Issue #3

Letter from the Editors

from Brittany:

I could never begin to write a letter after reading Caroline’s. Instead, I can offer her a couple of commas and my continued adoration. However, I do suggest you peruse the added features this issue possesses, in addition to the stunning poems.

Much of what comes up in Poetry Church is what I called “homework,” poets to read, prompts to try, themes to consider. Much of this is captured in our Reading List. There, we also include many topics that were covered often in our conversations, and which appeared in many of our poems. For example, the word “dust” popped up consistently this past fall and into the depths of winter, where we all wrote a poem with the word and shared poems from others like Dorianne Laux, Annie Finch, Julian Talamantez Brolaski, Joanne Kyger, Brenda Hillman, and more. These “dust” poems received many exclamations during the most dreary months, and we became dust seekers.

We also encourage you to view Mary Cisper’s artwork, which is yet another example of her creativity and artistic-science mind. Our lovely issue cover is part of such work.

And finally, we invite you to read some of the poets’ thoughts on “residency.” Their poems and prose are filled with ferocity, passion, and awe. I am enamored with their work, my muses, my teachers, my friends. Along with Caroline, I invite you to strike a connection with someone, form a community of your own. Your own residency is waiting.

With love,

Brittany

ISSUE #3

Featuring work by:
Mary Cisper + Kelly Egan + Kelly Gemmill
Caroline O’Connor Thomas + K.K. Spjeldnes + Brittany Wason

Reading List

Notes on Residency

Artwork by Mary Cisper

From Caroline:

Last spring, a group of poets from St.Mary’s College of CA returned to campus to celebrate the newly appointed emeritus status of poetry sage and MFA program founder, Brenda Hillman. For us, her impact cannot be understated. Brenda has a gentle ferociousness that other poets recognize immediately. As her student, nearly a decade ago - I would walk away from her classes with the feeling that I’d been both challenged and held. I felt deeply frightened and unsure at this particular moment in my life - but this exact balance of guidance was what I needed. She appeared recently in one of my dreams to remind me: “Edit towards strangeness.”

During the events that weekend, the returning poets heard Brenda give a talk with “party favors,” held a reading, tried to locate hard copies of our theses in the library, and visited the meridian plinth with a bottle of wine. We ate, laughed a LOT and promised we would stay in better touch with one another. Big summer camp vibes! Being together once more was electric. We chatted almost non-stop, nervously, anxious to say it all while we had the chance. It was clear that our “day jobs,” the pandemic and other huge life shifts had consumed so much of the energy we used to pour into our writing, and we had felt the ache of that absence.

A few weeks later, a group of us popped up to connect over Zoom. We live in all corners of the US. And I really mean all corners: the Pacific Northwest, New England, the Rust Belt, the Southwest and the Bay Area. So we agreed that connecting regularly would be difficult, but we’d do our best. It was a surprise, the best kind, that for nearly a year we’ve managed to keep in close enough contact to have facilitated several sessions of workshops and informal craft talks. We half-jokingly call our meetups Poetry Church, complete with the occasional Sunday morning service. To me it is a sincerely devotional space, where the object of worship is the poem, and our practice is an ongoing prayer.

This January, our group met in Portland, OR – just in time for the ice storm of 2024. We hunkered down in an enormous, possibly (probably!) haunted Victorian mansion while the snow and cold blew trees down all over the city. We had three short days together, but made the most of what we had been calling our residency. Our residency weekend was a celebration, attended by an always-on fire, hummingbirds, ghosts, and possibly Alfred Star Hamilton, who the group attempted to contact via wine-fueled seance as I understand it! (Meanwhile, I took my exhausted pregnant body home to catch up on some much needed sleep).

We disagree often, but always respectfully, and we love to read work, interviews, opinions that we don’t always necessarily understand or agree with. Our combined reading list is varied and long. We change our minds often, coming together and bouncing apart. Similarly, our writing ranges in style, form, and concern. Our differences make us stronger, more willing and flexible. At Poetry Church we carry on the tradition of being both challenged and held. I still need this as a not lost, but still-figuring-it-out person in my late thirties. What we built in this year together is exactly what I craved when we reconnected in 2023.

For those of us who sometimes feel isolated in our writing and communities, swallowed up by day to day responsibilities where we once felt connected, to those who despair at the ceaseless distraction of social media “success”, or who grapple with what it success even means to a writer… We invite you in to this space of residency. Consider what you’ve been reading, what you smart against, what sits just right with you. Challenge what you cling to, even as you hold what is precious.

Turn to a neighbor in your cafe, or email that person you’ve missed connecting with. Ask them what they read, how they feel, and share what you read and how you feel. As Brittany pointed out: your own residency is waiting. I hope yours brings as much inspiration and joy as I’ve found in ours.