I hope you had wonderful 4th of July weekend. Mine started quietly with playing in the dirt (weeding and mowing in the Garden of Weedin’), then bangs and bursts of fireworks Friday night, and finishing yesterday with an energetic piano concert with Ethan Uslan playing patriotic American jazz, blues, boogie-woogie, and ragtime music. Ethan’s young son Henry joined him on alto sax, clarinet and flute. An uplifting way to end a weekend of celebrating our country’s birth.
July also means sweet corn ripening, heat, the midpoint of summer, heat, mosquitos and other bugs, and did I mention, heat? And for me, it’s also the Kakalak reading period. This is my 7th year co-editing this poetry and art anthology (last year I took a hiatus while taking my little hike across Spain) and while it’s always challenging it’s also interesting and fun. These are the covers from the issues I’ve co-edited. 2017 – Core Sample, mosaic by Jeanette Brossart; 2019 – Tree Lights, original art by Brittany Taylor-Driggers; 2020 – Sacrament, photography by Julie Ann Cook; 2021 – My Glass is Half Full …what’s yours? photography by Laura D. Hare; 2022 – Green Light, original art by Megan Ledgerwood; 2023 – Ethereal Forest, original art by Jessica Mae Nisbett
As you can see, we receive a variety of art forms, and not all of it is represented as cover art in these 7 issues. (I pictured only those I helped select.) We begin promoting the anthology and welcoming submissions the first of March and close the submission window the end of May. This year we received 170 pieces of art. We have a talented, hardworking publisher again (our first one was M. Scott Douglass, and now we have Anne Kaylor) who is the gatekeeper for all the submissions–art and poetry. The co-editors receive digital copies of the art in color and in black and white–so essentially, we’re combing through 340 pieces! (give or take since a few arrive as B/W only).
Only the cover is printed in color, all the inside images are printed in black and white, the reason we receive both. It’s interesting how the images can change in tone, energy, movement, and sharpness between the two versions. Some look beautiful in color than muddied or washed out in B/W. Some images look fine in color, but then the shadows and light/dark contrasts really pop out in the B/W version. But you get the chance to see all the images in color because Anne puts the original color versions on the Kakalak website once the issue pieces are chosen.
And this is why I took last year’s hiatus! Binders wouldn’t fit in my backpack and reading wouldn’t fit into my day. As I’ve mentioned in previous Kakalak postings, I print off all the poems Anne sends our way. The other co-editors may not. But I can’t handle being on the computer for as long as it takes to read through the submissions. Also this way I get to mark up the copies with my reactions … and take them outside to work on. This year we have over 800 poems to read, react to, and choose for the coveted spots in the 2025 Kakalak anthology.
One of the things that keeps co-editing new for me is what I learn from these other poets. Some of it is craft. When I read a poem that just hits me in the heart or the gut, I want to know why. What language, line break, imagery, rhythm, or traditional form did the poet use that made me see something new and different. I’ve been introduced to other artists–visual artists, musicians, writers–when a poet acknowledges their poem was inspired by or written in response to a piece of artwork or piece of music or another poem. Of course, I have to Google and check out that reference. The resulting research factors into my judging but also opens my world to different works of art. I’m grateful to these Kakalak poets for providing the door to those worlds.
For those of you who read my posts regularly, you know I’m a huge fan of the poet Ted Kooser. In a recent Facebook posting by Ted, he somewhat laments the fact that much of contemporary poetry is missing charm, ‘that is, charm in its older and more respectable sense, magic.’ He then adds a poem by Faith Shearin titled, Moving the Piano. Thankfully, charm is present among the poems submitted to Kakalak … not in all of them, but some.
Charm appears often in trips to family homesteads, a favorite or sentimental piece of clothing or knick-knack, or in the ordinary that becomes extraordinary just by how someone perceives it. For poems lacking charm, they’re filled with other emotions and characteristics whether highlighting universal experience (death, birth, disease, grace) or a current event–so many angles from Covid a couple years ago. All of it makes for that challenging, interesting reading on my part, but also a fantastic anthology for readers when all the poetry and art come together.
And now it’s time for me to get back to it! Tomorrow I’m going to do something I’ve always wanted to do but never have. (Guesses?) Depending on how that goes I’ll tell you about it next week. I hope you have an interesting and challenging (in a good way) week, maybe have some sweet corn.
And may my prayers join with yours for the families in Texas. Eventually I may be able to write something–a post or a poem–but for now, nothing.
A Writer's Window 