November 17: Are we not men?

This week’s host, Myna Wallin, described the night as an “all-male revue”, one of the Art Bar’s rare departures from mixed-gender lineups.

So what is the male condition, according to November 17’s eclectic lineup of male readers?

Apparently they pen short poems about long-distance relationships, temper intellectualism with zaniness, think bitterly of squirrels while cleaning eavestroughs, make atrocious Shakespearean puns, channel their feelings through movies and novels and hide online pornography from their wives.

Two out of three wear glasses, according to a limited statistical sampling and at least one of them is named Rocco.

And the Art Bar is happy to have them, at least when they’re as clever as these three brainy, and let’s admit it, disarmingly sensitive guys.

In the in the interest of fully disclosing every glitch in the podcast, please note mysterious signal-t0-noise effects which plague recordings of Jason and Rocco’s readings. Analog gear is apparently still stuck in the age of radio. Also it is likely that too much male energy causes strange magnetic effects. Stay tuned for official explanations.

- Stephen Humphrey

It’s kind of a personal in-joke for Jason Guriel to say he will read a “few short poems” because, he admits, pretty much all his poems are all short. Jason’s compact, clever poems were packed with references to Shakespeare, movies, hand puppets and dead novelists. Jason aimed for big ideas while undercutting himself with with self-deprecating humour.

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Poet, columnist, Art Bar board member and ESL teacher Rocco de Giacomo is a prolific writer and traveler. The poems in his collection Ten Thousand Miles Between Us, convey his zeal for far-flung journeys, but also his love of nesting, or at least his acceptance of maturity. His live readings reveal a writer with an ear for the music of words and a habit of wearing his heart on his sleeve.

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Torpor Vigil Industries founder Steve Venright once again titillated and amused as he deadpanned through surreal, pleasantly confounding wordplay replete with references to hallucinogens. Steve congratulated the strangely silent audience for properly commemorating the Czecheslovakia’s bloodless Velvet Revolution of 1989. He also paid tribute to psychedelic thinker and 2012 forecaster Terence McKenna.

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November 10: Oblique travelogues, Gothic imagination and pastel chalk

Phoebe Tsang impressed with a performance done entirely from memory.

She read poems from her new book Contents of a Mermaid’s Purse, some of which are adorned with a Gothic imagination.

from “Cemetery on Tsz Wan Shan:”

How do the dead feel, fenced halfway up
the mountain in no man’s land? A crowd
of jostling headstones, all crammed together.
How do they like the view? Between
shady foothills and clouded peaks where
electric pylons weave through mist
like horsemen in a science-fiction apocalypse.

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Moez Surani shared work from his debut book Reticent Bodies, arresting poems of the personal and political which offer a unique contemporary lyricism.

from “Realpolitik:”

I will not mourn the dying and deformed
because an idealist cannot be happy.
And I want to be happy.

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(No, you’re not going cross-eyed. This photo wasn’t taken at Clintons. Myna Wallin snapped this shot of Nathaniel during a previous reading at another venue.)

The amusingly irreverent Nathaniel G. Moore read poems from Pastels Are Pretty Much the Polar Opposite of Chalk and the Catullus-infused Let’s Pretend We Never Met. He delivered some off-the-wall insights about Toronto:

from “10 Things I know About Toronto for a Fact:”

This town is positioned in a way that hurts.
This town needs an enigma.
This town is much like haunted lasagna.
This town’s real estate fonts are ghastly.
This town needs serious werewolf awareness and improvement.
The religious banter at Dundas square needs dance-theatre choreography.

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(audio will be added shortly)

- Notes and interviews by Clara Blackwood

November 3: Join us for our metaphysical podcast

Let me tell you a story of poetry and loss.

I was crossing the pedway in Spadina Station when I heard a busker play Fur Elise on the guitar. I couldn’t resist recording a few moments of the music echoing through the tunnel. Then I hastily stuffed the recording machine in my jacket pocket and proceeded to the northbound platform.

The subway doors chimed just as I came down the stairs. Obeying a longtime urban instinct I rushed to aboard the car. There was a clattering noise as the doors whooshed shut.

Only as the car pulled away did I process the fact that my gadget had jumped from my pocket, along with two interviews for the Nov. 3 reading.

Unless I can track down the undeserving soul who has all that poetry and music you likely will never hear my interviews with Carla Drysdale and Maleea Acker.

Unless, perhaps, if you listen very deeply. Find a quiet place. Breath quietly. More quietly, please. Good. Can you hear? It begins with strange echoing music.

- Stephen Humphrey

(Photo by Stephen Humphrey)

The poems in journalist and poet Carla Drysdale’s collection Little Venus marries confessional rage with a concern with poetic forms such as the crown of sonnets. Carla says the tendency of the book Little Venus and its poems to involve the number of four was unintentional, but, nonetheless she recognizes symbolic implications of four in her book, such as completeness and resolution. The emotionally harrowing journey of the book’s speaker ultimately leads to resolution, and perhaps even redemption.

Maleea Acker is a thoughtful poet from Victoria, BC who’s not afraid to invoke nature imagery in her poems. Her latest work, The Reflecting Pool, was released this October by Pedlar Press.

from “Stillness”

I wish I could promise a concern
that would remain. That I might promise an attention
which gave its word not to wander, not to lull. There,
the rustle of the wing, the molted feathers dislodging,
the flight across the terrace; there,
the song stitching the portal through which all of it comes;
there, the entry, watery, dark, flowing,
and we are in and it has flown.

Susan McMaster was at Clinton’s to introduce her 9th poetry book, Crossing Arcs: Alzheimer’s, My Mother, and Me. As the title suggest, Susan’s latest poems focus on the her experience with the progression of her mother’s Alzheimer’s. Her mother, who was lucid throughout much of the writing process, gave her blessing to the collection and has attended launches.

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October 27: Dissidents, imposters, poets and the school teachers who love them

The October 27 readings began with a clever trickster and ended with a good-natured pessimist. Nestled in-between was a woman who never gave up on childhood ambitions to be a poet.

Many thanks to Cynthia Gould, who took several wonderful photographs and interviewed poets throughout October. Things couldn’t have been left in better hands.

- Stephen Humphrey

Daniel Scott Tysdal’s writing has lyrical flair, but he seems suspicious of that talent, which might be why planted audience members interrupted the impostor who read his first poem with demanding queries about meaning and context. Daniel seems also not entirely at ease with intellectualism, which is why he made one poem into a Mad Magazine fold-in. He teaches creative writing at the University of Toronto, Scarborough, which he apparently treats as a chance to unlearn what he knows.

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Spurred on by her favourite elementary-school teacher, Susie Petersiel Berg began writing poetry at the age of 10, but only returned to it seriously five years ago. Her poems are about the quirky thoughts, small moments and little heartbreaks that occur from relations between people, whether a single mom and hockey dad or a predatory Austrian father and his exploited daughter.

About her own work, Susie says, “I have joked that I write about two main topics: kids and death. When I hear a painful story, I take it very personally. So the only way for me to deal with the pain, even if it’s not my own, is to filter it by writing about it. But I think what I write most about is appearance and reality. We all think the other kids are cooler or other people have happier relationships or better jobs or an easier time of things. In reality, we have no idea what goes on in other people’s lives, so I like to explore what some of those realities might be.”

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Rafi Aaron admitted people thought his last book was a bit of a downer, but said he couldn’t come up with many laughs about atrocities of Stalinist Russia. Nonetheless, he never seemed to run short of sardonic observations while bridging his serious, lyrical poems with bone-dry wit. The Toronto Star described Rafi as a poet “who allows simple, fresh, vivid words to cut individual jewels out of the material of language.” He was also full of sensible advice. For example he told the audience, especially rapt during his reading, it was all right to breathe.

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October 20: A trifecta of tale-tellers from the dreamy west coast

Poetry is often a home-town phenomenon, so it’s often a gamble out-of-town poets to stand alone in an unfamiliar city. Nonetheless, three – count ‘em three – traveling Vancouver bards were greeted with enthusiasm by Art Bar regulars with a warmth that belied the dipping temperatures outside. Gentlemen, welcome to Toronto.

Photos and interviews once again by the inimitable Cynthia Gould.

Psychedelic versions by Stephen Humphrey.

George McWhirter is Vancouver’s first poet Laureate. He reached that storied city by way of Belfast, Ireland, which occupies some poems in his collection, The Incorrections, and rumbles through his unmistakable speaking style and knack for a cracking good yarn.

George says his poetic mission is “to make sense out of the senses — like the cat, to get crazy leaps to fall on all five feet, then the sixth. Consider my poetry a cat with six feet.”

Here is one of his slender sonnets, which appears on Vancouver buses.

AN ERA OF EASY MEAT AT JERICHO

Where I ramble
By Jericho in the March
Mist and murk to take stock,
I glimpse an eagle perched
On a hemlock,
Above a bramble
Patch and rabbit that cannot dissemble
Its giddy nibbles in the grass, a pet bunny,
Its bum left to bob like a yoo-hoo to a tummy
In a tree. Fast food, it will tremble
And jerk, then clog the eagle’s throat
Without redress, like a fur
Coat
On a hamburger.

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Sean McGarragle has a serious side, and apparently he reserves it for Toronto, which he considers a tad less giggly than his adopted hometown, Vancouver. As both national slam master for Vancouver’s poetry team and a mental health and addictions worker, Sean adores what is beautiful and upbeat about Lotusland, while devoting some sad words to the poor and desperate among the city’s population.

“I tend to mix the severity of some facets of life with the comedy that gets me through my days,” is how he describes the mix.

Sean is also responsible for the longest off-season Mother’s Day greeting on record.

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In true Blakean fashion Chris Gilpin urges listeners to “put their finger in the wonder socket.” He also encourages stand-up comedians and poets to do it like the plant community and cross-pollinate. Chris wants people to spend seven dollars on the book he published with co-Vancouverite Sean McGarragle titled Seven Dollar Bill. He also strongly advises people to visit the website vancouverpoetryhouse.com, which he curates, to learn all they need to know about the Vancouver poetry scene.

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Psychedelic version

October 13: Dreams, dialectics and the middle of nowhere

(Photo by Stephen Humphrey)

The underslept but unflappable Cynthia Gould is pictured here doing her signature hostess kung-fu, as she tries to elicit a ‘whoo-hoo!’ from the audience for Clinton’s sweet potato fries.

(Photo by Stephen Humphrey)

For a guy from the west coast who resides in a tiny Saskatchewan town, Allan Safarik has a lot of memories of Toronto, many of them based not far from Clinton’s. His poems are populated with characters, whether they be rural folk, big city folk or Can-lit giants, who happen to be old friends, such as Dorothy Livesay and Milton Acorn.

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(Photo by Cynthia Gould)

Writer and filmmaker Leanne Averbach took a detour from her path to becoming a poet into radical leftist politics. Her poems reflect a number of social concerns along with an unmistakable passion for living.

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(Photo by Stephen Humphrey)

Poet and editor John Barton can’t help seeing fish as flesh, dreams as sex and spies in his hallway. He also can’t sit down with a menu without correcting it. His ninth collection of poems, Hymn, was published this fall.

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(Photo by Cynthia Gould)

October 6: Poets get intimate with immensity and Menudo

The adage about finding a busy person to get things done is true in spades of the incredible Cynthia Gould, who already performs a whole range of duties for the Art Bar while juggling a busy professional life (not to mention a three-piece garage band) she also handled the interviews, recording, etc. for the blog this week. See her wonderful photographs.

The lovely and luminous Myna Wallin hosted the evening with her usual aplomb.

The ever-quotable George Fetherling keeps a dream diary, can write legibly in the dark and knows no amber – only green and red. His most recent poetry collection is Singer, An Elegy with Anvil Press. Random House will publish his new novel, Walt Whitman’s Secret, later this year.

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Poet and poetry scholar Anne Compton read selections from her book, Asking Questions Indoors and Out, which  argues with god, portrays dream life as travel and views many sides of love, including the grisly side, through the lens of maturity.

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Salvador Alanis hails from northern Mexico, but lives in Toronto, where he works as a translator for Spanish-language publishing houses. He says he’s interested in the idea of lip-syncing – of letting his poems, translated from Spanish, speak through other people’s voices. Throughout his reading, Salvador conscientiously credited the translators of his verse.

In conversation with Cynthia he spoke about length about the former boy group Menudo and how, literally by accident, he fell into visual art.

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September 29: Angels and monkeys practice deep thoughts while opposite poetry schools swoon tragically like doomed lovers on a windy Tuesday

Deepest apologies to those of you who have faithfully followed the posts of this blog and podcast and wondered when you would see/hear a new one. Things got kind of busy for yours truly and I fell behind preparing the blogs. Expect a disproportionate flurry of new posts as I play catch-up this week.

Assorted volunteers have helped assemble recent blogs. I hope you’re enjoying the results of different cooks in the kitchen. It’s good to mix things up.

Thanks this week to Nicola Ward, who recorded readings and interviews. You’ll hear the voice of Myna Walllin talking with poets. Below are Myna’s photographs of Chris Dewdney and Truth Is…

- Stephen Humphrey

Christopher Dewdney is one of Canada’s most honoured non-fiction writers. However, he says he’s writing poetry again. He regaled the Art Bar audience with poetry about rocket science, angel patrons of physics and all kinds of monkeys.

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Anita Lahey always feels like a deer in the headlights after a reading, she confessed during her ‘post-game’ interview with Myna Wallin. Myna asked Anita whether a sense of place in her work meant there was a fiction voice somewhere in her bag of tricks. Anita, who edits Arc Poetry Magazine, says it depends how much she cares to multi-task.

Anita is pictured, above on Canada’s east coast, where she sometimes goes, occasionally bringing back an accent.

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Truth Is… might be called an energy-efficient poet, bringing even the quietest room to life no matter how small a change she works with. Which might also make her an alternate power source, and don’t we need more of those?

Are literati and the spoken word doomed to a tragic Romeo-and-Juliet scenario? According to Truth Is… speaking out doesn’t always exclude some thoughtful writing down.

Enjoy the ambience of the Art Bar’s windy open-air studio.

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September 22: Poetic trio in the key of Quattro

Valentino Assenza here.

Hosting the Art Bar September 22 was a treat for sure.

The crowd was plentiful and wonderfully responsive.

The three readers all, in one way or another, have showcased their poetic wares under the banner of Quattro Press.

Paul Zemokhol’s poetry had a strong subtlety to it and his humble honesty shone through. Paul usually prefaced his pieces with inspiring little stories which set them up perfectly.

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Gianna Patriarca followed with poems from her book Italian Women And Other Tragedies, first published with Guernica Editions in 1994. The occasion marked a milestone for her, since the book was newly translated into Italian. She is now in Italy launching the book in selected cities. Her colourful, bilingual reading included wonderfully humourous poems about her family and teaching experiences.

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(Podcast will be added some time after Gianna returns from Italy)

Quattro Books co-founder Luciano Iacobelli switched gears emotionally, reading from his Seraphim Editions collection The Angel Notebook. He claimed to like visiting the darker side of things through his poetry. His words generated somber emotions as he paid tribute to a friend that passed away some time ago.

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September 15: Artichoke thoughts and Mexican soaps

The Art Bar blog and podcast will shake things up a bit over the next couple of months and invite different volunteers to interview and photograph the poets. We hope you enjoy this salad of different perspectives.

Clara Blackwood interviewed the poets who read on September 15, while Alison Hancock photographed them.

Hope you enjoy.

Molly Peacock delighted us with her musings on the “minor” side of life. Teacups, paperclips and edibles populated her poems: “Every time I cook an artichoke I think of you–”

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Ricardo Sternberg was the consummate storyteller. He presented new work from a sequence of whimsical poems inspired in part from the colourful characters in Mexican soap operas.

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Jan Conn shared poetry from her newest book Botero’s Beautiful Horses. Sensual and imagistic, many of the poems are immersed in the landscape and art of Latin America.

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- Clara Blackwood