Liz’s Late Weekend Poetry Series: Cutbank

February 27, 2012 in Montana

by lizard

I didn’t get to writing this weekend’s poetry series in time, so here’s me catching up. I should also note that, because of a change in my work schedule, this weekly series will more than likely be posting Sunday(ish).

Last Thursday I attended a reading/fundraiser for UM’s literary journal, Cutbank. If I had known about this event earlier, I would have certainly done my part to promote it.

The evening featured Lois Welch reading a piece about her husband, James Welch, and how he went from creative writing student taking classes from poet Richard Hugo, to being featured on the cover of the New York Times book review, and Michael Earl Craig, who read poems from his book Thin Kimono, a weird chapbook, and some brand new poems. It was a great evening.

One of the special treats the audience of the fundraiser got to see (at the Tophat) was a sneak preview of a trailer to Winter in the Blood, a novel by James Welch getting the big screen treatment (and shot mostly on the Hi-Line).

Anyway, Michael Earl Craig is ridiculous in a way the defies explanation. Here is a short poem from his collection, Yes, Master (Fence Books, 2006). Enjoy!

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ACQUAINTANCE

I dropped a smoked almond on the plaid carpet.
The robin loomed large
when in fact he just sat in the yard.
It’s been a while since I’ve ridden a bike.
When men are idle they’ll hold a hand to their face.
I actually saw a beaver the other day.
REO Speedwagon over the p.a. made me feel like weeping.
A restaurant where the paint was still drying.
My waitress with the hands of a newborn baby.
She pointed to things on the menu,
reached over to my menu and gently pointed,
tapping with her baby finger. Fish-n-chips.
I looked at her and paused.
A spring tuber literally sunned itself in my mind.

—Michael Earl Craig