New Review of The Moon Cracks Open

Yu-Han Chao has written a review of The Moon Cracks Open on Roses and Thorns. Give it a read. Then check out Yu-Han's work. Hell of a writer.

Those Pesky Picas

Actually, it's those pesky ornithologists.

Today, while researching another book, I found out that The Moon Cracks Open: A Field Guide to the Birds contains some faulty science. Fortunately, it's a book of poetry, so the science is of questionable import anyway. However, my poem "Writing at Grizfork Studio" identifies the magpie as Pica pica. Turns out, it should be Pica hudsonia.

They (ornithologists, not the VanPatten's) had thought, until recently, that the black-billed magpie of the western U.S. (and my poem) was the same species as the eurasian magpie. But now, the official word is nope. (Not a very official sounding word, I know.)

Anyway, here's the new version of the poem, based on the latest science. If you'd like to read the original, unscientific version, you'll have to buy the book.

Writing at Grizfork Studio (Pica Hudsonia)

Each day begins
w/ the conversations of magpies
who never run out of things to talk about

Each morning unfolds
w/ the fact of those mountains
who never feel the need to say a thing

I sit at my desk
w/ both of them and try
to grab hold of something that lies between the two

On a good day,
I come close.

Coyote of the Birds

(I like that title. Reminds me of "Harold of the Rocks.")

Anyway ...

Something I didn't notice until after the publication of The Moon Cracks Open: A Field Guide to the Birds is the prevalence of Coyote dancing through those pages. I think, somehow, he and Crow are the two main characters of this story. I was already aware of Crow's stature in my writing (he will show up in poems about anything -- always an unannounced yet welcome guest). But Coyote is different.

At first, only his voice appears. He himself remains hidden. He's heard first in "Federico Garcia Lorca Reminds me of Robert Frost," a poem that seems to speak to the frailty of a life lived isolated from nature:

" ... When a coyote knifes the darkness
you think of sirens ..."

And then, nearly a dozen pages later, in "Southeast of Red Shirt":

"... Coyote’s song rings in my ear
like the afterglow
of a lightning flash ..."

In both poems, his voice comes at night, as a knife and as lightning. Both cutting the fabric of the darkened sky. But when we finally see him in the flesh, it is in the light of day:

"... They trick the sun as
Coyote tries to
but always gets distracted
by his own dancing shadow
(These being shadow, have none) ..."

Here is being compared to his counterpart, his opposite, his double: the Crow. They spin around each other like the Yin and Yang elements of the Taoist symbol. Coyote is of the night, but brings day with his lightning flash. Crow is of the day, but made of night. Together they turn the wheel of the sky around the world.

The final time we see Coyote, he is bringing day back into night; continuing the endless cycle of birth/death/birth. In "The Illness of Windows," a northern junco has died by flying into the window near our feeders at Green Point Nature Center. The idea is that it is our human weakness that necessitates buildings, and therefore windows; and if it weren't for this weakness, this illness, the bird would still be alive. But coyote enters at the very end of the poem to remind me that forms change, but Essence is eternal:

"... I place the stiffening body on the grass,
deciding against burial:
the coyotes, at least, have a love of glass."

By Way of an Introduction

Greetings and Salivations!

So I've finally decided to keep a blog. I've been blogging erratically on my MySpace page and haphazardly over at AuthorsBookshop.com, but it seems high time I got a little more focused with the whole enchilada (blue corn from El Azteco).

My idea is to use this space to discuss background, backstory, and bacteria relating to my published and unpublished writings. I'll flesh out topics that perhaps necessitated being passed over a bit lightly in their original form (whether poem or prose piece). And I'll try to answer any questions that anyone may have regarding my work -- or anything else for that matter (I can B.S. like a PhD and PDQ, too. OK?)

What writing works are these, you may be asking? (Imaginary audiences are great: you can make them ask all the right questions. Plato knew that better than anyone, that's why he sounded so damn smart all the time.)

Anyway here's what's been published (feel free to give them a browse before continuing, and by all means, order a copy or two):

The Moon Cracks Open: A Field Guide to the Birds (Poetry)
A Handful of Dust (Novel)
Jihad bil Qalam: To Strive by Means of the Pen (Anti-War Anthology; Editor)
and three poetry chapbooks: Saginaw Songs, The Lost Writings of Miscellaneous Jones, and When God Was a Child.

There have also been several plays produced/performed at the 303 Collective, CAGE, and Bedlam Studios. You can learn more about them here.

I'm hoping that this blog proves helpful and entertaining to my readers (and helps new readers find my work). So spread the word, pour a strong cup of Josef, or open a bottle of red wine -- preferable a San Giovese (the "Blood of Jove",) or crack a cold one -- preferably PBR (the Drool of Joad), and put on your reading goggles: Here comes the CrowVoice Journal.