Category Archives: Creative Nonfiction

VOICES IN WINTER: PATRICE MELNICK AND CLARE L. MARTIN

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

READINGS OF ORIGINAL WORKS (POETRY AND CREATIVE NONFICTION)
BY PATRICE MELNICK AND CLARE L. MARTIN

Warm up with words;
coffee, tea, hot cocoa & espresso—
… or keep it cool
                with gelato!

HOSTED BY
CARPE DIEM!
GELATO-ESPRESSO BAR
812 Jefferson Street
Lafayette

February 4th, 2012
7 pm to 8:30 pm

Patrice Melnick’s memoir, Turning Up the Volume, (Xavier Press) was published in 2005 and a collection of her essays is forthcoming in 2012 from Catalyst Book Press. Her work has appeared in numerous literary journals including Grain, Buffalo Bones and Prism International. Melnick taught at Xavier University in New Orleans and at the University of New Orleans. She holds degrees from the University of Texas at Austin and the University of Alaska, Fairbanks. Following Hurricane Katrina, Melnick opened Casa Azul Gifts in Grand Coteau and started a literary reading and open mic series. In 2010, she established the nonprofit Festival of Words Cultural Arts Collective Inc.

Clare L. Martin is a poet-mother-wife; a graduate of the University of Louisiana at Lafayette. Martin’s poetry has appeared in Avatar Review, Poets and Artists and The Centrifugal Eye, among others. She has been nominated for Dzanc Books’ Best of the Web (2011) for Best New Poets and Sundress Publication’s Best of the Net. Her work was selected for the 2011 Press 53 Spotlight anthology which features a select group of emerging poets and writers. Clare is a Teaching Artist through the Acadiana Center for the Arts.

Info: martin.clarel@gmail.com

Two Dreams of The White Horse (2005)

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

May 10, 2005

I dreamed of the White Horse again last night. In this new dream I was its master. On my command it leaped high fences topped with barbwire and lay still without breathing in tall grass to escape detection of the mafioso hunting me. When I’d fled the murderers, I strode into the house of The Don and walked directly to him. He was a thin, old man in loose clothing without a single gray hair. I whispered in his ear. The breathless hitmen falling over themselves to reach me were told: “Leave this woman alone.”

The dream that follows is the one I had February 5, 2005, which was my introduction to the symbol of the White Horse. I think this first dream of the White Horse could have been the awareness I had been chasing illusions and this second dream indicated I’d reached some mastery over my life.

Chasing the White Horse –Dream of 2/5/05

I had a psychotic break and was out of my mind for a year or many years. The years were black pages. I had to be placed in a secluded, secret house and attended by several plain-clothes, patronizing nurses. My husband divorced me and remarried a beautiful blond woman. My daughter simply forgot me. My ex had more children with the woman. I saw him and he was indifferent toward me. He said now, with the new wife, he knew what love really was and that the sex with his new beautiful wife was fantastic and meaningful. The most significant people in my life were unreachable, despite all of my efforts to remind them who I was and what I believed we meant to each other. I was totally lost and alone. The heart of my life dissolved. My loved ones had “moved on” and I was without direction. I had been fighting my demons only with the hope of returning to my family– but they were by choice through with me.

I wrote a book when I’d recovered my mind and gave the manuscript to the suspicious nurses reluctantly, but with desperate need that they would see that it got published. They smirked and took the manuscript. I escaped on a moonless night and ran barefooted through cold mud and unlocked several wooden gates to freedom.  I had no idea where I was. The place was rural and unfamiliar to me.

I attempted to be guided by constellations but my knowledge of the heavens was vague. I followed a river until I found a city. I entered a boutique that sold books, wind chimes and sterling silver picture frames. When a happy customer spoke to me I was surprised to learn I was famous. Many people had read the book and loved me but I didn’t know them and they meant nothing to me. I was helped my on my journey across America with money, shelter, clothes and food.

I arrived at my parent’s home. There was a wild, white stallion tearing up the lawn. My father held it tenuously by a thin string. The White Horse broke free before I could close the gates. I chased the White Horse. It ran into traffic and caused a calamitous accident but was unharmed. The horse bucked and galloped through my hometown and breezed into a weird pastel colored subdivision that looked like rows of storybook castles. I chased the White Horse into a house with an elaborate checker-pattern inlaid wood spiral staircase that rose into infinite space. I caught glimpses of the horse travelling upwards but it was far away. I was tired of running, so I climbed the staircase on my hands and knees. I became dizzy from looking up. Space tightened. I became disoriented. I couldn’t tell anymore which way was up and which way was down. The stairwell shut around me like a coffin. I woke up confused and hopeless.

In the Rear-View Mirror

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

The Writing Life Year 2011

Thanks to all of the editors, hosts, friends who have supported me this year and for many years through our literary endeavors.

Nominee, Sundress Publication’s Best of the Net 2011, nonfiction category, for “The White Crane,” by Referential Magazine

Nominee, Dzanc Books’ Best of the Web 2011 for “Winter Brought Out All the Knives,” by Melusine: Woman in the 21st Century

Readings

Cite des Arts, Lafayette, LA November 4th

10th Annual New Orleans Book Fair, New Orleans, LA November 5th

The Maple Leaf, Everette C. Maddox Memorial Reading, November 6th              

 

2012 DAF Grant Recipients Celebration

Acadiana Center for the Arts, Lafayette, LA, October 24th

 

100 Thousand Poets for Change                      

Acadiana Center for the Arts, Lafayette, LA September 24th

 

Open Mic Series at Casa Azul

                Featured Poet with Lana Wiggins, Grand Coteau, LA April 21st

 

Publications 

“Note to Self” The Centrifugal Eye, April 2011

“Haunted” Referential Magazine, Spring 2011

“Lost” Redheaded Stepchild, Spring 2011

“The Bird in My Ribcage” Redheaded Stepchild, Spring 2011

“How it Comes” A Clean, Well-Lighted Place Vol. 1, Issue 1

“Meditation on Intimations of Winter II” A Clean, Well-Lighted Place Vol. 1, Issue 1

“Poem at Red Moon (Full August Moon)” Unlikely Stories, September 2011

“Secrets Alluded to But Never Told” Unlikely Stories, September 2011

 

Press 53’s 2011 Spotlight anthology

 “Eating the Heart First” first appeared in Eclectica Magazine

“Poem Composed After Reading Plath’s Ariel at a Junkyard”

“4-Way Stop at Dusk” first appeared in Farmhouse Magazine

“Tattoo” “first appeared in Press 1

“Life Expectancy” first appeared in Blood Lotus

“I Have Learned To Hold My Tongue”

“To His Disquiet We Owe Recompense” first appeared in the Dead Mule

“Punishment”

“Starving Horses” first appeared in the Dead Mule

“The Gift” first appeared in the Dead Mule

In addition, I signed on as a Teaching Artist with the Acadiana Center for the Arts. I have high hopes that this will be a rewarding opportunity.

 

Looking Ahead:

2012

“What Winter Told Me” THRUSH, forthcoming January 2012

“Seeing Through” blue five notebook, forthcoming April 2012

“Ink on a Mirror” Louisiana Literature, forthcoming 2012

“Convergence” Louisiana Literature, forthcoming 2012

Quickie before bed, well…

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

I was asked to participate in the Acadiana Center for the Arts DAF FY2012 AWARDS CELEBRATION for grant recipients held Monday—I was asked to read for this as one part of a showcase of local artists who are in partnership with the AcA.

As part of the entertainment segment of the “Celebration” there was an excerpt performed of an original contemporary dance piece “I’VE STOPPED HAVING THAT DREAM I’VE BEEN HAVING” choreographed by Paige Krause (which will be performed in its entirety November at the AcA.) Rose Hoffman Cormier and Jessica Jouclard, from a locally produced musical, sang a rousing bit about road kill! There were two of us poets—Kelly Clayton and myself.

It was such a thrill to be invited to this celebration. The state grants awarded in this ceremony, the people who implement the arts programs throughout the parishes the AcA serves, cultivate our creativity-rich Louisiana culture, making economic gains for the Acadiana area and beyond, and enhancing value for our state. These arts programs enrich, inspire, educate, and transform people.

It was a joy to hear Kelly read. I love Kelly’s work—it is clear, often tender and truthful, always strong and lyrical—hers is well-imagined art.  She is a passionate woman and writes with that great passion needed to process an experience into art.

The James Devon Moncus Theatre is a great space and this was only the second time I’ve read there. I read recently for the 100,000 Poets for Change event on September 24th and Monday.

On Monday I read three poems: “Remembering,” “Winters at the Lake” and “I Have Learned to Hold My Tongue.”  I was a little nervous but I think my voice was strong, although I was breathy.  I joked a bit with the audience and spoke plainly about my turn to The Writing Life seven years ago after a family member (my son) died, as a way to process grief.

I think I recall too that I said that I embraced my gift and honored it so that I could do what I was born to do—be a poet.  That’s not arrogant. It’s the most humble thing I’ve ever spoken.

The reading felt good.  I wanted to share poems that were specifically Louisiana-themed, although “I Have Learned…” is not. So many people who are arts-connected were there and gave both Kelly and me  heartfelt compliments and comments about the readings.

I was in a swoon and may have said silly things! I am still in a swoon–it’s Thursday and Monday is still on my mind!

A few months ago I bought blank business cards from Office Depot and found a template in Word that helped me make a personalized card for myself. It simply reads: Clare L. Martin POET and has my contact info. I was able to mingle with the recipients and guests after the program, and was asked for contact info so I handed several out.

Seven years ago, when I made my commitment to The Writing Life, I asked myself, “What is the smartest way to become successful at anything?”  I decided to treat it like a job. Give myself respect. Put in long hours. Always push myself to be greater than myself. Don’t compete with others but with myself—I can be better than me!  Learn as much as I can and let experience deepen me–say yes when the Boss asks you to do something.

I have said yes to almost every opportunity that has come my way in these past seven years.  I have accumulated a ton of raw material and finished works that I am actively and successfully marketing. Yes, I made silly “poet” cards to hand out to people I meet. It‘s quirky and I get weird looks sometimes but it is a true fact that I am a poet, and as a professional poet I need to be prepared and ready when opportunities to connect and share arise. 

Congrats to the Acadiana area DAF 2012 grants recipients and thank you for giving so much to the communities you serve through arts programming.

So much more could be said…time for bed.

AT LAST

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

A green shadow flits across the wall. I grow old between breaths. The memory of you heartens me. You are the net beneath my aerial act—

As close as we are and as close as I hope we become, it was important for me to get away, to bury myself in cool sheets to stare at the ceiling–rain chattering above.  It was important for me to delineate myself; to work alone, eat alone. It was so important for me to lie awake in bed thinking of the long ago-summer in the south of France. I shyly spread my towel over the pebbles and sand and removed my top.  The old couple fished with nets in the water near me. They laughed and I lost my embarrassment. It was important for me to remember the lover I took—to remember myself young and unknowing.

There is a highway between us and through it we are connected. When you wake miles away, I wake. When a thought of me surfaces in your mind I am aware too of you. I believe in a psychic fabric that connects us all.

I wish I had brought an instrument to play in these lovely, lonely hours—a guitar, a harmonica; or even a great and grand piano, hauled miraculously on my very own back.

I will miss this place. I wish to return soon. I found peace here in the sweet Casita Azul.

Final entry from Retreat Writings–July 2011

Casita Azul, Grand Coteau, LA.

SPEAKING OF SILENCE

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

What is there in the moment before sound or in the moment after?  How do we define silence?  Is it more than the absence of sound? I am in silence and it is in me, stilling my very nature.  Silence abides in me and I in it. Across the street there are holy trees.  Across the street is a graveyard hundreds of years old. I want to go there to be in those silences that humans keep forever. I want to be in the whole fabric of quiet; to wrap myself in it. In that quiet, birds do sing and the wind flutters its breath—There is a silence we rail against.  There is a silence we reject. We scream in the quietest hours of night. We cry out before dying, or perhaps not. May we go to our deaths silently— resigned and decidedly gone. 

I am ready to take silence inside of me: a new love, a new world dawning in each breath.

INDULGENCES

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

I wash my hands.  I choose the heaviest apple. I turn on the faucet and cup the apple in both of my hands. I turn the apple over and over under the running water. The apple is firm and smooth. I find pleasure in washing the apple. The whoosh of the water calms me. I twist the knobs tightly and dry the apple with a clean dishtowel. The first bite is crisp, sharply sweet. I like the way my teeth snap through the skin and sink into the juicy flesh. It has been this way every time I have eaten an apple. I suck another bite— this one is a greater bite than the first. My whole mouth is employed in chewing. I swish the pieces around in my mouth with my tongue.  My jaw is tired from crushing the fruit but I persist.  I finish it quickly and grab another. The water runs through my fingers. My hands shape themselves around the fruit again, again.

 

The third passage–

RETREAT WRITINGS, JULY 2011

BEING HERE AND NOW

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

BEING HERE AND NOW

I have come here to pray.  I have come here to put thoughts into words, and with words discover meaning.  I have come here to be and sleep alone so that what is not me can come over me, and so that what is essentially me can emerge.

This moment is my absolution—this quiet, this gift of silence that is not silence but a lush response of crickets, wind sifting through trees, waves of soft traffic noises. I never want to come out of this mystical repose. “Save me, save me, save me,” she sings–

RETREAT WRITINGS
July 2011—Casita Azul

The second excerpt from Retreat Writings– I will post brief passages over the next few days.

She Retreats

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

I am happy to be without you, edging inward into solitary unknowns.

I have yet to become the woman who I was meant to be.  I am a mother.  I was a mother at fifteen. I am a wife. I am your wife. I am afraid–I am afraid to touch the core of what I mean to say.

What am I doing here?  What am I directing myself to do? 

I will acclimate to the space. I will let myself relax and give in to its body of quiet. There are eight walls in this room. I am expanding into the numerous corners, filling this whole space with my expansive self.

I feel that this retreat…

 

Excerpted from my “Retreat Writings” which were generated during my stay at Casita Azul in July 2011. 

I will post daily excerpts for the next week.

Clare

Good News!

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

My essay, “The White Crane” has been nominated by the editors at Referential Magazine for the 2011 Best of the Net award.

You can read all of the nominated works here:

2011 Referential Magazine Best of the Net Nominees

Sincere thanks to the editors and readers, and especially to Jessie Carty for her hard work, her support of writers and dedication to her vision to present beautiful and important works to the world.