Established in 1955, the University and College Poetry Prize program began with ten schools. Today, the Academy of American Poets sponsors over two hundred annual poetry prizes at colleges and universities across the U.S, and has awarded cash prizes to nearly ten thousand student poets since the program’s inception. The recognition winning student poets receive provides important validation. As one student poet, Emily, shared, “As a young poet the prize not only made me feel as if my work had something of value, it made me feel connected with the broader poetic community. It increased my confidence in my writing and encouraged me to continue working at my craft.”
Submissions are accepted March 9- April 20
$100 Prize and National Recognition!
Guidelines:
If you are a currently enrolled City College of San Francisco student, please submit three previously unpublished poems of the highest quality and no more than a page each in length.
Group your submission in a single, typed document with your name, phone number, and email on each page. Include a filled out cover sheet listing your name, address, email address and/or telephone number and titles of your poems and proof that you are enrolled at City College of Spring 2021. See sample cover sheet below.
Lit Night is back! Have you been churning out poems and stories and essays that you are desperate to share ? Are you perhaps looking for inspiration and a regular meet up with fellow writers?
Next Lit Night fun is March 15th. The theme is PERFECT MATCH.
Visit litnight.org for themes, dates and Zoom links!
The English Department and the Creative Writing program at City College wish to extend our apologies to all of you who attended Alan Chazaro’s poetry reading on Thursday, February 11th. We felt honored to have Alan read for us since, in addition to being a talented poet, he attended community college and went on to write about growing up in the Bay Area as a Mexican American. Alan received the Lawrence Ferlinghetti Scholarship at the University of San Francisco because of his focus on and commitment to social justice issues in America, and it is clear he is someone that many of us can see ourselves in and that he is a truly inspirational man.
In fact, Alan represents much of what we stand for at City College—a commitment to social equity and diversity. We are proud of our tradition of presenting writers of all races, ethnicities, and gender identities. For this reason, the attack on the reading that occurred when a group of intruders disrupted and insulted the poet and viewers, represents an assault on our values. As you may know, the group took over the Zoom screen and projected racist and pornographic images while they verbally attacked all present in the chat. This was a hate filled act that has no place at any college, let alone City College. City College’s Visiting Writers’ Series is about inclusivity and about presenting diverse voices that will help students, faculty, and Bay Area residents build a supportive and inclusive community based on love and acceptance.
We wish to extend deep and heartfelt thanks to Alan Chazaro for the generous gift of his poems and much gratitude to our audience for their patience and support. It was amazing to hear students immediately reject the intruders’ hate and turn to highlighting the connections they could make to his life and poems. It was inspiring to hear many of you mentioning favorite passages.
We strongly condemn these racial attacks on our presenter and audience members. After reflecting on the intrusion, we have made the following changes to how our online Visiting Writers’ Series events will be managed:
· All participants will be muted throughout the events and will be individually unmuted if they have raised their hand during the Q and A.
· Participants will not be able to change their screen names during an event.
· Participants will not be able to screenshare.
· At least one faculty member will manage the waiting room and settings while another hosts the event.
· All faculty hosting or cohosting a reading will be trained to manage disruptions.
· Chat may be restricted to the host only and disabled entirely if abused.
· Removed participants will not be able to rejoin the event.
· Members of the public will be required to register for the event with their full name and email address before receiving the Zoom link and password.
· Participants without first and last names in their profile will not be allowed in the meeting.
· Any attendee who attempts to disrupt the event will be reported to Zoom and our IT department as well as CCSF administrators.
We hope that all of you—and anyone who attends any of the English Department’s future events—will feel safe knowing that we have put in place measures to ensure that such intrusion will never occur again. We are dedicated to bringing a diverse range of writers—writers of all races, gender identifications, and religions—who honor inclusivity and the power of literature to bring people together in the spirit of love—and never hate.
Sincerely,
CCSF Creative Writing Program and English Department
Forum student editors Jesse Senzer and Kristie Barlas recently met with author Judy Halebsky to discuss her newest book of poems Spring and a Thousand Years, and her relationship to past poets as well as the craft itself. The full video interview with Halebsky, and her reading of her poem “Portage” is available on the Forum Magazine blog at forumccsf.org This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Jesse Senzer: I wanted to give you an opportunity to introduce yourself. I know that we’re both interested in how you got into writing specifically.
Judy Halebsky: I grew up on the east coast of Canada, and I moved to California when I was twenty-two to study poetry at Mills College. And after that I lived in Japan as a student twice, and also I did a degree in Performance Studies at UC Davis.
So how did I get into writing… I always had an aesthetic interest. And it was through just really loving reading poems and loving writing in my journal that I developed a practice in poetry.
Senzer: That’s interesting, so you find that you gravitate more towards poetry specifically than other genres of writing?
Halebsky: Very specifically. Because it’s a relationship with the poetic moment, or the aesthetic experience. I think I could connect that with a visual art moment of a painting more so than a developed narrative of a novel. Also, one of the big parts of me writing poems is reading poems. It’s almost like I’m having a conversation in that way—that’s also part of my path in poetry. So, I think of writing as a studio-based practice.
Senzer: Right, like a fine art.
Halebsky: Yeah, something I do physically: written in relation to me like a physical practice. So I’m writing physically. Things that nourish poetry writing are like, running and walking and dancing. It’s kind of a body-mind state of perception, or experience.
Senzer: Like writing as a physical act, or physical expression.
Halebsky: Yeah, and kind of cultivating a connection to the inner contemplation, or inner synergy that allows for an articulation of embodied experience. So like, we experience the world in our body, and making the poem isn’t necessarily like describing that experience, but it’s creating a way for someone else to have that experience.
Senzer: So that leads me to questions I wanted to ask you about your new book Spring and a Thousand Years. I was wondering if you could tell us how you discovered Basho. You traced the literary forms that that influenced him, right?
Halebsky: So Matsuo Basho is the most famous haiku poet, and we think about Basho as the originator of haiku. He lived more than three hundred years ago, and one of the really important parts of his writing was traveling. He was influenced by Buddhism, and the idea of like, life is a journey and we should not be overly attached to our material possessions. A lot of his most famous work is through writing as traveling, and he felt that when he’s traveling it’s an interior journey as well as exterior journey. And it heightens many of the things that are true about our life—that our life is temporary, that I feel like I’m living in this house permanently, but really it’s temporary and can end at any moment. And that we need to diminish our attachment to material things, and that’s kind of heightened when you have to go on a trip and carry everything you own in a backpack.
So I got into Basho, and I was living in Japan and studying Japanese literature, and I started to realize that I had a very oversimplified understanding of haiku. I loved to study it and learn a lot of the complexity and philosophy of the form. I traveled to the places in Japan, where he went and wrote his most famous poems, and there’s a kind of tradition in haiku of “poem places,” so you go to Matsushima in northern Japan with its beautiful pine islands and there’s all these poetic associations, and a poet goes there and writes a poem, and then a hundred years later another poet goes there and writes a poem in conversation with the other poems that have been written there. So it’s important for me to go to those same places and see the places those poems are written from, and also write my own writing out of this.
Senzer: Can you talk about your reference to poetry as a field guide? I’m wondering if there’s sort of a dual interpretation for that statement: that a “field guide” could refer to physically traveling, but it could also refer to interacting with writers, both past and present. Sort of a field guide to other artists as well?
Halebsky: I think we come to poetry—as both readers and writers of poetry—to make our life better. I think when I am alive in my writing practice I’m also most attuned to the moments of my life, and the emotional relationships in my life. So I actually look to poetry to help me make my life more vivid, and to live the best life that I can. There’s a way that I’m looking to poetry as instructions and guidance in my daily life. It’s a side view in a way, but it’s a side view that allows me to interpret those instructions in a way that’s meaningful to me, and can be resonant with me in a way that has much more depth and meaning than maybe more direct instructions from a self-help book. I think poetry is a way to be in the world.
And then I also think there’s another layer of trying to make meaning, the way a field guide gives you material to name and remember and organize. We have writing and language, which is a tool, but it’s an imperfect tool. And so much of our work of writing is to use the tools we have to really articulate our experience, so they’re kind of imperfect. And the art is in making the words and finding the words with these limited tools. So a field guide can give you more tools to do that, in the same way as looking at a dictionary or thesaurus. As was really important in this book: like an index of geological terms and concepts; to have other theories and concepts that exist, and apply them to our emotional experience as a way to try and understand our own lives.
Kristie Barlas: I’m interested if you feel like when you’re writing your poems, like say for this collection Spring and a Thousand Years, do you think of them as reflections of your own exploration? As a field guide to moving through the world? Just your interpretation of how to be in life? Or are there some messages that you hope readers will also learn from your experiences, and your poems?
Halebsky: Oh, nice question, um… I think my concerns are about creating an aesthetic resonance. So I would say I’m more looking to create a sensory experience or… some kind of music-like experience rather than teaching readers anything. I’m more trying to make some kind of contrast that opens up a moment of illumination.
Barlas: A lot of your poems really focus just on the observations. So do you find that your practice is embodying that aesthetic resonance? Do you have to remove any personal subjectivity in your poems? If you were say, not writing for the collection, would you naturally include more of your own emotions?
Halebsky: I do like to have little bits of narrative that are kind of like scaffolding to connect these sensory experiences. And I’m looking to kind of tap into an unconscious state, which I think is my unconscious making the poem—my conscious mind is not as good at doing that at all, and might actually kind of mess it up. I think there’s a poem that wants to be revealed, and I’m trying to first access that poem, and kind of carry it along, or bring it to fruition. My conscious mind is going to mess that up, so if I start writing thinking, “Oh, I really want to tell this story” or, “I had this funny thing happen” like that’s a good place to start, but if I finish there it’s usually not a good poem. Starting in an energetic place is great, but the energy of the poem needs to come out through the writing process rather than my preconceived idea of what the poem might be.
Barlas: When you were looking at poems from Basho and translating poems as well, I think you called it “bridging time and space,” the past with the present. So, if you look at finding meaning in things like donuts or Zumba, and also the ocean, what were some of the concepts that stood out to you that affirm the things in life we already know to be true?
Halebsky: I think it’s a process of discovery. I would say the things we already know to be true, for me, are assumptions. And in the writing process often they’re revealed as not true, or they’re revealed as misrepresented. And that’s part of what I think can be resonant about writing. That can be the energy of the poem. That we think of something like “true love is forever” and we think of this idea that we hear all over the place, and then you try to write about that, and the experience of that in my body is different from the shared perceptions we have of that.
The space between the dictionary meaning of the word, and our associated meanings with it. Meanings we can imbue with it, and what is implied, and what it reveals about our condition. I think there’s something resonant in us when we find a contradiction, or when we find that our experiences in the body are different than how we socially imagine they’re supposed to be.
Barlas: I think it’s also interesting that you’re kind of switching the tradition from communicating with the poet from the past as a response. You’re bringing them into your response to kind of see your world, and I think that’s a really fun twist on it. I’d love to hear what inspired you to write [the poem “Portage”] in particular.
Halebsky: So there’s a couple influences. I moved to Oakland, California because my father had such romantic ideas of the San Francisco Bay Area, and he was stationed here at Travis Air Force Base. It was really his love for the Bay Area that brought me to live here. So, part of the poem starts with the protests following the murder of Eric Gardner. I live right off of Telegraph Avenue, and I’m not really engaged with any particular group that was organizing those protests, but I was able to just join them because they would come right by. I was really honored and moved to be part of those protests, so that was one moment inspiring that poem.
But also talking in memory of my father about dreams he held. My father really worked a lot in his life to envision what an equitable society would be, or could be. I think that’s part of like, don’t tell my father that we haven’t reached his dream yet. And also thinking about the life he lived, and the loss of cultural knowledge between my grandparents and me. My father only spoke English, but it wasn’t the language his parents spoke. When he went to school, he failed kindergarten and then they only spoke English at home. So I only learned English from him, and the idea of a portage is when you carry a canoe over dry land between bodies of water. Kind of like a lineage of what we carry with us, and how when the boat is on the water, it can have all this contact, but when you carry it over dry land you can only bring so little with you, was also an important inspiration in that poem. I think a lot of us in the United States have that eraser and cultural loss, and also this making-a-new-culture, which maybe I’m looking for more resonant and complex ideas and cultural practices to engage with.
Judy Halebsky currently directs the MFA program at Dominican University. She lives in Oakland, Ca with her spouse and their two-year-old daughter. For more on her work and to purchase her latest book Spring and a Thousand Years (Unabridged) from the University of Arkansas Press, visit judyhalebsky.com
To view Judy’s poems you can can click on the links below
Let me ask of you, if I may, with the aid of the Muse who has guided me thus far, along the path I have travelled, which intersected yours, as you may recall, when the Sun shone brighter in the sky, stars were fixed, and storm clouds were another person’s shadow,
about a matter of some concern, personally; an imposition I would not think to assert, without having known you, in the time when words had left
us each,
the time we no longer mention, except by the most oblique of references conscious of the sorrow underlying our efforts to survive, persevere, looking into the mirror of our souls, finding there no well of insight, no center within the iris, no plumb line between our heads and our hearts, yet
we took
whatever
we needed to take, sometimes two, grasping at air with our tongues, still bleeding from vain attempts to quell the instinctual need to howl at the Moon’s craters’ lightness; albeida;
starring at our fates, dust in cold orbit
I find myself these days poised, unsteady; as if reaching for balance: blindfolded; a snail crawling the length of a straight razor; an island under siege from all directions, with the volcano stirring
inside,
birds’ beaks thrashing my Promethean liver; severed fingers in buttered bowls; bards’ slit maws’ gargles, a baobab adrift at sea; out of place –
It is not about the bedbugs of life, I think; (certainly) therefore, in grids; I made my peace with a cockroach, a pumice stone, and an iron griddle; have seen the Grand
Canyon, Niagara Falls, and the cathedral of Notre Dame – before the fire; more than mere trifles, less
than mortality;
“Which wishy-washy witch wishes wishbones well”, was whispered once, wistfully.
Are you distracted yet, again? Is this the point on the line when the circular becomes perpendicular, properly
triangulated?
Meet you halfway, yours can be the bigger half,
but the last word is still
uncertain, albeit ineffable, they say, . . .
So, we’ll dispense with the
foreplay,
squaring the edges at the horizon of introspection, calling the surf to retreat, wishing good tidings, prizing drift-would with all Kant, at least for a mo(re)-ment; an extended pause, a hiatus between assignments of being
Why haven’t you answered my dream mail?
I inhale, you exhale We have the same birthday We share the same fingerprints We should not be so incommunicado, eh? I look forward to your reply, Or will we each be left, alter-half-egos?
Be well,
—
Thomas A. E. Hesketh was born in Toronto, Canada, on a cusp, last millennium; none of it his fault. Most of what has happened to him has happened to others, too. He enjoys poetry because of its verbal range, except the caesuras, and chess, which is non-verbal, except the regicide.
Don’t tell my father that the police drive down my street in armor standing on their bumpers holding AK 47s
we march down Telegraph with signs people come out of their houses cheer for us as we pass
at the Berkeley Y, I hear women speaking my grandmother’s language the one she tried to pass on to my father
don’t tell him country of his sleep dream of his overland passage
he learned physics in high school so when he got drafted they didn’t send him to be boots on the ground
raised unbridled I was unhindered by reality I didn’t know that luck could take or leave your life
Dad says at 84 I’m doing pretty good I nod I forget the words sometimes he says that’s all
Judy Halebsky is the author of the poetry collections Tree Line and Sky = Empty. Originally from Halifax, Nova Scotia, she spent five years studying in Japan on fellowships from the Japanese Ministry of Culture. She lives in Oakland and teaches at Dominican University of California.
Dedlow: Writing has been a creative and emotional outlet for me for probably nearly as long as I’ve been able to produce words. I owe a lot of that to early encouragement from family (related and not) and mentors, notably a first grade teacher with a knack for getting poetry out of six and seven-year-olds.
Who are some of your favorite writers?
I wish I had a pithier response for this, but a list of writers whose language and stories have stayed with me would have to include Monica Furlong, Zora Neale Hurston, Karen Joy Fowler, Ocean Vuong, Charlotte Brontë, and Ralph Ellison.
What was the inspiration for this poem?
The impetus was a prompt to free write about a lingering memory; the subject of the poem is an experience I had working in the field a few years back that stuck with me. The egg in question was a wood duck’s.
What drew you to write this as a poem as opposed to a short story?
There’s certainly a narrative element here, but the way this came out onto the page—maybe because it was such a brief, vivid experience, maybe because it felt so personal—seemed more suited to the form. I never really considered trying to shape it into a short story.
This poem is so remarkably visceral. Could you describe your approach to writing the sensory details?
I think a lot of this comes down to the memory itself of what I experienced as a very visceral moment, but my usual approach is to write more, and cut that down to what’s working for me, which I definitely did in this case. I also use a thesaurus to scan for words that feel most true to the image.
“Angel of Chill” (Visual Art) by Veronica Voss-Macomber
Forum: We absolutely love this piece! It is so original — what inspired you to create it?
Voss-Macomber: I was inspired by my love of illuminated manuscripts (Sixth Century to 1600s) for their display initials, elaborate designs and, as well, with prayer cards because of their “ability” to provide the holder of said card with spiritual comfort and fortitude.
Then add to this mix my LOVE of COFFEE(!!!), stained glass windows, the beautiful ocean, and my use of humor to deal with very trying times (like the past year or so), and the result is a prayer card I made for myself that makes me smile and I hope brings a bit of levity to others.
Is this work part of a series? If so, can you tell us about it?
I definitely have given thought to creating a calendar of angels with their accompanying prayers, but I will see, as I am in the midst of a few other creative projects that are tugging at me to complete.
I do have similar work, but only regarding the materials I use to create with. I like to work with mixed media– that is combining “analog” media– watercolors, pen and ink art with digital media (Photoshop, Illustrator, Procreate…)
Where do you get inspiration from?
I am inspired by the great outdoors/nature (shout out to San Bruno Mountain), the ocean (any body of water, really), seeing a hummingbird, ALL art periods, current news, history, conversations on art, the creative process and that thing called life with loved ones (a BIG shout out to my husband, and to Diane and Elaine), recipes with cheesecake or salted caramel in them and, of course, when I am drinking coffee and that comforting cup is warming up my hands– my creativity is lit!
Are you working on anything else right now? Tell us about it!Some of what I am working on now are two short animation films (you can find my older videos on my YouTube channel), developing a web comic series that I hope to transition to a printed graphic novel. I am, also, continuing to work on my comic strip “The Mortal Coil Cafe”which was published in the Guardsman Spring 2019. But right now, I am working on finishing my second cup of coffee. Ahhh, bliss!
Suzanne Notario: Her photographic journey started seven years ago when she took her first photography class at CCSF. This course ignited her passion for making pictures. It has become a way of expressing herself while capturing moments in time with her camera.
Suzanne Notario: Her photographic journey started seven years ago when she took her first photography class at CCSF. This course ignited her passion for making pictures. It has become a way of expressing herself while capturing moments in time with her camera.
Matthew Bollinger received his mFA in painting from the San Francisco Art Institute. Bollinger has exhibited nationally, including at the Amarillo Museum of Art in Texas, and Harwood Art Center in New Mexico. He is an Assistant Professor of Art at Diné College in the Navajo Nation.
Shirley Phelan began painting as part of a Master’s program in Art History. She decided to focus her studio classes on oil painting and started painting classes at CCSF and the Academy of Art in 2016. Since finishing her degree she has continued to paint and explore other mediums.
