Howard W. Robertson’s new novel, Love in the Cretaceous, has received a good review from Publishers Weekly‘s BookLife: “rollicking, fresh, engaging, offbeat, zany, memorable.”

H. W. Robertson on Setting Forth

Howard W. Robertson has a poem up now on Setting Forth:

Night sky over profound tent

Review by Ruthy Kanagy

Ruthy Kanagy has posted a review of “Reverberations from Fukushima: 50 Japanese Poets Speak Out” for the Oregon Poetry Association. The anthology of poetry from Japan, edited by Leah Stenson of Portland and Asao Sarukawa Aroldi of Tokyo, is a bilingual collection of first-person accounts.  The review appears as we near the 4th anniversary of the 3.11.11 earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear accident in northeast Japan. Read the review at

Ruthy Kanagy is a member of the Lane Literary Guild and author of Living Abroad in Japan (3rd edition, 2013, Avalon Travel Publishers). Her poems have appeared in Fault Lines Poetry and Eugene 150th Birthday Celebration Poetry Collection. A native of Tokyo living in Eugene, she is mostly retired, loves to hike and travel with her bike, and leads Japan Cycle Tours annually.

C. Lapp on C. Kizer and G. Kinnell

In memoriam, by Claudia Lapp:

Between the October Eclipses (Full Moon 10/8 & New Moon 10/23) and Samhain/Day of the Dead/Halloween, two American poets/translators, passionate and prolific, entered the bardo of death. Carolyn Kizer (12/5/1925) died on 10/9, in a rest home in Sonoma, CA. Galway Kinnell (2/1/1925) took his leave on 10/28, in Sheffield, VT (leukemia). They came from the same generation “pod”, as did Maxine Kumin (6/6/25), who passed away in rural NH in February. Kizer was a close friend of Lucille Clifton and I attended a workshop given by them in Columbia, MD. Vive La Poesie!

Here is a small mix of their voices, Cyber Ofrendas (altars) in memory of their unique cadences and the flowering of their heart/minds..


Whatever happens. Whatever

what is is what

I want. Only that. But that.

“To me, poetry is somebody standing up, so to speak, and saying with as little concealment as possible,

what it is for him or her to be on earth at this moment.”

From The Milk Bottle (Mortal Acts Mortal Words, 1980) : “….seeing that any time/would be OK/to go, to vanish back into all things – as when/lovers wake up at night and see/they both are crying and think, Yes,/but it doesn’t matter, already/we will have lived forever.” ….


On the tidal mud just before sunset,

dozens of starfishes

were creeping. It was

as though the mud were a sky

and enormous, imperfect stars

moved across it as slowly

as the actual stars cross heaven.

All at once they stopped,

and as if they had simply

increased their receptivity

to gravity they sank down

into the mud; they faded down

into it and lay still; and by the time

pink of sunset broke across them

they were as invisible

as the true stars at daybreak.

CEL sez: The famed Oregon Coast starfish are suffering from a terrible wasting disease – they dissolve into jelly. Local biologists don’t know why but are keeping tabs on them. They recently found a large number of baby starfish, a hopeful but uncertain trend.


Crying only a little bit

is no use. You must cry

until your pillow is soaked!

Then you can get up and laugh.

Then you can jump in the shower

and splash-splash-splash!

Then you can throw open your window

and “Ha ha! Ha ha!”

And if people say, “Hey,

what’s going on up there?”

“Ha ha!” sing back, “Happiness

was hiding in the last tear!

I wept it. Ha ha!”


CAROLYN KIZER, from Mermaids in the Basement, Copper Canyon Press, 1984

Sixteenth Day (A Month in Summer): Nearly every night I dream of my mother, dead these four years. I remember reading an account by a well-known doctor, himself the victim of the agonizing disease which had been his specialty, saying the in extreme pain we all call for our mothers.

The dream of the dead,

Kind, brilliant and comforting.

The lost return to us

When we are lost.


Food of Love (1st stanza)

I’m going to murder you with love;

I’m going to suffocate you with embraces;

I’m going to hug you, bone by bone,

Till you’re dead all over.

Then I will dine on your delectable marrow.


Love and Blessings from Cel & Gary in Oregon,

where mushrooms bloom chalky white under our laurel tree ( wet season is here).

Ingrid Wendt says…

one of my poems from Evensong will be on verse daily this coming Friday  If people miss it, there’s an archive where they can find it later.

Also, I’m doing a radio interview tonight, 8-9, with J.P. Dancing Bear of American Poetry Journal, broadcast in the Bay Area, but archived, as well.

Ralph’s (Ralph Salisbury) news is stunning:  he’s won the River Teeth Literary Nonfiction Book Prize:  $1000, plus publication, in 2013, of his memoir, So Far, So Good.

Karen McPherson’s News

Karen McPherson has a poem in the anthology Bigger Than They Appear: An Anthology of Very Short Poems, edited by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer.

She was also awarded a month-long residency for spring 2012 at Playa in Summer Lake, OR.