Last FBOV of 2023
Here’s good news and several events to look ahead to in 2024. But first I wanted to stop to thank you for reading as I cast an eye widely on our county’s bounty of poetry and poets. Since becoming Poet Laureate at the end of January, I’ve felt compelled and buoyed and cheered by all the activity, and by everyone who loves poetry in all the corners of the county.
Two of my favorite personal memories:
Writing poetry and then making ‘zines this summer with two sisters (maybe ages 7 & 9?) at the Felton Library, (who validated my scrappy pile of bird magazine photos with their genuine excitement and wonder!)
Reading poems to residents at Brookdale Senior Living in October, and then receiving the most thoughtful questions during an extended Q&A.
Poetry is here for so many people, & it’s an honor for me to live that truth.
I’ve been slow with this newsletter because of personal issues related to a car accident. I’m starting to feel better but will likely lay low a little longer. During the darknesses of the last several weeks—both personal and public—I’ve been ever more grateful for the gift of other poets and our perseverance, and the way the smallest poems of witness can be a lifeline. Thanks to anyone else who feels this way too. Often, this attention feels like the most important act. And on that note, please read on!
Youth Poet Laureate Celebration: Save the Date & Save a Seat
On April 10, 2024 (6pm) at the Kuumbwa Jazz Center in Santa Cruz, we will announce the inaugural SC County Youth Poet Laureate, along with three finalists in this first cohort, and I hope you’ll plan to be at this free event. It will include poetry readings from all four finalists and other special guests, and you can (and should!) reserve seats at this Eventbrite page. I’d love to show as much community support as possible—please save the date now and come on out. Again, this is a free event, thanks to the generosity of many organizations and individuals.
Support Youth Poets
And on that note, one more end-of-year invitation to contribute to the future youth poet laureate programming via the Friends of the SC Public Libraries. Be sure and comment in the “additional notes” that the donation is for the YPL.
The Company of Poetry in Winter
First Friday open mics at Satori Arts will launch for 2024 on January 5 at 7pm, at 815 Almar Ave, Unit 9, SC (on the west side). More info and signups here.
Also at Satori, Inter|Act Spoken Word (which is at Abbott Square most of the year) will continue its indoor winter residency on Tuesday January 16, 7pm. Info about Inter|Act here.
As I mentioned last issue, The Hive’s first 2024 Hive Live! will take place on January 9, 7pm, at Bookshop Santa Cruz. Register here to save your spot to hear two accomplished bay area poets, Susan Cohen and Rebecca Foust.
New location for Poetry Nightz, Tuesdays 7-9pm in Freedom: Arte del Corazón, 80 Airport Blvd. Suite 206, Freedom (parking in back). Next events: Jan 9th & 23rd.
Monterey County News
Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium has returned to the newly renovated Pacific Grove Library, and on January 12 they present poets Andrena Zawinski and Laura Shulkind. 550 Main St. 5:30pm. Info here about this event and this excellent series, which hosts poets from Monterey and Santa Cruz counties.
Cause for Celebration
The Hive Poetry Collective announced that we will be carrying on Santa Cruz’s tradition, In Celebration of the Muse. It will be a live poetry-only event on April 26, 6:30- 8:30 pm at Cabrillo Horticulture. Submissions are being accepted and due February 1, 2024. More information and application here.
Don’t Forget to Submit
A final reminder to submit to Journal X, the national social justice literary arts magazine out of our own Cabrillo College, before the Jan. 8 deadline.
Poem
From the online archives of Santa Cruz County’s Hilltromper.com (which I learned has been resurrected just this month), I leave you with a poem from the wonderful Ellen Bass.
Ode to the Fish
Nights, when I can't sleep, I listen to the sea lions
barking from the rocks off the lighthouse.
I look out the black window into the black night
and think about fish stirring the oceans.
Muscular tuna, their lunge and thrash
churning the water, whipping up a squall,
storm of hunger. Herring cruising,
river of silver in the sea, wide as a lit city.
And all the small breaths: pulse
of frilled jellyfish, thrust of squid,
frenzy of krill, transparent skin glowing
green with the glass shells of diatoms.
Billions swarming up the water column each night,
gliding down at dawn. They're the greased motor
that powers the world. Shipping heat
to the Arctic, hauling cold to the tropics,
currents unspooling around the globe.
My room is so still, the bureau lifeless,
and on it, inert, the paraphernalia of humans:
keys, coins, shells that once rocked in the tides—
opalescent abalone, pearl earrings.
Only the clock's sea green numerals
register their little changes. And shadows
the moon casts—fan of maple branches—
tick across the room. But beyond the cliffs
a blue whale sounds and surfaces, cosmic
ladle scooping the icy depths. An artery so wide,
I could swim through into its thousand-pound heart.