Tag Archives: poetry

“At first I was adrift . . .”: Camille Martin’s LOOMS

Sarah Sarai wrote a terrific response to Looms:

SARA SARAI REVIEW

You can get a copy of Looms at your favourite bookstore or through SPD, Shearsman Books, The Book Depository, Amazon.ca, and Amazon.com.


Camille Martin

Minimalist poems in the new Otoliths

Twelve short poems of mine inspired by word etymologies were just published in the new issue of Otoliths, a poetry magazine based in Australia. They are from a book-length manuscript entitled R Is the Artichoke of Rose. Click below to have a look:

OTOLITHS RESIZED

There’s a plethora of stunning poetic and visual work in this issue. Check out the table of contents. Thanks to Mark Young, publisher of Otoliths!


Camille Martin

Photos: Adam Seelig, Jim Johnstone, and Camille Martin at the Art Bar (host: Josh Smith)

Here are some photos from my Toronto debut of Looms at the Art Bar. Thanks to our engaging host, Josh Smith; to my wonderful co-readers, Jim Johnstone and Adam Seelig; to Q-Space for the warm and inviting venue; and to the Art Bar Series organizers for making the reading happen.

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Camille Martin

Photos from the Robson Farewell Reading

          There was a full house for the farewell Robson Reading on Thursday, March 14. Many thanks to Kristen Wong, Dina Del Bracchia, Shirley Stevenson, and Anne-Mary Mullen, who organized this reading, to the tech people who videotaped it, and to my co-readers, Barry Webster and Andrew Kaufman.
          Here’s a slideshow of photos that I took at the reading. Thanks to Meredith Quartermain for taking the photos of me.

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Camille Martin

We, Beasts by Oana Avasilichioaei: A pre-reading sampler

On Tuesday, March 19, I’ll be reading with Oana Avasilichioaei at Montreal’s Argo Bookshop. The event will celebrate our respective poetry collections published in 2012: Oana’s We, Beasts (Wolsak & Wynn) and my Looms (Shearsman Books). If you’re in Montreal on March 19, please join us.

Wolsak & Wynn, 2012

Wolsak & Wynn, 2012

I’ve been happily engrossed in Oana’s We, Beasts and offer here a sample prior to our reading. The poems in this collection, inspired by fairy tales and fables, have a luminous quality, despite the darkness at their core.

*
where the old road curls into pale blue sky
where rock and pine distill a blurred horizon
backs bend and are divided into valleys

glorified in a field of flags
the Tyrant marches in tight ranks
spells out MOTHER, DIGNITY, FORCE

the story goes like this:
(                                        )
(                                        )
(                                        )
only a hungry ear, a mouth
law speaks in quivers, whips

line by line months break
(here is no child’s game)
incessant in smiles the Tyrant governs
a fist of furrows, knobbed, arthritic

*

No Song

—No peasants, no sepulchres, no bones. A tower, open-mouthed, with no one above its crater.
—No soil that speaks of living, no deity that trains the dying.
—Ruins of a luxury hotel wither two hundred years in the fields. Such is a hospitality of vestiges. Such is finesse. The lastingness.
—Fearful of fevers, no one enters.
—In such peasantless fields, wounds gape uninhabited.

ARGO BOOKSHOP


Camille Martin

The Next Big Thing: R Is the Artichoke of Rose

          If you haven’t heard, The Next Big Thing is a self-interview about a manuscript or forthcoming book. The set of interview questions spreads like a chain letter. Once every poet on earth has participated, we’ll send a space probe to exo-planets suspected of hosting alien poets sufficiently evolved for onanistic interviews.
          I was tagged by Marthe Reed to participate, and in turn I’ve tagged five more poets, whose blogs are linked below. Once they’ve posted their response, I’ll publish a link to them.
          Here’s my interview:

What is the working title of the book?

R Is the Artichoke of Rose

Where did the idea come from for the book?

From a collage of mine, R Is:

R

What genre does your book fall under?

Poetry. Sub-genre: minimalist.

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

Elmo and India.Arie in a musical about the letter R.

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

R is the artichoke of rose.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

I’ve been writing short-short poems for many years, publishing them in such journals as Fell Swoop, Peter O’Toole, Quill Puddle, and Unarmed. Eventually the little critters coalesced into something greater than the sum of their parts.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Minimalist poetry by other poets, from the epigrams of Martial to the pithy gems of Aram Saroyan.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Illegal pet activity, my pugilist grandmother, black bleach.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

R Is the Artichoke of Rose seeks publisher seeking R Is the Artichoke of Rose.


Thank you to Marthe Reed for tagging me. My tags go out to Daniel Nester, Jim Johnstone, Larry Sawyer, Lina ramos Vitkauskas, and Ruth Lepson.


Camille Martin

No apocalypse, but a day of winters, a day of springs

I’m all tapped out of apocalyptic poems. Besides, today is not THE END—like any other day, it’s full of infinite endings and beginnings, of infinite winters and springs.

So in lieu of the mother-of-all-end-times-poems, I’m posting a sonnet for winter and a sonnet for spring, the flip sides of every moment of existence. Blessings and peace.

*
Snow.
Repeat. Flesh
of snow, pocks
in tarnished snow.
Snow of lust.
Snow of cash.
Blathering omega’s
travesty of dust.
Snow breaking
vows of poverty
but not silence.
Snow of theft.
Sparrows buried
in snow.

*
Spring’s blind surge awakens rambling epics. Evidence
gushes First things jockey for position. Feet sink
into mud, and revelation looms at the cost of sleep. Even
a car sounds different. The exotic bark of a dog shatters
Orion, spilling sand from a stunned hourglass.
Thereafter, molecules relax and history tries again:
A garlanded mother emerges playing a kithara
as her darlings weave a pedastal, the better to adore
the quixotic colorist: proof that sensory deprivation
binds minions to a redundant diety. Lids can’t filter
catastrophic light. Sap’s flight quickens, guiding
moments trickling toward a slack horizon. And again:
over the years weep scullions at their skinned rabbits.
Peddlers of risk lean into showers of delinquent buds.

YINYANG


Camille Martin

“A deserted city. We’ll have to imagine it’s in a movie.”

On the eve of December 21, my penultimate end-of-the-world poem, this one from Looms:

*
A deserted city. We’ll have to imagine
it’s in a movie. Beneath a listless dome, walls
crumble into backlit dust. Flames on a hillside swarm,
tattered auburn fishes in the autumn wind. Glints of dying
light fall on unmoored mountains whose thoughts of home
come to nothing. Everywhere, flocks of matter dip pale snouts
into inky ponds. We’ll have to imagine someone watching
that movie. No one left to forget irrelevant seeds. Some left off
praying to the mother of a tarnished idol presiding over a flock
of angels, breath attended by golden lice. Others
paused long enough to view dusk’s leisurely descent
over the white noise of crashing surf. All found something
to swear by before it was too late. Photogenic dullards jazzed
in the waning light. A ship’s captain jingled his coins
before staving in the ship. Embers in a hearth
illuminated fish bones on plates.

NIBIRU

Sonnets and Looms are available from the following vendors:

Small Press Distribution
Book City in Toronto
Apollinaire’s Bookshoppe
Amazon.ca
Shearsman Books.

Cheers!


Camille Martin

“Glib spice announces the news . . .”: More Pre-Mayan-Apocalypse Fiddling

from Sonnets

*
Glib spice announces the news bleeding
in the monochromatic distance. The short-term
memory of distance flees in fear. Enemies
fall, money flees. Falling gloom dazzles just
as history taught it to. Not the history of stars
made of tumbleweed nor the annals of a dust mote
singing rich disaster. Masoch was never so rich,
or so it seems to each geological layer. No
notebook records a pocket of posies between thick
layers of ash. It just is, caught in a small pocket
of time. “Time to return to star,” announces
tumbleweed on the news. The news shrinks
to a speck of pollen on a posy’s anther
in a pocket caught between thick layers of ash.

2012 - 2

Sonnets and Looms are available here:

Small Press Distribution
Book City in Toronto
Apollinaire’s Bookshoppe
Amazon.ca
Shearsman Books
The Book Depository

Cheers!


Camille Martin

Fiddling While Earth Burns: Poems for the End of Time

          I’m obsessed with The End, with the smorgasbord of choices for Armageddon that Neil deGrasse Tyson cheerfully ticks off: asteroid, caldera eruption, mega-tsunami, black hole. Not surprisingly, some of my poems have an apocalyptic theme.
          So in honour of the rapidly-approaching December 21, 2012—of the dreaded cataclysm that Mayan astronomers predicted (unless they just got tired of chiselling)—I’ll be posting poems to while away the countdown to the terrestrial torch. The first poem is below.
          And what would 2012 prophesies be without a little shameless commercialism? I’m selling poetry, not opulent underground condos, but then, to paraphrase William Carlos Williams, survivalists die miserably on doomsday for lack of what is found in poems.
          The clock is ticking, but you can still get a copy of Sonnets and Looms from the following vendors: Small Press Distribution, Book City in Toronto, Amazon.ca, and Shearsman Books.
          Help keep my kitchen, where I’m hunkering down with proper Canadian garrison mentality, stocked with beans and rice during these anti-climactic end times.

from Sonnets:

*
From a helicopter at night, an aerial
view of a city. In the dark, gigantic
iron statues loom with an ominous
aura of permanence. The people
who live in the city obsess
about the possibility of doomsday
erupting among their soaring
buildings and effigies. Of the end
they’ve made a fetish, chatting
about it at cocktail parties as if
it were the latest vogue. They believe
that it could happen at any moment,
so they no longer bother
to make their beds in the morning.

2012


Camille Martin

 

“Believe in biblical colors, Floodlings”: Cinquains with John M. Bennett and C. Mehrl Bennett

          Before the Skylab Gallery reading in Columbus, I went out with John and Cathy Bennett for a bite to eat. We had time to kill, so they suggested collaborating on cinquains.
          Cathy published them on her blog. Have a look-see.

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Camille Martin

Photos: Tyrone Williams, James LaCroix, and Camille Martin at Detroit’s Woodward Line Series

          A couple of weeks before the reading, James Hart, co-curator of Detroit’s Woodward Line Poetry Series, realized that two other poets and I were booked for Thanksgiving Eve. We assumed that only a handful of people would show up. But in fact the reading was very well attended.
          As a venue, The Scarab Club is a poetry series curator’s dream: a beautiful open space with great acoustics in an historic old building.
          I had the pleasure of reading with two terrific poets, both from Detroit: James LaCroix and Tyrone Williams.
          Many thanks to the organizers and hosts of the evening, including Kim Hunter and James Hart III.

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Camille Martin

Detroit, Thanksgiving Eve: Tyrone Williams, James La Croix, Camille Martin


Camille Martin

“Poetry, Art, Music—and the Gift of Synesthesia” (an image essay in Talking Writing)

A couple of years ago, Talking Writing published some poems of mine from Looms, a manuscript that has recently been published by Shearsman Books.

Martha Nichols, one of the editors, recently approached me about writing an illustrated essay about what it’s like to work in three disciplines: poetry, collage, and music.

I invite you to have a look at the resulting featured spread in Talking Writing and to explore the rest of the issue, which will be added to during the next few weeks.

Click the image below to view my collages and essay:


Camille Martin

Thumbs-up to 11 poetry books (and so many more)

          This year, Steve Evans of the University of Maine invited me to participate in the tenth anniversary of Attention Span, in which eighty poets list the eleven books that influenced them the most in 2012 (not necessarily published in 2012).
          Click the image below to go to the complete list of my choices. I was just getting warmed up when I had already used up my allotted eleven books. I could have listed so many more. Have a look at the lists of other poets while you’re at the site, and stay tuned to Attention Span for the annual tally of votes.


Camille Martin

Cobourg, Ontario: Small Town, Big Poetry

          On Tuesday I read at one of the poetry reading series in Cobourg, Ontario. One? That’s right, the town of Cobourg, population under 20,000, has two poetry reading series and an active and dedicated poetry community who work together in the CPW (Cobourg Poetry Workshop) to sponsor readings and workshops.
          I read for the Doug Stewart Reading Series at the Palisade Gardens Retirement Residence. I thought it was a great idea to have the reading at this facility. It was open to the public and attracted several residents of Palisade Gardens.
          My original trepidation about how my poetry (which can be pretty edgy) would be received dissolved once I started reading—the audience was warm and appreciative, and somewhat to my surprise I sold more books there than at any other reading I’ve ever given!
          I shared the microphone with Sharon Knap and Rick Webster—it was a pleasure to meet them and hear some of their work. Bridget Campion was one of the best emcees I’ve ever met. Thanks to the members of the CPW who not only organized this reading but also drove and showed me around Cobourg and arranged a pre-reading dinner and post-reading beer.
          Some pictures, most taken by James Pickersgill (I think):

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Camille Martin

On Cross-Pollination: An interview with Camille Martin by James Pickersgill

My “world premiere” of Looms will be in Cobourg, Ontario, about an hour’s train ride east of Toronto.

Poet James Pickersgill put together some thought-provoking interview questions in advance of the reading. Below is a sample, and the complete interview can be found here.

Q – Camille, it is not at all true that poetry is your single creative outlet. You are known as a collage artist, too. You are an editor yourself … and a translator. Your own work has been translated into other languages as well. You have been a university teacher. You’ve organized poetry reading series. You’ve had radio shows and you blog actively on the internet. When listed like that, these activities might sound like an array of separate pigeon-holes but I suspect that there is a lot of cross-pollination, so to speak. What is the nature of this creativity as you experience it: one spark that finds many openings to jump into flame, or, can it be distinct and separate creative impetuses?

Camille Martin – I love the idea of cross-pollination. In fact, I think my primary creative impulse is to bring together: to merge or to juxtapose. It’s the basic impetus for the metaphor: to bring unlike things into dialogue. And for me, that goes for disciplines as well. I was reading and seeking out poetry on my own from an early age, though I didn’t begin writing it in earnest until my late 30s. But my first creative expression was musical – I was trained as a classical pianist since I was six years old, and I went on to get a graduate degree in piano performance. I was also intensely interested in visual art. I’ve always felt a desire to bring the arts together. So now, in the autumn of my life, I have the pleasure of doing all three: making collages, writing poetry, and setting my poetry to music. I think these disciplines are sparking conversations among each another.


Camille Martin

LOOMS now at SPD

Always happy when my books arrive at Small Press Distribution!

Poetry. The title of LOOMS signifies the weaving tool as well as the shadowing appearance of something. These “woven tales” were inspired by Barbara Guest’s statement that a tale “doesn’t tell the truth about itself; it tells us what it dreams about.” The strands of their surreal allegories converse, one idea giving rise to another, and the paths of their dialogue become the fabric of the narrative. In a second meaning, something that looms remains in a state of imminent arrival. Such are these tales, like parables with infinitely deferred lessons.

“In tightly woven tapestry, Martin’s ‘backstreet songs’ re-invent a music of knowledge that navigates the hucksterism and catastrophe threatening our planet. The movement of her threads is fugue-like, punctuated by oboes and clarinets, mockingbirds and cicadas. Here, in the dream-space of time-lapse film, forms of life and ideas collide and morph, rippling through centuries of human consciousness to unravel as quickly as they ravel. Here, above all, Martin makes it possible to dance among our ‘origins in snake oil,’ our ‘crusades to mirages’ and our ‘accidental fictions’.”—Meredith Quartermain

“A dreamscape on the outskirts of town, ‘in the badlands of the vernacular,’ these hopeful, haunted poems populated by children and prisoners ‘hover between’ realms domestic and exterior, real and imagined. Like candles described herein, this book gives off a melting, tactile glow.”—Arielle Greenberg


Camille Martin

ROBERT ZEND: Poet of exile, citizen of the cosmos

The Canadian Encyclopedia recently published my entry on Robert Zend (click to read it):


Camille Martin

A box full of the mysterious woman playing blindman’s bluff among neurons

click image for Shearsman Books page for Looms

My box of Looms has arrived, and copies distributed to five Goodreads winners.

Shearsman Books has a pdf sample as well as a handy list of links where you can order the book.

Many thanks to Tony Frazer, publisher extraordinaire of Shearsman Books.

May the poems in Looms bring you pleasure!


Camille Martin