.jpg

Molly-Gaylie.jpg

February 8, 2007

Leaving the South Pole

Filed under: Uncategorized — Lynnette @ 11:51 am
A little late- but sent with good juju…
After 13 glorious months of darkness, no fresh fruit, two minute showers two times a week, and mild memory loss I finally left the South Pole on November 10th. Then I hid out in Christchurch, New Zealand trying valiantly not to get run over. I haven’t been around vehicles that move faster than 5 mph in over a year. Not to mention vehicles that move very, very swiftly and from the opposite direction I am used to. Leaving Christchurch on November 17th I spent one evening in the bizarre world of the Singapore Airport. This is the airport Tom Hanks should have gotten stuck in while in the movie “The Terminal”. The joint has everything- a swimming pool, two gyms, a mall, restaurants, massage parlors, a hotel by the hour (yeah, I thought that too), and a Malaysian Santa with his own bevy of Malaysian girl elves. Call me racist- but Santa just isn’t Santa when he weighs a buck and a quarter with a tan.
After arriving in Chiang Mai I waited in line at customs. I know it is irrational but customs people terrify me. When I was a flight attendant with Northwest Airlines I would almost have an anxiety attack everytime I had to clear customs. Which was almost everyday. It’s not because of anything I am attempting to smuggle- while flying into Singapore I threw my gum and Altoids away just to be double sure. I am uber careful when I travel about anything they might find offensive. It’s the incredible urge I get to confess for things I have already done. I am not religious by any means- but I think if I were Catholic this would be the same urge I would get when seeing a priest. Just spontaneous confessions. Which would cause me more grief than I could handle if, while going through Thailand customs, I blurted out “Ok, fine I stole that pink Barbie dress from Becky Murray in the third grade!”
I made it through customs with all my sins intact then stood patiently at the luggage carousel while it spit out all the contents of the flight. Slowly the luggage dwindled to one blue suitcase whirling slowly round and round. There is such a despair that falls over me when the luggage carousel clacks to a stop and my luggage is no where to be seen. I stood there patiently, as if it was going to start up again and my big backpack would suddenly appear. I made my way to the Lost Luggage counter and the before I could say anything the Thai man, his name was Oak and I was able to refrain from asking if he had a brother named pine, walked out to the carousel and pointed to the one lonely blue bag and said “That your luggage?”
“No Sir, it’s not”
He points again “You sure that not your luggage”
Well it has been 16 hours since I checked it in, perhaps it mutated or I just plumb forgot what my luggage looked like.
“No Sir, I am positive that’s not my luggage”
So began the arduous task of filling out forms, choosing a luggage mugshot that best represented my backpack, and trying to tell him where to bring it when it was found since I had no idea at this point where I was staying.
I should admit this right up front. I didn’t prepare for this trip in any manner. I didn’t read up on the history, or pour over maps, or try to learn the language. I did pick up a copy of Lonely Planet in the Singapore Airport and listen briefly to the “Learn Thai” language program on the plane before I fell asleep. Other than that I pretty much showed up with a backpack and a desire to eat as much mango as humanly possible. But first,  I needed a place to stay.  Since my gorgeous niece is named Sarah I chose Sarah’s Guesthouse from the guidebook. I called and a  British woman’s voice answered- so polite and well, British, I just knew this was the place for me. I envisioned a regale British ex-pat with flowing skirts and an herb garden. As the guidebook description of the place said it was affordable, close to the night market, had a cooking school, and a garden. Upon arrival the garden was a patch of packed dirt with two dirty dogs and a couple of decrepit mopeds in various stages of dismantling. As I walked in the garden one dog crawled under a truck and the other dog, a large retriever, took to jumping on me and nipping anything he could reach. After leaving a nice tear in my jacket, I kneed him ever so discreetly. This was to be a ritual we repeated upon my every return to the guesthouse. Jump. Nip. Knee. Jump again, Nip Again, Knee again.
After running the gauntlet of dog I found Sarah. Who wasn’t at all darling and regale. She was like a mental patient trying desperately not to be seen. She just dodged around corners or spoke rapidly from dark areas before sending a Thai girl out to take the money and show me to my room. I kept telling myself she had her dentures out and didn’t want to be seen. But in the brief glimpse I got of her she seemed a bit young for extensive dental work. My room  was on the second story and had a fan, two small beds, and a private bathroom all for 6 bucks a night. That evening I collapsed into bed and awoke to what sounded like the largest dog fight in history occurring outside my door. It was just every dog in the neighborhood greeting every human that walked by. And I do mean every human.
Then I realized I had been devoured by mosquito’s in the night. Small, red bites on all of me. I went immediately to a drug store to get some Benadryl. Now here is an interesting fact about Thailand. Other than morphine or codeine, there are no controlled substances. You can self dose with anti-biotics, pain killers, allergy meds…this is a hypochondriacs dream world. The pharmacist, who most people go see to get diagnosed, looked at me and said “Oh, that’s not mosquito. You have bed bugs”
This obviously must be a mistake. Bed bugs, bankruptcy, and chlamydia are things that occur to other people. Not me. I’ll admit right up front- I’ve had ringworm, ticks, and flea bites like nobodies business. But bed bugs? Freaking gross. I didn’t believe him until later that day I had a Thai massage and the therapist said “Oh Miss, you have bed bug, huh?” The hunt for new digs was on.
Nipping dog= annoying.
Packed dirt “garden”= ugly.
But bed bugs= move immediately. I moved to an adorable little joint called The Bamboo Den. Which really reflects the Siam heritage better than some old British broad.
This last week here in Chiang Mai I have been taking Advanced Thai Massage courses from Lek Chaiya Nerve Touch School. http://www.nervetouch.com/  I have had knees and elbows in places that shouldn’t have knees and elbows. I have crawled on, yanked, pulled, thrown, and basically beat the holy living daylights out of people all in the name of Thai Massage. This is full contact massage. It has been so marvelous I start another course tomorrow in the country. www.homprang.com . 
Today I spent the day at Thai Farm Cooking School. It was fantastic. They came and fetched me from my guesthouse this morning then we, there were 5 of us, went to a local market where the guide explained all the fruits and products we were going to use. I missed an enormous amount of this instruction because I couldn’t stop watching the fish whacking happening next to us. Two men were standing next to a fish tank so full of fish they were just gasping to keep alive. A few made a mad dash out onto the concrete floor but it did them no good as they were scooped up, placed on a wooden block, and whacked on the head with a club. Then tossed in a basket where a woman was pulling them leisurely out and gutting them. Fresh doesn’t seem to cover it.  We left the market and drove into the country. At one point we were on a rutted dirt road and over the brush I could see two monks bathing in a pond. Their Saffron colored robes drapped over the bushes and waving in the wind. Monks here wear black skivvies in case you were wondering.
At the farm we picked the herbs we would use. Then we lined up in an outdoor kitchen with free standing propane stoves and cooked our hearts out. We made curry, sticky rice and mango, papaya salad, pad thai, stir fry and egg rolls. It was a great day away from the city.
Of the millions of things that stand out here the complete lack of litigation or fear of being sued is the biggest. If I were to go to a cooking class at a farm in the states I would have to sign five documents saying I hold no one liable, I know there will be fresh products which could cause stomach issues, sharp objects will be present, I will be riding in the back of a truck, there will be dogs present, and the stove is a free standing propane tank. And there will be no refrigeration available. Actually if I saw all that in a cooking school brochure in the States I probably wouldn’t go. But when in Thailand…

February 6, 2007

Finalist

Filed under: Uncategorized — Lisa @ 3:35 am

I just found out that I”m a finalist in the Philip Levine Prize in Poetry, out of California State University, Fresno. Ok, so I didn’t win. And I dearly would have liked to (especially as I would love to be published by Anhinga Press.) But, unlike Molly, I have not yet reached the point of becoming jaded by being a finalist! :-) I’ve been a finalist in poetry contests for individual poems before, but this is the first time my book manuscript has garnered any sort of attention. So, you know what, I’m celebrating!

At least for this morning. Then I need to head over to the post office and send the manuscript out again.

Lisa

Filed under: Uncategorized — Lisa @ 3:35 am

February 5, 2007

Poetic Bones

Filed under: Uncategorized — Lisa @ 3:50 am

Congratulations, Molly, on winning that prize!!! Kudos to you!
Sorry I’ve been lost in cyberspace for so long. I haven’t had much to report: one illness after another has felled either me or members of my family for months on end, and although I’ve been trying really hard to find something poetic to say about gastroenteritis (my latest malady, following on the heels of the bronchitis and the back pain), I’m just not quite finding the words….. (I could hear that sigh of relief from across the Atlantic! :-)

But here’s a tidbit from my four year old, who normally is not very verbal. Yesterday he told us with great seriousness, “I know why foxes like birds. It’s because under the skin, they’re chickens.”

And just the other day he told me, happily, “Mommy, the moon is dancing and my head is dancing.”

Maybe he’s got a poetic bone in his body after all.

Which makes me think of a line from a kid’s song on a folk music album we’ve been listening to lately… “Man is made of dreams and bones.” Well, women too, of course. I just love that line.

Lisa

PS: re tatoos: The best compliment I ever got on my poetry was when I learned that someone I knew had been to a writing workshop where one of the participants had a line of my poetry tatooed on her wrist!

January 31, 2007

Dogwood Prize

Filed under: Uncategorized — Molly @ 7:36 pm

I just won the Dogwood Prize from the University of Fairfield in CT. I’m thrilled, needless to say, and delighted that the judge was Marilyn Nelson, someone I’ve admired from afar for a long time (not least because she teaches now and then at West Point). They gave the poem a Pushcart Nomination, too, and I haven’t had one of those in ten years, so it’s very heartening!

And this, right after I wrote a radio essay about NOT winning prizes. I’m not sure whether I’m allowed to post it or if that constitutes publication — it will be in Dogwood’s 2007 issue, in May. I think I won’t risk it. If you’d like to see it, I can e-mail you a copy. It’s not one of my regular personal-narrative poems, it’s about Edward Hopper and arrived out of thin air one day when I was at my writer’s group doing timed free-writes.

The moral of this story is: you can’t win if you don’t send out your poems. I stopped for about six years and kept wondering (vaguely) why I wasn’t winning things or getting published. I got very jealous of the people who were winning. Then I figured it out.

And remember — if you’re one of my students, I will take you out for dinner when you receive your 100th rejection letter. Something to aim for…

xox M.

Next Page »

Blog by Velocity7 | Powered by WordPress