LETTER OF MARQUE: ARTICLE THE EIGHTH

Nibble #8 | Various Authors

Poetry by various authors
28 pages
5 ½” x 8 ½” chapbook
Available here

The joy of nibble comes in knowing that editor Jeff Fleming is psycho about his craft and the words he chooses. He lets very few, but only the best, poems squeak by his honed radar, and the ones that pass are usually damn squeaky (... and I'm not just saying that because I have two, count ’em TWO! poems in this issue or because I adore the editor, but also ...) because nibble never fails, which is why I have two poems in this issue and adore the editor.

nibble. just. doesn't. fail.

My only complaint is that I wish it were longer. Every single issue I think this same thing, I always just wish each one were longer. As a concept various-author chap with the idea being all poems are 20 lines or fewer, hence the chap's title, each issue can be a bit of a breeze-through, albeit a very decent and enjoyable breeze-through.

This issue kicks right off with me (!), can't complain about that, with a poem that Jeff liked the first two lines of so much that he apparently made it the first in the book. I'll go ahead and give my sore back a pat for that because that's a big honor coming from him. The poems here are fairly mysterious, often just snippets of a scene or a moment, intense descriptions of a tiny second, not always complete, not always cohesive, but always vividly poetic, leaving you wanting more, poking your imagination through the ear with a cake tester.

There are many greats and many should-be-greats in this issue, as with every one that came before; the Ed Galing poem is the best I've read from him in a long time, which should have some weight coming from a press that published about twenty of his chapbooks; the staples are here: A. D. Winans, Normal, justin.barrett; and Father Luke's poem is probably my favorite from him that he's written so far, perfectly sad, touching, honest.

Some stand out gems:

From “Consumption” by Kip Knott:

[ ... ]
It meant everything then,
and I would carry the evidence
with me the next day like burns.
[ ... ]

From “Facsimile” by Jenifer Wills:

[ ... ]
In her eyes the sun shines stubborn, casts
the shadow of a smile amidst the bronchitis cough
that persists, pulls at the hem of her skirts
as she works. Born from this sorrow,
a compression explosion, broken glass
and breakfast is served.

And my favorite of the issue, in its entirety and from an author who never fails to amaze, “Planting (for Kaya)” by Rebecca Schumejda:

As your father pushes soil over seeds,
you dig them back up.

“No,” leads to a tantrum
on top of where the summer squash will grow.

Since your father knows how much
of who we are gets planted early;

he wraps explanations
around your trembling body.

In the background, I attack weeds
suffocating roses,

the way I suspect my mother would have
under similar circumstances.

There is another gem here, as well: a poem by a high schooler with Down's Syndrome, and your first reaction is Really? But when you read it, the simple way it flows together, you just collapse into Yes, really. The poem fits perfectly, proving that when it comes to great words, nothing has to matter except great words; and kudos to Jeff for stepping beyond a stereotype and not airing differences or age like a CNN plug. Flows and works perfectly and makes the heart feel warm and fuzzy.

All in all, excellent issue, as always ... It just ends too soon.

•This book was sent to me from the editor/publisher because I have corresponded with him and because I have two poems printed in the issue.•
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LETTER OF MARQUE: ARTICLE THE SEVENTH

Falling Forward | Rebecca Schumejda

Poetry
80 pages
ISBN 978-1-934513-12-5
5” x 8” trade paperback
Published by Sunnyoutside
Available from Sunnyoutside and Amazon

Falling Forward is an absolute gem of a salute to the married woman, housewife, mother, regular everyday female trooper through this so-called life. The poems are down-to-earth, accessible, understandable, and downright endearingly charming.

The cover, showing a tree with an immense root system, should give a few clues that the story is going to run deep, about close issues, family ties, struggles of life and love, familial roots, the deep-seated maternal connections of both roots and branches.

It begins with a beautiful quote from Victor Hugo's Les Miserables that sets the tone remarkably for the rest of the book:

Certain thoughts are prayers. There are
moments when, whatever be the attitude
of the body, the soul is on its knees.

And there it is, all packaged into a few sentences — family, motherhood, religion, soul-searching, questioning — the ongoing themes of Schumejda's writing.

The book is divided into four parts, the last part being one poem where the first three lines are the titles of the other three sections, each of those sections separated with dedications and themes to various people and time periods in Rebecca's life. Each section is comprised of little vignettes, scenarios, and moments that have made an impact in, and are metaphors for, her life and traveled paths. The entire book is full of these very human moments and emotions, of real and relatable situations.

From the first poem about relaying the news of a cat that has died after eighteen years as a loyal companion to someone not yet home from work, pondering the breakdown, the reactions, the quiet words:

[ ... ]
I wait on the porch
to avoid the silence
that creeps
around the house
on ghost paws.
[ ... ]

to using kitchen utensils to relate communication to significant others across a breakfast table:

[ ... ]
You stir your coffee
with the handle of a butter knife:
this is how you tell me
that you're not listening.
[ ... ]

to providing insight into a comfortable, yet antsy, marriage with all its questions and compromises:

[ ... ]
Maybe it's marriage,
not the heat wave,
that makes us lazy.
In protest to “cereal again,”
you kneel beside me,
pour milk into
my bellybutton.
While dredging with
my thumbnail,
I can't help thinking
about all the cows
swatting flies with their tails,
waiting to be hooked up
to a machine
that will empty the milk
from their swollen utters.

and all the differences in emotion, follow-through, and reactions of men and women:

[ ... ] you wrap gifts and
stack them into piles without regard for crushed
bows. [ ... ]

Schumejda has it nailed, the human side, the ah-yes moments, the words that say what every woman has thought a thousand times and is thinking right this moment.

Rebecca integrates her background and diverse upbringing — atheist parents, devout Catholic grandparents, a father who died when she was quite young — to discuss faith, spirituality, the parallels of religion and life, openly:

[ ... ]
My mother handles conversation like
good china and religion — takes it out
on holidays, but prefers to dine on paper
plates and drink red wine from plastic cups.
[ ... ]

and to invite many interpretations of the repeating line “the truth is too heavy,” ringing loudly with both religious and everyday life connotations, charging into other parallels of people and nature, of birds going after earthworms the way the author goes after her partner's toast crust, both leaving little left over until the spring can come again.

Beautiful. Brilliant.

•This book was purchased from the publisher because I had previously corresponded with the author.•
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