It Goes Without Saying

We spent the day in Port Townsend yesterday in an attempt to secure housing for the very near future. Drove around a bunch, looked in windows, imagined gardens and places for River to play. It’s down to two houses now. I’m voting for this gorgeous little secret that wasn’t even listed. The yard isn’t great, but the owners don’t mind us tearing up some grass to plant a big garden and will help buy some plants to make the front more private. Inside the house, though, is a special place. Impeccable woodwork, tall ceilings, lots of light and great little quirks. I can see our life there easily. It even has this inlay of a compass! Talk about finding direction!

Elie’s pick has a gorgeous entry, more private yard with older trees, and while the house is big, it is also kind of lame. We’ll be deciding soon!

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I have a poem in the current issue of Indiana Review and a “new” piece up at Ink Node. Check ‘em out! And remember to buy a ticket if you want to hear some excellent literature during the Off Hours Summer Reading July 29!

Dang. I don’t know where to start. Been gone a month, but I’m back in the northwest and happily so. River is one and walking. I’m twenty-seven—still a lad, I know. Summer is rolling along nicely. Some friends have arrived from other places; some are on their way out.

I still have a lot to say about solo-sojourns in the backwoods, current writerly worries and impending boat-building mania. For now, I just needed to get something out here so I can move on and into a more regular flow. River says geez dad. And I agree.

There have been some momentous occasions in the past week. For starters, River has a new cousin! Finn Suriyun Braaten was born on June 29th at 3:00am. He’s got a full head of dark hair and fits neatly in the length of my forearm. It was amazing to see River next to Finn—River in constant motion looming over Finn’s tiny sleeping body. One year. I can hardly believe how much changes.

Speaking of changes, River is walking! He’s been able—I swear—for a month at least, but until two days ago he wouldn’t take a step without holding at least one finger. I know a new form of chasing has entered our lives, but I’m glad he’s taking on this independence.

It’s especially nice to imagine how close River and Finn will be as they grow up.

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We’ve been enjoying our Midwest odyssey, going here and there, visiting friends and family, celebrating the marriage of good friends, taking in the hot and humid, paddling, grilling, smiling. Elle’s birthday is tomorrow and I’m ready to spoil her.

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I posted a new (old) poem up at Ink Node and I have a new new poem in the current issue of Indiana Review. Also, check out this wonderful poem by Luke Johnson up at Rattle. I’ve had the good fortune of reading Luke’s full-length manuscript (which includes this poem) and I can’t wait to hold the book in my hands before long. It’s pretty exceptional.

I’ve been writing a bunch and working to get that poet feeling back, especially before my reading on July 29th and especially before Bread Loaf.

For now, I’m happy to linger in the last week of fewer obligations. Then it will be back to packing, moving and searching for ways to make money. A cardinal—damn they are red—just landed on a table not three feet from me. I think it means (the meaning maker says) that I should get back to the moment.

So, I just wrote a poem. The first one in a month or so and only the forth or fifth all spring. I hardly feel like I can write a thing, but I’ve felt this before many times.

Still processing my time alone in the wilderness. I would like to write more about it very soon. For now, I can say that it is good to be in the hot humid Midwest, catching up with family and longtime friends.

We’re out here for a few more weeks and then it’s back to Seattle. If you live there you should come out on July 29th for this hip young reading series dubbed The Off Hours. I’m one of the featured readers this go round and I’d like to feel like a poet by then.

More soon, I promise.

Just a quick note to say that I will be out of touch for the next couple weeks. 

River is officially one year old in a matter of hours!  We’ve had a number of great celebrations and I just can’t say enough how damn proud I am to be his dad.

I drive north in the AM to lead a staff training trip at Camp Manito-wish.  Should be three-four days of great fun and learning. Then, the morning after cleaning up from that trip I head out for an 8-day solo trip in Quetico Provincial Park of southern Ontario.  My itinerary is set (about 100 miles of paddling; 30 or so portages).  Almost all familiar haunts, but it will be all new going solo. I think I’m ready mentally. I have everything packed, minus some fresh food. My WFR is still current and I’m in good paddling shape.

Precaution is the keyword and quiet, too, I suppose. Wish me luck. I’ll write when I return.

Thus begins the week of celebrating River’s first year on Earth! Last night was the kickoff—a lovely beach barbecue hosted by River’s Go(o)d Parents, Pete and Jane. It happened to be the one gorgeous day in a long streak of wet and cool days. We enjoyed good company and cheap beer while River sampled sand and got ridiculously dirty.  He had a blast.  We sang happy birthday to the little guy and he looked up totally bewildered at the spectacle. With that done he had no trouble accepting the kid-inspired banana-cupcake-with-peanut-butter-frosting made special by Jane.

River’s actual birthday isn’t until this coming Saturday, but we’ll celebrate again with my family tonight before we take off to the Midwest on Wednesday, where we’ll celebrate once again with another barbecue. This milestone seems worth lingering over, imagining and re-imagining how one little person can change the lives of so many people.

I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: I love being a dad and, as much as this can be true about little ones, River makes it easy.

It’s been a rainy week and all I’ve wanted to do is hunker down and hibernate. Instead, I’ve had the pleasure of hearing 20-some student readers at the WITS year-end event (they were all incredible), seeing my friend Pete’s art opening at the Henry (more on this later) and making a damn good tortilla soup from scratch. I’ve also been working on poems, prepping submissions, writing grants and reading as much as possible.

Even with all this good stuff, I’ve been restless—internet interaction is slowing down for the summer and there is just a week left until I am done with all of my current obligations. So it was with great surprise that I found good news in the mail today: I’ve been awarded a 2010 Individual Artist Project grant from 4Culture. It was this time last year that I received a similar envelope with a similar surprise; I was childless then, it was gorgeous out and a noon-beer seemed right. Today, with River at my hip and a hunger in my gut I ate a greasy burger and smiled out into the rain.

One of the things I love most about 4Culture is the fact that they support the creation of new work that will have a public benefit for the residents of King County. For my previous grant I gave a free reading with Todd Boss. It was a great culmination to the new work I had created, but I’m even more excited for this year’s public benefit: I’ll be producing limited edition broadsides of a couple new poems to be distributed throughout King County for free. I’ve always seen broadsides as the place where the literary arts and visual arts meet most gracefully. And, as they are rarely free, I’m glad to make them available to folks who might not seek them out otherwise.

I’m incredibly grateful for the support and for the faith that I will continue to create work that is worth sharing. As I said this time last year, for their kindness I’ll be putting my shoulder to the wheel.

I had the great pleasure of finally meeting Oliver de la Paz last night. He read at Open Books along with Allen Braden—two distinct voices that paired extremely well together. Braden’s work was largely made up of sharp lyric poems, glinting as brilliantly as a mirror flipped back and forth under a noonday sun. The beauty of the language, however, never overshadowed the precision of thought in each of the poems, particularly in a series called “Taboo Against the Word Beauty.”

Oliver de la Paz first caught my attention when this poem was up on Poetry Daily a few years back. His new book, Requiem for the Orchard pairs his tangled childhood in small-town Oregon with his journey as a new father. He writes with a fierceness, making striking metaphors unapologetically: “Stillness is an acre, and his body / idles, deep like heavy machinery.” He melds the two worlds with a precision and patience that allows the poems to unfold with surprising grace.

The reading—which would have been grand regardless—was made even more delightful by the fact that Oliver happens to be a generous and friendly man. I’ve talked to many poets after readings and none have been so humble and welcoming as Oliver.

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There is a fascinating essay by David Biespiel in the current issue of Poetry magazine. The tagline reads: “As go America’s poets, so goes American democracy.” I’m still trying to wrap my head around the complex issue of civic engagement in and out of poetry, and the comment chain complicates this even further. Is it enough to be politically engaged in one’s writing? Or does true civic engagement require something more?

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In other news: Tonight is the first of a two night reading series, featuring students from all of the Writers In The Schools programs throughout Seattle. One of my students will be reading a fabulous poem tonight. Come join us if you can!

I graduate in one week! I’m looking forward to celebrating before taking off to the midwest for a month. I’ll be leading a training trip at Camp Manito-wish, where I spent 14 summers of my life, eight of them on staff. Then it’s off to Quetico Provincial Park in southern Ontario for a week-long solo trip.

Later in the summer I’ll be flying out to Ription, Vermont for the Bread Loaf Writer’s Conference, where I was awarded a work-study scholarship. I’ve heard a lot of amazing things about the setting and the community, and I am most looking forward to making some lasting friendships.

The biggest news of all, though, is surely that River is nearly one year old. I can hardly believe it, but I’m excited to celebrate his life in an official way. So much to do, so little time!

Walking between rooms this evening I was startled by the light coming through this quilt Elie made for me years ago. We hung it in River’s room to help him sleep longer. I love the idea that he might wake to something like this.

Yesterday, immediately after sending off my final thesis to Linda Bierds and Heather McHugh, I found out that some forty pages of Heather’s missing comments had just been in the wrong mailbox. For a long time. What missing comments? Well, about six weeks ago I received a fat envelope of my own poems—15 pages from the middle of my ms.—covered in scratches and scrawls, yeses and nos, signed HMcH.

The comments were thorough, harsh and encouraging. And even when they sometimes killed the music I had heard in the lines, I could tell that Heather was largely right. I worked over the poems and then went on waiting for the remaining comments up until yesterday, when I turned the thesis in revised as best as I could.

But, of course, Heather is no flake! So with comments in hand, freshly home from the Poetry Northwest launch and homecoming party, I sat down and read. How I wish I’d had those comments earlier. But still. I have them now.

They sparked and lit a path through my work—showed me what must be done and gave me a readiness to dive back into even old “finished” pieces. And then I tried to go to bed. But in bed I could not usher out my poetry brain and so, like a monster in cheap horror film, it took over, and I was left scrambling for pen and paper in the dark flipping my cell phone open and closed to get a few lines down while my wife looked up from her dreaming unable to understand what had possessed me.

That mad dashing almost never occurs to me and yet I welcome that urge, especially seeing as I haven’t written anything new in about a month. So I’m back to work on the book. Sharpening. The hush hush of pages turning.

And in the meantime, I hope you’ll take a minute to check out my poem, “An Old Curiosity” which is up on Linebreak this week.