political signs
 
i always pay
attention to
the political
signs in the
yards around
where i live
 
it gives me
a heads up
on who not
to vote for
------------------------------------------------------------
the perfect metaphor
 
the rat race ended
and nobody won
 
if that isn't the
perfect metaphor
for life in the
midwest, i don't

know what is
--------------------------------------------------------------
young angst
 
a listless
rebellion
 
young angst
with an unholy
need to release
 
it's simple to
find the evil
in the world
 
just follow

the money
---------------------------------------------------------------
never talk to strangers
 
she asked me
for a ride home
 
i was taught to
never talk to
strangers
 
that goes against
every notion a
writer should
have
 
this incident
was over a
quarter century
ago
 
what if pops up
from time to time
 
it never ends
up well
 
but the poems

keep flowing
------------------------------------------------------------------
these lonely nights
 
the only good thing
about these lonely
nights is eventually

i will run out of them

Accomplished poet Carol Smallwood assures us once again in her latest poetry collection, Thread, Form, and Other Enclosures that we are in the hands of an accomplished poet, who deftly uses the very form of her poems as enclosures to explore the nuances of structure within our culture, a structure, she reminds us, that may be as invisible as gravity itself, but no less powerful in its impact. This collection of over seventy poems explores the boundaries that bring us together and keep us apart: the threads, the forms, and the enclosures of our lives. Smallwood’s subjects are wide ranging, but the focus on women’s experiences interconnects throughout the collection.

              Smallwood specifically explores the relationships women traditionally have had to enclosures living as women have in a culture that has silenced women’s voices and devalued their creative work, specifically the tools of needle and thread, the weaving of women’s art. As she explores connections and disconnections, she will intertwine science and myth, the personal and the public in ways that will both surprise and satisfy us. 

              Smallwood uses the strictly defined poetic forms of the pantoum, the triolet, the villanelle, and the rondeau along with free verse to great effect following Auden’s notions of a “form looking for a subject and a subject looking for a form.” Smallwood uses these closely defined forms as poetic enclosures for ideas, using a tight structure to force us to see what we have not seen before, subtle changes in meaning coming into focus as words repeat, context shifts, and we focus again on the same words, but now read their meaning anew. In her poem “The Universe” we begin with the security of making patchwork quilts in the emptiness of a “universe with no edge or center” but move finally to a “universe with no edge or center” where the speaker recognizes death as an eventuality as everyone must, but she reminds us that women create meaning over and over as they “cut up pieces to sew with needle and thread” because as the speaker’s grandmother tells us, “You are not lonely when you sew.”

               In other poems Smallwood will lay unexpected connections before us. In her poem  “A Quartet” she will celebrate the “economy in circles,” circles present in the seemingly vast and unrestricted boundaries of the universe and within women:circles being  “the popular choice of planets/revolving moons, and womb.” Circles live in the rhythm of seasons and geology and history of life on earth.

              In another thread, Smallwood recalls Greek mythology recalling images that remind us of the importance of women deities such as the Three Fates who weave the fabric of life, determine the length of our thread, and decide when it will be cut. Mythology has granted such women enormous power over our lives. Smallwood combines this with the elevation in Greek mythology of women’s knowledge of weaving and sewing, which has been silenced or denigrated in our present day culture. Arachne’s story, well-known in mythology, speaks of a woman admired by humans and gods for her great skill as a weaver.  She will compete with the goddess Athena, displaying the dangers of human pride in breaking the boundary between mortals and gods. Arachne’s challenge to the gods, her attempts to escape her mortal enclosure, will be punished by her transformation into a spider, and yet the image of the spider, connecting to the myth will make satisfying reappearances throughout the collection, the spider as weaver forever present on earth.

              In yet another myth, we are reminded of the labyrinth created by Daedalus for King Minos. Minos’ daughter Ariadne was put in charge of the labyrinth and is thus often associated with mazes. When Theseus, the hero of ancient legend,  sought to free the boys and girls sacrificed to the Minotaur. Theseus, the famous hero, will succeed only when he receives help from Ariadne, who will offer him not only a sword, but also the large ball of thread.  The ball of thread will be invaluable in leaving a trail by which Theseus will find his way out of the labyrinth, thus, saving the children from the Minotaur. He will need both sword and thread to survive. However, when we recall Theseus, we remember him as the hero of the story, ignoring or diminishing the role of the female, the goddess Ariadne, without whose help of the sword and the thread, each the traditional tool of men and women respectively, it is unlikely he would have succeeded in finding his way out of the labyrinth.  Once again, Smallwood returns to mythology for the presence of the power of women’s knowledge and the importance of women’s art traditionally connected to thread. And later, without missing a beat, Smallwood will have us reconsider the power and importance of threading as she takes us to the intensely personal, as she speaks of threading the subclavian vein as part of her chemotherapy, part of her cancer treatment, creating interconnections, crossing boundaries and erasing enclosures between her poems.

              In addition to reminding us of the strength and importance of women in Greek myths, Smallwood will have us consider the voices of women in literature that have been silenced. She searches through literature anthologies as one might divine the earth for life-giving water, seeking the writings of women. She will leave her pursuit unsatisfied, the thirst for such writings unquenched, with the collections instead filled mostly with the words of men using “man-made” words.

Smallwood will explore the enclosures that hold knowledge in the academic world. She will return to the connection to myth reminding us of Pandora who opens the dreaded box, letting all the evils of the world escape with only hope remaining in the box. And yet, while it is Pandora who has opened the box, it will be poet Emily Dickinson, who will offer humankind a balm with her beautiful words, “Hope is a thing with feathers.”

              Smallwood will find the misogynist professor teaching history with his offer of the “blonde visualizer” for the male students in the class, but she will also find the woman trapped in the yellow wallpaper in Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s work. Smallwood moves with dexterity from the trapped woman, a character in The Yellow Wallpaper, to a swift connection with the personal, revealing her sense of entrapment in her own marriage, a husband who called her “little girl” enforcing another kind of enclosure.

              While the collection includes moments of humor, there are also the emotional poems of Smallwood’s struggle with cancer. In the ultrasound room, waiting to have blood drawn, in her poem “Matter of Rowing” Smallwood acknowledges an unexpected blessing for humans, like rowers who row backwards, in not being able to see what is ahead. We find that we, ourselves, may be blessed as well by not knowing exactly what lies ahead.

              Overall, the collection has the feel of sharing an afternoon with a friend, well-read and knowledgeable, a friend who can speak of her curiosity related to myriad aspects of life including such wide-ranging subjects as the latest theories of the universe or the history of jeans or Claire’s stiletto heels in the television series House of Cards.  Throughout her collection Smallwood offers a voice passionate about letting other women’s voices be heard.

              It is a collection to be read again and again, as each reading offers new ways of seeing and thinking, threads, forms, and other the enclosures appearing before us,  evolving, changing shape and ultimately presenting us with new insights. Her poem, “ A Brief Look” included in the Afterward, reminding us that “beauty comes at ordinary moments full grown, unexpected/and leaves us gasping.” We might say the same of Carol Smallwood’s poetry collection. 

Denise David, Ph.D. is the author of the recently published poetry collection Against Forgetting: War, Love, and After War, Shanti Arts Press, May 2020.

Carol Smallwood’s Thread, Form and Other Enclosures is available here.

https://youtu.be/efgJPr5NF7M.EN RUDOLPH VALENTINO starring WARDAL

The foundation of this story is Valentino’s real story.

Plot: Wardal, a charming star of about 50 years old, is in his dressing room waiting to personify Rudolph Valentino. Wardal has some problems with the script because the production requests sensational revelations more than artistic content.

Suddenly Valentino appears. Valentino has been a part of Wardal’s life since his mother is a friend of one of Valentino’s relatives, Mrs. Lelletta Greco, and she told him about Valentino throughout his childhood.

During the meeting between Wardal and Valentino, something prodigious happens. 

—————————-WARDAL-RUDOLPH VALENTINO: The text of the script.

Wardal: Yes, come in. I can’t wait. Oh, what a splendor of a man!  I understand now how no one can resist you!  You smile, yes, you see in my eyes, everywhere in me, my surprise, my admiration, my delight in seeing you, your priceless appearance ..

Well … you didn’t bring Lelletta with you? Lelletta  Greco, your relative, who held you in her arms when you were a child and introduced you to me! I mean….You know Mrs. Lelletta was a close friend of my beautiful mother. When I was in Taranto, close to your home town, my mother told me about you every day! No, it was not boring at all!  

So , you are like part of my family, no, much more, you are part of my childhood, you are the legend I grew up with, and now, that my life is almost close to a “sunrise,” oh sorry, “sunset” I mean, I discover that I have many things in common with you. No, not only hair color, but the spirit of adventure, the desire to cross the  ocean …. the love of dressing well, being naturally always the center of attention, attractive….and we both used this weapon, yes, in many different ways, but both for fun …. Right?

But I’m a romantic, you weren’t.  Am I pragmatic?  No, Rudy, just sometimes … when I was your age, young like you, … Maybe, like me, you would have become a romantic, but life has not given you the  time ….so sad. But you are a romantic, come on!——————  

(The stage manager knocks on the door) 

Oh, how boring! I have given orders to ignore me to let me be at peace to focus … to get into my role before acting.

(Answers) Yes, all right.  I know everything. That I have 10 minutes, ok.  / No, there is no one here.  Who?  The producer in my dressing room?  (to himself and Rudy: “oh, there’s much more than a producer in my dressing room!”) Where? Shut up!

The producer is in love with the Prima Donna, not with me.  (to himself and Rudy: “not yet he is in love with me….) So don’t try to enter and don’t knock anymore on the door!  If “ Prima Donna “ is looking for the producer, she  is not allowed to spy on me through you.

Yes!  She  always has the habit of inventing roles, rumors and stories, to give herself  importance! Old fashioned stories! Last century stories! Silent cinema stories! Ridiculous!  Of course we recite Rudolph Valentino …. but she exaggerates! I already have my role to play and I can’t play multiple roles and multiple scripts at the same time, as she does. She wants to make the producer jealous and the producer wants to make her jealous.  I don’t want to be in the middle of this game, so go away! And tell to this “primadonna” that I will not change any word of the script to make it more sensational instead of a manifestation of art, as I want! I respect Valentino’s privacy! And now “Va fan culo!!!” (Italian: “go to hell”)

—————————————-Oh, finally.  He seems be gone. So sorry for all of that! I guess you were forced to play three or four roles and scripts at the same time too…having various affairs at the same time, with prima donnas, actresses, starlets … un vrai carrousel et l’amour? Moi, quand j’ai perdu l’amour, j’ai compris l’amour. Positif, oui? ( From French: a real carousel! And love?  Me, when I lost love, I understood love.  Positive, yes? )  

Mastroianni, maybe he tried to imitate you, in his life.  Oh, of course you didn’t meet Mastroianni: he was two when you left the world.  Yes, in 1966 Mastroianni played you in Hello, Rudy, a very successful musical. Me? No, I didn’t.  I was not born yet at that time, as a star, I mean yes, of course, your life has never been represented as it really was, not even in the movie about you in 1951? Where Anthony Dexter looks like a perfect clone of you? (laughs) Me? You? Well, Fellini was thinking about it, but the idea didn’t work.

You and I are similar inside, even though not in appearance, although we both have strongly Mediterranean features, having been born in the same ancient land.  Yes, Fellini’s idea did not work, because his imagination does not match your frame.  Fellini did well to shoot Casanova, a legendary Latin Lover, but who didn’t belong to cinema like you.

 To Fellini, on the other hand, I gave your script. He was surprised. You too? So, now you know how crazy I am. Fellini would never have thought that you were a little esoteric, as he liked, and scientific, a philosopher …. Yes, that script….the only one you wrote, I guess.  My mother gave it to me.  She received it from Lelletta of course with your camera that has become my mascot and is now shooting us …. Oh, don’t worry, you are always so handsome, in the right light, perfect scenery, in my dressing room, you are in my hands……Do you want more? ( Reading ) You wrote… “Before women played me, I played them.  A contagious game.” I knew my destiny.

“Do you mean that you were sure to become a star?  The first movie star.” Here, your answer: “I was convinced.  I didn’t think for a moment before leaving.  I’ve always played the part of the star.”

“Sure, till death and perhaps including your death and beyond, as now! (laughs). The contagious game, from one game to another and everything always perfectly played! That’s why I can’t reveal anything about you, since what is known about you is what you have made us believe about yourself, and what has become your actual life! (laughs)   ——————————

My life?  Oh, don’t care. Yes, no one knows my real life and will never know it, but, in my dramas and scripts I tell about it, a little bit , between the lines…..  Yes, moving simply from a scene to another. ——————————By the way , now it is time for me to start preparing to personify you. No. nothing big, just a cameo: a few lines, all standard, nothing creative, nothing new.  
 Oh, I accepted the role for money, that I already have in my pocket ….no, I don’t have sufficient time to betray your secrets ….don’t worry….You are in the perfect hands. 

However, it would be nice if in my place, you go out on stage to personify yourself, tonight, in a few minutes!  Why not?!
Or, I can announce, “Gentlemen, tonight I will not play Valentino, because he, Rudy, himself, will do it.” Better for me. I don’t know my few lines yet! Indeed, now I would like the camera to change framing and take you back, your beauty, your charisma, your irresistible charm …. as you will appear on the stage…But I see, your camera is no longer able to take you back, to contain you, since now your light, your power is blinding. You now are perfectly ready to go on the stage!

.. (still knocking on the door) “Five minutes“!  Here are the five minutes.  So, Rudy, the stage of the world is waiting for you again! Of course, no one will believe that you are the real Rudy, returning on the scene after almost a century!  (laughs).  On the other hand, I am sure that everyone will be convinced that it is you, the true and only Rudy, since no man, no movie star has never had your charm. I am reading by your smile that Valentino would never reappear on the stage even if this miracle were possible. Right?

(there is a knock on the door) Ok, two minutes. What will I do on stage without you?  I’m going to cry!  Since I will not be able to open my mouth because of my awe and nervousness it will follow me there, on the set.  The director organized the scene of Valentino’s appearance, can you hear the audience shouting?

Come on, transgress yourself, let me corrupt you, take back your beautiful body and come with me, on the stage.

You see, down there, those big spotlights are all on and they are blinding; artificial smoke is invading the scene, an ocean of ​​extras and a crowd of journalists are waiting …No? Ok. I have another idea and everyone will think it’s an artistic invention ..  No one will see my face, since I will cover it with the lens of your camera and I will point it towards the audience as if your eyes were seeing, as if you are living the scene , as if you are present there. Then, I will leave everyone suddenly and I will return here, I will give you back your camera and we will separate from each other as in a dream. We will both dissolve, as happens usually in the finale of a movie.

Everyone will run here, out of irrepressible curiosity, but they won’t find anyone. I’ll leave the light on to give the illusion of a presence.  (Pause) You smile at me again, it means that you like my direction, I see. Then, my beloved Rudy, we are ready to fly!  ….Action! (dark ) 

(The stage manager knocks insistently on the door. )                                                      THE END

Death not being something to fear

Death?
What the hell am i doing on earth?
Life designs the cloth of fear

which is difficult to wear

Why?
There is a lurking uncertainty

Its design is a  threatening peculiarity
So,
In death, i glory in peace

as my sleeping body is laid to Mother Earth with ease
The cloth of peace i wear

Therefore, i would say, ‘death is not a being to fear’

On The Ground of Death

I fell on the ground of death

as I felt guilt, shame, and humiliation

for being hopeless to ask for a slight assistance.

I missed my legs like a tree forfeited

its roots and branches in autumn

I saw my weight gain, stretch marks

but I found the legs of a soldier

They were seeping as I was sobbing

I erased my memories a few years ago

my reflections began to communicate louder,

since they were always an unspoken

My tongue was no longer a treasure

I wanted him to say my visions to stop weeping

I wanted him to notify my parts to stop bleeding

But he was muted, through every measure.

Montreal’s Moon

I saw Montreal’s moon in the eyes of Noemi,

Since then, I am a poet not broken

but fully spoken about devotion verses,

and emotional tales that brought tears

for three hundred sixty-five days.

Montreal blues hide when I am trying to find your shadow

The smile on my face was birthed after we passionately kissed

Hold my hands and take me away from the sorrows

I’m inhaling This world has turned me into a warrior

ashes of centuries ago

When I learned that I must love you

without any boundaries

Being friendly and helpful is not a struggle for a wounded man

The flowers that bloom from the first night we made affection

my body became numb

after I touched the sunshine in your heart

Love is not a tournament

that lasts for a few hours before bed

Your love is the soul that grows in your feelings

whenever I miss having you around my arms,

all the sad songs have a common way to describe

how much I miss being next to you by the sunsets.

Grandma’s oatmeal

Today, dear book group, we’re exploring the difference 

between cinnamon, commas, 

and a cheerleader’s ability

Pausing only if grandma needs her medicine 

With plenty of cinnamon,

you can spin a syrupy alphabet in your throat

of phrases and punctuation, new to a child

And my grandma once told me

that if you mix plenty of cinnamon in your oatmeal 

you can bend a period into a comma

with your mind, and

With plenty of commas, 

An elderly man with a surgical mask 

on his forehead, 

may make himself visible outside your window

His acne scars covered – but his infectious saliva

skating on germs until it reaches another mouth. 

It makes me revel at my own grandparents 

and the way their masks kiss and are kissed 

when – They leave to get vegan donuts. 

One moment, grandma needs her medicine. 

She tells me it’s because her mask smells 

like a cheerleader

Highschool is sticking its unwashed fingers up her nose again

Showers in body spray during class, 

the smell of shiny magazine pages and pressed flowers

having a tea party in the split ends of the cheerleaders ponytail

Too much for her to bear.

A T-shirt in the airport says – if a comma isn’t placed 

in front of grandma 

instead of after 

she might end up in our digestive system. 

With a cheerleaders ability, 

you can kick so high 

your leg gets stuck in the lumps of oatmeal 

in the sky 

or, if you aren’t heartless, grandpa says 

you should jump up and down 

until grandma finds the energy 

to crawl back out of your throat.