**Where Have All the Workshop Venues Gone?**

 

Since the Pandemic, there has been a tremendous overturn of venues that used to happily host open poetry mics. Some have closed, and some are no longer willing to make the space available. Zoom has become a contender, and has its advantages as well as drawbacks. In a Zoom reading, one can interact with poets from across the country and around the world, a rarity at best in the Before Times. Unlike a live reading, however, interaction is limited to private chats and public conversations instead of intimate chit-chats in a dark corner of the coffee shop. But nothing is perfect. With Zoom, Calling All Poets (CAPS) would have been doomed, and it still maintains an ambitious online schedule while waiting for its next physical venue to emerge. The Woodstock Poetry Society currently holds hybrid meetings at the Woodstock Library, an ironic twist since its previous incarnation, the Stone Ridge Poetry Society, had its origins at that town’s library. The ART BAR is no more, so Teresa Costa’s Word of Mouth Poetry series (WOMP) is on hiatus, with hints of a future resurrection making the rounds.

But readings are one thing, and have ebbed and flowed in the 40+ years I’ve been attending. The current difficulty for me personally is finding a venue to offer my RANDOM WRITING poetry workshop at. Past locations are often history, or have incarnated into high priced rentals that are out of reach of my wallet. Talks are in the works for a session at the Poetry Barn, a fine addition to the poetry scene here in Ulster County. I am also making plans for a one-day event at a private home here in Kingston, NY, a generous offer I will tell more about soon. But the old days of a side room at the library, a bar, a church have all evolved in this newly “upscaled” valley into big buck endeavors.

Now, it is America for sure, and Capitalism still reigns supreme, even as the costs of housing, food, and healthcare rise to criminal heights. Everybody has a right to make a fair and reasonable buck. But now more than ever, we need arts that are accessible to the other 90%, people who can tell the stories of life without trust funds and safety nets. Groups like TMI are doing this good work, putting out there tales of the real world that most of us populate. And certainly I charge a fee for my workshop, too. Nothing I could actually pay the light and water bills with, but what I believe is fair compensation for my time and experience.

I have an opportunity to offer a session of my poetry workshop under the auspices of the Hudson Valley Writers Guild. The stipulation is that it needs to be free to participants. A $100 stipend will cover my small expenses. However, I have reached out to three area libraries with no reply, even while emphasizing that the class would be free. I am at a loss now where else to look. Churches that once offered the use of their space for free or nominal charges are now making a business of it, it seems. I cannot think of a retail space that would be appropriate either, understanding how much they are all being overcharged for their own square footage. Finally, my own home is truly too small to host more than a couple friends at a time socially, let alone an eager group of poets!

Any ideas? I am open to suggestions. Perhaps in the spring one of the local parks would be an option. If the rent isn’t too high.

2023: An Overview of Sorts

 

The end of the calendar year is supposed to bring a review of the previous 12 months, or at least an assessment of accomplishments. In this near-post-Pandemic environment, there was a facade of normalcy, but deep differences that will take years to return to former experiences.

There were live readings, with many in attendance still masked (not a bad thing). I usually do not mask at this point, but others are of course free to do so. Am I in denial of the consequences of COVID? Probably, but here we are. I’ve been vaccinated and boosted multiple times, and even spent a week with my Beloved ill, and still have not contracted the virus. With all my allergies, I can’t believe it’s anything more than luck that’s kept me well. I’m also working from home for half the year, limiting my exposure to others for great lengths of time in enclosed spaces. I’ll take it.

I’m sorting through files again, this time with more purpose, determined to put things in a usable order. The first time I worked from home, I was too frightened about the state of the world to do much cleaning or organizing of consequence. I’ve abandoned that fear, for the most part, and am now primarily concerned with making the most of the rest of my life, artistically speaking.

There have been a few readings sprinkled in, a short feature courtesy of the Ulster County Women’s Network, a couple more live streams with CAPS, and a Hudson Valley Writers Guild reading in Albany with some Midwest poets I hadn’t yet met in person. I published another Flying Monkey Press chapbook, and helped out at Bruce & Joanne Weber’s Samsara poetry marathon this past New Year’s Day.

I’ve been writing a monthly column for the HVWG newsletter, but somehow this blog has fallen off my task list, despite appearing again and again in my planner. A lot of what I would normally say here has ended up there. Whether or not anyone reads either is anyone’s guess. Both systems make commenting difficult, and I know that there’s a lot of competition these days for eyeballs on the internet. I hope some find it at least diverting for a few minutes. Don’t we all need diversion from this reality we could never have imagined?

2023 is a big unknown for me so far. Resolutions are a daily thing, so making more at the end of the calendar year is no longer a thing for me. With recent health revisions, I am more acutely aware of changes, good and bad. I push through. My mortgage is paid off. I’d like to stop working altogether in a few years. I promise not to be bored when my schedule is my own. That’s all for now.

"Winning" Poems & How They Get That Way

I attended a memorial for my friend Dan Schmidt last week. Among his many excellent qualities, Dan had a knack for focusing on the core essence of a person. He looked past the superficial details that might distract the rest of us, and connected directly with everyone's true self. He shared sincere joy, caring and grief with all he came into contact with, and remembered the details, too. I was of course stricken personally by his passing, but almost immediately realized the greater loss-- to all his friends, his birth family, and the community he adopted so many years ago as family.

And what does this have to do with poetry? Well, the day after the memorial, I attended the annual meeting of the Hudson Valley Writers Guild, and as part of the proceedings, the awards for the 2015 Poetry Contest were presented. As one of the judges, I felt an obligation to explain a bit about what I look for in a "winning" poem. "Winning," is a relative term, and on any given day I could have picked three other poems as winners. In the right frame of mind, I might even have challenged my fellow judge Howard Kogan to a duel to defend his choices. But, with the understanding that being a "winner" is a fleeting and subjective state, I offered a peek into the workings of my process.

Unlike my friend Dan, I am often distracted, by the presence of overused words in poetry-- "moon," "love," "soul," are just three of the words that cause me to be on guard. They are extremely powerful images, which is why they have been so frequently used. They can also indicate a lazy poet who chooses an image that s/he knows we are all familiar with instead of describing something completely, or with fresh language. If someone can write a poem with the word "rose," in it and make it sound new, more power to them. It's a tremendous goal that few can achieve these days.

What I look for in a strong poem isn't necessarily perfect craftsmanship. Forms are more of a pastime to me these days than a legitimate structure that enhances the effectiveness of the poem. Then there are all the grammatical bugaboos that can be distracting if you've been cursed with a solid education in the illogical details. These things can be gently corrected by an editor who can sense the gold within the straw.

What cannot be added is truth, honesty, passion. Poems are written for many reasons, and not always noble ones. Ego, revenge, and fear have often been the impetus for a poem. For me, the most powerful poems are written because the poet can do nothing but write. This compulsion is obvious in the work. It pulses and purrs with an unseen energy that is undeniable.

An added bonus is if the poet expresses themselves in unique language, fresh imagery. Being a bit on the lazy side myself, I find the easiest way to do this is to write the words down that come to you, not the words you've heard other poets use. Don't be afraid of writing in your own voice. It's the only one worth using, and really, the one the world wants to hear.

If you're wondering, no, I haven't written a poem about Dan yet. A few images have been kicking around the back of my brain. When I do (and let's face it, I will), it may not be the best poem ever written. But my intentions will be sincere. I owe Dan at least that much, and so much more.