poetry as from a kitchen window – a review of Wheeler Lane by Julia Wendell

Wheeler Lane book cover

Julia Wendell, Wheeler Lane (1st Edition) English (buy this book)
Review by deb Ewing

And then ten years went by.

I’d decided to review Julia Wendel‘s poetry collection next in my series of Igneus Press titles because I wanted to focus on the feminine as part of the human animal, not as an Other. I’d dog-eared a few pages because I am that monster (I also write in the margins, even in what should be a fancy coffee table book. I don’t have a coffee table.) And I’d thrown the book in my bag to read while travelling to Philadelphia for an art reception in which I was an honoree.

And, as I often do, I opened the book eyes closed like I’d thrown I Ching coins to see what wisdom popped out at me. It was that one line, top of the page: And then ten years went by.

This is a feeling I think we all know.

Julia Wendell is telling the story of a lifetime in these pages, almost more a reporter than participant. And there’s something edifying in that to me, because I like to do the same thing: I tell you what I see. It’s up to you to draw your own conclusions. Sometimes the conclusion drawn through someone else’s observation is more startling than we’d let ourselves notice in our own lives.

Because I don’t know the game Baccarat – paired with Passion in the title of Julia’s poem – I researched. I wanted to know why she chose this juxtaposition. Baccarat is a comparing of cards, in which either the “bank” or the player can win, or there can be a tie. This gamble is woven throughout Wheeler Lane – the narrator is complicit in choosing to gamble, and there’s a great deal of waiting for outcomes.

Julia tells the story of someone else’s dream deflating in the measured tone of someone who’s tired of arguing, tired of being wrong, as she watches a portable greenhouse fail. This is the story I know of being a woman, a mother, a spouse, in the United States. I don’t claim that the story is ubiquitous, but my Indian friend tells me how’s she’s doing: “Oh you know, this son, this husband.” Yeah, I know; I’ve been there, too.

And then ten years went by.

I can measure a few of those increments in my life – usually I ended up in another state, one way or another, by the end of it. Sometimes ten years was actually thirteen, or two and a half. But you wonder why you can’t remember exactly what happened then. Julia Wheeler implies that these decades are measured in things acquired, often for someone else.

Are we the ghosts of our own stories?

A couple of things stand out to me in this piece – one is near the end, Wendell’s repetition of the words ‘less sexual.’ Repetition is tricky in poetry and has to be used with precision; here, it is. I want to say, too, that I love the ampersand as a piece of punctuation, a stand-in for a word, and as an art form. At every point where Wendell chose to & instead of and, I am happy.

I’ve misplaced the copy of Wheeler Lane I took with me to Philadelphia. I hope I left it on that ledge on the pier where I recorded my reading. I hope one of those parents, herding their toddlers over the grass and down the boardwalk, picked it up and stuffed it in a bag for later. Maybe, even though we’re still in a pandemic, they took the gamble, took the book, and left it safely in the garage long enough for surface-transmitted germs to die. I hope they remember some things they’d socked away in cabinets, memories shaken loose by Julia Wheeler’s poetry. Buy Wheeler Lane here.

Further Stuff:

Julia Wendell Learn more about the author and poet here.

How to Play Baccarat and Win – Learn in Less Than Four Minutes This is not an endorsement of Caesars Entertainment, nor of gambling, but where I found myself in my research.
Baccarat (card game) Here’s the Wiki-splanation.

What is the I Ching? – Chinafile.com Humans love to divine; we just want something to tip the scales toward a decision we can’t make. The I Ching has supplied philosophy, ethics, and authority for the arts & sciences for thousands of years.

Mathematics + Art: A Cultural History, Lynn Gamwell I own this book, and I write in the margins. It’s an impressive book in both heft and scope. My book club is enjoying it greatly; we made 5-minute PowerPoint presentations on chapters at a time.

Beware the Ides of March – but Why? – history.com Because you need to know, man. “It’s not really surprising Caesar was stabbed 23 times. He was surrounded by a mob of senators. They probably weren’t really good at stabbing people to death; they were politicians.” – Shiya Ribowsky

#uncoffeed… Things Which Are Not Mine to Carry My blog is an oleo (I said it like that so you can feel good when you use that word in a crossword puzzle.) A few of my ten-yearses are referenced in this true story of my date with Satan.

Portable Greenhouse – Igneus Press does not endorse this product, and neither do I. I think I want one, though.

A Tale of Psyche – a review of Vincent Ferrini’s poetry

Vincent Ferrini, A Tale of Psyche (1st edition) English (buy this book)
Review by deb Ewing

Poetry is infinite aiming toward finite, distillation of the poet’s mind, conveyance of a specific image which wasn’t given in words. Sometimes, and these are some of my favorite times, poetry is words sprinkled onto a page – a dance, performance art in two dimensions instead of three.

I sat in the virtual audience as Igneus Press interviewed poet/performance/artist Elizabeth Gordon McKim on Facebook. She knew Vincent Ferrini, and she told us (and by us I mean me) about him.

EGMcK: Vincent Ferrini…well, you knew Vincent, too, didn’t you?

Sophia Kidd: I met him. I knew him through my father for decades, and then I met him, I rode my bicycle down to see him.

EGMcK: Okay, he was a very instrumental person for me…He grew up in Lynn (Massachussetts); he was Italian, he came from anarchist roots, and he grew up in some of the tenements here. And his parents were shoe workers…(laughing) we recognized each other. We definitely recognized each other.

Stories of Lynn Mural, photo courtesy of davidfichter.com

~let me, the narrator, interject here: Is this not an important aspect to poetry as well? Don’t we peek inside these chapbooks hoping to recognize another one of us, a kindred spirit, free or tortured, attempting to translate what doesn’t fit well in society’s language?

EGMcK: …he was just a big force; he took up a lot of space, it was always kinda good space, it was great space with Vincent. There was so much history there, and poetry, and learning, and sexuality; inquisitiveness and curiosity and barbs…”my life is a poem…life is a poem…”

SK: (arms outstretched) “I AM THE POEM!” My dad used to tell this story, and I can’t really do it well, because you need to be able to see my feet…Vincent stood up one day and said to my dad, he put one foot over here, and one foot over here, and said “I HAVE ONE FOOT IN THIS WORLD, PETER, AND ONE FOOT IN THE OTHER WORLD. AND I CAN TELL YOU ONE THING. I AM THE POEM!!!!”

~and this is when I knew I had to go back and read A Tale of Psyche from the top.

EGMcK: (laughing) That’s Vincent. And it’s so wonderful to see where I live here, in Lynn, if I just walk down one block this way, it’s this big public mural and we have people like Frederick Douglass and various people that lived in Lynn…and there’s Vincent! He’s on the mural with his black hat and everything, sort of peeking over everything…he’s so much part of the spirit here. And just as for all of us, we’ve had people who have influenced us, some of them well-known, and some of them familial; you know, from our everyday lives. And Vincent was a person, certainly, from a time in my life…there were so many questions I had about who I was, and Vincent helped for me to feel myself as an artist and as a poet, and to be just part of that big stream.

~ and here we come to the point, don’t we? We want to feel ourselves for what we are, and also to feel ourselves part of that big stream.

This bigger-than-self drawing of Vincent Ferrini translates onto the pages of A Tale of Psyche. He plants a foot firmly on this part of the page, and another here, and another over there. A Tale of Psyche is unconventional – it comprises eight poems, but some of them cross several pages like rabbit-tracks in fresh fallen snow. Ferrini talks a lot about dual states: in and out, between, like a shoreline.

I keep A Tale of Psyche in my purse these days – poetry living my life with me. It has crumpled pages, dog-eared corners, food stains. This book has to be lived, breathed, moving, because to read it aloud for you (and I will) doesn’t give the whole picture. Here, let me show you how he nearly draws a tree’s purpose:

from ‘Adytum’, A Tale of Psyche, Vincent Ferrini

…and how he approximates a wandering, wondering psyche:

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is ferrini-a-sm-1024x745.jpg
from ‘Adytum’, A Tale of Psyche, Vincent Ferrini

…so when I read the poem, I cannot just convey to you the words used to create it, because a space creates it, too.

debora Ewing reads Mirandum by Vincent Ferrini


Vincent Ferrini is the poem. With this in mind, you can read the words of a shoemaker’s son as they perform on each page and understand it’s true

for

all of us.

Further reading:

Find yourself inspired by the images of Elizabeth Gordon McKim here: elizabethgordonmckim.com

Watch the Facebook interview with Elizabeth and Sophia Kidd here: https://www.facebook.com/IgneusPress/videos/691913161687422

David Fichter gives the details of his work with Yetti Frenkel and Joshua Winer on his website here: davidfichter.com

Montserrat Alumna Yetti Frenkel is one of the Stories of Lynn mural team. See her work here: Yetti.com

Beyond Walls is the project responsible for the fantastic murals around Lynn, Massachusetts.