Kathleen Rooney is the current featured poet at Anti-, and her poem “Midwestern Groom: Dream no. 2” knocks my socks off.

Give it a read.

I’ve joined the editorial team at Anti- as an assistant editor. It’s great to be able to work for a journal I admire so much.

In April I commented on the invention of the julainnelle and suggested that a julainnet would be a neat form.

Someone has definitely proved the form has promise here.

I’m taken with it.

Nic on Very Like a Whale linked to an interesting take at Harriet on attempting to sound like other writers.

My reply on Harriet:

I never thought of it in terms of karaoke, but you’re right. It’s a good comparison.

Only by trying what someone else does do you discover how hard (or easy) it is to do. You get to hear what you sound like when you employ the same tricks, since you won’t sound like the original no matter how you try.

Tomorrow I may disagree with this, but today? I’m all over it.

Poetry: The Hits

Xanadu!
Kubla Khan!
Take drugs much?

***

Death
AND Immortality?
Not much footroom.

***

Wow,
that’s a
ton of ships.

Achilles
versus Hector.
The crybaby won.

Vietnam
with swords
and giant horses.

***

She’ll
forget you.
But not yet.

***

Mouse
or man.
Life likes surprises.

***

Donne
offers candy
from his van.

***

Lippo
sounds like
awful plastic surgery.

Monks
visit hookers
then talk forever.

***

Goblins
say “Buy.”
That ain’t fruit.

***

Chickens.
Red wheelbarrow.
Something about Depends.

One of the posts that gets a lot of hits long after I posted it is titled “No rhyming poems please.”

The latest comment is a tad on the bizarre side if it’s addressed to me.

Though I really don’t like Kipling. I’ll admit to that one. And I can’t claim to have read many rhyming poems by Robert Browning, though I may be blocking them out after my bad run ins with Fra’ Lippo Lippi. The bastard.

Because he’s sitting on my desk and I had my camera.

More discussion going on at Gazebo about critiquing, which makes me wonder: What do you really want from a critique?

For me, I just want to know if it’s working. Honestly, I don’t even usually care why or why not.

What do I not want? Well, something that drives me crazy is a long, detailed, blow-by-blow critique that makes a wrong assumption from the outset, meaning the person went to a lot of trouble for nothing. This doesn’t happen often, but I’ve seen it a few times. There’s nothing you can say at that point, as the poet, to make it better. All you can do is say “Thanks!” or “Actually, this isn’t about the Russian Revolution, so the 15,000 word essay you just wrote doesn’t really apply. It was nice reading it, though!”

On one very small board I frequent, I love the give-and-take of poet and critter. It allows the discussion to move gradually while each issue is hammered out. That’s probably not possible on a larger board, but it’s my ideal. I can say a lot of things about a poem, but if I’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick from the get-go, the things I say aren’t going to be useful.

So, what are you looking for?

On Duotrope, if you get a poem rejected, they want to know what sort of rejection. Was it form? Was it personal?

Steven Schroeder has a post on his blog that talks about form and personal rejections, too, which is what got me thinking about this today.

My problem is that I’m not entirely sure what these terms mean. I mean, I know what a form letter is. But at what point does a rejection make the switch over to “personal”?

If it’s not cut and pasted, but doesn’t actually have any specific reference to your work, is it form? If it’s addressed to “Dear (your name)” does that make it personal? If it encourages you to submit again?

Examples culled from rejections I have received:

Poet,

We will not be publishing any of the submitted poems.

The Editors

Dear Julie,

Thank you for submitting to Journal X. Sadly, we will not be using any of your work for the upcoming issue.

Regards,

Susan Foosan

Dear Julie,

Thank you for submitting to Journal X. Sadly, we will not be using any of your work for the upcoming issue. Please feel free to submit work again.

Regards,

Susan Foosan

Dear Julie,

Thank you for submitting to Journal X. A few of your pieces came very close, especially “Poem That Doesn’t Suck.” But in the end, we didn’t feel they were right for our journal. Please feel free to submit work again.

Regards,

Susan Foosan

Dear Julie,

These poems are smiggish, morbled, and fufoed–which is both a plus and a minus. I don’t want to turn them all down, but I don’t feel they fit with our journal. If you have other poems lying around that are more bliburbtious, do send!

Regards,

Susan Foosan

(Apologies to all Susan Foosans everywhere.)

So, which (if any) meet your criteria for “personal”?

How about a print copy returned that has “Try again!” written across it in red ink? I haven’t received something like that, but I know someone who has.

Am I making this too complicated?

“I can’t make an appointment with him now. He’s in jail.”