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The Sunrise is a from a Poet / Dial-a-Poem

And the scariest Halloween costume ever!

Kelli Russell Agodon

Oct 5

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Dear Friend,

Maybe it’s because nature is writing poetry for me—like the photo you see above: the sunrise has composed a perfect poem. I don’t write a lot in the summer. I paddleboard. I read. I find my way down to the beach and work remotely. And my hammock is sort of a second home to me. (My superpower is napping.)

But when autumn rolls around, that schoolgirl in me gets back into writing mode. Speaking of which—

This Manuscript is Driving Me Mad!: A Memoir

You may have seen me actively complaining, I mean, mentioning, that I’ve been struggling with my next manuscript; I couldn’t find a container to hold it in. For non-poets, that may be a strange thing to say, but what I mean is—I had the poems, but I was bumbling around with the larger structure of the book.

One of the things I’ve learned that works for me is talking to poet-friends about what I’m working on, what I’m trying to do, and what I’m struggling with. Sometimes, a fresh set of eyes on your work can allow you to see it in a new way—

So I did a mini-retreat with Jeannine Hall Gailey (if you want to see the whole play-by-play and my takeaways from a mini-retreat, J.I. Kleinberg did a 3-part feature on us here), but what I learned from this retreat was how much you can get done in a short time (and when I say I, I mean, me).

Normally, I’ve thought I needed at least a week for a good writing retreat, but not only did we get a ton done, but we also always had room for lunch dates, potbelly pigs, lavender farms, and happy hour. For anyone who has gone on a writing residency with me, I can be a little hardcore—not wanting to talk during the day, wanting complete solitude, not wanting to leave the cabin, getting completely offline, and devoting every moment of the residency to my poems. It’s a bit Emily Dickinson reclusive overload, but on this retreat, I learned how much my mind benefits from breaks and how much my spirit is raised by friendship, laughter, and, not surprisingly—potbelly pigs.

Here’s Jeannine and I on our balconies á la Juliet & Romeo. And Jeannine presenting her manuscript-in-progress on her bed as one does—

After that, I gave my manuscript to my friend, the brilliant Elena Karina Byrne, who spent some time with it. If my poetry manuscript was an overstuffed messy closet with clothing thrown all around the room and I was the poet screaming, “I have NOTHING to wear!,” Elena was the calm soul with good taste who simply hung things up and said—I think this will look good on you!

Same poems. Different eyes.

(And btw, if you have a manuscript you need help with, Elena does manuscript consultations! And you can email her here for more info—ekduende@gmail.com)

So this is where I am as a poet, small steps to the finish line, but still moving forward. I’ll keep you updated!

Things I Love This Month:

John Giorno’s Dial-a-Poem at MoMA in New York, 4th Floor.
Thank you to my friend, Dean Rader, for bringing this to my attention. It’s an exhibit currently at MoMa, and well, I called and got a very graphic poem, but with a very satisfying ending: We gave a party of the gods, and the gods all came.
Also, if you like art and poetry, check out Dean’s newest book Before the Borderless: Dialogues with the Art of Cy Twombly (Copper Canyon Press)—and you know any book with the word dialogues in the title has to be good!
Kelli’s Dial-a-Poem: (206) 659-POET
So the above art exhibit reminded me that wayback, in the early days of GoogleVoice, I got a Google phone number with a Seattle area code and it was so early, I got to choose my number and chose 206-659-7639 which is 206-659-POET.
When I got this number, I had thought about leaving poems on it, but never have. But Giorno’s exhibit inspired me, so if you call (206) 659-POET, you’ll hear me reading a new poem. You’ll also hear my mother-in-law in the background tapping her apple-knife on the table, but mostly me and a poem.
Two Sylvias Weekly Muse on Substack: And now with Zoom classes, workshops, and salons included in your subscription. A package deal!
Two Sylvias Weekly Muse: If you don’t know about this, it’s where I spend most of my time—I write weekly poetry prompts for the Two Sylvias Press Weekly Muse (a paid subscription for poets) and I also create a list of great places to submit each week. But that’s not why I love it—I love it because we added free Zoom classes with your paid subscription, and I get to host Maggie Smithas our featured poet on Tuesday, October 17 at 5 pm PST!
And after that, Susan Rich of BLUE ATLASand I will return together on Zoom to teach an old favorite class on putting together a poetry manuscript— which inspired the book Demystifying the Manuscript: Essays & Interviews on Creating a Book of Poems! The workshop will have some good info if you’re putting together a book of poems or struggling with your manuscript (as I have been!) But yes, our Zoom class is also included with the Weekly Muse paid subscription and the class will be on Sunday, November 26th.
Anyway, if you want to attend Maggie’s Zoom event or my class with Susan in November, you can become a paid subscriber here to attend both: https://twosylviaspress.substack.com/subscribe (The Weekly Muse & a year of Zoom classes is $198 or $18.99 a month).

Plus, along with the Zoom classes, each Sunday you’ll get poetry prompts, writing exercises, submission opportunities, #ProTips on publishing, exclusive interviews, and your questions answered by our editors send to your inbox. Future classes and salons include Diane Seuss, January Gill O’Neil, Jane Wong, Lena Khalaf Tuffaha, with more to come. (Yay!!)

Best Halloween Costume for a Writer
As a poet, this is the scariest Halloween costume I know:

Also, few people asked me if I’m ever making this newsletter paid—nope. (If you want to support me and my press, you can subscribe to Two Sylvias Weekly Muse.) But this, this is my way to connect with you and be in touch. It’s my electronic postcard to you.

Which I why I will end this with a poem from my next collection that was originally published in the Asheville Poetry Review and then had a little resurgence on Verse Daily. If you’ve ever lived with other humans, you know that sometimes they are messsssssy! And well, human. So here’s a poem in praise of our messy lives: