I am very much a sandwich person — by far, my favorite food.  I have many ambitions in life, and two of them includes finding the perfect Hot Pastrami and the perfect corned beef rueben.  Living in New Jersey, one would think that I would be in culinary heaven.  Well, maybe.  So, I decided to embark on an adventure.  Every workday I have off, and I have some pocket change to spare, I’m going to try a new deli in my quest for the perfect sandwich.

So, today I went to Yussi’s Deli and Takeout in Lakewood.    The deli is on one of the main streets in Lakewood, which means it shares the street with a few other Jewish establishments, as well as some Hispanic eateries.   The deli on the inside looked clean for the most part, with hardly much in the way of seating.   There was a display case of kosher salads and such, but the long and the short of it: hot pastrami on rye with mustard.

For a little over $10, I got the sandwhich it self, a pickle, cole slaw, some fries and a can of coke.  The fries were so, so — deep fried, crunchy, but essentially flavorless.  I didn’t eat the cole slaw and found the pickle passable.  As for the sandwhich, the pastrami was a little greasy and soaked into the rye halves.  The cuts themselves were good, and generally more flavorful than the Boar’s Head pastrami one can find in the supermarket.   Perhaps a little too heavy on the mustard, though.

Final rating:  would I return?  Quite possibly, but certainly not a perfect sandwich.

That for reasons I won’t mention,  Daverana Enterprises and I have dissolved our working relationship and have gone our separate ways.

In other news, Death in Common, after being pulled for lack of pages numbers has apparently met another delay.  Since I no longer work for Daverana or Janrae Frank, I don’t know what happened.  I just hope the book goes back on Amazon soon, and in the form and format that was contracted and agreed upon by each individual contributor.

Temporarily pulled off of Amazon and BN.com.  There were some problems with how it ended up being printed.

I posted this Wall-o-Text on Chad Helder’s blog.  Figured I might as well move it here and own up to it!

The state of “horror poetry” reminds me of the state of National Poetry Month, wherein everybody groans and quotes TS Eliot’s The Wasteland, “April is the cruelest month…” Much derided, often the subject of scorn, but for some reason it never fully goes away. But, here are my two cents in random ordering….:

–Sturgeon’s Law applies to everything. Sure, a lot of horror poetry is crap, but so is a lot of poetry, a lot of horror fiction, a lot of science fiction, a lot of fantasy, and a lot fiction in general. It’s for this reason all writers should be voracious readers in the medium/genre that they’re writing in. You have to pick through a lot of crap to find what personally speaks to you.

–A lot of poetry written, and especially published on the internet, blogs, or a Lulu storefront, is crap because of what I stated above. The poets themselves don’t voraciously read poetry, and the poetry they have read is likely centuries old and written by a centuries dead white male — who, incidently, is writing in an outdated, antiquated form of English that roughly resembles the language we’re speaking today. I am not knocking Shakespeare, Keats, Poe, Shelley, Chaucer, or any of that gang as writers though. Their skill and brilliance is evident. Plus, I am not knocking form, either. People still write in iambic pentameter these days, but they’re doing so using contemporary language, idioms, and metaphors. (As an aside, if a writer is using “thy” or “thine” in a poem, they really shouldn’t complain if people point and laugh at their work). So, you have people who don’t know much about poetry who try to write it.

–Horror poetry is often, and rightly so, shown to be abysmal because of the above. But, in this case, it’s further complicated by the market place. Of the few journals that accept and publish poetry within the genre, most of what’s being published have all the red flags of what I mentioned above. Take Weird Tales, for example. They have never, ever published a poem I liked. There have been rare instances where Asimov’s has published a few interesting works — usually by Bruce Boston or Marge Simon. Much of it, however, is in sloppy rhyme, or it’s written like prose that’s been chopped into lines.

–Like it or not, we live a for-profit, commodity based society. People want to make money. And, for the large part, you cannot make money writing poetry. The money in writing usually comes from writing screenplays, non-fiction, romance, mystery, and so forth. Poetry is near dead last, next to scholarly monographs (where the writer is usually compensated by his University, not his publisher, in the form of merit pay or another professional notch on the belt, during the long slog towards tenure or getting out of adjunct hell). You will hardly ever find contemporary poetry on a best seller list. I’m not bemoaning that fact either; I’m just pointing out reality.

So, some newbies approach writing poetry, find out how tough the market place is with very little financial reward, and then they move on and try writing a screenplay or novel. Even worse, after receiving umpteen rejection notices from The New Yorker, The American Poetry Review, lesser journals, and presses like Graywolf, Ecco, Sarabande, or others, they run all butthurt to iUniverse, Authorhouse, or create a Lulu marketplace.

Basically, if we live in a for-profit society, poetry offers no financial incentive to keep talented writers around. To write poetry is to largely languish in obscurity, even if you made it with a high profile book from Ecco or Scribners. It’s more than likely that you still have a day job to pay your bills. To write fiction is to at least have a glimmer of hope of becoming a full time writer.

–”Academic Poetry” is never the problem or the solution, either. If you take the above couple of paragraphs into mind, most high profile published poets these days end up in academia. Teaching poetry becomes their day job. However, there’s this weird false conception that “academic” equals “pointy head” or “Language Poetry” or “Post Modernist.” This is wrong, too. That’s just one little corner of the great, vast poetry world. Not everybody writes like Jorie Graham. Not every writes like Mary Oliver or Sharon Olds, either. Poetry coming out of academia is very, very diverse.

Which leads me to final point….

– “Horror” is only a content description. This is why Sylvia Plath can be termed a horror poet, but if you’re talking about contemporaries, many fit the mold. For instance, how is the following Frank Bidart poem NOT horror?

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=180503

Which makes me come back to my central point. Poets of any content type should be voracious readers. Nothing is ever truly new, when it comes to subject matter.

I once tried to refer a friend to a particular prose poem anthology, only to get an email back saying: “Um, out of print, and you don’t want to know what used price is currently on amazon.”

I was about to do the same, with the anthology The Poets’ Grimm.  But, I check the aforelinked first.  Goddamn.  61 Bucks and change (not including shipping) is too much for book.  I know Story Line Press has been out of business for years, but then again, scarcity is one of the occupational hazzards of the small press.

So, can somebody please, PLEASE, get the rights to republish this in a new edition?

While I have yet to get my copies, and that contributor copies should start dropping in the mail in like two weeks, Death In Common: Poems From Unlikely Victims is now available through Amazon.com!

Featuring work from Michael Arnzen, Wrath James White, Christopher Conlon, Mark McLaughlin, Monica O’Rourke, Steve Vernon, Bob Freeman, LL Soares, Barry Napier and a host of others. It sports a cover by Bob Freeman, too.

Basic Premise: taking a cue from Edgar Lee Master’s Spoon River Anthology, Death In Common: Poems From Unlikely Victims tells the stories of twisted pile of corpses found in a basement along the Jersey Shore. The dead only share one thing in common: they were killed by the same person.

Today, I went to Barnes and Noble to look for Sarah Pinborough’s new Leisure Book’s title, Feeding Ground.  Didn’t find it.  So, I did what I usually do while wandering aimlessly around a large chain book store: I entertained the idea of getting an overpriced cup of coffee, I browsed the overstock/bargain shelves, did a walk through of the science fiction and fantasy section, and I did my best to avoid the poetry shelves.  Why?  Simple.  I’ve found that poetry sections of many Barnes and Nobles, Books-A-Million, and Borders are beyond pathetic.  If you’ve been around poetry as long as I have, it’s a no-brainer.

Roughly half of the two four foot (on average) sections consist of Charles Bukowski, Maya Angelou, Marge Piercy, Mary Oliver, and perhaps Charles Simic or James Tate, if you’re lucky.  Another huge swath of it is noted, centuries old classics from Shakespeare, Homer, Dante, and a few others.  What’s left, in terms of shelf space, is split down the middle.  Again, if you’re lucky, there are a few new titles from Graywolf or Ecco, and, even rarer, books from Copper Canyon or some univeristy presses.   Over the past year, I was happy to see new volumes by Paul Guest, Marie Howe, and Frank Bidart on Barnes on Nobles shelves.  So, what the problem?  They’re on equal footing with self published ventures like

You know, the sort of “hope” writing that fails miserable both as self-help books and as poetry.  Then, there’s also the faux poetic crap with badly alliterative titles and sloppy watercolors as covers.  For example:

I would say, “I don’t mean to beat up on self-published poets”; I realize, however, that — wait a minute — that actually is my intent.  Keep in mind that the average poetry section is not very large.  So, when you have only two four foot shelving sections, you have to wonder what 8-10 titles from Publish America, Authorhouse, iUniverse, tells a potential reader who knows nothing about the current state of English language poetry.   It really comes down to a space ratio. It gives the false impression that nothing is going on, or that beyond the names I’ve listed above, nothing interesting has happened in the last 50 years of poetry and publishing.

And that is so, so blatantly wrong.   American poetry, for instance, is particularly vibrant at the moment, with many different schools and traditions still going, from new formalism to language poetry and all the shades in between.   There is plenty of compelling, interesting books from established presses coming out every year.  However, the average Barnes and Noble browser will never see them.  They will see “alcoholic addict” and stuff like that, and will come away with a wholly inaccurate assessment about the state of poetry.  For the record, I’m not saying that all self published titles should be pulled off the shelves at brick and mortar stores.  There’s always a better choice available, however.  And the person responsible for ordering and keeping books on hand — they largely are largely ignorant about poetry.  Sure, they may be well meaning, but stocking self published poetry sends the wrong message.  It’s also passing on poetical ignorance.  I mean, how hard is it to browse The American Poetry Review, Poetry, or even the New Yorker from time to time?

99

The disappointed man speaks.— “I listened for an echo and I heard only praise—.”

This came completely out of left field for me.  Into The Cruel Sea’s digital version hit #3 on Horror Mall’s digital best seller list for July — right behind Brian Keene and J.F. Gonzalez.