my pretty name on your lips– dawn birdsong traversing my poem on the screen– a cockroach! dawnlight– two in the care home yelling together the poem’s ending also its beginning– enso circle living the dream– the suburban house cat squinting daydreaming in an attic room– think outside the box the bird who flew in last night dead by the coke machine a pink tree that's not sakura– only pinker Bio Note: I write free verses, rhyming poems, and Japanese short form poetry, some of which saw the light of day in journals like Alien Buddha Zine, Spillwords, and Cajun Mutt Press, Fevers of the Mind Press. I am also a Jeopardy fan.
Q1: When did you start writing and who has influenced you the most?
Mo: I started writing poetry in my teens, in the 1980s, and into the 90s after university, but I stopped in the mid-90s while pursuing an acting career (unsuccessfully). I started writing poetry again following the EU referendum vote here in the UK in June 2016, writing a bit and participating in Hammer and Tongue slams in Oxford. Between Brexit and Trump, I was very angry and scared and I started to become bitter, and the handful of poetry I wrote during that time reflects those feelings. I started writing haiku during the first lockdown after recovering from Covid at the very start of the pandemic, as a coping strategy and because it felt manageable through the brain fog, a short form. Brevity is not my strong suit, and it can take me quite a while of talking to find a way to express difficult emotions. Haiku connected me to the natural world and also helped me process very difficult feelings in a healthy, direct way. Haiku and the right friends coming into (and in some cases, back into) my life at the right time helped me steer away from bitterness.
As far as for who influenced me, there wasn’t one particular poet, I just liked poetry. I loved lyrics, too, when they are so well written they weave within the music. The first poem I remember really getting jazzed about was Shelley’s OZYMANDIAS. I love the haiku masters. As for currently, oh there are so many I’ve come across on Twitter I don’t even know where to start…
Q2: Any pivotal moment when you knew you wanted to be a writer?
Mo: No, I’ve always liked writing, but I’ve struggled with focus through the years, and it was difficult for me to pursue it as a career path. I write now to connect. That keeps me focused, and I feel more a part of a greater whole. Poets seem to me almost like the writing equivalent of jazz musicians.
Q3: Who has helped you the most with writing and career?
Mo: That is hard, as I don’t really feel I have a career. The person who definitely gets the most credit is my friend Dan Holloway (an amazing human all around). He encouraged me to get back into writing and come along to the poetry slams in Oxford in 2016. In my latest phase, in the past two years, I credit Nikki Dudley (MumWrite and Streetcake Magazine) as well as the many poets I have met in the poetry community on Twitter, generously sharing their work, their process and their support. Damien Donnelly and Gaynor Kane recently gave my poetry a boost by including one of my pieces in The Storms inaugural journal in August 2022, which was a BIG boost. The poetry communities on Twitter have been a pure gift.
Q4: Where did you grow up and how did that influence you? Have any travels influenced your work?
Mo: I grew up in Doylestown, PA, Bucks County, outside of Philadelphia. It was a rural area when we first moved there, which became a suburb by the time I was a teenager, a pretty but boring small town filled with mixed memories. I can’t spend more than 4 days there before my skin feels like it starts to crawl. It’s a place I left, and have no desire to return to, even to visit. I remember making my mind up at 10 years old that I was going to move to NYC and then to London – two dreams that did come true. My travels have influenced my work in that they’ve given me a sense of who I am apart from the huge Irish Catholic family I grew up in. And, of course, all the different experiences I’ve had when I’ve travelled, different customs, landscapes, experiences, etc., all got stored in my memory and are there to draw on.
Q5: What do you consider your most meaningful work creatively to you?
Mo: I’ve been writing haiku daily since June 2020, and that is a sort of creative baseline for me now, part of my DNA it seems almost. I walk every day, I haiku every day, this I feel is most meaningful because it has helped my mental and emotional health throughout the lockdowns, and continues to do so. It is like a springboard, which I am just now starting to spring a bit from.
Q6: What is a favorite line/stanza from your writings?
Mo: I don’t have one.
Q7: What kind of music inspires you the most? What is a song or songs that always come back to you as an inspiration?
Mo: I love jazz and could listen to it forever without getting sick of it. I like blues a lot, too, but my soul runs out of patience with blues after a point in a way it doesn’t with jazz. Jazz changed so much through the decades that it’s like many different incarnations of itself that also seem separate. It’s ever-evolving. It’s alive, collaborative, includes improvisation and creative freedom, and it often conjures for me distinct moods that help me write, especially in those magic moments where it seems to evoke an emotional memory that I did not actually ever experience. It gets my imagination going. I have my moods, lately especially, where I just want to listen to McCartney songs. I loved him as a teen, and sometimes I just need to hide in those old songs, Beatles, Wings, his solo stuff. He was my retreat as a teenager, and lately, it’s been helpful to retreat into his music again. I feel safe there.
Q8: Favorite activities to relax?
Mo: I’m terrible at relaxing. I am not good at sitting still. Not in a way that leads to anything productive half the time, just restless. Walking and hiking help, and I love just sitting and staring into the ocean, but don’t get much opportunity to do that, living near a river and not a coast.
Q9: Do you have any recent or upcoming books, events, projects that you’d like to promote?
Mo: Well, again, I was in the inaugural print issue of The Storms, that’s Damien Donnelly who does the Eat the Storms poetry podcasts. That was the most recent one.
Bio: I’m a ‘born-again poet’ living in Oxfordshire, UK. I started participating in writing prompt challenges on Twitter during the summer of 2020, then took some courses with @MumWrite, then participated in various other readings, launches and workshops since then, online. Since August 2020, I’ve been published in Irisi Magazine (http://www.irisi-magazine.org/healing/healing-haikus-and-senryus-by-maureen-schoenfeld), The Best Haiku 2021 Anthology and the upcoming The Best Haiku 2022 Anthology (https://haikucrush.com/), Tiny Wren Lit (https://www.tinywrenlit.com/intentions) and several times on Pure Haiku’s blog (https://purehaiku.wordpress.com/). I’ve appeared in print in ‘Poetry in 13: Volume 3 (2020)’ and ‘From One Line: Volume 2’ (2021). One of my micro-poems appears in Eat The Storms podcast’s inaugural issue of The Storms later this month, published by the creators of the Eat the Storms poetry podcast. Twitter: @MoSchoenfeld
In High Summer
when flies walk upon my forearm hairs proprietorial as landlords and the land is ripe with roadkill extreme weather scenarios play out in real time climate diplomats gather but the plenary is beached - delegates cloyed as wasps in coulis we sit around the water table with an ashen thirst everybody wants to make a move but no one does like watching the bleaching of coral the only thing agreed on is that all this is unprecedented unprecedented rainfall here unprecedented temperatures there unprecedented use of the word unprecedented everywhere in high summer the deluge the canicule the conflagration ants grow fat grow wings buzz my ears we pick at the brittle wishbone of consensus wait for crows locusts to draw down the dusk with a dry calling We Are Green One winter’s day through condensation windows I mistook a withered gunnera leaf for a heron’s wing. Imagined the bird coiled, primal, waiting at the water. Months later, in the veiled sphere under a summer gunnera plant, I imagined myself small, deep in zoological realms below explosions of virid strong-stemmed leaves as wide as the sky, blush flower spikes pushing up and through. Today in seasons of indeterminate grey when squirrels do not know which page of the nut calendar we are on, it is the verdure I return to. I daydream of a kinder world. Daylight and rainfall elect a parliament of plants. An upper house of trees. We are green, enfranchised. XY (No Means No) X. Doctor Foster went to Gloucester in a shower of rain. Fred and Rose they quit town but left a nasty stain. That’s Fred West - more than a sex pest. Did unspeakable things in his dirty vest. Y. Cycling past the rape seed fields brings it all back. The yellow so vivid, you lying on your back. The yellow, the horror, you want to be home, but find yourself involuntary, prone. He seemed ok at first, he said he’d drop you back. The stony ground remains no aphrodisiac. You shut your eyes your demon’s back, slow, stupid in the sack. And No Means No involuntary lying on your back. Choose Your Own Mother (for Rhianydd Daniel) I have heard it said the yet unborn can choose their parents. A strange idea, this. Although we live in times when nothing is beyond belief. If it is true.. If it is true, I ask myself the reason I chose you. Indecisive as I am, and daresay was before my birth, there is a scenario in which I am at peace. Wherein, unborn, I somehow hear your singing voice. And from that time I have no choice. sand in your blood I remember when you scraped your leg on coral.. a rose rust bloomed raw under your skin..the sea was a blister the moon was a bruise.. all night your fever rose and fell..lava tides licked feral flames..sand in your blood Ad Astra Zee I am waiting for my blood to clot. Broad beans block green veins, velvet furred. I am ripe for it. One day my feet will be corms, shoehorned in stony ground. My soles are up for it. Hey Astra Zee! I want my second dose already. I am weary of this solid flesh my veins so unimpeded. Bring on the levelling dark. I am ready, pale horse for your clip-clop. For blood clots. Bolt, beauteous breathlessness! Bolt, cramping throbbing pain stampeded! the paranoia shop sells mini cctv for the home or handbag sells cctv any size you need hard-sells hard knuckle dusters and knives all shapes and sizes beyond imagination for your perfect tribulation they say carrying a knife puts you more at risk of a stabbing but the stab-proof vests are on offer today see the cute hand guns to fit your hand just so the paranoia shop nestled between Gaultier and Kenzo I love to window shop there It makes me feel so safe worm haiku exit wounds out of apples, soldiers, the worm out of one the bullet Perfect Bed I dream I am at Bembom Brothers Dreamland funfair park with Tracey Emin. Hard by Margate sands. I know I shouldn’t drink that Vodka on the Helter Skelter. Apart from that, a Day as Perfect as the Lou Reed song. We Kiss with Fish and Chips Lips, Join Hips. A Turner Sunset Going Down. I guess it is the Golden Hour. Blair’s Babes and even some of his men MP’s are busy Changing a whole heap of things for the Better. Back in your room we remember that we even Changed the Bed this morning. The linen soft and cool next to our Optimistic skin. (This poem has previously appeared online in iamb-wave seven) Going back I went back, and it looked the same. I was not expecting that. Expected the usual rash of New Builds, creeping up the hill. I went back, thinking it would all look smaller, like when I came back from America aged 19, and it seemed like the train home had shrunk in a B movie. I went back looking for what? The muddy lane where we skidded our scooters? The neighbour’s garden gnome one of us pushed in his pond? The Fish Caves, where we played explorers? Journey to the Centre of the Earth, or at least some way in to that disused tin mine. I went back, not to look for my Dad, just some of the places he used to take us. Halfway between morbid and curious. I went back to the old conker trees and the scraped knees. To the broken fence on Bishop’s Wood Road, where it said No Trespassing but my Dad said we’d be alright. I went back to the old quarry with the pond we thought was a lake. I’m channeling a half- remembered sense of comfort, danger. Somewhere between Teddy Bears and Teddy Boys. I went back to stacking boxes of seaside rock at Woolworths. Each stick had writing all the way through, persistent as memory. From up on the hill you can see it all. The only thing different is wind turbines out at sea, turning like time. I remember a school master who left. All of a sudden. The smell of that old classroom at the end of the dark corridor. Scuffed floor wax. Thanks Sylvia for the Sylvia Plath/Anne Sexton Challenge You married Ted, slapped cobweb faced British poetry, long overdue Bio: Ivor Daniel lives in Gloucestershire, UK. His poems have appeared in A Spray of Hope, wildfire words, Steel Jackdaw, Writeresque, iamb~wave seven, Fevers of the Mind, The Trawler, Roi Fainéant, Ice Floe Press and The Dawntreader. He has poems forthcoming in After..., Re-Side, Alien Buddha, The Orchard Lea Anthology (Cancer) and The Crump’s Barn Anthology (Halloween). . @IvorDaniel
Q1: When did you start writing and whom influenced you the most now and currently?
Jerome: I started writing somewhat seriously in high school, transitioned into a predominantly screenwriting focused mode as a young adult. Then, when not much came of that after many grueling efforts and enormous sacrifice, I put my pen down and did not pick it back up again until many years later. I only experienced another sudden burst of creativity, one day out of the blue, after something of an existential crisis, and found the outlets provided by fiction and poetry, flirtations with the roman à clef, to be immensely therapeutic means of processing past history and present difficulties, and furthermore conceivably each presented a potent political tool for criticizing things internal and external which needed improvement, in the age-old tradition of ‘educate-organize-agitate’ and hopes of making some modest contributions to the many good causes out there, each needing all the help they can get.
Q2: Any pivotal moment when you knew you wanted to be a writer?
Jerome: Writing always seemed such a wonderfully enticing and effective means of communicating and sparking reform, of changing tides and bridging gaps, raising awareness as well as promoting empathy not to mention solidarity, of increasing global citizenship and improving critical thinking. I’m a rather deplorable public speaker, a highly anxious person not spectacular at human interaction—quite plausibly figure somewhere on the autistic spectrum, indeed, back before Asperger’s was removed from the DSM that diagnosis fit many of my oddities to a tee—or engaging with my fellow citizens. I guess the ability to explain, even more so ideally to educate and persuade, capacity for helping correct wrongs and generate love and fraternity always drew me to accessible, popular media, from the genre picture to the serial story and finally this delightfully compact and graffiti-able haiku where I’ve been most at home for my adult life. Poetry is arguably one of the most accessible mediums, to the author and recipient both, hence why it offers a beloved glimpse into working class heroes like Bukowski and sagacious paupers including our great wandering short form masters. Working in Hollywood, the insidious influence, primacy of capital and industry (and their defense and propaganda arms unmistakably) became immediately apparent and the impossibility of anything genuinely revolutionary (rather than distractive and misdirecting, divisive or reductionist) ever being permitted, in the compromised, strangle-held system beholden to vested interests and big-pocketed lobbyists, was quite discernible. Voltaire argued that a pamphlet was more powerful than his day’s equivalent of a shelf of (highly sus) Noam Chomsky’s convoluted jabberings, and I’m inclined to agree with him. The sound bites and slogans a good haiku approximates would make a wonderful Wobbly agitator in a train car, might have been spray painted across a wall by some Basquiat. That brevity and economy as a vehicle for transmitting important knowledge (in forums like the exquisite “Siege” column recently curated by Suspect Device Zine across the pond) makes the short forms uniquely suited and attractive as a tool for activism and sparking positive wide-reaching social change of the sorts our embattled species so desperately needs if we hope to survive another generation.
Q3: Who has helped you most with writing and career?
I had two high school instructors who stand out, I’ll never forget, Roger Mahn who first taught me creative writing, and Robert Tietze who introduced me to Hamlet, immersed us in it inside and out so the play will be forever charred into our brains in the best possible ways. I had an excellent directing prof Barnett Kellman who taught me about the performance and blocking, timing and beats of a scene, which are sort of the less appreciated physical components of structuring a story and its relaying. More recently I’ve had some extraordinarily generous mentors and role models in the poetry world who have passed along their troves of knowledge and permitted me to absorb much impressive wisdom through osmosis. Professor David McMurray who edits the haiku column in widely read (6 million subscribers!! :o) Japanese newspaper the Asahi Shimbun was one of the first accredited authorities in our highly particular and difficult to penetrate scene who took a shine to my work and provided it a noteworthy platform, and has also been immensely helpful in offering feedback and insights into the craft and its effective practice. Acclaimed poet, editor and teacher Charlotte Digregorio has also really benevolently taken me under her wing and Mrs. Miyagi drilled me with the most helpful no punches pulled constructive critiques and recommendations on the precise and highly specific conventions of the senryu, tanka, and haiku forms which she is a recognized expert in. I’ve been fortunate to strike up a wonderful friendship which has resulted in some ongoing collaborations with two of my favorite publishing poets of our day, senryu master and African poetry pioneer Adjei Agyei-Baah and his friend and guru JQ Zheng, renowned editor and (besides groundbreaking cento haiku innovator) perhaps best recognized as the most sensational, exquisite virtuoso of the haibun form our age has yielded. These meaningful relationships both blossomed out of some reviews I enthusiastically composed after encountering and deeply admiring their works, as did another fantastic connection I made with one of my favorite poets publishing today, the incomparable dada surrealist phenom J.D. Nelson, whose upcoming collection soon to be released you do not want to miss incidentally. A seasoned practitioner, well versed in the trials of this difficult medium, with unbelievable drive and astonishing vision (and a track record of the highest caliber published work about a mile long) , J.D. has been such an amazing role model and inspiration to me and so many of our colleagues, the poetry scene is forever in his debt and deeply blessed for the brain, heart, and patience he brings and inspires in all within his radius. Pippa Phillips has been an amazing exemplar of all that is good, righteous, and possible for the evolving short forms, and publishers/voices like Patricia McGuire at Poetry Pea, Justin Sloane at Starship Sloane have been shining lights of courage and invention among so many glorious visionaries.
(There are so many other people I want to list— David L. O’Nan of your own remarkable Fevers of the Mind is doing more exceptional and fascinating new things each day it seems—you know who you are, I’ll find an opportunity to sing your deserved praises too whenever I can! If you are not following me on Twitter, do pop in for a peek, mostly my account is just furiously retweeting my favorite writers and visual artists, and celebrating the brilliant work they share and publish each day. We’re truly experiencing a stunning and exciting renaissance in this digital age of ours, and the post-Covid explosion of angst and hope beautifully intermingled is something to witness…)
Q4: Where did you grow up and how did that influence you? Have any travels influenced your work?
Jerome: My upbringing as a comparatively poor kid in otherwise posh Wayzata schools, and later experiences with higher education playing the same outsider role amongst Greek opulence of the University of Spoiled Children, if anything made me more class conscious, and reinforced, solidified my beliefs and narrowed my focus on a great many economic and social outrages most prominently afflicting our civilization. Curiously the infiltration and coopting of media on a broad scale by agencies and forces of the state directly and transparently was something I was also quite unnerved at many exposures to in the film program, and later working in the entertainment industry. It was only through those observations that I achieved a holistic appreciation and profound distrust for media in general and its figureheads individually. I also made some life-changing connections with comrades in the Occupy movement of Los Angeles who changed my life and broadened my perspective, shifted many paradigms immeasurably. Their influence helped place me on a path toward who I am today— as a salty Green, who went on to support Standing Rock proponents, and in recent years have done everything in my power to advocate for the sanctity of black lives in Minneapolis and the need for a complete re-envisioning of entire institutions from the ground up—and I’ll be forever in their debt. I guess it’s become quite gentrified since being the one-time haven for starving artists and their Salvatruchan neighbors, but I’ll also never forget the memorable times I spent living in the wild Wild West that was Koreatown, Los Angeles, during something of its recent heyday, which I imagine was not unlike the magnificent mayhem of New York before Giuliani buffed everything with white paint. We had some times…
Q5: What do you consider your most meaningful work creatively to you?
From an early age (and personal experience has only cemented the notion) I had it instilled in me that you have to throw a lot of s*** at the wall to get something to stick. I’ve tried a great deal of different approaches, forms, styles, sometimes succeeding, more frequently falling squarely on my face in different ways. But I don’t regret any of them, like all the mistakes which led to where and who I am today. Without grievous failures, errors, hubris and ego’s sabotage, love’s foiling, how might I have grown and learned anything of consequence? I read every book Kurt Vonnegut wrote, and while I could never do what he does, I’d like to try my own variation on the themes. Josh Malerman (who has a new novel dropping any day now!) is also a huge hero of mine, whose prolificness and gift for invention is just remarkable. But both those maestros try an awful lot of different tacks, and they could never have landed at their greatest triumphs without such quantities of trial and error, this scientific method of sorts. The longest thing I ever wrote (more of a prolonged, bathrobed ranting against capitalism for 500+ pages, which could plausibly have been co-authored by Jack Torrance at his most unhinged, interspersed with occasional snatches of plot and narration) was my fourth novel The Experiment. My first the Havenauts is probably the most meaningful and true of the slate, if there’s also much of the customary doomsayer soapbox, and some unsavory ugliness and sadness entailed by exorcising a great many long pent-up demons. I have about one reader who’s actually tackled much of the oeuvre, in his opinion the companion collections of poems Unlikable Protagonists and Flightless Birds (the two with Seurat studies for covers) are the best things I’ve done to date, though he’s a Greek mythology wonk like me so that might figure heavily into his appraisal. The purest example of haiku my micropoetry chapbooks can claim is Dog Days, all about training a puppy and gardening, yet managing to be rather dark and moody nonetheless. A great many of my other 3-liners elsewhere diverge somewhat to considerably from traditional definitions of that or senryu I should warn purists; the Irish Haiku Society dismissed them as ‘doggerels’ and me as an ‘arsehole’. They’re not wrong.
 e.g. A longtime enthusiasm for the past tense, a weakness for attaching titles/headnotes, formal things which despite my rebellious nature I’ve gradually moved away from since internalizing expectations and parameters of the highly regimented and inflexible general mandates of elusive English ‘ku, plenty of which I’ll still engage in spirited debate over the legitimacy of, and are being thrillingly discoursed upon and debated by international droves across countless channels daily.
Q6: Favorite activities to relax?
Jerome: For years forest bathing and nature photography was my go to, but I’ve fallen out of practice with both. Drinking excessively I’ve also dabbled with, but don’t recommend it out of moderation. Gardening, I’d say, most emphatically. Dog walking can also be great fun and good exercise, I used to really enjoy volunteering at rescues back in California, would be delighted to assist similarly in Minnesota where I’ve spent much of the last decade but have yet to connect with any place in my area where it’s not a prohibitively huge hassle. I was getting back into chess not too long ago, but have fallen out of touch with my go-to opponent/teacher, am glad this reminded me, should pick that up again. Same with the game Go, really enjoyed in my younger years. This year reading poetry and prose of the French Surrealists and the saijiki of Jane Reichhold — also Salad Anniversary, Tangled Hair, Haiku Master Buson — have been two of my greatest pleasures. Chain-smoking.
Q7: What is a favorite line/stanza/lyric from your writing?
It’s pure doggerel juvenilia, but this double couplet I find my thoughts returning to on frequent occasions, comes from one of the few lengthier rhyming pieces I ever produced. In haiku that practice is strictly forgiven (though this week’s Foundation “Haiku Dialogue” is challenging that assumption excitingly) but I grew up during rap’s golden age and had many hip hop friends around the art scene, so I nonetheless do find myself slipping into it inadvertently once in a while. Wow, you would not believe how difficult it is preserving the rhymes in 19th century Swedish poetry translated into English by the way. It’s a personal pet peeve of mine that so few attempt that with rhymed classics are brought into our tongue from Spanish or French; they cite preferencing accuracy, but I charge laziness and cowardice is as often to blame, and that where they originally existed a disservice is done in not recreating. Much love for classical metered poetry and Scandinavian history both though, for sure.
Q8: What kind of music inspires you the most? What is a song or songs that always come back to you as an inspiration?
Jerome: Jazz or classical can pair the best with writing strenuously, not getting diverted by lyrics. I’m quite partial to the Smithsonian Folkways collection, slowcore, grunge, French cafe sounds ideally with liberal accordions, was raised on folk punk, particularly the different projects of Pat the Bunny, Craig Finn and Pete Doherty are two other big favorites, Sidney Bechet, Django Reinhardt, Allen Toussaint. In my younger days I was a huge Decemberists fan, but now I can’t help picturing Colin Meloy slagging Jill Stein (<3) and perpetuating falsehoods about her despicably, these days whenever I hear his smug voice the songs are like nails on a chalkboard. Matt and Kim, Belle and Sebastian, though both those make me a little nostalgic for younger years, a different time and place. Ditto for Of Montreal, Bright Eyes, Mountain Goats (“This Year” is the song that jumps to mind, incidentally), each of which is always classic. Modest Mouse, Chet Baker, the list goes on. If you have not listened to Chumbawamba’s “English Rebel Songs” you are missing out.
Q9: Do you have any recent or upcoming books, music, events, etc that you would like to promote?
Jerome: I’ve got just a ridiculous number of poetry manuscripts that I need to find publishers for, some that I’d like to shoot for wider release of in bookstores (such as a John Wayne Gacy coffee table poetry book, a translation from Swedish of an important collection by Gunnar Wennerberg who has a statue by my house) in my wildest dreams, others that would be perfect for the smallest press imaginable. My fifth novel’s rough draft I really need to get editing. I’m working on a team up with Ajei pairing his poems with my black and white photography, it’s a ways out but that’s an exciting prospect, still in the very early stages but have high hopes… I think the most certain thing is I’ll be releasing a short (<70 p.) collection of haiku and senryu examining the tropes and language of the cinema through the lenses of history’s most celebrated literary lovers. I’m hoping to release that through Meat For Tea Press in a few months if we’re lucky, keep your eyes peeled! Also in September I’m releasing an issue/anthology of a little poetry project I just started, Heterodox Haiku, and we’ll be showcasing a marvelous selection of LGBTIQA+ short form pieces, and hopefully do our small part toward correcting the disturbing lack of discussion and criticism regarding representation and acknowledgement, from the storied history and roots of the form—Did you know Basho was gay? I’ve read four books on him, and seen it mentioned I believe once that I can recall, in passing! <_<—through many of its most accomplished modern practitioners. That’s very thrilling, do check out the phenomenal material we have accepted, I promise it will rock your socks clean off…
Bonus Question: Any funny memory or strange occurrence you’d like to share during your creative journey?
Jerome: I just find it pretty humorous that I was once Minnie Driver’s driver, on a Lifetime picture I worked on ages ago, co-starring the also-brilliant Paul Adelstein and (geek out) Alfred Molina, among other countless luminaries. Boy did she have awe-inspiring acting chops, a delightful accent when calling for me, such commitment as a parent and sterling character as a human being. That was a downright magical film to work on, even with the lack of sleep (I recall snapshotting my timecard on a 110-hour week, out there in that field not abnormal…) Compared to the typically hellish work environments, those cultures of abuse and irresponsibility which were more the expectation and norm during my years toiling out in Hollyweird (have things changed at all?) that gig was an exception to general tyrannical rule, and I’ll never forget it, always be grateful for a glimpse at what our industry could look like in the right hands. It gave me some glimmer of optimism about a better possibility, that it might one day be achievable…
August 30, 2022
Bio: Jerome Berglund graduated from the University of Southern California’s Cinema-Television Production program and spent a picaresque decade in the entertainment industry before returning to the midwest where he was born and raised. Since then he has worked as everything from dishwasher to paralegal, night watchman to assembler of heart valves. Jerome has exhibited many haiku, senryu and haiga online and in print, most recently in the Asahi Shimbun, Failed Haiku, Scarlet Dragonfly, Cold Moon Journal, Bear Creek Haiku, the Zen Space and Daily Haiga. He is furthermore an established, award-winning fine art photographer, whose black and white pictures have been shown in New York, Minneapolis, and Santa Monica galleries.
Lori A Minor (she/they) is a queer, neurodivergent, poet and activist. Recipient of more than 15 haikai awards, they are proud to be included in A New Resonance 12 and to have given presentations at Haiku North America (2019, 2021). Lori’s sixth book, Hot Girl Haiku, is now available.
Lori A Minor (she/they) @loriminorhaiku
#FemkuMag,editor ubu., editor Otoroshi Journal, co-editor Moth Orchid Press, publisher
***** wild aster. . . my first kiss with a girl *** blizzard— he doesn’t let me get a word in *** all the ways I could have loved you barrenwort *** blind date I can’t stomach his misogyny *** confusing a glowworm for a maggot. . . body dysmorphia