Thanks to Facebook I’ve had the pleasure of chatting with Ben Westlie. He’s a cutie and good poet, which is a great combination. Doesn’t a cute poet writing good poems just melt your butter? I want people to read his work, so I’m sharing a poem from his chapbook titled Sometimes Out of Turn (Finishing Line Press, 2012). Oh btw. Naomi Shihab Nye–maybe you’ve heard of her–had this to say about Sometimes Out of Turn, “Ben Westlie’s poems are so well-shaped, so authentic and caring; they transport a reader fluently and soulfully into a sometimes difficult but deeply tender world. I love them.”
My heart is alive, listening,
making no sounds,
speaking of nothing, as if language
Now your heart must try to confess
before your body lies down forever.
A voice cannot be heard
through dirt or sand.
Your heart needs to speak,
sometimes out of turn,
so we don’t become a lie.
You can find Ben online here.
Douglas Kearney joins the Double Ds.
Douglas Kearney’s first full-length collection of poems, Fear, Some, was published in 2006 by Red Hen Press. His second manuscript, The Black Automaton, was chosen by Catherine Wagner for the National Poetry Series and published by Fence Books in 2009. It was also a finalist for the Pen Center USA Award in 2010. His chapbook-as-broadsides-as-LP, Quantum Spit, was released by Corollary Press in 2010. His newest chapbook, SkinMag (A5/Deadly Chaps) is now available.
Who is your favorite trickster and why?
Ananse the man-spider, man/spider eats by his lines so what he spits is silk-smooth but sticky too as in two, for to make the shit he drops fly. Thus his gut, as in intuition, is plussed with intellect and imagination (belly theory aka shit-talk). A story is a lie and/or is a history two as in too and Ananse played tricks to bag all the stories so all the stories been in his trick-bag since but since that’s a story (as in) maybe since Ananse told it and as such maybe told us a story (too) playing us in a sense and that would make sense since that’s a play out his bag of tricks. Ananse is always the hero except when he isn’t, and then he’s a what-not-to-get-caught doing. He stays on Web Street so he stay on the edge of getting caught, which is to say to stay where-one-ain’t-want-to for staying some place where one-ain’t-wanted-to. Fugitive. With all those legs he looks like he’s running even when he’s just looking to run, making his presence presently absented: “Look at me because I’m gone!” Most wanted. Mine, too.
“OH / no homo no homo no homo” … What’s going on “at the end of this rainbow?”
A pot of gall.