Dear Friends and Colleagues,
Stray thoughts and (perhaps) a few more orderly observations:
Kudos (Overdue)
The fact that you’re enjoying yet another monthly newsletter is largely due to the diligence and expertise of Elizabeth Lund (poet, cable TV interviewer, new host of the Newton Free Library poetry series, and NEPC Board member). And if you’ve visited the Club’s newly-renovated website–to promote an event, seek out readings, enter contests, or investigate new programs–we have the skills and commitment of Trapper Markelz to thank. Trapper is a poet, musician, cyclist, and leader of software startups. If you don’t know them personally, to offer a pat on the back, let’s applaud especially loud and hope they can hear us through the ether.
Contests
As you know, we had to skip the Motton Prize this year––the award for a newly-published full-length collection––because, after many years of relying on the Club’s Board as judges, the process just became too cumbersome. These are individuals who are already offering their time and talents to benefit us all–but now that the number of yearly applicants for both the chapbook and full-length book awards has increased dramatically, it was simply unfair to expect each volunteer judge to be able to give a careful assessment of quite so many books. And of course, once finalists are chosen, they’d have even more to read.
We are still fine-tuning a new format, but we’re hoping that some of you will step forward as new first readers. An expanded number of these judges would mean that every book submitted will receive more in-depth attention. Then, when finalists are selected, we will hire an outside judge to read these and award the prize. Board and Advisory Board members will still form the core of this initial round, but we are calling for a few volunteers to join them. We know how accomplished our membership is, and hope some of you will assist in this vital process. If perhaps you thought you’d like to offer your talents to bolster the vitality of the club––but, because of work schedules, could not make a long-term commitment––this might be a valuable way to make a contribution. Contact our intrepid Vice President, Linda Haviland Conte (vicepresident@nepoetryclub.org), and let her know of your interest.
The Purposes of Poetry
Almost exactly one year ago, on October 14, 2024, NASA launched the Europa Clipper spacecraft to journey to Europa, one of four Galilean moons of Jupiter. Using the gravity of Mars like a slingshot, the ship won’t reach its destination until 2030. This target was chosen because it is believed that beneath Europa’s ice crust, there may be more water than on the entirety of planet Earth, making it one of the most promising places to search for life out in the universe. In addition to various instruments in its cargo, this spacecraft carried a poem from then-US Poet Laureate Ada Limón, engraved in her handwriting on a metal plate. “In Praise of Mystery: A Poem for Europa” is a message to the beyond (in case anyone out there is listening)––or, more likely, a poem to ourselves––the billions present now on this fractious planet, desperately in need of a reminder that our commonality far outweighs our differences. I reread the poem recently, and you can imagine my delight in being reminded that the piece is built upon we, that collective pronoun which NEPC and our literary community celebrated this summer with our WE (too) The People project. “We are creatures of constant awe,” the poem says, and I’d like to believe that continues to be true, despite evidence to the contrary. So while the gears of our very government have ground to a halt, I thought you might enjoy Ms. Limón’s prayerful little poem. If you have never heard the poet perform the piece, you can find the text and a creative little video of her reading it at the NASA website (which, a banner will inform you, is currently dormant during the shutdown).
The former Laureate closes her poem with these stanzas:
And it is not darkness that unites us,
not the cold distance of space, but
the offering of water, each drop of rain,
each rivulet, each pulse, each vein.
O second moon, we, too, are made
of water, of vast and beckoning seas.
We, too, are made of wonders, of great
and ordinary loves, of small invisible worlds,
of a need to call out through the dark.
And it strikes me: isn’t every poem that you and I write a similar kind of message in a bottle––hoping it washes up on some far shore where someone will spend a few moments with it. Ours is a kind of faith: that others can make use of what we’ve concocted from our personal experience of this shared world, that they’ll hear us calling out through the dark.
With my regards,
Steven Ratiner
–President, NEPC