. . . . . . .

J Cage: Music is permanent; only listening is intermittent


Saturday, December 21, 2013

IN THE MARBLE OF YOUR ANIMAL EYES 

























This is a scan of the first page of my first book, IN THE MARBLE OF YOUR ANIMAL EYES, and I'm THRILLED to announce that it's finally available at Publication Studio. I am tremendously grateful to Patricia No and Antonia Pinter/ Publication Studio (Portland) for taking so much care to honor this compost book and its unusual habits. 
…….


Joseph Lease has said, “In the Marble of Your Animal Eyes is gorgeous and heartbreaking, and it changes everything. Nathan Hauke is one of the best poets writing today.” A visual compost that tracks the breakdown of a marriage next to the process of writing the manuscript text through layers of old letters, handwritten journals and earlier drafts, In the Marble of Your Animal Eyes, is a postmodern eclogue that attempts to address upheaval by exploring the way divorce rewires pastoral imaginations of place. These poems were hand-edited and those edits appear in facsimile transcription, a transparent erasure of things past that marks the force with which poverty strips away static notions of identity to reveal what is and is not essential to generative contact with the world. A sequence from In the Marble of Your Animal Eyes was recently featured in the “Textual Ecologies” section of The Arcadia Project: Postmodern North American Pastoral (Ahsahta 2012). Hauke’s poems have been published in a wide variety of journals including American Letters & Commentary, Colorado Review, Denver Quarterly, Interim, The Laurel Review, and New American Writing.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

PASTORAL (years later)

A few scans from my new Shirt PocketPress mini-chap Pastoral (years later) featuring drawings by Kate Kern Mundie.
















Front cover.

inside::




















Check out the rest alongside the growing Shirt PocketPress catalog here.


Monday, August 26, 2013

OLD TIRES LAID ACROSS THE TRAILER TO WEIGHT AND QUIET WIND





















A gorgeous Kate Kern Mundie sketch included in my new Shirt PocketPress chap Pastoral (years later). Vry glad for the company!

Saturday, August 24, 2013

PASTORAL (years later)

Very grateful to the Shirt PocketPress family for releasing my chapbook Pastoral (years later) cut with incredible drawings by Kate Kern Mundie alongside Jen Tynes' new chap NEW PINK NUDIBRANCH and MC Hyland's TOOTHLESS ALTAR among so many others. "Sparse and expansive, quick sketches with high resonance, charged with the power of attention, these poems and drawings don't take up that many pages, but they have all the time. All the lines create something bigger on the inside."

Friday, June 28, 2013


WONDER STINGS ME MORE THAN THE BEE

Wonder stings me more/ than the Bee – who did/ never sting me – but/ made gay music with/ his might wherever/ I may should did go
            —Emily Dickinson (Second “Master Letter”)

True imagination makes nothing up; it is a way of seeing the world.
—Guy Davenport (The Geography of the Imagination)

The first summer we lived in North Carolina, K and I found wild honeybees had built a huge hive in the wall of Brown’s dilapidated old barn up the holler behind the farmhouse we were staying in with her Aunt Emilie. Remembering the activity of those bees with poems I wrote that summer taped up on the wall of our bedroom now, at the beginning of another summer (three summers removed) while we are expecting our first (a son), I find myself returning to R Blaser’s assertion that “The bees/ disturb     the stillness    seeking  sweetness” (“Image-Nation 5 (erasure”).

I love the lush quiescence of green Appalachian summers—storm ravaged blackberry blossoms drifting through barred shadows in the murky rain-swollen creek below our windows. It’s easy to feel intervals of time slip into a resonant harmony that looms in the wet black paint of the woods up the embankment and the layered foggy echoes of ridges unaccounted for. This melt of presence into ecstasy is rare refreshment at the end of another season full of urgency, hard work and upheavals. It also sharpens perspective to clarify the importance of stressors and disturbance that contributes to growth and change.

Breaking the stillness (rest) restores it to activity (and it makes more) just as it’s a dog’s grace to scatter the reflection of trees. It’s joyful to watch the leaves dance while he crashes around in the water and it’s joyful to watch them settle while he stands chewing tall grass in the sun.   When I think of our quiet routine moving through the house in the morning, reading Ina May Gaskin’s Guide to Childbirth, watching my partner, Kirsten, dress for the summer school class she is teaching, I like to think of our son crashing around… Will he remember any of the books we’ve read to him (still in the womb) or any of our other music? What will he like to do with his mornings? It’s impossible to imagine another life. (Like Emerson says in Experience, “Every man is an impossibility until he is born.”) It’s impossible to know the extent to which our lives and routines will be changed by his arrival.

Preparations for this harbinger involve operating with the requisite negative capability and honing our capacity to improvise with mindfulness and flexibility. I want to nurture disturbances with tenderness that acknowledges the resonances (“sweetness”) they free up. Disturbances expose the prismatic edges of the occasions we cleave to—constellations of being that are restful and dear to us. Revelations of our temporalities remind us of the extent we are allied to process, pollination and growth. Time is wed to eternity.

Bees burrow into their respective flowers (clover, dandelion, goldenrod, milkweed, various fruit trees, etc.) for nectar to be coated by pollen and are, in turn, incorporated into much wider range of activity, e.g. pollination. Watching bees gathering nectar in his Journal, HD Thoreau wonders “how to extract…honey from the flower of the world” and simply looks out to the bustling scene before his eyes:

The scenery when it is truly seen reacts on the life of the seer.  How to live… How to extract its honey from the flower of the world.  This is my everyday business.  I am as busy as a bee about it.  I ramble over all fields on that errand and am never so happy as when I feel myself heavy with honey & wax.  I am like a bee searching the livelong day for the sweets of nature.  Do I not impregnate & intermix the flowers produce rare & finer varieties by transferring my eyes from one to another?  I do as naturally & joyfully with my own humming music—seek honey all the day.  (A Year in Thoreau’s Journal)

Travelling through space from flower to flower gathering sweetness like the bees, Thoreau’s eyes cross-pollinate the flowers to participate in the continuity of their process.  Attention reverberates with the activity of the field before him.

JW Goethe’s Theory of Colours tells us that the spatial linkages that Thoreau makes by looking from flower to flower, occasion to occasion, happen on a literal level because our brains link the separate images we see into saccades. Goethe’s exploration of saccades also gives way to his belief that our eyes move material traces of the objects we encounter as we transfer them from one thing to the next: “In going from one object to another; the succession of images appears to us distinct; we are not aware that some portion of the impression derived from the object first contemplated passes to that which is next looked at.” These linkages are physically transformative because they “intermix” and change the colors: “If, when the eye is impressed with visionary images that last for awhile, we look on coloured surfaces, an intermixture also takes place; the spectrum is determined to a new colour which is composed of the two” (A Year, Theory of Colours). Providing the linkage between a yellow flower and a blue flower, Thoreau’s eyes might help conjure a green one. 

R Johnson’s Ark reminds us that sight is always a becoming because it involves pitching our eyes into the visual stream, come what will: “eyeyeye” (“Beam 5: The Voices”). A saccade is a chain of being—an addition of the occasions that flash before us as they do; it’s also a record of change that evidences the eye behind it (because each image is the fossil of its moment), the “I” mapping itself well behind the eye. At week 24 of our pregnancy, my son has already grown his eyes. They already stammer, practicing REM sleep movements, though he cannot yet open them… G Davenport: “The self is by nature turned outward to connect with the harmony of things.  The eyes cannot see themselves, but something other” (The Geography of the Imagination).

There is the slow emergence of self-awareness from the harmony of Nature/ God and the occasional melt into ecstasy that prepares its inevitable return. Much farther along in the process than my son, I know this life to be full of joyful noise and dissonance that’s born of attachments we suffer to people, places and patterns we love to see. Doing yoga in storm-light with our dog Franklin snoring sprawled out across his blanket nearby, I hope the baby will make plenty of commotion. I love the music of our family enough to make way for change. Where do I remember reading that story about R Duncan shattering his best mug? “Shattering his mug, he keeps it.” The rest (capture) we often associate with enclosures is all surface; disturbance restores us to contact and exposure. Who knows what new patterns are being prepared for days to come. How we’ll come to them. How long they’ll last. The loss, relief and gratitude we’ll feel to find routines we cleave to suddenly and inexplicably altered or realize that they’ve imperceptibly tilted just enough to ferry us to the next place.


Saturday, June 15, 2013

"NOT KNOWING BUT AS PROXIMITY": HANK LAZER'S N18 (COMPLETE)


"Given to the delight and terror of contact at edges, the Notebooks evidence curiosity and an increasingly desperate yearning to better understand 'us/ that fact what were' because it has changed despite the impossibility of doing so (“8/19/10—8/20/10”). They face a sharpened, bittersweet awareness that the poverty of limits exposes us to a much wider range of activity where the 'darkness' seen at 'horizon of the end' abandons forms we love for unprecedented visions: 'what we are to get a glimpse of what we might become' (“8/28/10”)." My review of Hank Lazer's meticulous and incredibly expansive N18 (complete) (Singing Horse Press 2012) is finally available in the review section of Drunken Boat 17. Thanks to Shira Dentz for putting the review section together!
DIE WILDEKINDER, LIKE YOMI: BRENDA SIECZKOWSKI'S WONDER GIRL IN MONSER LAND

"As the shoreline of Monster Land erodes, we find wrenching departures that cut in both directions. Loss leaves us alone with ourselves (no one to help us read it)." Check out my review of Brenda Sieczkowski's harrowing and radiant chapbook Wonder Girl in Monster Land (dancing girl press 2012) in the incredibly energetic review section Shira Dentz curated for Drunken Boat 17.
COUNTRY MUSIC (DoubleCross Press 2013)
Poetics of the Handmade series





“Historically, friendship has housed poetry not only in terms of readerships (think of all the poetries born of friendship), but also in terms of presses. When good work was not/is not able to find an equally good home for too long, friends start their own press. They publish their friends’ work; they make new friends in the process. These small presses are the no kill shelter for experimental writing.” 




I am tremendously grateful to MC Hyland for publishing COUNTRY MUSIC, a collaborative essay that Kirsten Jorgenson and I wrote about our first summer running Ark Press and the Ark Press Summer Reading Series in Todd, NC (Summer 2011) with such tenderness and patience as a part of her stunning DoubleCross Press Poetics of the Handmade series. 


Pepper Luboff's And when the time for the breaking (Ark Press 2013)





"Pepper Luboff is so brilliant it breaks my heart. Get a copy of her chapbook. Weep, rejoice. Rinse, repeat. It's the sort of work that I find totally generative--it propels me to respond."
                -Joseph Massey












Ark Press is thrilled to announce the arrival of our second limited edition chapbook, Pepper Luboff's And when the time for the breaking (Letterpress Printed on 100 lb. Mohawk Superfine Paper. Metallic gold vellum fly sheet). Visually and linguistically acrobatic, And when the time for the breaking meditates on the fracturing, "can't say uh-merica / without splintering" ("Versus"), and resilience of community in Oakland and the surrounding San Francisco Bay area as it calls us to consider our culpability to one another:
if we
look into
the ingredients (makers &
pasts) of
those around us
words we reproduce
our laws & manners
places we work & live
what we wear & eat
distanced
how to go about it
either, or, or as ("the lack of distance, a kind of closure")


Sneak peak::






Thursday, February 14, 2013


THE NEXT BIG THING

Megan Burns and Mike Sikkema asked me to take part in The Next Big Thing.

What is the working title of the book?
INDIAN SUMMER RECYLING (words on a building I pass on the way home…)

*
Where did the idea come from for the book?
Appalachian North Carolina is magnetic. Living here necessarily means participating in a commotion of overlapping fields of energy that continue to activate and challenge so many parts of my personality. The landscape is varied, lush and gorgeous, gnarled, mossy and shady, rough, spacious, foggy, isolating, expansive, littered with industrial bric-a-brac and shot-up with light. Appalachia is full of hollers, wild and carved out for tree farms, wrenched barbed wire fences, old tractors and trailers, sweet clover, crows and wild turkeys, rotting barns mid-collapse with slow-flowing windows, ghosts, horses, flurries of roadside chickens, shot gun blasts, abandoned cars with trees growing through their windshields. It’s warm and talky, dangerous, biblical, alien, and no-nonsense.

Lit me right up the first summer I was here and I was wide-awake all the time. I was up early jogging along the New River in the fog, doing yoga, (re)reading Smithson’s essays and Thoreau’s Journal, walking the dirt road into the holler behind the farmhouse where we stayed with my wife Kirsten’s Aunt Emilie, hanging out in and around the Old Gymnasium/ junk yard behind my wife’s Aunt Martha and Uncle Tom’s place.

I was writing in two or three different journals and suddenly felt compelled to cut them up into pieces. When I started moving the pieces around in the grass, across dusty old refrigerator coils and the wall of a rusted-out stove, I ended up taking pictures. At a certain point, I found some abandoned slats of glass and realized that I could layer the pieces on top of each other to varying degrees of clarity, shatter them with rocks, photograph them through stagnant rainwater with flies drifting in it, river current, etc.  I’m not sure whatever really came of any of this, but I was writing all the time… Just writing and playing, trying to catch stations and stay out in the weather. I never even typed anything up.

I was also listening to a lot of ambient music like Sean McCann’s Midnight Orchard cassette, Mountains’ Mountains and Mountains’ Choral among others, thinking about layers and melody in relation to Thoreau’s CLEAR AND ANCIENT HARMONY. I was listening to a lot of blues and roots music too: RL Burnside’s Mississippi Hill Country Blues, Roscoe Holcomb and the like; I heard Elizabeth “Libby” Cotton for the first time on one of Emilie’s old blues records, Blues at Newport, 1964.

*
What genre does your book fall under?
This compost

*
What actors would you choose to play the part of the characters in a movie rendition?
I’m not sure who would play Appalachia and who would play Libby Cotton…

*
What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?
This morning Bob Dylan was singing, “I’m a-walking down the line.” Then, he was singing, “Don’t think twice; it’s alright”x4. Or, like K says, after a storm, our dog Franklin smells with his teeth.

*
How long did it take you to write the first draft?
Three summers.

I teach a lot, like a lot of folks, and I’m half underwater all year… I usually don’t have much time to write until summer… I’m circulating another manuscript that was mostly written during the winter while I was finishing my Ph.D., but those were different times… Thankfully, I’m molting all year and I’m usually hungry when school lets out. Returning to INDIAN SUMMER RECYCLING has been pretty effortless so far, like stepping out into a current. It seems like I scotch tape the whole manuscript up on the wall of our bedroom and cross things out, here and there, a few times a year, but mostly I write in the summer and type it up in the fall.

*
Who or what inspired you to write the book?
Writing is, happily, always a mysterious process to me. I can usually point to interests and energies that were part of the circumstances that poems grow out of, but I never really know how anything happens. It’s like Huck Finn says, “In a barrel of odds and ends…things get mixed up, and the juice kind of swaps around, and the things go better.”

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What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?
We’ve got Sun Drop Cola.

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Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
Horse Less Press just published a chapbook of poems that comes from this book project called Honeybabe, Don’t Leave Me Now and the title is a mash-up of a Libby Cotten lyric and a Bob Dylan lyric. Otherwise, we’ll see what happens. Mostly, this one and the other, just hang around collecting dog hair and stray feathers.


Tagged writers for the next big thing: Shira Dentz, Joseph Massey, Abe Smith, and Stacy Kidd.