Preston Woodruff: “I loved performing, but the road wore me out, and anyway, job, family, money—you know the familiar story. I kept playing close to home, though: bass in a jazz trio, pit bands, and chamber orchestra; lute in a Renaissance consort, lounge-lizard solo guitar in restaurants and bars, lots of wedding receptions and one funeral. All fun. Some days I miss it.”
Alison Luterman: “I don’t have to explain why this moment is so fraught right now. I’m feeling a lot of tenderness for all of us who are suffering anxiety this week, and trying to hold each other up.” (web)
Chen Xue: “I love writing poetry because it brings me solace. When I encounter setbacks in life, I turn to poets from around the world. Though I may not fully grasp their language, their verses always move me to tears. I aspire for my own poetry to be read by more people.”
Charles Harper Webb: “I was a professional rock singer/guitarist from the age of 15 to 30, playing in Texas, Louisiana, and all over the Northwest. I think my poems have rock-and-roll attitude and energy, and that the same musicianship I showed on stage permeates my poems. In all the clubs and concerts that I played, I tried to excite and entertain my audience, and never to bore them. I bring that same attitude to poetry.” (web)
Greg Schwartz: “Most of the poetry I read goes over my head, but haiku is something that tends to stick with me. The compactness of a haiku fits my attention span nicely, though the good ones have an impact much larger than their words. This poem resulted from that day’s #haikuhorrorprompt prompt on Twitter, which was ‘kerosene.’ It took a while to come up with something, but the vampire shapeshifting into a bat trope seemed to fit well with the Dracula-era setting conjured up by the prompt.” (web)
Ken Waldman: “In the early ’80s, I lived near Chapel Hill, North Carolina, with two musicians, a banjo player, and a guitarist. I was the boring housemate who worked in a bookstore and didn’t play music. My housemates had parties. The musicians who came were good then, and they’re good now. One guy who wasn’t so good abandoned his fiddle after a party, along with bow and case, and was selling them for $100. I bought that fiddle. My talent was stubbornness. Several years later, beginning to write poems in grad school, one of my subjects was the old-time fiddle tunes I was struggling with. Fast forward and for almost thirty years now I’ve made a living combining Appalachian-style string-band music with original poetry and Alaska-set storytelling. Musically, I have decent rhythm, and play fiddle tunes pretty plainly, but well enough to appear on stage with highest-level musicians (when I’m the band leader, calling the shots). I’ve been told my fiddling is distinctive, and has energy and depth. One strength is I know my limitations. My poetry is pretty plain too, I think, though I’ve taken a liking to forms, which makes the work easier to contain, or at least finish.” (web)
Image: “Have you ever eaten breakfast here before?” by Barbara Gordon. “Reverie Work Ahead” was written by Zeid for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, September 2024, and selected as the Editor’s Choice.
__________
Zeid
REVERIE WORK AHEAD
two traffic barrels wonder if they should crack the street / split the asphalt like an egg / see what spills out. or if they should imagine themselves as spiderwebs / snaring a city’s descending ashes / clung tightly to circular frames. one barrel whispers to the other / the reply is a stuttered hymn / a plastic rasp. they are the pulse of rust and rain / flickering stripes / smoke-glint on iron / ghosts of a steely and dust-bitten world. they lean closer / barricade lights nearly touching / soft pulses under blue sky. they whisper of silver platters and things they cannot eat / oil-slick dreams sliding between orange bands. a yellow caution tape snake slithers by / coiling in a wind’s clutch / curling toward and away from the barrels. they wait for the night crew / who’ll roll them back to their stations / with street tremors below weighted bases. for now / they press into each other’s shadows / the city’s hum beyond the frame / the asphalt cooling as the day exhales. still / the question hovers like fog above street / should they crack the ground beneath them / or let it hold / fixed / silent / as / fault / or as choice?
Comment from the series editor, Megan O’Reilly: “This image, on its own, is a poem, the way the artist breathes humanity into commonplace objects and winks deftly at a more complex narrative. ‘Reverie Work Ahead’ puts words to that narrative, imagining the untold story of two traffic barrels. It takes a skilled writer to achieve this without veering into absurdity, and Zeid pulls it off impressively. Inspired phrases like ‘ghosts of a steely and dust-bitten world’ and ‘coiling in a wind’s clutch’ captivate and give dimension to the world the poet creates. The last line, in the form of a question, feels profound and consequential, and reminds the reader that great poets and artists can create the deepest meaning out of the most ordinary subjects.”
