Category Archives: Uncategorized

Coldfront Magazine: A Robert Zend Sampler

          I’m delighted to announce that ten visual poetry pieces by Robert Zend have been published in Coldfront Magazine. Many thanks to Nico Vassilakis for welcoming the idea to showcase some of Zend’s typewriter art and concrete poetry, and also to Janine Zend and Natalie Zend.
          Click on the image below to see the sampler. Enjoy!

ROBERT ZEND SAMPLER


Camille Martin

Not Stieglitz’s “Equivalents,” but . . .

. . . here are some cloud formations I took from my rooftop a few days ago:

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Camille Martin

Seven questions for Camille Martin (Touch the Donkey supplement)

          As if rob mclennan didn’t have enough to do following the birth of his and Christine’s lovely Rose!
        Using his super-human multi-tasking powers, he interviewed me in Touch the Donkey Supplement #2. We talked about riffing on Shakespeare and connecting poetry and music.
        Click the image below to Touch the Donkey:

TOUCH THE DONKEY


Camille Martin

Aerial photos between Kelowna and Vancouver

          These photos originally appeared here in January 2014, but I temporarily removed them because they interrupted the flow of my series on Robert Zend. So I re-post them here.
          The photos were taken following a reading for the UBC-Okanagan Visiting Authors Series and a one-week retreat that they kindly made possible. originally I had been scheduled to fly from Kelowna to Edmonton to Toronto, but that flight was cancelled due to fog in the Kelowna valley. My “rescue” flight took me from Kelowna to Vancouver, and I’m so glad it did because the scenery was spectacular.
          Here are a few shots I took from the plane:

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Camille Martin

“pugilist grandmother” and other poems in Fell Swoop: The All-Bohemian Revue

Fell Swoop: The All-Bohemian Revue just published five short-short poems of mine. Mercy to Joel Dailey.

FELL SWOOP 3

PS Fell Swoop is a print-only magazine published in New Orleans by Joel Dailey. To subscribe, send a note to Joel on Facebook. It’s worth every Mardi Gras doubloon you can scrounge up.


Camille Martin

Seven Artichokes in MadHat

        I’m happy as the Cheshire Cat to announce the publication of seven little “artichoke” poems in MadHat. Thanks to editor Clare Martin, who nudged me to send some work.
          Please click the link below to arrive at MadHat‘s artichoke tea party:

MADHAT

PS Apologies for the rash of recent posts announcing magazine publications — after many months devoted to Robert Zend, I have a little catching up to do. There’s one more commercial, after which I promise to return to my regularly scheduled program of essays, reviews, interviews, and whatnot.


Camille Martin

“Smacked by demos”: Artichokes in Talisman

          I’m excited to have poems from R Is the Artichoke of Rose in Talisman: A Journal of Contemporary Poetry and Poetics. Many thanks to editor Lisa Bourbeau!
          The poems are in a section entitled The Occupation: The First of Three Major Selections of Works by and about Women Writers Around the World. Please check it out — it’s a fantastic issue with lots and lots of goodies!
          Click the image below to link to the journal:

TALISMAN JOURNAL


Camille Martin

Of jonquils and grommets: Artichokes in Cricket

          Sublime summer, everyone! (Or wondrous wintertide for those below the Tropic of Capricorn.)
          Some posts got pre-empted by my series on Robert Zend, after which I took a hiatus from the blog for a couple of months. So I’m cranking it up again like an old Victrola.
* * * * *
          Five minimalist poems from R Is the Artichoke of Rose are in the latest issue of Cricket Online Review. Mwah! to the editors.
          Click on the image below for the first poem, then “advance” for the rest:

COR IMAGE


Camille Martin

Premiere issue of Touch the Donkey

          Three poems of mine (“Page Dust for Will”) are in the premiere issue (print!) of Touch the Donkey, published by rob mclennan in Ottawa. I’m in good company with Eric Baus, Hailey Higdon, rob mclennan, Norma Cole, Elizabeth Robinson, Rachel Moritz, Gil McElroy and Pattie McCarthy.
          Click the image below to get to the magazine’s website and . . . well, you know:

TOUCH THE DONKEY


Camille Martin

Shadowing Duchamp’s Readymades (photos)

Shadows from the Duchamp room at the Ottawa Art Gallery:

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Camille Martin

Of Lazyboys and bagatelles: Sugar Beach – my new chap from Above/Ground Press

FRAGONARD JPG          Sugar Beach is my second chap from rob mclennan’s Above/Ground Press (the first was 2011’s If Leaf, Then Arpeggio). This one’s a two-fer — it contains minimalist poems from my manuscript R Is the Artichoke of Rose as well as material from the cosmic peregrinations of Blueshift Road, a work in progress.
          The title poem, “Sugar Beach,” gets its name from a white sand beach on Lake Ontario a couple of blocks from my home, with a view of the Redpath sugar plant; the cover’s Fragonard painting, “The Swing,” is a link in the poem’s chain of thoughts, along with a Smith & Wesson, a trapeze artist, and a black pigeon.
          Click on the images or here to order a copy from Above/Ground Press. Reviews of the chap are welcome.
          Below is a sample poem from the collection, “Endless Regression of Heavens,” first published by Similar Peaks magazine:

QUOTATION MARKS 7
Endless Regression of Heavens

Glaciers dribble foreign rocks
as dawn releases chicory blue.
Its fickle hues waltz round equator,
spool, top, dizzy moon, gainly

as the patter of millipedes ruffling
toward a country with no flag
but fields of chicory blue. Horizon,
chromatic with moments. What

of the next and the next, plunging
into myth evolving in the deeps?
Haunting the deeps while manning
the crow’s nest? With each finite

duration we arrive closer by half
to a famished constellation,
blinking beast perpetually devouring
a platter of chicory blue.

SUGAR BEACH 4


Camille Martin

Sky on sky – photos from the train

Window views reflecting scenes from the opposite windows, between Ottawa and Toronto, returning from a reading for the Tree Series:

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Camille Martin

“Velleity” is on the National Poetry Month calendar!

“Velleity” is on the National Poetry Month calendar . . . it’s “about” logs and peaches and Ma & Pa Kettle. Click below to link to the poem:
NAPOMO POEM
Thanks, Amanda Earl and Angel House Press!


Camille Martin

Quill Puddle Anthology – release party in Detroit!

Friday, April 18 – 7:00 p.m. at the Scarab Club in Detroit

Readings with: Will Alexander, Kim Hunter, Rob Lipton, Ken Mikolowski, Christine Monhollen, Julie Patton, Dennis Teichman, Matvei Yankelevich, Barbara Henning, Camille Martin

and Musical Performances by the Doll Hairs & Julie Patton

QUILL PUDDLE

SCARAB CLUB DETROIT


Camille Martin

Just out: 2nd edition of Anarchy, Geography, Modernity: Selected Writings of Elisee Reclus! (with woman holding the earth on the cover!)

After much re-writing and editing, the second edition of Anarchy, Geography, Modernity: Selected Writings of Elisée Reclus has finally appeared from PM Press!!! Many thanks and much praise to co-editor and co-translator John P. Clark – it’s mostly his book, but I’m so pleased to have played a part in it. And I’m delighted with the cover, which comes from the frontispiece of one of Reclus’ books – a woman holding the earth. Lovely!

Many thanks to the good people at PM Press!

RECLUS AGM


Camille Martin

Robert Zend: Poet without Borders (presentation at The Center for Marginalia)

I’m delighted to be giving a presentation on avant-garde poet, concrete poet, and fiction writer Robert Zend at the University at Buffalo’s Poetry Collection on Monday, October 14, at 4 pm. Many thanks to Edric Mesmer, librarian and curator of the series! Click the link below for a pdf of the flyer:

ZEND FLYER: CENTER FOR MARGINALIA

ZEND CENTER FOR MARGINALIA


Camille Martin

Goodbye, Treehouse

SUMMER RESIZED 2
AUTUMN (1024x768)
WINTER (640x360)
          Thank you, locust tree outside my window. Hugging the north side of my building, you were always last to sprout leaves in spring. I waited and waited for the little buds at the tips of your branches to blossom. You played dead and I worried, and the relief was all the sweeter when you exploded into green.
          In summer, your thousands of tiny leaves flitting in the breeze cooled and fanned me, and concealed my lover and me behind a screen of intricate patterns.
          Your leaves were last in autumn to morph into a bright yellow curtain for my window, last to flutter to the sidewalk and stain it black with tannin.
          Snow piled impossibly high on your stark winter branches, a lesson in fractals and exquisite monochrome.
          Birds, squirrels, and insects have called you home, and so have I. For years I’ve lived in a treehouse. You eased my loneliness and gave me poetry.
          Today, blue sky and almost no breeze, a good day for the tree cutters. Now you teach me impermanence, a lesson I learn even through tears. Eventually you’ll become soil in which other living things can grow.

*
Twigs with tiny
variations bob
against the blue.
No gunshot, no
sprint. Earth murmurs
on its axis, volume turned
off. No hearts beating
to drums. Seeds hook
animal fur. No countdown,
but a desert blossoming
between one and zero.
Droplets fed by tiny
catastrophes dangle
from twigs.

(from Sonnets, Shearsman Books; first published in Fell Swoop)

*
Reaching the border, I forget why I came.
Must be for its own sake; the point seems
moot. It’s a good place to camp and I can still see
out the window. I imagine the vista broader
here: I can quibble as long as I like. I know my disease
but only catalogue symptoms, like eyes the exact shade
of the clutter they invert. And my thoughts
having no passport, no crux, just background noise
to accompany their inevitable mistakes. Here
I can fail the Rorschach out my window, chatter endlessly
about rivers flowing upstream. Still at the border
in a dim room plunging headlong into omens.
I only know that a bit of sand makes a few marbles, that random
is just fingerprints, one planted on aging vellum,
the other on a coin spinning in soft light. Leaves
huddling next to my window last yellow
and fall, still filtering light on children at play.
It’s a more ordinary place than I expected. I’d know
their little calls and yells anywhere, though it seems
I always hear them for the first time.

(from Looms, Shearsman Books; first published in Ditch,)

Prelude

Earth beckons rain and grape, grape
tugs the sun that makes it ripen.
Screen—stretched across a door frame

or painted with peacocks and towering
waterfalls—keeps moths from flame,
flame from extinguishing gaze.

Untranslatable, trading yellow
crayons for leaves. Undeterred,
every leaf shades us.

(from “Blueshift Road”; first published in Truck)
TREECUTTING RESIZED


Camille Martin

Anselm Hollo: Motes & Pellets (a brief tribute)

          I recently published 18 short-short poems in The Puritan from a manuscript entitled “R Is the Artichoke of Rose.”
          As part of that publication, the editors asked me to write an author’s note discussing those poems for The Town Crier. I chose to pay tribute to Anselm Hollo, especially to his penchant for the ultra-short poem, some of which he called “motes” and “pellets.”
          You can read this tribute here.
TOWN CRIER


Camille Martin

18 minimalist poems . . .

. . . in The Puritan.


Camille Martin

“Endless Regression of Heavens” in Similar Peaks

There’s a terrific new online literary magazine in town, Similar Peaks, and I’m pleased to have a poem in it!

Click the image below for more:

SIMILAR PEAKS


Camille Martin