Showing posts with label Trish Reeves. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Trish Reeves. Show all posts

Monday, February 4, 2008

AD ASTRA POETRY PROJECT # 11: TRISH REEVES (1946 - )


Trish Reeves is committed to poetry. One of my favorite stories about her took place the evening of September 11, 2001. She continued, that evening, with a previously scheduled poetry reading. After her presentation, a woman thanked her for commitment to the calling of poetry. In times of crisis, especially, poets speak for community. They express shared sorrows; they celebrate our human experience.
The intense, short lyric is this poet’s forte, with attention to heart as well as underlying story. I turn to Reeves’ verse for emotional and spiritual sustenance.
Reeves’ work draws upon the European arts tradition, translated into Midwestern lifeways. This creates a tension, as Old World icons find places in American farmlands. In the poem “Chronology” the poet refers to Van Gogh’s suicide and his oil painting technique of layering paint thickly on a canvas—impasto. His thick paint strokes are vivid and unsubtle—heightened with emotion. The poem resonates with the issue of farmers’ suicides, too common in the heartland as family farms lose economic viability.
The seasonal cycle of summer sowing and autumn harvesting in “Chronology” is replaced not by a calendar timeline, but by an emotional calendar. Reeves creates a new timekeeping paradigm here, suggested by Van Gogh and by farming, but instead more personal: anniversaries of family deaths. When I read this poem, I remember my ancient grandmother mourning her father’s death anniversary. I memorialize my own family deaths.

CHRONOLOGY

“Goes out into the field
and shoots himself.”
Well wouldn’t you know
this is the guy we adore.
The wheat wild with him,
the crows crazed and we
so undecided
about life ourselves
that the least mention
of Arles and
self-portraits put on impasto
has us thumbing through
our pasts for the date
he entered them with his sorrow
as vividly as a death in the family
that links us to our
fate like the calendar
on which numbers are unnecessary.

Education: Trish Reeves was born and raised in St. Joseph and recently has lived in Prairie Village, Kansas, as well as Kansas City, Missouri. She received her BA from the University of Missouri School of Journalism. She received an MFA in Creative Writing, Warren Wilson College.
Career: In 1991 Reeves became an English professor at Haskell Indian Nations University, Lawrence. Her students have published and read widely. Her first book, Returning the Question, won the Cleveland State University Poetry Center Prize (1988). BookMark Press of UMKC published In the Knees of the Gods: Poems (2001). Her work is recognized by fellowships from the National Endowment for the Humanities, the Kansas Arts Commission, and Yaddo; she was a Keck Fellow at Sarah Lawrence College. She has edited New Letters Review of Books. She leads book discussion groups for the Kansas Humanities Council and Johnson County.
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© 2008 Denise Low AAPP11. © 2001 Trish Reeves “Chronology” from In the Knees of the Gods (BookMark Press 2001, available at
http://www.umkc.edu/bkmk). © 2003, Denise Low, photo of Trish Reeves.

Friday, November 24, 2006

Ad Astra 2: Laureate Miscellany

Announcement of the poet laureate position--even though I won't move into it officially until July 2007--has been more of a change than I expected. For the most part, my work life does not center on teaching creative writing. Occasionally through the years, I have been able to teach one class a year. It's been three years now since I last taught it. My colleague Trish Reeves is a wonderful poet--winner of NEA fellowship and Cleveland Poetry Center Award for her first book--and she is a great teacher. So my own writing and public activities are usually outside Haskell Indian Nations University. Many folks there just do not realize my involvement, so it's been like exposing a double life in a way. This most private art form, lyrical expressions of feelings and thoughts, is also paradoxically public. After reading, I often feel like I've turned my self inside out and feel very vulnerable. That feeling is exaggerated now.

I feel more pressure to perform well and write well. Of course I am the same person and poet I was before the announcement! I am quite mortal.

Another miscellaneous thought--this position is so unique, with no analogous position for other writers or occupations--that few people seem jealous of me. I keep telling well wishers there should be laureates for other occupations!

And I am so touched by letters of congratulations that appear in the mail from friends, neighbors, the Lied Center, my state legislators, and others. I did not expect this level of public scrutiny!

One of my favorite stories of myself is years ago after publishing one of the very first things, I went to the Spencer Research Library to find a review of it. As I signed in, the librarian asked if I was THE Denise Low. I puffed up and said yes. My children were with me and were impressed. When the librarian brought out the magazine with the review, it turned out to be somewhat (okay pretty much so) negative! I deflated pretty quickly. So the laureate-ness is a nice moment among a spectrum of many many kinds of moments.