WHAT'S NEW: Beurre Blanc in the current issue of The Northern Virginia Review
My story, Beurre Blanc, about a young woman recovering (or perhaps not recovering) from a tumultous breakup while studying classic French cooking in Paris is in the current issue of The Northern Virginia Review. http://blogs.nvcc.edu/tnvr/
OTHER NEWS: Gavea-Brown Book of Portuguese-American Poetey (2013 Edition)
I have been anthologized. Gavea-Brown, a publisher out of Brown University, has chosen my Pushcart nominated poem, Why I Sang At Dinner, along with four others, for this anthology.
http://tinyurl.com/bfdhzsd
[Open in new window]
back cover:
“…Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe
free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore.”
These words, engraved
on a bronze plaque and mounted in the Statue of Liberty in 1903, have become
emblematic of the American experience. They are the words of Emma Lazarus, a
poet who like the twenty-three other poets represented in this anthology, could
acknowledge, and at times perhaps even embrace, Portuguese roots while forging
an indisputably American identity.
Portuguese-American poets are a varied
group – in theme and style as well as in geographic distribution. What they have
in common, in addition to the ancestral link, is that they are American poets.
Their work falls within the traditions of the best in that
category.
Gavea-Brown has published twelve of my poems in the last three years. Three new poems will be included in this year's issue of Gavea-Brown--A Bilingual Journal of Portuguese-American Studies and Letters.
http://www.gavea-brown.com/index.html
http://tinyurl.com/bfdhzsd
[Open in new window]
back cover:
“…Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe
free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore.”
These words, engraved
on a bronze plaque and mounted in the Statue of Liberty in 1903, have become
emblematic of the American experience. They are the words of Emma Lazarus, a
poet who like the twenty-three other poets represented in this anthology, could
acknowledge, and at times perhaps even embrace, Portuguese roots while forging
an indisputably American identity.
Portuguese-American poets are a varied
group – in theme and style as well as in geographic distribution. What they have
in common, in addition to the ancestral link, is that they are American poets.
Their work falls within the traditions of the best in that
category.
Gavea-Brown has published twelve of my poems in the last three years. Three new poems will be included in this year's issue of Gavea-Brown--A Bilingual Journal of Portuguese-American Studies and Letters.
http://www.gavea-brown.com/index.html
Two Poems in the current issue of SOLO NOVO
Solo Novo, the literary journal, has a theme issue entitled 122 days that's just come out.
122 Days refers to "poems written & about live and events between September 1, 2011 and December 31, 2011." My poems, Sky Blue, about the 9/11 anniversary, and What Do You Think Of, a humorous take on news overload, are featured. http://tinyurl.com/99ooqjm
122 Days refers to "poems written & about live and events between September 1, 2011 and December 31, 2011." My poems, Sky Blue, about the 9/11 anniversary, and What Do You Think Of, a humorous take on news overload, are featured. http://tinyurl.com/99ooqjm
Requiem: Tyler Clementi AT NEW VERSE NEWS
September 22, 2011 marked the one year anniversary of the untimely death of Tyler Clementi. On that day my poem, Requiem: Tyler Clementi, headed the website of New Verse News, with news that stays news.
You can view the poem at http://www.newversenews.com under September 22, 2011.
2010 Nomination for the PUSHCART PRIZE
I was nominated for the Puschart for the following poem which was published in 2009 spring issue of Prairie Schooner. http://tinyurl.com/7alnjek
In April 2009 prominant bloggist Lisa Romeo discussed the poem with James Engelhardt, the managing editor of Prairie Schooner, and me. http://lisaromeo.blogspot.com/2009/04/three-takes-on-poem-from-prairie.html
In April 2009 prominant bloggist Lisa Romeo discussed the poem with James Engelhardt, the managing editor of Prairie Schooner, and me. http://lisaromeo.blogspot.com/2009/04/three-takes-on-poem-from-prairie.html
2010 FIRST PRIZE IN FICTION from THE NORTHERN VIRGINIA REVIEW
In January I accepted the First Prize in Fiction from The Northern Virginia Review for my short story, "The Care of Roses," included in the 2010 issue. The story details the desire of a dying man, Philip, to have a boyfriend for at least once in his life. He hires a prostitute, Jack, with mixed results. Below is an excerpt where Philip talks about his church.
The members of Community NoVa resembled the membership of many churches. There were the truly Christ-like, the cheery, the snotty, and the downright demonic. The congregants were divided into the singles and the couples—each set got their own pew. They were never intentionally divided this way; it’s just that over time pews became little residences. The result was a sea of pews with mostly one person per row, and a couple about every fifth row. Philip always sat in the last pew of the church in the shadow of the small balcony which at one time served as a slave gallery. Even though he had gone there for twenty years, no one ever paid much attention to him. Oh, there were a few people who always said, how are you and have a good week, but that was about it. He did not seek for recognition and he did not get it. Philip would enter the sanctuary as quietly as possible, make the sign of the cross, kneel on the kneeler and remain there until the end of Mass. He did not go up for communion. He felt he received communion by just being there. It was enough, and then again, not enough. He would have liked to be one of the bright butterflies that was everybody’s friend, but he lacked the temperament, the élan, the je ne sais quoi.
The members of Community NoVa resembled the membership of many churches. There were the truly Christ-like, the cheery, the snotty, and the downright demonic. The congregants were divided into the singles and the couples—each set got their own pew. They were never intentionally divided this way; it’s just that over time pews became little residences. The result was a sea of pews with mostly one person per row, and a couple about every fifth row. Philip always sat in the last pew of the church in the shadow of the small balcony which at one time served as a slave gallery. Even though he had gone there for twenty years, no one ever paid much attention to him. Oh, there were a few people who always said, how are you and have a good week, but that was about it. He did not seek for recognition and he did not get it. Philip would enter the sanctuary as quietly as possible, make the sign of the cross, kneel on the kneeler and remain there until the end of Mass. He did not go up for communion. He felt he received communion by just being there. It was enough, and then again, not enough. He would have liked to be one of the bright butterflies that was everybody’s friend, but he lacked the temperament, the élan, the je ne sais quoi.
POETRY QUARTERLY Publishes Three Poems in the Spring 2010 Issue
including this one
SONG OF THE SLAVES*
Come bring your slaves, your fine black slaves,
for it’s Christmas time and Christ is near.
If you can’t buy them a trinket of gold
then at least let them see the baby Jesus.
Come Miguel and Moses, Luis and Sheba,
Come and behold the Christmas cradle
where baby Jesus lies sleeping with sheep.
You know what it’s like to sleep in a stable.
The good father grins and greets them.
It’s Christmas time and one should act
like a Christian at least once a year.
Besides, Jesus is sleeping in a cradle.
Miguel says, you go first, Moses says, you go,
Luis says, I’m not worthy, but Sheba says, I’ll go.
For Jesus is sleeping in a Christmas cradle
and anyone can come and see a baby sleeping.
The father says, come near, come near.
Today anyone can pray to Jesus even
if he’s sleeping in a cradle. Anyone
can make a Christmas wish on Jesus.
You speak, says Miguel, No you, says Moses,
Luis says, I can’t speak. I’ll speak, says Sheba,
What is your Christmas wish, asks the good father.
Our Christmas wish, says Sheba, is to be free.
*loosely based on a 17th century Portuguese madrigal
Come bring your slaves, your fine black slaves,
for it’s Christmas time and Christ is near.
If you can’t buy them a trinket of gold
then at least let them see the baby Jesus.
Come Miguel and Moses, Luis and Sheba,
Come and behold the Christmas cradle
where baby Jesus lies sleeping with sheep.
You know what it’s like to sleep in a stable.
The good father grins and greets them.
It’s Christmas time and one should act
like a Christian at least once a year.
Besides, Jesus is sleeping in a cradle.
Miguel says, you go first, Moses says, you go,
Luis says, I’m not worthy, but Sheba says, I’ll go.
For Jesus is sleeping in a Christmas cradle
and anyone can come and see a baby sleeping.
The father says, come near, come near.
Today anyone can pray to Jesus even
if he’s sleeping in a cradle. Anyone
can make a Christmas wish on Jesus.
You speak, says Miguel, No you, says Moses,
Luis says, I can’t speak. I’ll speak, says Sheba,
What is your Christmas wish, asks the good father.
Our Christmas wish, says Sheba, is to be free.
*loosely based on a 17th century Portuguese madrigal
