Poetry Connection: Connecting with a Santa Barbara Institution

 

Poetry Connection: Connecting with the Poetry Zone, a Santa Barbara Institutuion

Melinda Palacio, Santa Barbara Poet Laureate 2023-2025

Suzanne Frost, Virginia M. Dale, Björn Birnir,  

The Poetry Zone still meets at the Karpeles Manuscript Museum though these days, only a few gather around a patio table in the museum’s atrium. During Covid, Bjorn Birnir kept the series alive through zoom. Last week, the featured reader couldn’t make it but regular Virginia Mariposa Dale was in attendance, along with Suzanne Frost. Virginia Mariposa Dale also ran the series for several years and assists Bjorn when he is unavailable. The intimate group is very dedicated to keeping the series going. With the Karpeles Museum up for sale, perhaps there will be a new chapter or new location for the poetry reading that’s been in Santa Barbara for over half a century.

Walt Hopman founded the Poetry Zone in the 1970’s with his wife, where the readings were held at the storied Earthling bookstore on State Street. Bjorn Birnir started attending in 1985. The readings are always held on the second Sunday of the month at 1:30 pm. On March 8, Mary Freericks will be the featured poet. Bjorn mentioned that Walt Hopman would collect poems from the open mic readers and make Poetry Zone chapbooks. Virginia and Dale still have copies of Hopman’s Poetry Zone chapbooks.

I have fond memories of the time when Sojourner Kincaid Rolle ran the series, in the early 2000’s, upstairs at the Karpeles, the large room was often filled with poets eager to participate in the open mic. I’ve even had a short go at running the Poetry Zone. David Karpeles was very kind with his support for poetry. He provided the large room upstairs, a sound system and tables for selling books and providing snacks.

Bjorn, Suzanne, and Virginia took turns reading into Bjorn’s computer for the benefet of poets tuned in on zoom, a tradition from Covid days. They asked me to read. I, at first declined, but ended up reading a poem. Poets always have poems in their pockets, or phones.

This week’s poem comes from Bjorn Birnir, Professor and Chair of Mathmatics at UC Santa Barbara, and keeper of the Poetry Zone.

Girlfriends

Björn Birnir

They move over the dancefloor

In unison  

So different and yet so close

Two friends from a distant island

In the old roman city

In the dance studio of the opera 

And their whole past materializes 

To dance with them

They are distinct

One is tall and quiet 

The other spontaneous

One a singer 

The other a nurse 

But when they look at each other 

They form a whole 

A common experience 

With two outlooks 

And now out in the world 

Exploring the legacy of that empire

By the campfire together 

In the small tent listening

To the rain 

They sing the songs on the dancefloor

They feel each other’s

Hurt and joy 

Their hearts quicken together 

And they are immediately aware 

Of what is going through

The other’s head

But they also know 

What it signifies from way back

And how it will play

In the future

And how gracefully and swiftly 

They move 

To protect each other’s psyche

To protect their girlfriends

But themselves at the same time

Their part of this holy trinity

Of two girls 

And their friendship

 

 

This column was previously published in the Independent

Poetry Connection: Connecting with Young People

Melinda Palacio, Santa Barbara Poet Laureate

Last week, I had the pleasure of being the Emcee for the Poetry Out Loud competition. Most of the students were from Righetti High School and the program was held at the Santa Maria County building. Teacher Krissy Kurth does a wonderful job preparing the students for the competition. Although I am often called on judge poetry contests, I was glad I wasn’t a judge this time; the competition was tough. Poetry Out Loud is different because the students recite a well-known poem. Student Kohen Ross was the runner up for her recitation of Love Song by Dorothy Parker. Three of Santa Barbara’s past Poet Laureates: David Starkey, Chryss Yost, and Perie Longo served as judges and named Alicia Blanco, who recited From the Sky by Sara Abou Rashed, the winner. All three judges felt that Alicia Blanco truly understood the poem and assignment. 

 

Poetry Out Loud helps high school students learn about poetry through memorization and performance. It was nice to see the camaraderie between the participants. Hannah Rubalcava served as prompter, someone who is at ready to give the students the next line in case they forget. Recitation from memory is such a brave act. I was pulling for every student. The county winners will compete virtually at the California Poetry Out Loud State Finals and have a chance to compete in the national competition. The state champion receives a $200 cash prize and all-expense-paid trip to Washington, D.C., $500 for their school to purchase literary materials, and an opportunity to compete at National Finals for college scholarship funds. 

 

Young creatives also showed their talents at the 2024 Annual Teen Arts Mentorship Exhibition. I was pleased to see poetry represented as an art medium. Two categories were represented: Expressive Figure Drawing with mentors Austin Raymond and Chiara Corbo and Creative Expression with Typewriters with mentor Simon Kiefer. All Santa Barbara County high school students ages 13-18 are eligible to apply to one or more mentorships in their area.

 

If you’ve been to the farmers market or First Thursdays downtown, you’ve probably seen Simon Kiefer offering impromptu on-demand poetry. Simon has spent the last ten years using typewriters to facilitate creative self-expression and community building. In the South County Mentorship with Simon, students used vintage typewriters to express themselves with poetry and creative writing and added a visual element to their words. Student participants included Alex Ortiz, Heidi Sanchez Marquez, and 16-year-old Elsie Sneddon. 

 

Elsie Sneddon happens to be my neighbor and the daughter of City Councilmember Kristen Sneddon. Thanks to the Arts Fund and their Teen Arts Mentorship Exhibition at the Community Gallery in La Cumbre Plaza, I was able to see her poems transposed into works of art. This week’s poetry connection features three new poems by Elsie Sneddon. 

 

 

Garden Song

Elsie Sneddon

 

The great wide sidewise seam

like the split of a melon

The boys I love will smash them against the edge of the sink

and picture the flesh that stumbles from them to the floor is caked with the stink and the bees that all live in their abdomens

People think they don't live in me too

but they don't know that I have to be quiet because of the deafening buzz

 

I stay hungry;

imagine my stomach all scooped out,

feel the knocking of my gut-bell hard against the rind

 

Peel

Elsie Sneddon

 

I peel the skin back and find tiny cities there-

the places where you brushed against my temple all have hardened

What does it take to discover you 

over and over and over

and to feel the pins of all your tiny lights? 

 

Your dead end honey

touch me lovely

put my face plate in its place

This drawer

the milk you bound

it doesn't burn me now

The debt of pleasure

next endeavor

finding something new to sever

come on cry

releasing something shy and

dirty

I am hurting

I still never

feel enough to feel

half of the things 

I have the power to.

Road Dream

Elsie Sneddon

 

I kept trying to sleep but heat lightning danced behind my eyes 

and then I fell:

in my dream I was almost windblown enough to be a shell

a hull of some great ship

blown by electricity

and then I was a husk

of corn

and all my kernels rotted 

and my precious teeth fell out

and the inbred dogs ate them,

my pearly whites down their gullets

 

Creaking down the steps inside a house where no one lives

I etch my face into the countryside and I don't know just how to move

 

And sometimes nothing's right 

and always so much is missing

but sometimes I look into the grass and I don't say a thing and so I looked into the grass and smiled and I just sat there thinking

that if I called this place home

I'd find it hard not to believe in something

Elsie Sneddon is a musician and artist who enjoys learning new things and experimenting with different creative outlets. She especially loves writing, singing, playing, and recording music under the name "Golden Teeth." She is new to sharing her poetry, and her poetic work is currently being showcased for the first time at the Arts Fund Community Gallery.

*an earlier version of this column appears in the Santa Barbara Independent 

Connecting with Poets over Zoom

Melinda Palacio, Santa Barbara Poet Laureate

 

While the world has opened up since the pandemic, one of the lasting boons is the ability to zoom and interact with people worldwide. The experience cannot replace an in person gathering, but zoom works well for a lecture format, along with questions and answers. I must admit, it’s taken me a while to warm up to zoom poetry readings. Only a month ago, Amanda Gorman was offering the audience tips on how to show their appreciation for poetry. She gave the snapping of fingers as an example or the audible moan, similar to enjoying a yummy piece of cake as acceptable ways to respond to poetry at a reading. 

 

In a zoom room, the microphone is turned on only for the poet. The audience does more talking than during an in-person event. I find all the chatter distracting, especially if I am the one who is presenting. I want to continue with my set but I also want to know what everyone is saying in the chat. Usually, people are praising the reader or poet, writing down words or phrases that linger in the ear. I think I am old fashioned and want people’s undivided attention. Even as a listener, I want to hear the poet and not have my attention divided by reading the praises of friends in the audience. In my ideal zoom room, a moderator would limit or open comments on the chat for a specific time period when the poet is not presenting their work. Perhaps, a few minutes in between the poems or at the end, the chat can be available for everyone?

 

Over the Memorial Holiday Weekend, I attended the Mission Poetry Series via zoom and the poetry was amazing and featured Inaugural Poet Richard Blanco and the Alta California Chapbook prize co-winners Fred Arroyo and Amelia Rodriguez; their winning chapbooks are available through Gunpowder Press. While the poems were stellar, I have to say I was equally moved and impressed by the Q&A that followed the poetry reading. A strong discussion on reading your work aloud before and after it is printed ensued. Someone asked if the poets read their work aloud while composing and the answer was unanimous. 

 

Amelia Rodriguez said she always reads her finished poems aloud. “You have to read it for the music,” she said. “If you don’t read your poems aloud, they exist in this insular world where they never get better. For her, the sharing and reading to other people is an important part of the poem writing process. 

 

Richard Blanco talked about the importance of feeling the poem in your body when you read it out loud. For him, the act of reading a poem aloud speaks to poetry’s oral roots. When he was writing the inaugural poem for President Obama, he started paying attention to the sound of his poem. “It has to come through the ear,” he says. “Take anyone’s poem and read it out loud, you will understand something different about it. We always say show don’t tell to ground to ground your work in the details and five senses. 

 

Fred Arroyo fell in step with Amelia and Richard. He said he reads everything out loud, including reading of other poets. He does a lot of walking with his manuscript in hand and edits as he walks. “If I find anything that is not singing right, hitting the ear right, then after the reading, I go back and revise the manuscript.”

 

I find that the idea of making sure there is music in a poem is what can turn a good poem into a great. Poets will spend an extraordinary amount of time searching for the right word, the word that will convey a precise meaning while making you want to bob your head or tap your foot or melt into your seat because the words sound so good together. 

 

The Mission Poetry Series, in its 15^th season now is a Santa Barbara treasure. Emma Trelles, Santa Barbara’s 9^th Poet Laureate does a wonderful job with the series. I remember early days of the Mission Poetry Series, when it was run by Paul Ferricano and Sister Susan at the Mission. The Memorial Day holiday was well spent at the Mission with the I Madonnari Festival. This year was the first time poetry was included in the I Madonnari Festival. However, due to short notice I was the only poet available to read. On Sunday, I read for fifteen minutes in front of the stage as it was being cleared for the next high school band to perform. Reading in front of people sitting with their picknick or passing by with their churros and hot dogs as they carried on loud conversations was challenging, but there were several people listening and I was happy to keep going. On Monday, I read “Arroyo Burro” from my book, How Fire Is a Story, Waiting, at the festival’s ceremony which was dedicated to the late Margie Yahyavi who was on the City’s Arts Advisory Council and an important member of our community.  

 

For more discussion on the crafting and reading of poetry, come to the Santa Barbara Writers Conference next week. Poetry is in the spotlight this year with an all-laureate panel, featuring eight Santa Barbara poets laureate, poetry workshops all week and poetry presentations before the evening speakers, as well as workshops and lectures in all genres. The Santa Barbara Writers Conference honors Perie Longo, who has been running the poetry program for 40 years.  

 

This week’s poem is one I wrote about the Mission’s Bell for the Creative Community’s TV Santa Barbara episode, featuring poems about the Santa Barbara Mission. 

*this column was previously published in the Santa Barbara Independent

 

The Old Mission’s Bell

By Melinda Palacio

 

 

Me llamo Santa Barbara.

I am a discarded bell,

too old to ring the days away.

I carry my city’s name.

Me llamo Santa Barbara.

 

Santa Barbara, discarded bell.

Santa Barbara, dethroned saint, calendars say.

Santa Barbara, city of the Old Mission,

Santa Barbara, twin bell towers, red.

 

Red to mimic near mountains and sky,

setting in sun-shimmering gloria.

 

From my round capped home, see

the ocean, a holy shade of blue, beyond

San Nicolas, once home to another

lost woman, christened Juana Maria.

 

Saint Barbara, imprisoned in a single

tower with a trinity of windows,

discarded, discalced, but revered.

 

Your bare feet never walked

on smooth adobe floors. Your

robes never soaked in spouting

water from a bear totem, our

Chumash lavanderia.

 

No worries for red skies or red roses.

Your name remains.

This old Mission holds your head true,

namesake of sword and palm.

Me llamo Santa Barbara.