When I arrived at the Bywords afternoon of poetry and music, held on October 15, 2006, at Chapters on Rideau, the place was packed with poets. There were poets sitting in the audience and poets hanging around the edge of the room, listening and observing (and, maybe, even taking a few notes).  As well, the curious, the bashful and the erudite were represented -- in other words, the turnout was excellent.

Bywords host Amanda Earl began the event by reading Dylan Thomas’ “In October” a dreamy concoction that fuses harvest images of “Apples, pears and red currants” with Arthurian “legends of the Green Chapels.” After that wonderful presentation, our host introduced musician Mike Yeats, who began with a fast-paced guitar piece. Yeats is a cellist by training, and is new to songwriting, but that certainly was not obvious from his performance, which included the reflective “So Strong,” and the emotive “Tonight.” When I asked my music expert (thanks, Mike) to characterize Yeat’s performance, he described it as “masculine, hard-driving and lyrical.” I could not have said it better than that.

Then, citing artist Andrew Wyeth as her inspiration, Terry Ann Carter gave a polished reading of “Helga Sweet Spring” named for Wyeth’s muse, Helga Testorf. This piece, and the one that followed (excerpt from “Bone Structures: The Andrew Wyeth Poems” -- Bywords, Fall 2006) reflect on the nature of art, inspiration and complicity in the artistic process. Then, as a birthday gift to our host, Carter read “some summer haiku” (Bywords, Fall 2006) with romantic overtones.

After thanking Bywords for “kicking [his] butt into submitting some verse,” John Gillies presented “A Plague of Robins,” which was not so much a reading as a piece of theatre complete with lively gestures. In “Prophet,” Gillies’ second rendering, death is neither romantic nor noble; rather, it is “the finesse of miscalculation.” And, after railing “some fool called it a dance” (perhaps a reference to the danse macabre – that great leveler of late medieval times) the speaker confesses “Anybody, even the rain, could have fooled me.”

Following Gillies’ set, Kathryn Hunt of Dusty Owl Press took her experience in South Korea’s demilitarized zone as the inspiration for “Dried Chillies II” (Bywords, Fall 2006). In the poem, the ravages of martial friction transform a benign landscape into a nightmarish environment: “The river is full of blades, the / hillsides full of eyes and / lobotomized buildings with blank windows.” Hunt followed with “Epitaph” a poem that examines life’s ephemeral nature.

Next, Heather McLeod read “look into” (Bywords, Fall 2006), which received honourable mention as part of the 2006 John Newlove Award for poetry. Equally absorbing was McLeod’s recitation of “Firecracker” a poem that illuminates the autumnal twilight with “metal and smoke / the end of a sparkler . . . pinwheels, lady fingers and droplets.”

Literature instructor Sean Moreland presented “SPRINGHEELEDJACK” and “...745...” (Bywords, Fall 2006), two works concerned with temporality’s effects on the psyche. The former is sustained by the image “across the wall the clock crawls back,” while the latter is dominated by “Tangled blue bedsheets / Run waves of ink or bluer / Blood over white limbs.” Remarkably, in this age of sound bytes, Moreland’s use of the longer poem successfully engages the reader’s (or listener’s) interest and attention from start to finish.

The next poet on the agenda was University of Ottawa graduate Sean Lipsett. His “Land Regenerate,” features seasonal imagery that mirrors an industrially disturbed landscape (“husk shells and serpent scale”). Next, “Lamentation” (Bywords, Fall 2006) turns on its head the Lamentation theme (which traditionally depicts Jesus’ disciples weeping over his body after the crucifixion) with the unsettling statement “She has animal blood in that heart.”

There is a special relevance to poetry from communications worker Chris Pitre, possibly because it derives insight from the everyday. So, when Pitre read “as we descend the stairwell / bumping backpacks,” from his poem “The Arts Tower,” I could remember charging down the staircase at Dunton Tower after class so that I would not miss the bus home. The downward descent theme also animates “We Cannot Change Our Past,” albeit in a more intense manifestation with the “elevator ride / from cliff to canyon.”

Although poet Stephen Rowntree could offer “no new body parts yet this year,” his father’s struggle with Alzheimer’s disease, is respectfully recounted in “Anamnesis”: “One day in the future / he will forget the past.” Then, the evocative “Clinker Ash” (Bywords, Fall 2006), exhibits a strong sense of social justice by chronicling the effects of poverty. With his casual manner, Rowntree appears as though he could fire off a poem at a moment’s notice, but a close inspection reveals that he takes great care in crafting his works.

I was also taken with Guy Simser’s “(Tanka, Untitled)” (Bywords, Fall 2006) in which the speaker implicitly compares the firefly’s bio-luminescence with “an old man’s memory / of nature’s heat / in tall wet grass.” The insect theme extends into “That Monarch,” (Danaus plexippus, the king of insects) and “Water Spider (Argyroneta, or “with a silvery net”). Finally, I detected a Japanese influence in the closing line “From the darkest core of snow covered cedars / chickadee mantra” of “Little Remains.”

The penultimate poet of the afternoon, Sasquatch webmaster Chris Sorrenti, provided background on his literary history when he held up the Bywords magazine from May 1991, which contained his poem “Tree.” Following this delightful introduction, Sorrenti presented “Evolution” (Bywords, Fall 2006), which shows the futility of trying to subdue art and provides insight into the struggle that is the creative process. And, when he read the poignant “In my Darkened Living Room” (a tribute to the late poet Juan O’Neill), one could sense that O’Neill’s passing has left a huge gap in Sorrenti’s life. But, the piece also provides some consolation in recognizing that O’Neill now exists in a cosmic dimension of superabundance with literary figures such as Pablo Neruda and Ernest Hemingway.

Bywords was fortunate to have accomplished poet and author Luminita Suse present the final reading of the afternoon. In “Not Afraid” the speaker articulates a parent’s worst fear: “I’m not afraid of dying / not seeing my children anymore / frightens me.” And, I am certain that others in the audience were as moved as I was by Suse’s final reading, “Heritage” (Bywords, Fall 2006), a marvelous poem dedicated to the poet’s father.

Remarkably, by the time the formal part of the afternoon ended, there were even more people in the room than there were at the beginning. The excellent attendance at these events is a testimony to Ottawans’ love of literature and a credit to Bywords’ commitment to poetry. So, you are invited to join Bywords and friends at the next reading, in January 2007, for some post-holiday celebrations of Bywords’ partnership with Chapters on Rideau.

Catharine Carroll

November 6, 2006

Feast of the Thesmophoria