Taylor Mali: “In both of the books of poetry I published after Rebecca’s death I tried to include a few poems about her. But they were always so unlike the rest of the manuscript that they couldn’t stay in. I’ve known for a decade that all my poems about Rebecca would need to be published in a collection by themselves. The Whetting Stone is that collection.” (web)
“Why don’t you go to Japan and ask the cats?” I said
to the TSA agent when she asked if I was Amish,
because I believe in answering a non-sequitur
with a non-sequitur. I only said it
after I’d been cleared, after I’d been strip-searched
behind frosted glass, and then posted
the bitch’s face on Facebook along with her name.
Maybe being trans is like being Amish,
or maybe I went pale when I missed my flight
as Security Agent Pamela E. Starks
conferred with Explosives Expert Gary Pickering
to discuss, based on the “soft anomaly”
picked up by the body scanner, which of them
needs to search me (at one point she
suggested they each take “half”).
I suppose I could have come from Amish country,
a place so deep in the heart of America it can’t be seen,
and delivered to the airport by horse and buggy—
an Amish horse, oblivious to traffic. Maybe
it’s because of my long black dress, or makeup
that makes it look like I’m not wearing makeup—
a goal whose purpose used to elude me,
though I totally get it now, but please don’t ask.
You could go and ask the cats in Japan,
though it’s bound to earn you a contemptuous frown,
by which they mean to say, “Eat my ass
in Macy’s window.” How do cats in Japan
know about Macy’s? you must be asking.
Beats the hell outta me. They have
no tails—did you know?
Neither do the Amish. Just kidding.
I’m still waiting to hear about
the complaint I filed, the one that,
along with the viral video of them
repeatedly calling me “it,” shut down
the TSA website for three days
while they rewrote the rules about me.
“You could be charged for this,”
friends warn me, but in America
it can’t be libel if it’s true. I learned that
from the cats in Japan, who you can ask—
though it’s best not to disturb them.
—fromIn America
2017 Rattle Chapbook Prize Selection
__________
Diana Goetsch: “I’m basically a love poet. I’ve started to understand that after all these years. No matter the subject, I think my mission has something to do with redemption. And I just go for the hardest thing to redeem.” (web)
Matthew Olzmann: “I was writer-in-residence at a high school in Detroit. As is true at pretty much any high school, the kids felt—seemingly at all times—this incredible pressure to fit in, to be like the rest of their peers. Often this meant hiding, denying or simply not talking about the things that made them unique and interesting (being the smartest one in the class, being an accomplished ballet dancer, having a collection of antique table cloths, etc.). That’s where ‘Rare Architecture’ begins and ends—the urge to blend in with the rest of the neighborhood.” (web)
Arthur Russell: “I thought I could escape my father and his car wash in Brooklyn, run away to Manhattan and succeed as an actor or as a writer and never have to reckon, as an adult, with his cruel opinions of people and the world, but I fell back into his orbit and worked closely with him for many years, and when I did escape, it was only through the door that led to law school, the profession he had chosen for all three of his children, possibly because he had dropped out of law school himself. At the Car Wash is a book of poems written over the last eight years, poems that I continue writing beyond the work between these covers, dredging, sorting, reordering and sometimes celebrating, but always reckoning, almost forty years on, with the reckoning that made me.”
Rattle is happy to sponsor the annual Whole Life Soaps Haiku Contest, which is part of the Wrightwood Arts & Wine Festival. Entries were taken both online and in person at this year’s festival in May. Created and judged by Whole Life Soaps owner Bill McConnell, the winning poet receives $100, and their haiku is printed on a custom line of soaps later in the year. We’re pleased to announce this year’s winner, but visit Whole Life Soaps online to read the top 20 entries and more of the judge’s comments.
Bill McConnell (on his choice): “The idea of having a haiku published on a bar of soap is a unique and appealing element that attracts writers of all skill levels. I believe that the notion of seeing one’s writing wash off the body and down the drain is a conceit that very few people will experience over time, but that writers, nonetheless, strive for. It’s good, clean fun. This year’s theme presented a question: how does nature reflect aging and the cycle of life?”
“Remember It Wrong” by David HernandezPosted by Rattle
David Hernandez
REMEMBER IT WRONG
Everyone’s memory is subjective. If in three weeks we
were both interviewed about what went on here
tonight, we would both probably have very, very
different stories.
—James Frey on Larry King Live
My front four teeth are gone, I have a hole in my
cheek, my nose is broken and my eyes are swollen
nearly shut.
—James Frey, from A Million Little Pieces
David Hernandez: “You wrote ‘Remember It Wrong’ in July of 2007. You don’t remember much from that experience other than typing ‘babyish’ for the first time in your life. You wonder why ‘babyish’ isn’t used more often in poetry and why ‘honeysuckle’ stays in fashion despite wearing the same pair of bellbottoms year after year. You remember Toughskins. Their durability. Your grandmother removing grass-stains with a scrub brush.” (web)
Wendy Videlock: “I know nothing about poetry except that it is good medicine for what ails us, gives meaning to what shadows us, and adds weight to what assails us. I am grateful it is persistent.” (web)
