Karen Skolfield: On Ekphrasis

If you want to get the attention of 4th graders, show them a painting of a man made out of produce. I click to the PowerPoint slide of Giuseppe Arcimboldo’s The Emperor.

The Emperor, Giuseppe Arcimboldo, 1590.

The Emperor, Giuseppe Arcimboldo, 1590.

“It’s a guy!” “But there’s fruit!” “I see grapes!” “What is THAT?” one student says, and points, I think, to the artichoke shoulder, or maybe it’s the fig-ear.

“You’re right, he’s made out of fruits and vegetables. Crazy!” I say, and shake my head. “Do you think this is a recent painting or one that was made a long time ago?”

The kids have fun answering. We’ve just looked at Kehinde Wiley’s 2005 painting Napoleon Leading the Army Over the Alps, part of a series in which Wiley re-sees famous poses and scenes using black models. So they’re feeling pretty confident that the Arcimboldo painting is the same: an old theme made new, given fresh meaning.

They’re not disappointed when I tell them The Emperor is 425 years old. In fact, they seem delighted – maybe they hadn’t realized humans were making art then, so sure are they that the world prior to their births consisted of amphibians crawling from the ooze. “We need to write about this guy,” I say, and they gamely grab their poetry journals.

I’m visiting a class in Fort River Elementary in Amherst, Massachusetts. Amherst is in western Massachusetts, closer to New York and Connecticut than Boston. A 2-D “tree” in the Fort River lobby, made of construction paper handprints, shows the many skin tones in the first grade; more than half of the students are people of color, with some thanks to the five colleges in the area that attract international grad students and professors. Nearly 40 percent of the students qualify for free or reduced lunches, slightly above the state average, which seems at odds for a town of just 38,000 with more cultural and arts events per capita than many major cities.

The fourth graders in front of me have their poetry journals open. Some don’t want to hear my prompts and have started writing and really, who am I to stop them. But most like the Q&A poetry form. I remind them: “I’m going to ask you a few questions about Arcimboldo’s The Emperor, and your answers are the poem.” After each question, which I say aloud, I wait a few minutes as they write. They have a handout to look at if they wish, with the questions on them – a good strategy for kids who have trouble attending to auditory instruction, or for kids who want to leap ahead.

After each painting and poem, I ask if anyone wants to share: it’s mostly boys volunteering by 4th grade, and though I’ve never counted, I have the sense that more white hands go up than non-white. I even this out as best I can by calling on kids who haven’t raised hands. This teacher’s done a good job; almost everyone is willing, even eager, to read, even the shy ones, even the ones for whom English is their newest language.

Radiante, Olga Albizu, 1967.

Radiante, Olga Albizu, 1967.

This is not my first time using ekphrastic poetry prompts in elementary schools, so I’ve learned to keep it simple, keep the poems short, talk about the artwork before we write about it. I’ve learned not to give them choices about multiple pieces of artwork to write about – the act of choosing can be stress-inducing to students who have attention or anxiety issues (I made a 3rd grader cry once by asking him to choose between two pieces of art). I’ve learned that whichever girl sits closest to me is often unwilling to speak up, so I take a couple of minutes after the class so she can read without the whole class listening. I’ve learned, most importantly, that they love writing and poetry at this age, with few exceptions and very little eye rolling. I don’t know what these teachers today are doing, but it’s making my work easy.


When my kids started kindergarten, I – and all the parents – got some pressure to volunteer. The new class needs a room parent! The new class needs math helpers! Soccer coach, PGO president, savings account director, book fair assistant, fantasy-area overseer, costume designer, nut-free snack scheduler, really, the list of things I did not want to do went on and on.

So with no small amount of guilt, I dodged most of the heavy volunteering but baked heartily for all school events. Then my oldest son brought home his first poems. Oh hey. I perked up and sent an email to his teacher: “Want me to visit?” She replied, I think, before I hit SEND.

I’ve written very few ekphrastic poems – maybe three. But as I considered what to do with two classes of 3rd graders, I decided this would be a way into writing that could be both inward and outward looking – and any chance to bring more art into their lives seemed a great bonus. I’m no art history major, though, so Googling and hive-mind questions on Facebook have been great sources for background and for artists I’d never encountered.

The Scream, Edvard Munch, 1893.

The Scream, Edvard Munch, 1893.

The classes last about an hour. I begin with a brief explanation of ekphrastic poetry, and I tell the kids they now know a word that their parents probably don’t know. The kids love this. Occasionally a teacher will pipe up and say s/he didn’t know the word, and the kids love that, too. Then I show a slide, talk about the painting or sculpture by asking open-ended questions to the kids, and read the ekphrastic poem aloud. Some of the art and poem pairings I’ve used include Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa and John Stone’s “Three for the Mona Lisa;” Pieter Brueghel’s Two Monkeys and Wislawa Szymborska’s “Two Monkeys by Brueghel;” Georg Baselitz’s Die Mühle brennt (“The mill burns”) and the poem of the same (German) name by Richard Matthews; a selection of Degas paintings and Philip Levine’s “M. Degas Teaches Art And Science At Durfee Intermediate School – Detroit 1942;” and more. It’s helpful if I know a little about their art classes – if they’ve been studying or imitating some abstract artists, I’ll throw in an abstract painting by Olga Albizu or Georgia O’Keeffe. I love sculpture: Xu Bing’s found-material phoenixes are always a hit, or Alberto Giacometti’s tall figures; go playful with sculptures from Hung Yi’s “Fancy Animal Carnival” series or abstract with Joan Miro’s Moonbird. Or throw in a sculpture built from Legos. The kids will go nuts.

After I read a poem, we’ll talk. I’m continuously amazed by what they see and hear and puzzle through. Take the boats in Edvard Munch’s The Scream – have you noticed those boats? Trust me, if you ask some 3rd graders about the painting, one will spot the boats and come up with some dynamic ideas about what those boats are doing and contrast the cool and calm in the distance with the worry and foreboding in the foreground. Okay, the kids probably won’t use the words “foreboding” and “foreground,” but if you use those words a few times, the kids will eventually use them, too. Ask them about the vines growing out of the woman in Frida Kahlo’s Roots – their answers will range from wonderfully creepy sci-fi to some inkling of how emotionally complex the lives of 5thgraders can be. Tell them about Kahlo’s self portraits and how this is probably one – give them her medical background – and they will make all the connections you’d hoped for, and more.

Then students write poems while the adults in the room help out kids who need extra attention. For Arcimboldo’s The Emperor, here are the prompts/questions I use:

  • Let’s assume that this changed skin is new, and that the emperor can’t see himself. Help him out and tell him what he looks like.
  • The emperor is shocked at your description of him! Try to think of a way to make him feel better about himself. What can you say to him to make him happier, maybe even proud?
  • You know, but haven’t yet told the emperor, what happens to fruits and vegetables and flowers that are left on the counter for a few days. What do you think will happen to the emperor now? Your answer to this question is the ending of the poem.

It’s good, as you prepare a class for elementary kids, to consider their needs and maturity level. Make your prompts as racially and gender diverse as possible; ditto for the poets. Leave out images that are violent or contain nudity, even for the older kids; their teachers will never forgive you if you get that wrong. Leave out poems that are too complex or too long or touch on mature subjects.

Roots, Frida Kahlo, 1943.

Roots, Frida Kahlo, 1943.

Think like a kid growing up in America: for the Wiley painting, I (luckily) asked kids to come up with three POSITIVE words to say about the subject, a black man astride a horse. Even though the subject in Wiley’s painting has much the same expression as Napoleon does in the famous Jacques-Louis David painting it’s modeled after, the words the kids first came up with were all negative: “scary” especially stood out to me, in a class in which half the kids are people of color. We’d already prepped by talking about how Napoleon had let his people starve to fund his war effort and how this new leader envisioned by Wiley was going to do better, and still they came up with “scary” for the black man. Yikes. But by saying “nope, I want POSITIVE words for him,” they eventually got off the scary thread and found kinder words.

(Of course, as I write this, I think: Is it okay for leaders to look scary? Is that a positive attribute? The students didn’t use that word for Napoleon, but could I have turned this into a moment in which a black man is leading his soldiers into battle in a way that makes the “scare” factor work?)

I taught that particular class two months ago, and here I am, still thinking about it. I’m scheduled to teach another class on ekphrastic poetry, with a new set of kids, in two weeks. After that, another school. And another. Each time, I’ll learn something different, come home jazzed by student poems and ideas.

Let’s face it: I’m not really Room Parent material. But if poetry’s involved, sign me up.


This post originally appeared on E. Kristin Anderson’s blog Write All the Words! on April 28, 2015. My thanks to her for prompting me to write this post and for hosting it on her wonderful website. She asks poets and teachers to write articles or interviews about poetry and posts one each day in April, which is National Poetry Month.

Submittable from the Editor’s Point of View: Your Top 5 Questions Answered

Such a nice write-up on Submittable from an editor’s point of view. Thanks Kelly Davio!

Gailey and Davio Writers' Services

by Kelly Davio

When Submittable (formerly Submishmash) came on the literary scene, editors everywhere let out a collective squeal of joy. Submittable was, and so far remains, the only widely available, readily customizable, and affordable submission management system for the literary world. What was so bad about paper submissions, you ask? If you’ve never collected a tongue full of paper cuts from sealing SASE envelopes, take it from me: paper is no good for the editor.

Submittable has a great benefit for the author, too, and that’s greater involvement in the submission process. Using Submittable’s features, you can see the progress of your submission and even manage withdrawals and edits. Some of these features may not be self-explanatory on first glance, however, so we’re here to help you navigate them. 

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Poetry Society of America’s 2015 Robert H. Winner award


Well, here’s a nice bit of news to get while traveling! I just got word that I’ve won the Poetry Society of America’s 2015 Robert H. Winner award. Congratulations, too, to finalists J.C. Todd and Jonathan Weinert. The award “acknowledges original work being done in mid-career by a poet who has not had substantial recognition, and is open to poets over forty who have published no more than one book.” So: look! Recognition, AND a reminder that I’m over 40! Poetry giveth, and poetry taketh away…

Here’s the link to the announcement.

And here’s the fabulous write up by judge Alan Shapiro:

“These poems are distinguished by their sonic and semantic flexibility and range. They take on important subjects—racism, domestic, political and natural disasters, mortality and time, the contingencies of love, the vulnerabilities of flesh (“the soft parts of us…the first thing we give away,”)—in language that feels both improvised and exquisitely controlled, highly cadenced even when it looks like prose. Their tone is nothing if not companionable, good humored, fiercely clear sighted, full of passion and heart wrenching wisdom. From poem to poem, and even sometimes within the same poem, they shift from mode to mode, descriptively precise and essayistic, realistic and surreal, conversational and song-like. Simplicity of means, complexity of effect–that’s how I’d characterize the marvelous achievement these poems embody in every line of every piece.”

If you’ve read this far, it’s because you’re curious where I went on vacation. California: the coast (harbor seals, whales) and the desert – Joshua Tree National Park and Death Valley (no seals or whales). We’re warmed all the way through.

‘First Books’ Article in Berkshire Eagle

The Berkshire Festival of Women Writers kicks off tomorrow (March 1) with our panel: “From Zero to One: First Books and What We Wish We’d Known,” 11 a.m., Miss Hall’s School, 492 Holmes Road, Pittsfield.

Kate Abbott from the Berkshire Eagle wrote a fabulous article about the first week of the BFWW, especially about our panel. Read it here!

With Amy Dryansky, Susan Kan, Sarah Sousa, and Michelle Valois. Cheers!

2015 Arts & Humanities Awards from New England Public Radio

NEPRlogo2013I’m very pleased to announce that I’ve been awarded the 2015 Arts & Humanities Award from New England Public Radio (emerging artist). Big congratulations, too, to the Community Music School of Springfield, MA (2015 Outstanding Organization) and musician Andrew Lawrence (2015 Outstanding Individual).

New England Public Radio has given the Arts & Humanities awards since 2008; I’m the first poetry-only writer, second writer on the list (Jane Yolen received last year’s Outstanding Individual). Go poetry!!

Here’s what NEPR has to say: “Established by the New England Public Radio Foundation, Inc. in 2008, the New England Public Radio Arts and Humanities Award has been recognizing the rich and varied arts scene in the region for six years and counting. The award recognizes the contributions of local talent, and brings greater public awareness to the critical role played by musicians, artists, dancers, actors, writers and teachers in western New England.”

You can read all about the award and the gala and fundraiser on May 12 at the Log Cabin in Holyoke by clicking here. Check out the past recipients of the award, listed at the bottom of the page. I think I’m reading a couple of poems at the gala. There might be acceptance speeches (I’ll be ridiculously brief: one goofy look at the audience, one breathy thank you, how’s that?). I’ve already told my kids they need to dress up: you can imagine the eye rolling. “Again?” my son wailed (he had to wear a shirt WITH A COLLAR at the PEN New England & Hemingway awards last year). My daughter, on the other hand, said “Oh, I’m wearing a shirt and tie!” She’s a flexible dresser. I appreciate this.

My thanks to New England Public Radio for the recognition and for supporting the arts!

BFWW Panel: “From Zero to One: First Books and What We Wish We’d Known”


Lecture and panel discussion moderated by Karen Skolfield with Amy Dryansky, Susan Kan, Sarah Sousa, and Michelle Valois

Miss Hall’s School, Centennial Hall, 492 Holmes Road, Pittsfield, 11 a.m.

This event will be of special interest to writers submitting a manuscript or about to publish a first book. We’ll discuss the happy but often bewildering aftermath of acceptance: book design, publicity, the vulnerability of being newly published, postpublication contests, second and beyond books, and the importance of continuing to write after a manuscript has been assembled or even published. We’ll also talk about prepublication editing, researching presses, and contests, realistic publishing expectations, and dealing with a difficult publisher. Although the panel will focus on life after an acceptance, we will have handouts that address the business side of preparing a manuscript. Panelists include a publisher/editor, poets, and a prose writer in various stages of their career. Discussion will be audience-driven—bring your questions! Afterward, the panelists and Perugia Press will have books for sale and will be available for some follow-up questions.

Amy Dryansky’s newest poetry collection, Grass Whistle, was released in 2013 by Salmon Poetry and received the MA Book Award for poetry. She’s also a MA Cultural Council Poetry Fellow. Her first book, How I Got Lost So Close to Home, was published by Alice James, and individual poems appear in a variety of anthologies and journals.

Susan Kan is founder and director of Perugia Press, a nonprofit, independent literary press publishing the best new women poets in the country (first and second books only). Prior to starting the press in 1997, Susan earned her MFA from Warren Wilson College. Many Perugia books have gone on to win national book awards. See http://www.perugiapress.com.

Karen Skolfield’s book Frost in the Low Areas (2013) won the 2014 PEN New England Award in poetry and the First Book Award from Zone 3 Press. She is a 2014 Massachusetts Cultural Council Fellow, teaches writing to engineers at the University of Massachusetts, and is the poetry editor for Amherst Live and an associate editor for Sundress Publications.

Sarah Sousa is the author of the poetry collections Church of Needles (Red Mountain Press) and Split the Crow (Parlor Press); she also transcribed and edited The Diary of Esther Small: 1886. Her poems have appeared in the Massachusetts Review, Fugue, and Passages North, among others. She holds an MFA from Bennington College and lives in western Massachusetts.

Michelle Valois is a writer and teacher who has published poetry and prose in the Massachusetts ReviewTriquarterlyBrevity, Fourth Genre, the Florida ReviewSlipstream, and others. Her chapbook My Found Vocabulary (Aldridge) is forthcoming. She teaches at Mount Wachusett Community College.

Fear of the One-Person Audience

Oooh, I ran across these photos, courtesy of Christopher Clauss, of my time at Manchester’s Slam Free Or Die reading in May 2014 and realized I’d never posted ’em. There aren’t a ton of photos of me reading, but then, I haven’t done a billion readings.

But I’m getting better – and what I mean by that is I’m setting up more readings. There’s nothing like a PEN award to give a gal confidence that perhaps her words are worth hearing. I’ve been terrified of going to a reading and having only one or two people show up, and there I’d be, reading to the empty corners of the room.

It finally happened – at a reading in September, I did indeed have a grand total of one person (not required to be there) show up. I was shocked: it was billed as an open mic, and open mic usually attracts an audience. I still read, and with some flair, because hey, that one person did drive all the way to see me. But I spent the next couple of days in a funk, wondering why the heck I was doing this and feeling grumpy. That was my initiation into the one-person audience. I’m certainly not the only writer that’s happened to: my friend Corwin Ericson tells a hysterical story about his reading with a one-person audience when he was on a book tour for Swell. As his one soon-to-be audience member walked toward the empty chairs, his only thought: “Please don’t sit down. Please don’t sit down.” 

So I lived through it. Yay? 

And if I have to, I can live through it again.

It helps that I’ve also had well-attended and attentive crowds. The Manchester reading was fantastic: an open mic with probably 75 people. Mckendy Fils-Aime is the host with the most. Brandon Amico treated me lavishly (WAFFLES!!). Lots of great poetry & prose at the open mic (Brandon, Mckendy, Christopher, Peter Kispert, William James, Sarah Newton, Dillon Welch, so many more!) I had a ball. I also read 10 minutes too long (yay math, but math in front of a crowd maybe too much pressure). I’ve had readings with enthusiastic audiences in Amherst, Greenfield, Cambridge, Boston, Northampton, Orange, and more. This weekend I’m on TV, in Hopkinton. Next week I’ll be in Albany. 

My goal this year was to have 10 readings. It looks like I’ll have more than 20, with another half-dozen scheduled or being scheduled. I’m actively working on my stage presence and delivery and feeling really good about that. I’ve been to some incredible readings this year by other poets, and I study what makes their readings work: Philip Levine, Cornelius Eady (WOW), Li-Young Lee, Sharon Olds, all the incredible Split This Rock poets. I have friends and compatriots who are wonderful readers: Corwin of course, Kristin Bock, Ellen LaFleche, Sally Bellerose, Lori Desrosiers… Dillon, you are killing it on stage… Em Jollie, Brandon, Floyd Cheung, Paul Richmond – I hope I can claim you as a friend at this point… mia amica Nicole DiCello, Adam Stone (!!!), Daniel Hales, ahhhh so much goodness! 

The fear of the one-person audience has made me slower to get on the reading circuit. But now I’ve done it. I’ve looked that one person in the eye and I read my poems and though I can say my time might have been better spent that night with my family, that reading was an outlier. 

Here’s to more poetry, out loud and outspoken. 

My book Frost in the Low Areas was a finalist for the 2014 Massachusetts Book Award, along with Amy Dryansky’s Grass Whistle (her book won top spot, and it’s wonderful!), Stephen Burt’s Belmont, Mark Hart’s Boy Singing to Cattle, Myles Gordon’s Inside the Splintered Wood, and Ben Berman’s Strange Borderlands. Click the link below to see all the “Must-Read Books” of 2014 – fiction, nonfiction, children’s, and poetry – and read a little about them. 

Massachusetts Book Award

Here’s what the judges had to say about my book: “Karen Skolfield’s debut, Frost in the Low Areas introduces a poet who encompasses both the beauty and darkness of the natural world, the particulars of her children, and the corrosiveness of family secrets. Yet even in the darkest of circumstance, each poem is filled with joy, humor, and elegance.”

It’s pretty fabulous being in such good company, and I love that the state of Massachusetts (specifically, the library system) does so much to promote books. I’ve added the other books to my own “Must-Read” list – hey, they’re librarian endorsed! No one’s on more intimate footing with books than a librarian.

A nice side benefit: I’ve now met Amy Dryansky, Mark Hart (also from Amherst!!) and Ben Berman. It was such a pleasure. I hope I’ll get to meet Stephen Burt and Myles Gordon, as well. 

Split This Rock Poetry Fest (the nonlinear post)

So, yes, the incredible Split This Rock Poetry Fest in Washington D.C. was at the end of March, before the PEN awards, but I was so busy getting ready for PEN (got my hair cut, took a shower, shined my boots, that sort of thing) that I didn’t have a chance to write this entry. 

I am so glad I went. Because of the semester teaching/grading crunch, I flew down Friday morning and stayed through Saturday night, but I missed some incredible readings and panels with such a short window. Next time – I am definitely going next time – I’m going for the whole of it.

If you’re not familiar with Split This Rock and their mission of “poems of provocation and witness,” check out their website here:

Split This Rock

…and, at the very least, sign up for their poetry emails. The poems of the week are ones that make me pause and listen and consider the space I inhabit: white, female, middle class, mother, in a heterosexual relationship, American, New Englander, educated. I listen and learn, carry these poems forward.

I went to some brilliant panels and was a small part of one of the readings, pictures below courtesy of the official Split This Rock photographer, Kristen Adair. I read first: 

Dan Vera introduced us with his great stage presence and warmth and obvious passion for poetry.

Then came Malachi Byrd, a member of the DC Youth Slam Team. Very inspiring, sweet guy, big heart. Keep at it, Malachi. 

The features followed: first, Maria Melendez Kelson. I have her gorgeous book Flexible Bones (now signed, yay!). What a performer – big gestures, big presence, moving poems. She owned the stage. She’s also adorable and a sweetheart. You know how it is when you meet someone and have the sense they will be part of your life, somehow, at some point? I had that sense with Maria. May I be so lucky.

Tim Seibles next – I love his book Fast Animal (now also signed – love the festival signature gathering!). Tim was the judge for this year’s Split This Rock poetry contest, so he’s the reason I went. He read one long, incredible poem: “One Turn Around the Sun.” Later, I heard someone say “Now there’s an argument in favor of the long poem.” I honestly sat on the edge of my seat through the whole thing, loving the way the narrative looped back on itself, the ants and the lover and so much sexy goodness returning and returning and me, the happy listener along for the ride.

Anne Waldman was the closer. Later, my friends asked me what I thought of Anne, and I understand why they asked. She’s not linear, not overtly narrative – she’s a poet of susurrus and sweat and song, of discord and concordance, of disturbance, of thunder. I honestly have never seen anyone quite like her, and rather than try to trap her words under some story line, I very happily let her verse wash over me, a great wave of sound and rumbling and melody. At times, I had no idea what was going on, and I frankly did not care. If she had not stopped on her own, I tell you I would still be sitting in that seat in D.C., ridiculously hungry but wildly happy, not caring that my plane home had passed me by. Look at this energy:

By the end, you had the feeling that she might jump off stage, gather the whole crowd on her shoulders, and take to the streets. Take over the streets. I think she eats sheet metal and bench presses pianos. 

That was ONE reading. Crazy, no? I also had the joy of hearing Eduardo Corral, Natalie Diaz, Claudia Rankine, Myra Sklarew, Gayle Danley, and more at panels and readings, so I’ll put a few of their photos below. Their words broke me in the way only poetry can. 

Who’s responsible for all this, you ask? Sarah Browning, below, at one of the Take Poetry to the Streets events. Small world: she’s the daughter of Preston Browning, activist and owner of Wellspring House, where I like to go for writing retreats. I’d met her only in passing a year before, so it was great chatting with her before the Kelson/Seibles/Waldman reading. 

I met so many fabulous folks! Special thanks to Karren Alenier, who found the text for Tim Seibles’s poem and made me feel welcome in a city not my own. 

Overheard at the conference: “This is what AWP used to feel like, before it got so big.” I never went to AWP when it was smaller (there were upwards of 15,000 attendees at this year’s AWP), but I can imagine it. All the big names at SLR were approachable, in attendance at the events, happy to talk. And yet – names didn’t seem to matter. No one’s giant ego knocked anyone down. There was space for being heard, for listening. 

The festival is every two years. 2016. Sign me up.

PEN New England & Hemingway awards ceremony

It will take me about a week to recover from this weekend – mostly because Karen Wulf did *not* present me with a seven-foot-tall trophy (kidding, KW). My head’s a swarm of bees. Nothing a little quiet time and some chocolate can’t cure.

I got to meet and chat with the other winners and finalists and they were, to a person, lovely. People with whom you are glad to be associated. I couldn’t detect any ego, any arrogance, just gratitude, joy, warmth. Jennifer Haigh (PEN NE fiction) and Doug Bauer (PEN NE nonfiction) were so kind and open. Mitchell Jackson, Anthony Wallace, and Kris Jansma (PEN Hemingway finalists & honorable mentions) were gems, humble, down to earth. NoViolet Bulawayo (PEN Hemingway winner) has an accent you want to listen to forever. 

And Richard Blanco was there! I can announce it now, since it was a public event – Richard Blanco, most widely known for being the inaugural poet at Obama’s second inauguration, was the judge for the PEN NE poetry award. I can hardly get over that he READ my book, much less LIKED it, much less CHOSE it for this award. And can I add – Blanco is the most genuine, funny, and smart person you could ever want to meet. My husband Dennis & I were smitten. 

I’m going to post what Blanco wrote about my book, then I’m going to post some thanks to friends who drove all the way to the awards ceremony, then I’m posting some amateur photos. 

What Blanco wrote:
“In her magnificent debut collection, Karen Skolfield made me fall in love with poetry all over again, reminding me of its divine power to find the extraordinary in the seemingly ordinary. She understands that poetry does not exist independently; it is pulled out of all we see, without pretense or artifice, and not in the obvious and expected ways either. Her poems surprise with each turn of the line; they foray into the unexpected discoveries and dimensions. After reading her poems, I will never again look at a baby, a fossil, a painting, a key, a homunculus – or myself – as I had before. If poetry is meant to challenge and change our perceptions of the world and ourselves, then Karen is by all means an extraordinary poet.” 

Some thanks: to Nicole DiCello and Robyn Heisey, good friends and poetry goddesses, for coming to the ceremony; and to Ali and Jeannette Wicks-Lim for handling my two squirrelly children at the awards reception and putting up with Red Sox traffic BOTH ways (bummer).