GAS Featured Poet: Chris Bodor

 

Chris Bodor, lives in St. Augustine, Florida and has been writing poetry consistently since 1993, when he started a job in the Film Department at an art college in New York City. He traveled to and from work each day for three hour round trip. He soon became know as the "Train of Though Commuter" because of the volumes of poetry he hand wrote into spiral notebooks during his back and forth ride. In 2003, he derailed and moved to Florida with his family and his wife's parents. After a seven year torturous dry spell, Chris set up a PA speaker and a microphone at a local coffee chop and invited the community to share their spoken words. Under Chris' direction, the Ancient City Poets Open Mic has been running consistently on the last Sunday of every month since August 2009. During the global pandemic they migrated to an online gathering. A YouTube channel was created to document the St. Augustine poetry scene. 

During the early days of lockdown in April of 2020, Chris was contacted by a local musician named Ryan Bozeman. AKA brotherwell, Ryan has been writing and recording music for the past twenty-five years and has been involved in numerous musical projects. Ryan views songwriting as a type of therapy and spends several hours a night writing and recording. Key influences include The Beatles, Radiohead, Frightened Rabbit, and Sigur Ros, as well as 90s grunge and alternative rock.

Ryan asked Chris if he would help round up a dozen poets to collaborate on a series of songs about recovery. Why recovery? “Landing on the theme of recovery can be seen as a sign of the times." said Ryan. "Whether it’s the trauma of COVID-19, the exhaustive forced hibernation of quarantine, the corrosive nature of our current political state, or any of the battle scars from lives well-lived, it seems as though we are all in some state of recovery." Ryan is in his own state of recovery and realized that collaboration with other poets and artists was a healthy way to come out of his shell. 

Chris can certainly write about the subject of recovery. “My last drink was in October of 2008." said Chris "My life had become unmanageable, and I asked for help. I got the help I need from a group of friends who were also seeking recovery. During COVID-19 insolation, Ryan turned one of my poems into a song. I was blown away with what he was able to do with my words. This project is very cathartic, and I think it speaks to many.”

~ ~ ~

Check out the brotherwell collaboration with Chris Bodor:

Present Moment Bliss

Words and spoken words by Chris Bodor

Music and additional sung lyrics by brotherwell

Check out all of the songs from the re:cover project.

A collaborative project that blends words of poets with the music of indie/alternative musician brotherwell from St. Augustine, Florida. All proceeds of this project will be donated to recovery-based charities. 

Present Moment Bliss 

 

Never a worry

of how hours were spent

when days were young

and quite innocent.

Heartbreak burned life

down to the ground

a broken timepiece

tightly overwound.

I want to know

if the custodian cares

about the accumulation

of unanswered prayers.

Trapped in a cage

wasting countless hours

traveling down the same road

speeding past the wildflowers.

Barricades were built

consumed by shame and guilt

suddenly I smile like an adopted dog

sunlight blasting through the fog.

A giddy show of teeth

instantaneous and brief

present moment bliss

an invitation not to miss.

To reach freedom

I had to admit my wrong.

I discovered the solution

it was inside me all along.

The Boy Who Blocked Out the Sun

There must be a way

to block the sun 

that is blinding my eyes

on the morning drive to work.

Grow a taller tree

Build a higher building.

Squinting on the drive to work,

I fantasize about constructing a wall

to block out the infuriating,

interfering sunshine.

and if my plan comes true 

then I will have won

this self-manufactured contest of life.

Printed out on colored paper

a certificate stating: 

“Congratulations:

to the boy who blocked out the sun.”

GAS Featured Poet: Matt McGuirk

Matt McGuirk teaches and lives with his wife and two daughters in New Hampshire. He was a BOTN 2021 nominee and has poems and stories published in various literary magazines. His debut hybrid collection of poems and stories, Daydreams, Obsessions, Realities, came out with Alien Buddha Press in late November of 2021 and is available on Amazon, linked at the end of the bio and also linked on his website. Follow him on Twitter: @McguirkMatthew and Instagram: @mcguirk_matthew. 

The Salvage Yard

Walking through aisles lined with twisted metal

looking for something

salvageable, something to part out

or

something that can be buffed out

and might shine again in

all that is mangled and dull.

 

A bumper that once reflected light,

now wears a grass necklace.

A door that was opened for a date,

an act of chivalry

is now hanging lazy, unable to offer any gesture.

Leather seats cracked with spiderwebs

from too much time in the sun

and an undercarriage rotted by rust

from salt spattered winter roads

would need to be released

or replaced.

 

The sun crested between the waiting hilltops,

pulling in hues of orange and yellow

and washed across a pristine, dust covered windshield

aching for the wind of a highway at 70.

I feathered the bills in my pocket out

and thought about the window down

and the radio cranked. 

The Salvage Yard collaboration with Brotherwell. 

Original poem published with Words and Whispers Journal

Teaching Satire Simpsons’ Style

 

Satire is something not everyone gets,

but isn’t that the way with most things?

I give a pretest and a few students can define it,

but the majority leave it blank, put a question mark or guess,

but I expect that anyways.

 

We’ll get to Stalin, Lenin, the Russian Revolution

and the rise of the Soviet Union

eventually,

but sometimes they just need something in their world.

 

I tell them, “The Simpsons is a satire!”

They just look at me,

not believing until they see, or hear in this case.

The Simpsons are my go to and they know that,

so they know there’s a point, there’s always a point.

“It makes fun of family issues.

Homer is stupid and accident prone

and works as a nuclear safety inspector,

in charge of keeping a whole town from blowing up.”

They nod and I know they’re getting it.

“After work, he goes to the bar and gets drunk

and what does he do when he gets home?”

They lean in and I know they’re hooked.

“Strangles his son! But we all laugh. So really the Simpsons are dealing with

heavy issues: education system, addiction, abuse.”

 

Sometimes it just takes something a little closer to home

to get the point across.

Sometimes the nightly news can’t always start a conversation

and we need to use our daily laughs to do it instead.

Su Zi's review of "A Brief Conversation with Consciousness" by Marc Vincenz

Available on Amazon

    It is possible for poetry to be both readable and literary, strong enough of voice to be almost conversational, yet sophisticated enough in technique to pleasure the educated reader. In this full-length collection by Marc Vincenz, (Unlikely Books) the reader is presented with not only the new work of a well-published writer, but two critical essays at the volume’s final pages, positioning the book as also existing as a critical text for literary study. 

    The work is divided into seven sections, all named, with six sections for the poems themselves. While these sections are chapbook length, the section names are of a macabre nature, with four named for the corpses of wild born beings, and two for the sort of found trash prosaic to strolls. Of the two concluding essays (by Robert Archambeau and Philip Nikolayev), it is Archambeau who refers to Vincenz’s “typical, despoiled landscape” (127) as a binary seeking enlightenment through a kind of Jungian, intuitive process. A reader moderately aware of symbol structures will discover much meat in this collection: the angelic number of chapters is a strong clue of the symbolic path of the poems, a path that Nikolayev calls “a personal manifesto” (133). But while both essayists cite lines and sections that employ strong symbolism, their view of these symbols is either “a brief flash of satori” (Archambeau, 128), or “observations about insects and birds and other chitchat” (Nikolayev, 140).

   Perhaps a brief conversation can be had about the symbols themselves, perceived by Vincenz and repeated throughout the work. While the fluctuating use of pronouns might interest some readers—how sometimes the second person seems very specific, and other times a general address—or how the plethora of death imagery (“And so we climb/ Deep into the tomb”, 113-114) could yield full study alone, a view beyond the chitchat about birds is also revealing.A casual indexing of references of birds involves some two dozen occurrences throughout the book, with a half a dozen utilizations of egg.

   Vincenz directs one work here to a specific bird, “Hanging Out the Window for a Sparrow” (80), written as a prose poem. Rather than referencing the avian being as symbolic evidence for a meditative point, the poem makes its metaphysical point to the sparrow: “It rained on all of us, even you with your talons, even where the mad moth whirls or the wounded spring curls;” finally including birds as along for the ride, instead of a landscape the reader sees as a kind of fly-over state.

   In the section dedicated to the tell of an avian accident, "Feathers of a Dead Turkey," centered in the collection and comprising of eight pieces, the opening poem “Of Cargo” Vincenz nestles this collection’s gothic meditation. Immediately setting the season, “In autumn”, which birdwatchers know to be legalized murder period for the species, the poem then follows a discourse of associative symbols, except these are references to human myth, concluding with violent Agrippina “her hairpins and hair/ // Overflowing in daises” (60). Later, in “Arrowheads”, two humans, apparently in bed, muse “Later still, sighing, you say:/ ‘How does one get away with murder?/ What century is this? What era?’/ Outside, the towers wobble” (65) Maybe it is here that this work’s migrating thought might roost. Any reader will respond to a symbolic investigation of the noun “tower”, making it a potent symbol. Beyond modern history, the easy mythology of tarot positions a tower as a symbol of expensive endeavor. Combining this with murder creates the sort of modern context of our ordinary anxieties. A view to the poem’s horizon has the reader realizing that this is a probable post-coital conversation. The poem’s title references objects from a pre-colonized human civilization, and the poem’s conclusion is a view of a squirrel—but not an ordinary squirrel, a mutated being who “sits curved, /His blue eyes trained on the soil.” The poem has dealt us a hand in this flock of symbols; the reader is subtly encompassed in an awareness of humanity’s sins. 

   The physical volume has a number of conclusions: a photograph of objects that named the chapters, a prose poem, “One More for the Road”, the two essays and a two-page list of the author’s previous works. Viewing this as either five or seven numerological points from which the reader can exit the book, the parting words of the author “Emerge, Sweet Creature, and light up the way”(119); of the critics , “spirit of exploration”( Archambeau) and  “ a mighty personal lyric chord”(Nikolayev) are a call to carry the book’s song with us, a sophisticated opera about a broken-hearted man in a landscape of death. 

Su Zi is a writer, poet and essayist who produces a handmade chapbook series called Red Mare. She has been a contributor to GAS from back when it was called Gypsy Art Show, more than a decade ago.

                     

Check out her author page on Amazon.

Marc Vincenz and Su Zi

GAS Featured Musician: Ryan Bozeman

BE:  When did music become important to you and who were some of your influences?

RB: Music has been important to me for as long as I can remember. My mom is a huge Beatles fan, and I grew up listening to all of her records and tapes. They are my favorite band and earliest influence. As I reached my teens, I got into grunge and alternative music, especially Nirvana, Soundgarden, Alice In Chains. Stone Temple Pilots, and Smashing Pumpkins. It’s funny that those artists are now considered classic rock to some. I still listen to these bands and others from the same scene. It never gets old to me. Later, I became a huge fan of several other post-alternative bands like Deftones, Failure, Hum, which pushed my musical tonalities toward a spacey, heavy sound. These days, I’ve been listening to bands like Sigur Ros, Bon Iver, American Football, and Frightened Rabbit, along with heavier bands like Volumes and Code Orange. 

 

 BE: You came to my attention via Jared Morningstar and Chris Bodor who posted their poetry videos in my group. When one of them mentioned you were looking to collaborate with poets I jumped on it because your music is beautiful and accomplished and I love collaborations. Could you tell us about your background in music.  Have you been in bands or always solo? Any CDs available?

 

 RB: I’ve been in various bands in the past, starting in high school. We played the local scenes around Ocala and Gainesville, Florida but never really caught the break we needed to go to the next level. I last played actively in a band around 2007. Yes, we made a few albums here and there over the years, but nothing that was sold outside of our shows. Over the past few years, I maintained a long-distance rock project called The Hope in Our Lungs, along with my former bandmate Micah Beller. We just trade ideas back and forth and eventually they turn into full songs. We share co-writing duties, and Micah sings and plays the drums, along with some guitar. I play most of the guitar and lead guitar, and I make the lyric videos. He’s a great singer so he’s able to sing the songs that I write that are usually out of my range, haha. In 2020, out of the pandemic, I wrote and released my first brotherwell album, an EP called Old & New, Black & Blue, and I’ve released several other singles since then. My solo songwriting has taken a back seat to my poetry collaborations these days. 

 

 BE: Soon after submitting my poetry you announced you were doing a series on Recovery. What prompted that?  What are your goals for this project? How do you plan to get it heard?

RB: It came out of the pandemic. As a collective, our society was just being hammered with Covid. At the same time, the political divide became an absolute chasm, punctuated by January 6. This period of time, a lot of us were at our lowest. Mentally exhausted. Physically exhausted. Coping. Developing bad habits. A dark time. Some of us have moved on, but the scars remain. Months later, while scrolling around on Facebook, I noticed that there was a local group of poets here in St. Augustine called the Ancient City Poets. I reached out to Chris Bodor, an active member, and out of the blue, just asked him if he wanted to collaborate with me on a spoken word piece. I was just ready to try something new creatively, and I wanted to get back to feeling a sense of connection with my music. Thankfully, Chris agreed to work with me and I made a score for his poem The Last Man on Earth, which we thought turned out really well. He then put me in touch with Michigan-based poet Jared Morningstar, and after a brief conversation, we decided to collaborate on one of his poems. From there, and lucky for me, I saw a random video on Facebook of poet Donny Winter reading his poem A Soluble Tablet. I immediately reached out to him and we started working together right away. The ball was really rolling at this point, so it was then that I decided to collect a group of poets together to work on this recovery-based project. What started out very small grew into a group of 12 poets, all with a unique and stylistic take on their own recovery. I have loved every second of working on this project. 

 

 BE:  Have you written and sung your own songs before the Recovery project?  I noticed you added lyrics as well as music to my submission and there after added lyrics to other videos.

RB: I’ve been writing songs since I was 14. I’ve never really considered myself a natural singer so most of the songs I’ve written in my life have been for someone else to sing. It’s funny - I never really planned to sing on these re:covery songs. But while I was working on the first song for the project, I just decided to write my own lyrics and sing them, kind of on a whim. At first, I didn’t know what the other poets were going to think, but I received a lot of positive feedback from them, which made me feel more confident with my singing. Adding my own lyrics to these songs has also allowed for me to string together my own take on recovery, while elevating the original poem at the same time.

One of the first compositions in the Recovery Project:

See more videos from the Recovery Project and sample Brotherwell's music.

GAS Featured Poet: John Drudge

 

John is a social worker working in the field of disability management and holds degrees in social work, rehabilitation services, and psychology.  He is the author of four books of poetry: March (2019), The Seasons of Us (2019), New Days (2020), and Fragments (2021). His work has appeared widely in numerous literary journals, magazines, and anthologies internationally. John is also a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee and lives in Caledon Ontario, Canada with his wife and two children.

Your Eyes

Making sense

Of where we are

In the low tides

And the high

Where truth

Churns in the jags

Against the rocks

On the shore

Along the coast

Where we parked

That night

In the fading moonlight

To watch the pain

Of insignificance

Dance

Across your eyes

 

 

Too Much the Night

Wound up

In the poetic crises

Of long nights

And short days

Estranged from touch

And taste

Where breathing rescues

And finds its cadence

In the brokenness

Of our ways

 

 

A New Summer

In a new summer

Of brief passing

He saw her that day

By the pool

Young and awakened

In the sweetness

Of profound anticipation

When their love

Was instant

And fresh

With an openness

To everything

Stirring

Blind to far reaching

Tomorrows

And lost

In a singular landscape

Of dreams

Mining the morning sun

For a smile

 

 

 

Ron Cooper's All My Sins Remembered, reviewed by Su Zi

 

   In traditional folklore, humor and regionalism are intrinsic aspects that carry the narrative, sometimes superseding it, and sometimes allowing for parable to emerge. And although regionalism as a genre can be considered a spatial concern, or a standard shelf in bookshops, it does draw a binary line between those familiar with a particular place and those who are not. The tourist reader might be carried along by the narrative’s current; the native reader will recognize landmarks. While regionalist writing may find currency among tourist readers, as if it were a literary cuisine, some true measure of the work will be gauged by native readers keenly aware of authenticity. Thus, the tale is told of time and place and those who live there.

    In Ron Cooper’s novel All My Sins Remembered (Goliad), the reader experiences life as a law enforcement officer in Ocala, Florida, a community currently described as undergoing rapid population growth.  Indeed, the novel opens with specific, native sites,” Through the gap between the lines of trees along the far side of the Silver River[…]a slender bird, probably an egret, passed”(1), and the action throughout stays mostly within that local proximity. Cooper’s land of legend is the Ocala Forest, an annual visit spot for Rainbow People, whom Cooper , in no disguise, calls  “Starlight”, and who play an influential part of the narrative.  While Cooper’s depictions of these annual visitors is both accurate-- the groups preference for “funny hats”-- as well as exaggerated for humor “His lower lip was pierced with what appeared to be a dog whistle”(4), his depiction of the fictionalized but actual residents of the forest follows the same structure of accuracy and hyperbole, with the exception of a far more harsh humor. A scene of a local gathering includes “an old hog trough […] now used as a footrest[…]and as a spittoon by Edna Yancey”(100). While the tourist reader might notice a woman who chews tobacco, the native reader recognizes the name of a local family. That the implication of lowest social caste is attached to this family name might not be humorous to some native readers; Cooper is consistent here, all the residents of the Ocala Forest are painted as being of the lowest social caste—a local myth from town people that is resented by forest residents.

   Cooper might revere Florida’s Beat writer, Harry Crews, but his strength is the didacticism that threads through both this and his other works. In the scene at the weekly bluegrass and potluck barbeque, Cooper educates the tourists with “Blevins announced that he would do a song everyone knew. He sang ’Hold Back the Waters’ by Florida’s folk song hero Will McLean, and everyone around Moreno joined in on the chorus about the threat of a flood” (103), while also creating an intimate nod, perhaps, to his bluegrass duet and Florida blues scholar partner. Not all of Cooper’s references are obscure. A scene involving a family argument about religion contains this comparative analysis: “The Bible prophets knew all about suffering. Vanity is the bastard child of the ego. The bigger the ego, the more dukkha, the more suffering”(68) which is countered with “so then he wandered around the rest of his life eating other people’s, poor people’s food. Never turned a lick in his rich boy life” (69). The novel never bogs in such gems, and is cleverly structured to visit various persons, including a point of view change, that don’t overwhelm the reader with the work’s basic premise of the murder mystery plot, or the unlikely hero’s journey to redemption.

  Cooper is a clever writer: because of the adept complexities here, the novel’s marketability is Florida-based, mystery based, comedy based. Perhaps it is this last aspect that might leave a bit of aftertaste, as Cooper’s Ocala Forest is a town tourist’s view, but few would remark the lack of empathy; in fact, Cooper’s suicidal, family failure deputy is hardly likeable. The novel’s setting of a relatively unknown region rapidly loosing its local history does position the work as succeeding in a core value of folklore—illumination of a threatened culture, even if the story paints that culture with a severe eye.

Su Zi is a writer, poet and essayist who produces a handmade chapbook series called Red Mare. She has been a contributor to GAS from back when it was called Gypsy Art Show, more than a decade ago.

                     

Check out her author page on Amazon.

GAS Featured Poet: Gabor G. Gyukics

Gabor G. Gyukics (b. 1958) poet, jazz poet, literary translator born in Budapest, Hungary. He is the author of 11 books of original poetry, 6 in Hungarian, 2 in English, 1 in Arabic, 1 in Bulgarian, 1 in Czech, 1 book of original prose, and 19 books of translations including A Transparent Lion, selected poetry of Attila József (2006) and They’ll Be Good for Seed, a Contemporary Hungarian Poetry (2021) (in English, both with co-translator Michael Castro) and an anthology of North American Indigenous poets in Hungarian titled Medvefelhő a város felett (2015). He writes his poems in English (which is his second language) and Hungarian. He had lived in Holland for two years before moving to the US where he'd lived between 1988-2002, at present he resides in Szeged, Hungary.
    His poetic works and translations have been published in hundreds of magazines and anthologies in English, Hungarian and other languages worldwide. He was a recipient of the Banff International Literary Translation Centre (BILTC) residency in Canada in 2011.
    His latest book in English titled a hermit has no plural was published by Singing Bone Press in the fall of 2015. His latest book in Hungarian titled végigtapint was published by Lector Press in May 2018.    
    In September 2020, he received the Hungary Beat Poet Laureate Lifetime award by the National Beat Poetry Foundation Inc. USA.

not on her own

with lowered wings

the wind appeared

she didn’t blow anyone’s hair

didn’t flutter the leaves on the trees

she swayed beyond the fence

in the early sunset

camouflaged herself as a reflection

as if she couldn’t decide

whether she wanted to be sensed or seen

she jumped over the fence a few times

looked around

and before an outside force

flew her away

she ran a fast round

leaving her scent behind

patch on the foghorn

under the wings of a dead angel

the moon is making love

to the sun

the negative of their bodies

lie in every river bed

mountain range

dirt road

next to your footprint

in every ditch

by the walnut tree

you’ll find a piece

of the moon

and not far from it

under the plum tree

shines a broken part

of the sun