Getting Family Business is easy, though a bit unusual: It's at Broadway Books, a small independent bookstore of the very best sort. If you don’t live in or near Portland, order by mail. [503/284.1726 + + 1714 NE Broadway, Portland OR 97232.]
Books
What if your motherGrace Paley's Life Stories
Every Mother's Son
Our Mother's Daughters
Ash Creek Series
POEMSFamily Business
- commentary
This chapbook, a manuscript in an envelope, grew out of its own cover. I'd had that cartoon taped on the door of my office for years; it'd been there so long I didn't even see it anymore (you know how that is). Working on this manuscript (thinking about the order, the idea of family, my own family), I saw once again how putting poems together, creating relationships among them, makes them different, new, fresh. And then, in one of those who-knows-why moments, I saw the taped-up cartoon, laughed out loud, and realized I had to use it. By the time I secured the rights, the envelope idea arrived from who-knows-where, and I started working with Ash Creek Press, where Mac Kieffer thought of having the cartoon be the entire face of the envelope — making it, essentially, the book cover. Once we had that, I thought: I can put anything new into this envelope! I can pack any of my poems in there, time after time! So, of course, I've already begun using it for gifts and treats, a signature piece. Here on this page, however, it's a professionally appropriate experiment in the rapidly mutating lit-biz of the 21st century: first in what may well be a series of enveloped manuscripts, this particular batch of "fresh poetry" is Family Business, a chapbook of poems that includes some of my most personal recent work.*
This chapbook, a manuscript in an envelope, grew out of its own cover. I'd had that cartoon taped on the door of my office for years; it'd been there so long I didn't even see it anymore (you know how that is). Working on this manuscript (thinking about the order, the idea of family, my own family), I saw once again how putting poems together, creating relationships among them, makes them different, new, fresh. And then, in one of those who-knows-why moments, I saw the taped-up cartoon, laughed out loud, and realized I had to use it. By the time I secured the rights, the envelope idea arrived from who-knows-where, and I started working with Ash Creek Press, where Mac Kieffer thought of having the cartoon be the entire face of the envelope — making it, essentially, the book cover. Once we had that, I thought: I can put anything new into this envelope! I can pack any of my poems in there, time after time! So, of course, I've already begun using it for gifts and treats, a signature piece. Here on this page, however, it's a professionally appropriate experiment in the rapidly mutating lit-biz of the 21st century: first in what may well be a series of enveloped manuscripts, this particular batch of "fresh poetry" is Family Business, a chapbook of poems that includes some of my most personal recent work.*
- excerpt
86
Today’s my father’s birthday
he’s 86 and thinking, maybe
maybe he’ll kill himself
86 himself; he says
he wishes there was a button
so he could push it
they should have a button
he says, you could just push
when you’re ready to go
he doesn’t know
this is his birthday
he’s not expecting a birthday
he doesn’t expect
he’s always surprised
to hear my voice
on the phone, my voice
at the door, he knows me
I think, I believe
I give it away, calling
him Daddy, saying my own
name; I am the daughter
the sons are my brothers
playing tricks like mine
saying their names
wanting to be known
getting what we can
when he scatters ideas
we rush in like pigeons
under the bench in the park
where an old man sits
brushing crumbs from his jacket.
First published in Diner Volume 6, 2007.
86
Today’s my father’s birthday
he’s 86 and thinking, maybe
maybe he’ll kill himself
86 himself; he says
he wishes there was a button
so he could push it
they should have a button
he says, you could just push
when you’re ready to go
he doesn’t know
this is his birthday
he’s not expecting a birthday
he doesn’t expect
he’s always surprised
to hear my voice
on the phone, my voice
at the door, he knows me
I think, I believe
I give it away, calling
him Daddy, saying my own
name; I am the daughter
the sons are my brothers
playing tricks like mine
saying their names
wanting to be known
getting what we can
when he scatters ideas
we rush in like pigeons
under the bench in the park
where an old man sits
brushing crumbs from his jacket.
First published in Diner Volume 6, 2007.
- responses
I never read poetry before yours; I thank you for it.
— a neighbor in Portland's Hollywood District
* Some folks bought the very first edition (called, like its container, Fresh Poetry, and including two "bonus poems"); those copies are probably all gone now.
I never read poetry before yours; I thank you for it.
— a neighbor in Portland's Hollywood District
* Some folks bought the very first edition (called, like its container, Fresh Poetry, and including two "bonus poems"); those copies are probably all gone now.