Off the Shelf by Doug Holder for the week of May 17

Local writers explore new and lost worlds

One Art. Juliana Bures. Cheryl Reed Devitt. A.S. Henderson. George Locke. Cam Terwilliger Edited by Julia G. Henderson. http://jgalhenderson.etsycom $12.

Julia G. Henderson, the editor of the poetry anthology “One Art,” writes in her introduction:

“This anthology was conceived based on my hope to highlight the work of five talented twenty-somethings. The voice of each writer is unique, and reflects a wide range of emotions and beliefs, and the images are modern and striking. With the anthology, I also hope to pay homage to the art of the small press publishing and self-publishing, as a forum in which the thinkers, philosophers, artists and writers of our time can let their voices be heard.”

Being a long-time small press publisher and editor myself, I was like a dog on a meat truck when I read this introduction. Henderson, a graduate of the Emerson College (Boston), writing and publishing program, has created a winning- looking book complimented by the abstract artwork of George Locke.

In any anthology there is a mixed bag of work In “One Art,” there are more than a few choice morsels to whet a poetry-lover’s appetite.

Somerville poet Juliana Bures in her poem “”Determine The Source,” writes of our world of chaos, and the façade of control:

“The sky is an endless layer upon the world,
a blanket to the wild.
Clouds come to cover,
but the sun burns above, always,

The procession is constant,
forward is the way the water flows.
Slants stretch out the afternoon,
without any purpose other than to begin again.

The world is an endless layer
cradling what cannot be controlled.”

Cheryl Reed Devitt has a simple but evocative poem about the sweet and not so sweet mystery of love, titled “i used to.”

“love a boy with blue eyes,
but he moved away. and
he didn’t know what to do
with me, nor i him,
i suppose.

i used to be sure
it was all figured out
it was all a done deal
‘til these past couple days
came and ripped the threads out…”

To have a book published is thrilling; which I am sure is the case with these young poets. And to have a book published with such high production values is even more thrilling. “One Art” is a welcomed addition to the world of the small press, and showcases the work of these talented poets admirably.

Buying A Suit on Essex Street. Ed Galing. ( Iniquity Press./Vendetta Books POBOX 54 Manasquam, N.J. 08736) No Price. iniquitypress@hotmail.com
http://www.iniquitypress.com/

Ed Galing writes of lost worlds. Approaching 90, he recalls The Lower East Side of NYC, the great Jazz players sensuously dancing with their axes, the joys and bountiful flavors of Moishe’s Caf√©, the memories of the great and obscure men and women he knew, the prize of a shiny new suit from an Essex St. shop, a boy looking at the riotous streets from a tenement fire escape, and all these images are rendered simply and evocatively. In "Jazz Man," Galing recalls a musician in a cold underground subway station in NY, who transforms the rather unforgiving environs:

eyes closed
his sax intruded
on the din and noise
of a cold subway
station where the
only music one
heard was the
screeching of a
train.

and suddenly the
bland, cruel world
of unseeing non-
caring people became
a paradise where the
only thing that counted
was the beautiful music
he was making,
a solo on sax
both sweet and caressing
in such contrast
to the shrill cacophony
around him.

And here we have Galing as a young kid in The Lower East Side viewing the world from the confines of his tenement building . From: "Fire Escape":

Mine was on the
fifth floor

A small iron
cage….

Down below I
could see pushcarts:

Crowded streets
people pushing and
shoving,

Screams and mutterings:
shouts of despair.

Up here, when I sat
outside the window
in my fire escape
refuge

I was six years old:
and already I knew
what if felt like

To be caged in
like
some wild animal.

Ed Galing and I have been friends for awhile; keeping in touch on the phone and in letters. Ed does not do email! Long ago I told Ed I would publish a poem of his in Ibbetson Street for as long as he is around. To this day Ed Galing goes to "Jack’s Deli," in Philadelphia, plays his harmonica, and regales folks with stories of the "old days." The letters he writes me are full of the fears of old age and mortality. And I can tell you this: I love Ed Galing ,and so do many others in our small press community.