News Flash! MEZZO CAMMIN Publishes Two of My Poems, “Encased in Amber” and “A View from Vista Drive”

Posted on March 1, 2019 by Leslie Schultz

Nothing takes my mind off looming cabin fever like reading surprising new work, and so in this chilled time of the year I am especially grateful for something new to capture my attention. If you, too, feel this way, here is some good news–

The new issue of Mezzo Cammin: An Online Journal of Formalist Poetry by Women has been published. As usual, it is full of work that inspires me with its deftness and insight. In this issue, I especially enjoyed Barbara Crooker’s paean to some of the currently eclipsed arts that take up much of my time–baking, soup-making, working with yarns–called “Obsolence.”

Two of my own poems, a sonnet and a set of tercets, can also be found here. Both are drawn from an as-yet-unfinished collection of poems about mothers and daughters.

Happy reading! Leslie

“Blizzard,” A New Poem By Emilio DeGrazia

Posted on February 25, 2019 by Leslie Schultz

Centennial Fountain (1967) by Ray Jacobson at Carleton College

One of the great things about having poet friends is that sometimes you get to see brand new poems as they are created. These surprises are especially welcome during the long winter months, when the blue shadows weigh heavily, if beautifully, on us. Here in Minnesota, we have been experiencing record-breaking snows. In February, alone, we have already been gifted with more than 30 inches of new snow, and the month is not quite complete.

Given this, you can imagine my delight when yesterday I received a newly drafted poem, via the miracle of email, from Emilio DeGrazia, a poet friend from Winona, Minnesota who wrested something beautiful from the double white blankness of the fresh page and the fresh drifts of snow. He noted:

“Here’s one I wrote after look out the window today, a smallish thing.”

And then he agreed that I could share it with you.

BLIZZARD

The snowstorm drives ghost sails
Over the winter of our discontent.
Drifts huddle in ditches
And find refuge against walls.
Nothing is written on the vast page
Of deep snow in the fields.
White, having its way, dominates,
Provides a clean coverup.

We curl in to keep warm
And allow our hearts to feast
On the contours of cold purity,
The resurrection of beauty and depth
And burial of the trivial.

Emilio DeGrazia