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A Blogger’s Notebook 11
GOD OF THE INVISIBLE HAND swift Hermes herald of the godsartful cunning cattle rustlergod of roads and border crossingspatron of traders liars thievesdiscloser of meanings bringer of dreamsconductor of souls to the underworld small wonder the invisible handflowers before you treacherousgod of cattle futures and hedge fundsderivatives and algorithmic tradingJon Green suits golden parachutes“good wars” and terror alerts a radio pundit Freudian slipped“Blood is the money that runsthrough our system” O Hermesyou narrow fellow in the grassthe dreams you bring are dark dreamsthe news you deliver stinks…Read More
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A Blogger’s Notebook 10
Herewith the reason I finally had to learn how to pronounce “Wittgenstein” (see my previous post).Read More
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Salamander Cove
I was out of town and coming down with H1N1 when Annie Wyndham alerted me to the appearance of my poem “Mortality” on her new poetry blog, Salamander Cove (scroll down to her 10/29 post), so I failed to note her kindness in placing it there among so many other find poems.Read More
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Fine Company
Two new pieces of mine, a poem and a prose poem, appear in the beautifully designed second issue of Cerise Press (see here and here).Read More
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Vision and Revision
This time-lapse video of Seamus Berkeley creating a portrait of Ashley might teach poets a good deal about the writing process. Seamus and I were involved in a project that surfaced last October at The Rane Gallery in Taos (see the second event mentioned here). The event was called “Interwoven Illuminations,” and it involved poets writing in response to works of art, with artists in turn creating art in response to poems—all in sequence, starting with a painting by Bill Rane. Neither the poets nor the artists knew whose work they were responding to.Read More
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A Columbus Day Poem
Colón In Extremis I The artist sits back, brush in hand, to take his progress in. Yes, yes . . . the Great Discoverer arches in his twisted bedclothes as he must have; sweat jewels the fleshy, whiskered jaw, slicks the tangled hair made thin by grim ambition. Do the eyes, rolled back in anguish, catch more than the lamplight’s soiled yellow glow? The artist dips up a bit of pigment, daubs at the inward corner of each eye—two ticks of white.Read More
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Robert Bly and the Habit of Being
Here’s a wonderful, in-depth profile of Robert Bly, with several related videos. Thanks to Jilly Dybka for linking to it on her Poetry Hut Blog. As I’ve noted elsewhere, Bly was a crucial influence for me—one I had to overcome, of course, or I suppose integrate would be a better word. I admire Bly as a poet and translator, but also for his decision early on to lead a life centered around poetry, with as little compromise as possible with Caesar.Read More
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A Blogger’s Notebook 9
NO CHOICE He intends only his own gain, and he is in this […] led by an invisible hand to promote an end which was no part of his intention. —Adam Smith The dangling puppetknows it’s a puppet.Is proudof being a puppet.Praises the strengthof that InvisibleHand up therewithout ever asking,“Whose hand?” The puppet—bound to the Handby tough strings(once jute or cotton,now nylon, even steel)—bows, struts, prances,doggedly marches,collapsesin a heap; thenresurrects to applausefrom the audience:also puppets.Read More
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On the Open Road
I got a very pleasant surprise in the mail today: the Summer 2009 issue of The MIdwest Quarterly: A Journal of Contemporary Thought. This is the 4th number of volume 50, and it contains poems drawn from the publication’s 50 years of existence. I knew that one of my poems would be in it, which is flattering enough; what I did not know is that the editor, Stephen Meats, would be choosing just 100 poems to represent those 50 years.Read More
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Happy Independence Day
This poem surfaced during the run-up to the last election, but I think it may work as an Independence Day poem, too. THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH The clown car careens into the bright-litcenter ring, buzzing like a baby chainsaw.Smoke corkscrews from the tiny tailpipe,the horn bleats and squalls. Now it brakes,fishtails, skids sideways and heaves to a halt,rocking on lackadaisical springs. The motorpops and sputters, the tinted glass doors stay shut. The audience leans forward.Nothing happens—only spotlight beamssweeping over, away and back. And soon,frustration crackles in the bleachers. Gripes,scattered curses, threats.Read More
Joseph Hutchison, Colorado Poet Laureate 2014-2019, has published 20 collections of poems and edited or co-edited three poetry anthologies. He currently directs two master’s-level programs for University College at the University of Denver: Professional Creative Writing and Arts & Culture Management. Joe lives with his wife, Melody Madonna, in the mountains southwest of Denver, Colorado, the city where he was born. 
