Does It Matter If It's True?

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I love it when poems tell a story. Sometimes the story is short—just a few lines—and it’s just enough for me.

Today's poem (originally published in Eunoia Review) by Denise Weuve has a story.

Have you ever read a poem and assumed that the poet was writing about her/his own life? I have a poet friend who says she has written about having an affair and about enduring her father’s death, and neither of those experiences have happened in her life. 

Poetry is not truth. That is, it might holds truths, but they are not necessarily ones from our own lives. Unlike memoir, poetry doesn’t have to be true. That’s one of the many reasons I love writing poetry—it gives me freedom.

I have never asked Denise Weuve if this poem is a true story from her life, or if she even has a brother. It doesn’t matter to me if it’s “true.” It matters that I like it.

Here is her poem being read out loud on the Magic City Poetry YouTube channel, founded by Robert McCready. 

Thank you, Denise Weuve, for sharing this poem with us.

You can find Denise Weuve’s website here.

Self-Portrait as a Thunderstorm

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I met Courtney LeBlanc one January when I returned to Queens University to see some of my peers graduate from our MFA program in creative writing. Courtney was a new student in the master’s program, and we chatted a bit.

The second time I saw her was a few months later, in May, when I returned again to see a couple more friends graduate from the program. That visit was when Courtney and I solidified our friendship. We sat out on the terrace of the hotel where everyone was staying, and we talked about families and youth, marriage and poetry as the sun sank into the sky.

Not many people link the word badass with poet, but when I think of Courtney LeBlanc, those are the two words that unite.

She’s a fierce writer, constantly honing her craft, cranking out poems even when my pages lie fallow for days, writing unapologetically about tender topics, and standing, fearless, with the stories in her poems.

Here are some of my favorite LeBlanc lines (taken from “We’re Told to Smile,” published in Rogue Agent): "because this is what women do: we smile/through the insults, through the well I thought/you wouldn’t mind, through the paraphrasing/of what we just said because clearly it makes/more sense coming from a deeper voice."

A creativity advocate in all the best senses, Courtney constantly champions other writers' work that she loves, that has moved her or inspired her, that she couldn’t put down. (If you want to follow her on Twitter, her handle is @WordPerv). 

Today, I want to champion Courtney. This poem (originally published in Queen of Cups) is from her latest collection, The Violence Within, which you can find on her website (along with her other books) or on amazon.

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And here is her poem being read out loud on the Magic City Poetry YouTube channel, founded by Robert McCready. Listen, listen, listen!

Thank you, Courtney LeBlanc, for all you do.

You can find Courtney LeBlanc's website here

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All My Heroes Are Broke

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The truth is I’m not a huge fan of social media, but one of its gifts (and it has plenty) is connecting with people I never would have found otherwise, and this includes other writers and their work. Their inspirations have begun to change my writing.

It was because of a particular poem I found on Twitter that when I was in Yellow Springs, Ohio (the birthplace of all things magical) two weeks ago, I went into the bookstore I love, Sam & Eddie’s Open Books, and asked Sam to order Ariel Francisco's latest collection: All My Heroes Are Broke (C&R Press). She also pointed me to Neil Hilborn's Our Numbered Days, which I purchased, too.

My Ohio week was one I spent waking up at the crack of dawn, making my way downtown to the best coffee shop in the world (the Emporium), and sitting at my favorite table to write before most of the village got up, too. (I was trying to finish a poetry collection by April 1, and I am happy to report that I did). Ariel's book and Neil's turned out to be good companions for my writing journey.

But I digress just a little. The particular poem I found on Twitter—the one that started this whole story—was Ariel Francisco's "For the Man Pushing His Mixtape on the Corner of Biscayne and 167th" (newly published in CREDO: An Anthology of Manifestos and Sourcebook for Creative Writing and reprinted here with the author's permission).

This poem hasn't stopped grabbing my attention.

 © Ariel Francisco, 2018

If you want to listen to someone reading this poem to you, here is the wonderful Robert McCready, a.k.a. @myspecialmagic, doing exactly that.

Among Ariel Francisco’s many talents are his humor and his ability to take a seemingly small moment and give it significance. I'm also a fan of snappy titles (some of my favorites of his: "And on the 7th Day God Said: 'You Made it, Bro'" and, from All My Heroes Are Broke, "The Young Men Along the Bar Are Too Tired Even to Die").

His work inspired me to write about a seemingly small moment while I was in Ohio and to show its significance, and I titled the work (a line from the piece), “Katy Perry Is Crooning and Won’t Stop Just Because I Did.” I’m not sure if I would have titled the piece that way before reading Ariel’s and Neil's work. 

This is the beauty of reading widely: it expands your own boxes.

Thank you, Ariel, for letting me and Robert McCready show off your poetry, and thank you for the inspiration.

Here is a link to Ariel Francisco's latest collection, All My Heroes Are Broke and his website.

You can hear other great poems read by Robert on his YouTube Chanel: Magic City Poetry.


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