Cleave of The Month August 2009

A year since The Cleave began is a good time to resume Cleave of The Month.

As stated before we will be awarding GBP25 to the cleave of the month from now on, and it will be chosen by the Editor.

It is hard choosing between the great cleaves especially these 3:

• The New Tree by Dennis Kelly

• Down by the Lake by Ashley Bovan

• In Such a Place as This, by Jessica Lafortune

in the end the decision was:

Down by the Lake by Ashley Bovan

Under a nearby weeping willow	a flock of geese pad and poke
a push-chair rattles along	Alice wipes mud from an off-green park bench
two bedlam kids squawking	then she rests
Vicious seagulls hunt for sandwich fragments	Exhaust fumes, and hums and grinds, from the morning motor-rush waft over
Alice fidgets and then heads off to the rose gardens	a discarded sheet of kitchen roll sticks to her shoe
The flowers sway like nodding dogs in the backs of cars	She listens to echoing Greensleeves again and again piping out from the ice cream van over on the promenade
Up-wind an old boy fires up his acrid briar	it’s time to move on
She takes the tarmac path around and up to the rockery tasting the hint of salt blown in from the bay	A brittle crisp packet rattles, trapped in an exclamation-mark-like tree
She wanders through the patterns of rocks	Her arms droop by her side
and she catches her hand on a clump of nettles	Reluctantly, she prepares herself for the long walk home

Ashley Bovan lives and writes in Cardiff and starts studying for an MA

in Creative Writing at Lancaster University in October 2009.

His website is www.ashley-bovan.co.uk

Payment for Cleave Poem of the Month

To celebrate The Cleave‘s anniversary I will be changing how the Cleave of the Month will be run:

• Payment of GBP25 for the Cleave of the Month
• I will choose my favourite poem each month
• The usual submission guidelines apply
• The changes will start from this month (the cleaves already published this month will be considered).

Cleave of the Month February 2009 shortlist

As of this Cleave of the Month poets with 2 ‘wins’ in the preceding 6 months will be excluded from the shortlist.

Here is the shortlist for February – closing date 15 March 2009.

A trip to Great Yarmouth for lunch by Graham & Fleur Blick

Gentle, courageous victorious Horatio	Brittania marks a Norfolk hero
renowned and adored by Burnham Thorpe Nor-folk	exposed to the elements and flurrying snow
then cosseted warmth in Kings Head, Acle	we scuttle inside
feasting on history and food at the tavern	surrounded by ploughshares, creatures and pheasants
hospitality abounding and implements galore	creative adornments both inside and out
we talk	we eat

*

Gamelan Music by Dennis Kelly

—for Phuoc-Tan & Diana

“I write for myself—

and strangers”

—Gertrude Stein

*

i write for myself—and strangers

but mostly—for myself

i wouldn’t be writing—this way tho

if it weren’t—for strangers

especially a stranger—who said

there’s somebody—i want you to meet

so i write now—for two strangers

and myself—i write for her

even tho—we don’t talk anymore

i write for him—we talk a lot

without her—there wouldn’t be him

i write for him now—not her

funny how strangers—come & go

i write for myself—and them

*

Indecent Assault by Thane Zander

Murder

Broken marriages – surviving – a lifetime

present problems  – and marked – considering

those years wishing – praying – the abuse would stop

Rape

The dogs at the gate – penalise – passing ladies

retaliating –  the prophet buried – in places austere

barking new orders – in the Town Centre – find gravitational pull.

Armed Robbery

Vandals splattered – paint and pens – tagging new neighbourhoods

where virgins – fearing to tread – found new ground

passed into Heaven – their end placated – where light shone from below.

*

How can it be that the gas chamber door opens inwards? by Steve Parker

(to David Irving)

the occasion is Smoking Mirror, an exhibition–Flarf

to execrate the despicable English practice of riding to hound

–W.S. Burroughs

he’s asking in the wrong colour!

–Seance Recording (anon)

what it is	to outselect	the egregious shadow	assemblage
of flickers	the flickering voice	half-memory	a gestalt
of fireflies	& rattle	of redacted love	of the Ramp
of that confluence	of whispers	gargled up	in evoking
of the	noisy spirit	beyond	the machinery of
blue saturates	tested for at	Birkenau	Auschwitz
by weight of	its own inertia	so to assail	a weakness
prying alone	alone with the conviction	with such fervour	thereby mining
with the fixation	of a boy	digging out	his first living spine
that such determination	sapping away	a bulwark	artfully
might	who might just bring	the walls coming down	with fumbling
with the flagship	at the blowing	thrice O thrice	of the trebuchet
trumpet trumpet	and canary	glossolalia there look listen	with jerks & squawks of
trumpet	that thou art	in thy posture &	mild hooting hubris
thy resolve	to be other but	always in pursuit	and hot sneer
of what is truly	as the fall	of clouds cry now	in deadly blue
& otherwise	spirited	from your holes	of deadness flushed
for the shoving	your redcoat tripes	in those faces	of deluded boys

Cleave of the Month January 2009 shortlist

The editor’s shortlist for this month – voting is open until 15th February.

A Tank/A Life by Michael Williams

alone in a field – walking by myself
a water tank sits rusting – stopping and looking inside
once full of water – I think of my life
little more than scum remains – of potential and promise
existence without purpose – a sense of disappointment

*

**

*

When Styx Freezes Over by Boris Kipnis

your	impulses	stimulate	my mind
heart	make me want	to wake up	hungry
ready	to act irresponsibly	the dead	again
waking up	like a child	toothless	helpless
naked	crying for love	wide smile	when I see
you calm	my temper tantrums	swallowing	the world
urges	subside when	your breast	cold and empty
touches	my lips	hair stands up	vastness of grief
turning into	find yours	twin blades	blue steel on glass
hardness	soothing cuts	part flesh	and bloody
waves	of happiness	wash away	depression
slamming	rocking	my senses	like cancer
in remission	my stilts still	crumble	why?

*

**

*

Immortality by Rick Dale

I want to care — I want people to think

I do — I really give a shit

or maybe I think I’m supposed to care — It’s only a phantom

all that guilt-driven shame — the constant harping

heaped on me — dosed in good measure

by a well-meaning but fascist parent — applied with “love”

comes to fruition — leaving welts

late in life — on tender skin

Too late? — “Not enough,” I scream

The “what is” and the “what should be” — unnecessarily

wage war in my crimson thoughts — But they do make it seem like

I really really don’t give a good goddamn — at times

about much of anything others think of me — yes, not even you

yet I still act like I do — understand completely

Am I in control? — A lack of empathy

Or is it she—still? — Shrew-bitch!

And the gray elephantine weight of it all — Bearing down unmercifully

colors and smothers my every labor — crushing any effort

to write, speak, move, feel — to love!

If I could drive a stake — with abandon

through the heart of darkness — to the hilt

I would—ending it — forever

But there is immortality — with her blessings

and her name is “mother” — Amen

*

**

*

Ricardo Reis by Dennis Kelly
“No one by choice
or inclination would
remain in this port.”
—Jose Saramago,
The Year of the Death
Of Ricardo Reis

here the sea ends—the coast begins
it is raining—over the colorless sea
the waters of the river—polluted with mud
the riverbeds—flooded
a dark vessel—ascends the somber river
to anchor—in lisbon
back & forth—the same ports
london—buenos aires
la plata—montevideo
santos—rio de janeiro
pernambuco—las palmas
one does not speak—or ask
which is—the greater river
which is—the greater town
a curtain of water—descends from sky
we come to know—what we don’t know
which is what—we know already
there is nothing—but names
beyond the reach—of writing

*

**

*

Dearly Belateds by Diana Manister

Cleave of the Month December 2008 shortlist

The last Cleave of the Month for 2008.

The Poll is open until midnight 31/12/08.

The cleave poems are:

• cups and saucers by Thane Zander
• Spontaneous thing by Dennis Kelly
• Brainwashed by Nancy Williams Lazar
• KEROUAC by Janet Hamill

Cleave of the Month November 2008 shortlist

Congratulations to Diana Manister for her second Cleave of the Month.

***

These are the Editor’s picks for this month – in selecting, I have considered the following 4 points and also simply, do I like the poem?

1. Depth: What is the theme, what is the point – so what?
2. Craft: Does each poem work on its own and together?
3. Communication: Is it clear; does it communicate?
4. Experimentation: Is it pushing the envelope?

Here are the poems (Poll closes 12th December):

• Afterwards, Janet: A Murder Mystery in Speech Acts by Diana Manister

*

• After Reading Shelley and Hearing Krenwinkel is up For Parole Again by Laurie Byro

*

• Cloven by Mal

*

• The Verdant Lore by Ernesto Pangilinan Santiago

*

• tHe mAgic typEwritEr (cleave poetics 2/19) by Dennis Kelly

*

• Split in Two (or three) by P.A.Levy

The Cleave November 2008 update

November has been a whirlwind of activity both on the visitor front and on the submission front.

The cleave poem is beyond proof of principle – so I am changing the Editorial status to: Editorial Feedback.

The Anthology is getting along brilliantly in the background – Thanks Dennis and Diana.

Page Views

Unique Visitors

Cleave of the Month October 2008 shortlist

**Poll closing date: 15th November – congratulations to Diana Manister for October’s Cleave of the Month**

It’s that time again: (and as the USA is in the mood for voting) please vote for October 2008 Cleave of the Month from this shortlist.

Whisper your name three times into the wind and it will go by Diana Manister

(From Dancing with Mary Shelley and Henry James A Cleave Suite)

                                    to the land of titles - signs
            and diaries drawings and stories - of love

                                       words describing - April's fragrance

                                     distant pictures of - real sun

                                                 showerless - showers

                    facsimilies of spring flowers - and bees in the buddleia

              always a step away from places - feelings sensations

nothing more wonderful than the word - wonder
                             leaving behind a trace - a sigh

                           whose name blew away - on a windy day
******

           Maypole by Andrea Barton

                     The
brightly colored - center - celebration of
            spring - of - ribbons
         held by - poems - this way
          colors - are - dancing
        girls - maypoles - that way
        twirling - driven - skipping
      twisting - into - light steps of
        children - the - laughter and
         hope - earth - in the sun
                   and
                    w
                    a
                    i
                    t
                    i
                    n
                    g

******

                Argentina by Dennis Kelly

“Los artificios y candor del hombre”
—Jorge Luis Borges,
“El golem”

  already you can see—the tragic setting
      each thing here—in its appointed place
       the broadsword—the ash destined for dido
             the coin—ready for belisarius
      why do you weep—searching in lazy
bronze old hexameters—gone old empires?
  when 7 feet of dirt—waits for you
 a slow rush of blood—Argentina
      watches you now—the mirror of death
      dreaming you up—spitting in your face
 all your crummy dayz—so bourgeois
 goodbye middle class—it was the house
        by the street—you grew up in
 but now peron, evita—Argentina
        wants it back—again

******

  All Along the Campaign Trail! by Jennifer Semple Siegel

       In the other gardens -- On the endless networks
       And all up the vale, -- And all through cyberspace,
   From the autumn bonfires -- From Springtime surprises
       See the smoke trail! -- Now see how they placed!
                             *
       Pleasant summer over -- Conventions now passed
And all the summer flowers, -- And all summer potshots,
       The red fire blazes, -- O'Biden blazes hot,
     The grey smoke towers. -- McPalin does not.
                             *
    Sing a song of seasons! -- Sing a song of absurdity!
   Something bright in all! -- All frightful in Fall!
     Flowers in the summer, -- Hucksters all through Summer,
         Fires in the fall! -- One winner nabs all!

--Seed Poem: "Autumn Fires," Robert Louis Stevenson--

Cleave of the Month September 2008 short list

We decided on a short list of 4 cleave poems for September 2008.

See Cleave of the Month for our choice.

Two visions: Ezekiel and Aphrodite by Brian Fone

       Ezekiel saw a vision,-a gleaming godly vision,
    saw wheels within wheels-making the mind spin
    spreading across the sky-as it slowly revealed itself
dazzling the enlightened man-with all its terrible beauty
           sweeping him away-and took watcher, mind and body,
 from the reality around him-with its naked, shining splendour.

           Point of view by Andrea Barton
                    I see - the same thing:
                      you - through a different lens
                your eyes - blue, oceanic
        the way they look - a sea to one
they take in the distance - to another, sky
            the center of - the you place
                    maybe - eyes wide
         there aren’t any - hollower places;
               starpoints - or pinpricks of light
                 only you - through a different lens
                     your - eyes, the way they look
                blue gaze - and the way you see.

From the cleave suite Dancing with Mary Shelly and Henry James by Diana Manister

                          I busied myself with - concocting a tale

                                                a story - one which would speak to

                                         mysterious - fears

                             awakening horror - terror

                                                  dread - quickening the blood

                                      I saw a body - made of ghastly fragments

                   stolen from a graveyard - showing signs of animation

                                     moving eerily - due to its creators skill

the pale student of unhallowed arts - giving consciousness to his progeny

                          cackling in triumph - it is alive



___black panther by Dennis Kelly
A cleave ‘Translation’ from Pound’s Personae  (1925)
 
 the black—panther
      sleeps—beneath
 the black—jungle sky
blackness—everywhere
except for—his dark green
         eyes—eyes
   closing—opening

Cleave of the Month

Cleave of the Month:

Whilst I am focused elsewhere (for the next 2 weeks or so) I will introduce ‘Cleave of the Month’.

Please vote for your favourite cleave poem (excluding the Editor’s),

published in September,

by posting a ‘comment’ in this format

(or any other format if you strongly disagree)

attaching it to this post:

• Poet’s name:
• Cleave poem title (or first line):
• Date published:
• What can be learnt from this cleave?

The Editor