Myth of Arrival

If you happen to be driving in Northern Michigan and need a good book shop, try some of these locales. They might not all still be in buisness, so if you know any gossip or know a book store I left out, please drop me a line. Thank you.

Bridge Street Book Shop. 407 Bridge Street, Charlevoix, 49720. 231-547-7323.

McLean & Eakin Booksellers. 307 E. Lake St. Petoskey, 49770. 231/347-1180. .

Leelanau Books. 109 North Main, Leland, 49654. 231-256-7111.

Booktique. 125 S Cedar St., Manistique, 906-341-8288.

Beatitudes Book Store. 421 River St., Manistee, 231-398-7961.

Diane J Phillips Book Seller. 2390 Old Mackinaw Rd., Cheboygan. 231-597-8290.

Log Mark Books. 334 N Main St., Cheboygan, 231-627-6531.

Beaver Boat-Tique. P. O. Box 98, 26150 Main Street, Beaver Island, 49782-0098. 231-448-2584.

The Island Bookstore. Main St. Centre, PO Box 1298, Mackinac Island, 888-421-READ. . Open May through October.

Horizon Books 243 E. Front St., Traverse City, 49684. 231-946-7290 or 800-587-2147.

Higher Self Bookstore. 328 E Front St. Traverse City. 49684. 231-941-5805.

Interlochen Bookstore. Interlochen Plaza, Interlochen, 231-276-6733.

Book Warehouse. 3639 Marketplace Circle, Traverse City, 49684. 231-941-3800.

Open Mind Books. 223 Ashmun St. Sault Ste Marie

North Wind Books. 437 Quincy Street, Hancock, 49930. 906-487-7217.

Second Story Bookstore. 213 E Hughitt St., Iron Mountain, 906-779-1360.

Saturn Booksellers. 133 W. Main St. Gaylord. 989-732-8899.

Canterbury Book Store. 908 Ludington St., Escanaba, 906-786-0751.

Snowbound Books. 118 N. Third St., Marquette, 49855. 906-228-4448.

Sweet Violets Feminist Bookstore. 413 North St. Marquette, 49855. 616-954-0550.

Chapter Two. 523 N 3rd St., Marquette, 906-226-0559.

Now, all of you who actually have a copy of a 1st edition, 1st printing of a Faber and Faber (1965) Ariel by Sylvia Plath or an autographed Ted Hughes edition of his Janos Csokits translations (reading: “To Janos / from Ted / April 1967” … at a mere $12,995) raise your hand.

I thought so.

The rest of us should get our walking boots on and head over to Jett W. Whitehead's Rare Books (1412 Center Ave. Bay City, MI. 989-892-0719) email: .

It might not be the only Modern Poetry Bookstore (flyer reads: First Editions! Chapbooks! Broadsides!) but it probably has the best selection in Michigan.

Some people say they have bits of verse or TV jingles that have stayed with them all their adult lives.

When I was a small child I spent two summers in Italy on archaeological digs with my parents at the Tuscan fortified farmhouse of Spinocchia, in the foothills between Sienna and Florence. Yes, I was too young to learn any Italian … except I could say, for some bizarre reason, cinquecento coppa creama, grazie ("500 cups of ice cream, thanks" — yes?) This phrase has stayed with me for the last twenty-five odd years.

Not that I have ever used this phrase that often.

All I can assume is the brain works in some mighty strange ways.

The Mexican poet, essayist and translator Octavio Paz wrote in Alejandra Pizarnik's introduction to Árbol de Diana, "[the book] does not conatin a single false detail."¹ These were, Paz demanded, Pizarnik's finest poems. That might be true.

What I find interesting about Árbol de Diana is that even though the sections are nebulous, fragmentary and perplex they flow in a direction the poet wished to take us. So much of modern flow of consciousness poetics seems to lack that; or to be kinder, many poets seem to forget they have an audience to attend to. Bassnett writes:

Octavio Paz has commented that the role of the writer and that of the translator are fundamentally different: the writer, he claims, fixes the signs of language into a form that is perfect and unchangeable. The task of the translator is then to free those fixed and frozen signs, to liberate them and allow them to reshape themselves in another language" (page 9-10)

I am laboring to follow Pizarnik's original path, her train of original thought, you might say.² I believe it is that originality that must make or break a poem. I do not agree that every combination of words creates meaning in the same way I do not agree that narration in poetry is a sign of the Bourgeoisie (but there has been much arguing that it has). To that I say: hahaho, little thinkers! Here is a poem that combines both, I believe. Perhaps. We shall see when we are done.

This is sections #19 through # 27. There are 38 sections all told in the poem. Translating is a slow art, even if I do not understand everything I am bringing into English. Still, the ride is interesting.

1. From the 2002 Introduction of: Exchanging lives: poems and translations. Susan Bassnett & Alejandra Pizarnik. Leeds: Peepal Tree, page 6. [back]
2. I do not believe every poem, especially work I have seen in the last ten years or so, started out with path, purpose or an original center (or perhaps I am too poor a reader to follow it). If working on Pizarnik's poetry has taught me anything it is that it is impossible to sabotage today's so-called "Plebeian Thinker" by today's so-called "Radical;" since yesterday's Rebel has now become today's Dominant Voice; since the title "Formalist," once an honor, is now used as a curse, as if to say, "You Vulgarian," (almost like L-word, "You Liberal," was a curse in the 1990s) — all of this — simply shows how fast styles and fads climax and then fade away [back]

Which famous, dead, white poet are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Here is something laboring under the burden of potential; Quizilla's Which Famous, Dead, White Poet Are You? allows you to pick from nine poets, all very Anglo, and very beloved by the Canon. You take a "test," tally your score and are told you are either Homer, ee cummings, Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, Bill Shakespeare, Sylvia "the oven" Plath, Allen Ginsberg, Lawrence Ferlinghetti or Lord Byron. This would be a neat quiz if there were a broader choice to select from.

My quiz results read as follows: You are Lord Byron! Quite the Ladies' man, Byron wrote during the early 19th century. He was born with a deformity, and much of his life was spent with a sense of urgency, trying to suck up as much life as he could to make up for his own insecurities. He was a bisexual and died very young of fever. Ah, to suck up life … through a straw, no doubt.