Éanlaí P. Cronin: “Born and reared in a small, Irish-speaking village in the southwest of Ireland, I learned, early in life, that language and land were intertwined. Indeed language and life itself were married in such a way that the singular incantation of a proverb or prayer evoked the nature of the Gael inside the blood, no matter how cold or indifferent one had become to one’s own native origins, no matter how deep a schism history had created in the marrow of the Irish psyche. An Irish verse or a psalm could bring a grown man or woman to tears in our winter kitchen. And I, as a child, could spend hours weeping in a quiet corner at something I didn’t fully understand but knew to be true and real. As real as the thinning carpet on which I sat. Or the small footstool upon which I perched at my mother’s feet by a roaring range. It seemed, back then, in the 1970s, and still to this day, that to hear the native tongue, to sing a traditional song, to recite an epic verse, ‘as Gaeilge,’ was to rebirth within the Irish skin something nearly dead and gone. To make room, not for the terrible beauty Yeats mourned, but for the trembling truth of the savage restored. Savage because we had, even in my childhood, come to view ourselves, through the eyes of long oppression, as mongrels of a kind, uncivilized, shameful, wanting in some way. Yet, not a word of such a thing ever spoken or dissected. As though to be Irish and to be broken were the common weather through which we moved. All of us flawed tokens. My task, as an Irish child, is to pen whatever I can that will rouse the Irish soul in my beloved homeland, and in me. To make sound that which has been silent and dying. To become once more unbound, her and I, in all our original splendor.” (web)
“The Queen Stands Alone” by Linda A. CroninPosted by Rattle
Linda A. Cronin
THE QUEEN STANDS ALONE
It began with such enthusiasm,
as it so often does.
You claimed to be a perfect pair,
the King and Queen of hearts,
or at least a pair of diamonds.
So anxious to play house,
you lied to steal weekends together.
So desperate to swear your love and devotion
to forsake all the others
you hadn’t had the chance to meet,
you refused to postpone the wedding,
despite his mother calling
it a funeral and yours
forecasting doom. And now,
just two years later,
you tell me some mornings
when you look at your husband,
stumbling out of bed, you see
only his insurance money.
We both know months, only weeks probably,
will pass, until you tell me
you’ve filed for divorce.
You’ve discovered comic books
and martial arts quickly lose steam
when confronted with car payments
and rent bills. Dinner doesn’t automatically
appear, and laundry needs to be folded.
Now, the love, the passion,
the determination to make it work
has vanished. Unlike the bridesmaid’s dress
swarming with unnaturally large,
pastel flowers and Scarlet O’Hara skirt,
still hanging in my closet.
The dress perfect
for an English Garden Party,
the one you swore
I’d wear again,
and I knew I never would.
I listen to your voice,
discouraged and uncertain.
Your dreams faded faster
than the carpet you chose together.
No stronger than the couch
your Labrador shredded.
I wonder not about love,
because you thought you had that,
but all the other ingredients
no one thinks about.
About the strength and patience
love needs to endure. About where,
in the tough times, you find
the faith to get you through,
to believe in tomorrow,
and I think maybe that’s the real
question we should all ask
ourselves and each other
before we ever swear I do.
The Spring 2023 issue of Rattle features a Tribute to Irish Poets. From Yeats to Boland and Heaney, Ireland has a long tradition of producing great poets. We thought we’d take a look at what’s going on there now. The theme includes 17 poems by Irish poets and their always-interesting contributor notes, and a conversation with Frank Dullaghan, a poet who has lived an interesting live in both Ireland and abroad. The open section features 21 poets exploring their perspectives on life.
Releasing June 2001, issue #15 celebrates the work of 18 underground writers–poets who have a large publishing history outside of the mainstream.
Also in this once sold-out issue but now returned, Alan Fox interviews fan-favorite Billy Collins and Jack Grapes, the Los Angeles writer and teacher who had a hand in the original creation of Rattle itself.
__________
TRIBUTE TO THE UNDERGROUND PRESS
Amiri Baraka • Eric Basso • Art Beck • John Bennett • Douglas Blazek Bob Branaman • Hugh Fox • Jack Grapes • Ben L. Hiatt • Linda King
Tom Kryss • Lyn Lifshin • Gerald Locklin • Rich Mangelsdorff
Al Masarik • Clive Matson • Ann Menebroker • Wayne Miller
Joyce Odam • Maia Penfold • Bob Perlongo • Frank T. Rios
Kell Robertson • Kent Taylor
POETRY
William Archila • Frank Aredia • Herman Asamow • Barry Ballard Kurt Brown • John E. Burl • Jose Hernando Chaves
David Hovan Check • Steve Conway • Philip Corwin
Linda A. Cronin • Dancing Bear • Stephen David De France
Joanne Diaz • Ana Doina • W.D. Ehrhart • Walt Farran
Gene Fehler • Alan C. Fox • Fred Fox • Suzanne Freeman
Robert Funge • Pamela Gemin • Greg German Maria Mazziotti Gillan • Egito Gonclaves • Leonard Gontarek Jessica Goodheart • Janice N. Harrington • Cynthia M. Hoffman Dan Johnson • Bob Johnston • Ward Kelley • Vandana Khanna
Ronnie Klaskin • Michael Kuperman • Melody Lacina
Melissa Lamberton • David Dodd Lee • Dennis H. Lee • Mandi Lee
Carol Lem • Manuel Paul Lopez • Giovanni Malito • Anne Marple
Marc Maurus • Corey Mesler • Amy Miller • Daniel Moore
C.J. Morrissey • Will Nixon • Charles O’Hay • Martin Ott
Ben Passikoff • Richard Pearse • Patricia Pedersen • Pat Pittman
Rafael Pizarro • Evan Rail • Phiip Ramp • Hilda Raz
Sean Reagan • Nancy Gomez Roa • Bill Roberts • Lynne Savitt
Zach Schomburg • David Shevin • Jim Spurr
Joshua Michael Stewart • Alison Townsend • Fred Voss
Matthew Wane • Charles Harper Webb • Mary Ann Wehler
Florence Weinberger • Bill Yake • Andrena Zawinsk
REVIEWS
J.B. Bernstein • Nancy Cary • David Choriton • Cheri Crenshaw
Devorie Franzwa • Stellasue Lee • Martin Ott
Releasing December 2003, issue #20 celebrates the work of 20 Italian and Italian-Amercan poets.
Also in the issue, Alan Fox interviews Colette Inez and Maxine Kumin. In the essay section, Jack Coulehan and Christina Fitzpatrick both write about the sources of poetic inspiration and the origins of their work.