G U E S T #26 : Introduction : Adam Katz

 

 

I had the idea for Partial Zine thinking about Emerson’s aphorism “Thinking is a partial act,” which he does not mean as a compliment toward thinking.  Partial as both biased and not whole.

I had been working on a theory of poetry’s basic formal unit as the unit of content, and thus poetic forms as “content-structures” (see the last piece in this collection for example https://www.academia.edu/44843635/_serves_them_) which we merely experience as sound structures.

So it seemed to me that thinking, even in Emerson’s own theory of poetry, was, as the process of content, therefore the process leading to poetic form, so its partiality was good, especially as it does not matter if the poet is wrong, such as in their metaphysics, if we define poetry’s end tautologically, to be poetry, rather than evaluating poetry on the basis of some other field’s value system, such as philosophical inquiry.

For Partial Zine I was interested in poems that foregrounded this thinking character of perhaps all poetry.  I wanted to show poems whose only polish derived from their content, as well as pages from poets’ notebooks, and emails with poets, as the thing in its purest form.

This would make Partial Zine a sourcebook of the kinds of thinking that structure poetry, that its readers could use to keep the flame burning.  I said that special consideration would be given to submissions based in some way on pieces in previous issues.

A number of factors eventually led me to put the project on hold, after I connected with, edited, and published many poets who I consider to be among the best working.  rob kindly invited me to curate the material that was starting to be Partial Zine 4 for G U E S T.  I hope it will be clear how at once self-evident and open ended the basic conception is.

 

 

 

 

Adam Katz is a poet-scholar, fiction writer, English instructor, and editor living on Gitxsan territory in northwest BC.

 

G U E S T #25 : Laurie Anne Fuhr : LIST OF INTROS

 

These people had nothing material to promise and offer one another. So they offered one another descriptions of the moon and pirates at sea. They offered one another jokes and snippets of poetry.

                                                                  Heather O’Neill, from When We Lost Our Heads

 

a. This is not a Covid chapbook; this is not not a Covid chapbook. It may be enjoyed with homemade bread, but skip the sourdough already.

b. When the first pandemic lockdown was announced, I was initially skeptical. Without cable, I lacked the flat screen frame of reference others had. I thought: how can authorities, mainly privileged and rich themselves, decide for everyone that no one should work for an indefinite amount of time? Fear of starvation from Carleton days came back, when my air force family was posted (again) and I stayed behind. Deep gut fear. Won’t those who live paycheque to paycheque perish? Can poems feed us?

c. Shown Italy’s suffering, I knew due shame for doubting. Bodies piled higher than debt. I was officially laid off from two jobs. Stayed home, masked up, read poetry. Singing and dancing were outlawed; music, my other income, was illegal. But poetry teaching went online. In my prompts class, I asked for list poems. Poets wrote stacks of words they hadn’t known were inside them. Their abundance felt comforting against the fear of scarcity. I wanted to share it.

d. This chapbook was conceived for bluemoonbooks, my sporadic micropress since Ottawa ’97 that had started with blue moon cut n’ paste poetry journal; most recently, a broadside by Moni Brar was published. This list of lists was gathered. But work came back, then music; the world revved back into action as suddenly as it stopped. I felt dizzy. My calendar, perpetually overbooked as I combatted fear of homelessness with scheduling. I approached rob. He kindly followed up. Now, be our guest.  

e. It’s the end of 2022. The government clawed back CERB, asked for payback. The price of gas, up. The cost of food, up and up. Rents raised higher than rooves. Credit cards maxed, and in Alberta, Enmaxed. Dear ones died alone in hospital. Poets write elegies. Many await hip replacements and other procedures, delayed by pandemic. Womb emptiness spreads throughout my body. I count blessings in lieu of toes. Count poems. Here are fourteen.

f. I read, again, this selection of poems as I prepare it for publication, and feel comforted by their abundance: of images, senses, ideas, emotions, words words words. Each poem invents its idea of a list poem form with one thing in common: affluent bounty. Delight in muchness.

g. Feel the true weight of this book: paper is light, but everything evoked in these lists fills them. We have the ability to give ourselves, and each other, so much, even in lean times. We should have known all along.

h. Receive it.

Laurie Anne Fuhr, GUEST guest editor

 

 

 

 

Laurie Anne Fuhr @multimodal_poet, Calgary-based base brat, former Ottawa poet and Peter F. Yacht Clubber, is author of night flying (Frontenac House 2018), shortlisted for the Robert Kroetsch Award for Innovative Poetry. Her poems also appear in Uncommon Grounds (epcpress 2021) available at www.espressopoetrycollective.ca. In 2022, a poem was shortlisted for the Magpie Award for Poetry (judged by Renee Sarojini Saklikar). In 2021, a poem was shortlisted for the Freefall Magazine annual contest (judged by Gary Barwin). Her micropress bluemoonbooks, produced blue moon cut n' paste poetry journal from 1997-2001, and has since produced random ephemera by Fuhr and other poets, with two student chapbooks (and most recently an embellished broadside scroll by Moni Brar). When publishing postmodern works, the press goes by bloom oon. Book her for school visits with Poetry In Voice and take her poetry classes at www.alexandrawriters.org.

G U E S T #24 : Sara Lefsyk : Introduction

 

 

I asked a few friends and writers I admire for some work for this issue of G U E S T.  The following is what I received.

 

 

 

Sara Lefsyk is head Ethel of Ethel Zine & Micro Press, through which she hand makes chapbooks and a twice yearly journal of writing and art. Her book We Are Hopelessly Small and Modern Birds (2018) is available from Black Lawrence Press.