10/28/19

For Your Enjoyment: "Merely, In an Unforeseen Moment" by Gaylord Brewer in the newest issue of Kestrel (41, Summer 2019)

            In three days I begin my
            journey home from the north.
            No, I do not invoke the
            well-worn historical hardships,
            body broken on the trail,
            dream reduced to a mocking
            ice, reckoning of dust.
            No fortune gained or lost here.
            But it would be a sad thing
            if the ferry cantered into
            the cold blackness of the fjord,
            or either plane erupted
            into a minuscule comet of flame.
            Or merely, in an unforeseen
            moment between now
            and then, I placed hand
            on chest and never woke up.
            Sad not to touch you,
            or see my home, or lose any
            odds of being a different man.
            No sadness to me, of course.
            I would no longer exist.
            And to you, sad only as a faded
            cloth, a blurred face until
            you also pass to a darkness
            that does not remember or forget.
            Thinking does no good.
            I’ve my lucky claw, my virgin
            salt, my witch’s promise.
            I count the hours until
            I pack my bag, until the boat
            motors into the dark passage,
            until I take my chances.

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The poem "Merely, In an Unforeseen Moment" by Gaylord Brewer appears in the newest Kestrel: A Journal of Literature and Arts, Issue 41, Summer 2019. Click here to subscribe because it's an awesome journal and every bit worth the measly $20 they charge for a 2-issue full year subscription.

I've been a fan of Gaylord Brewer since 2007. I know because that was the first year that I made a concerted effort to start reading as widely as I could in literary journals. Libraries were my friend. I bought dozens to add to the few I was perennially subscribed too, swooping them up wherever I could find them. There was usually a little section in Borders or Barnes and Noble with ten or fewer journals, but it was something. I ordered a bunch of tiny journals from their cheesy or basic websites, I entered contests that included a subscription for the entry fee and even ended up winning one (thanks Allegheny Review!). By the end of the year I'd found a number of poets that published relatively frequently, the most prolific publisher certainly seemed to be Lyn Lifshin, but another poet that stood out numerous times was Gaylord Brewer. He writes with a straightforward stripped down style, but is by no means minimalistic. His poems often employ medium-length lines, a narrative of some sort, and witty observations without being distractingly a 'funny poet' like Hal Sirowitz (no knock on the guy, his poems are hilarious and often poignant). He's closer to someone like a Lawrence Raab or Stephen Dunn. He also has appeared in the same journals as me a few times, which I personally count as a feather in my cap. But enough about me liking Gaylord Brewer's writing, let's get to the poem at hand, "Merely, In an Unforeseen Moment" which appears in Issue 41 Summer 2019 of Kestrel.

The opening is not-too-subtly invoking the diaries of arctic explorers and gold-rushing Klondike miners with plots in the Yukon, with the term "journey" doing a lot of heavy lifting for that inference, but "from the north" is also reminiscent of someone returning from "the wild". I love that Brewer immediately addresses that lofty tone and undercuts the heightened drama of the opening line. Then the poem moves to possible demises in a manner which made me think of the poem, "Otherwise" by Jane Kenyon, with Brewer enumerating some of the potential 'otherwises' which might befall him on his journey.

I could be looking too into it, but I feel like the lines "Sad not to touch you, / or see my home, or lose any / odds of being a different man" are a nod to Stanley Kunitz's wonderful poem "Touch Me" which ends with the powerful lines "Darling, do you remember / the man you married? Touch me, remind me who I am". Brewer's poem turns into the final stretch with "Thinking does no good." The poet has moved through numerous relatable fears of travelling, and, after acknowledging their possibilities dusts his hands of the danger, being wholly out of his hands anyway. 


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Possible writing exercises:

1) Write a short poem that meditates on numerous way in which you might perish on a regular day, with some sort of a twist. Perhaps you explain the various ways disaster was narrowly (or widely) averted, or you imagine some force or magical being that keeps you safe from those dangers or whatever you'd like.

2) Every day is like a video game level. You begin the day again each time a danger takes your life and you replay the level without the explicit knowledge of the day, only having a vague sense of warning when it comes to the dangers that have killed you in the past. That's the premise, but you figure out what the impetus for your story. What changes and makes that particular day/level interesting?

3) Write a piece that takes its title from the poem. Some suggestions would be "Historical Hardships" "Reckoning of Dust" "Into the Cold Blackness of the Fjord" "A Minuscule Comet of Flame" "A Blurred Face" "A Darkness That Does Not Remember" "My Lucky Claw, My Virgin, Salt, My Witch’s Promise" but there are many great options.

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About the Journal:

Kestrel: A Journal of Literature and Art is the literary journal produced by Fairmont State University in West Virginia. It is mainly a print publication but they do post selected pieces from each issue on their website, of which "Merely, In an Unforeseen Moment" is one. Their aesthetic is eclectic and they do like some surreal writing, but in general they lean toward the accessible side of writing as opposed to more academic or difficult writing. They are closed to submissions at the moment, but only for a few days, as they open to submissions for their Summer 2020 issue on November 1, 2019. 

Here are their submission guidelines from Submittable:

Poetry: Kestrel welcomes poems of all genres, styles, and traditions, including experimental and hybrid forms, as well as poetry in translation. Send 3-5 of your best poems during one of our reading periods.
Fiction: Kestrel is open to any genre of short fiction that questions assumptions and moves us to reconsider everyday life. We enjoy stories with believable plots, developed characters, consistent points-of-view, vivid and symbolic settings, true dialogue, and thought-provoking themes, though we also enjoy experimental writing that makes new the expected conventions. 5,000 words maximum.
Non-Fiction: Creative nonfiction, memoir, or literary essays are preferred. Subject matter may vary but attention to writing as craft and art is paramount; the attention to diction, syntax, and detail should delight and surprise. We appreciate writing that makes a subject's complexity understandable and its familiarity new. We expect non-fiction to be non-fiction.
Reviews: Please query via email. See featured reviews at www.fairmontstate.edu/kestrel.
Visual Art: Submissions to Kestrel may be made in any medium. Image resolution should be at least 300 dpi and in .jpg format. We publish full-color and black and white images. Kestrel may use images for publicity purposes.
Only previously unpublished work by writers will be considered. Kestrel retains first North American rights only. Contributors receive two copies.  Address your submission to the appropriate editor (fiction, poetry, nonfiction, visual art).
Simultaneous submissions are accepted; immediate notification of a manuscript accepted elsewhere is expected, preferably via email at kestrel@fairmontstate.edu.
Allow three months for our response before inquiring about your submission, and restrict yourself to one submission per calendar year.
 All accepted work is for the print publication; select work may be featured on our website.