Muddy Bank

It’s Sweet to Be Remembered

2River — Sat, 12 May 2012 22:08:02 +0000

A video presentation of “It’s Sweet To Be Remembered” by Charles Wright. Audrey Weiss created the video as her favorite poem project in a Poetry Writing class at St. Louis Community College–Meramec.

A Video Essay by Katie Baker

2River — Thu, 10 May 2012 22:44:19 +0000

“14″ from The Dream Songs by John Berryman. Katie Baker recorded the video essay as a culminating experience in her Poetry and Plays class at St. Louis Community College–Meramec

Columbia College Chicago : Two Reviews: 2River View

2River — Fri, 27 Apr 2012 21:57:52 +0000

It’s always nice to come across reviews of 2River, these two by writers at Columbia College in Chicago. The first review relies heavily on a 2007 interview at Ephemera, and the second is based more on direct observation of 2River. What I like about the two reviews is that both writers suggest that the poetry selections are informed by a single person rather than by a group or committee, and so the poetry at 2River projects a vision. Whether that vision is good or not, the two writers don’t say.

Columbia College Chicago : Two Reviews: 2River View.

Student Video of “Lamentation”

2River — Sun, 15 Apr 2012 17:06:56 +0000

“Lamentation” by Jason Schneiderman. Video by Silas Marner, a student of mine in Poetry and Plays at STLCC–Mermamec.

Calamity Joe

2River — Sat, 07 Apr 2012 00:09:30 +0000

It’s always great to receive a book with poems from a previous issue of The 2River View. Red Hen Press just sent me a copy of Calamity Joe by Brendan Constantine, with “The Boy Has Come Back” and “I Dreamt I Was Your Finger,” two poems which first appeared the 15.1 (Fall 2010) issue of 2RV. Jump over to Red Hen to purchase the book!

Two Poems from the Spring 2012 Issue of 2RV

2River — Wed, 04 Apr 2012 13:43:10 +0000

Katherine Berta

Listen

Rib

You, of whom
I am supposedly made,
tighten your fingers
around a lung.
If you open out
I am splayed,
animal
meant to be
carved up;
in it there is a justice—
take me away from here,
this filet going to him,
that to her,
everything in pieces.

You told me
you’ve changed your mind—
there’s no such thing as sin,
only the division of a person
from parts of himself,
the organs seceding
one after another,
the thoughts too.
What, then, am I,
meted out—
what can I contain
(everything defined
by what it holds)—this bone
there, that spleen, heart?
If you take me,
you take me apart.

To Sew, To Cook

We take the work in hand.
You take it by the hip, to guide it,
you say. You shoot
from the hip, as they
say. The lisping consonants
work themselves, trace
the edges of a lip, laze against
the head of a bed.

The things you say here
gather meaning to meaning,
a ruching, a folding over,
a bending
to reveal something
gross or intimate.
A thing built to contain.

We put things inside—
let us jar
sugar, flour, let us
shelve the jars. This is
comforting, the arabesque
of a kitchen. The folding logic
of appliances
meant to be stored. Once it’s gone
inside, it is gone. Once we eat,
we eat.
Make it about
containment—what may I hold
with my hands
or otherwise? What may I hold
in my mouth?

from The 2River View, 16.3 (Spring 2012)

Kids from America Scores STL Read at Starbucks in the UCity Loop

2River — Tue, 27 Mar 2012 22:55:04 +0000

Read About America Scores

2River Becomes Social

2River — Thu, 22 Mar 2012 22:05:03 +0000

2River has dived into the social scene over on Facebook. Click to 2River on Facebook
and, if you like, click Like. (This is also to see if Muddy Bank has successfully linked to Facebook!)

Teaser for Spring Issue of 2RV

2River — Mon, 12 Mar 2012 01:46:07 +0000

Go to 2River on March 20 for the Spring 2012 issue of The 2River View, with new poems by Christina Antipa, Victoria Anderson, Katherine Berta, David Ebenbach, Shirley Glubka, Howie Good, D. Lifland, Jo McDougall, Linda McCullough Moore, Laurence O’Dwyer, and Sally Van Doren. But for a teaser, here’s the lead poem of the issue.

Christina Antipa

(Listen)

Vultures

I saw vultures playing today.
No, they were fighting.
But one wasn’t chasing
and the other wasn’t running away
and they dipped and swirled
like big black leaves.

I saw vultures play just as children do.
No, they were courting.
But one wasn’t chasing
and the other wasn’t running away.
The sky looked wet and satisfied
and desert animals printed messages in the sand
with their feet.

I saw two vultures flap lazily.
One kissed the other’s cheek
with her death-encrusted beak.
They were not in a hurry
as the sun crested on their pink heads
and made them both glisten
bright with blood.

David Harris Ebenbach

2River — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 13:54:45 +0000

Reblogged from markdavidnoble.com:

It always makes me smile to find a new landscape poem that brings me inside the writer’s scene, to walk and feel beside the writer. For me, this is the difference between a reading and an experience. Here is a David Harris Ebenbach poem, that is more gate than window.

Shabbat Comes Over West Philadelphia (included by permission of author)