My Three Blocks West of Wonderland interview with S.R. Duncan

What are the three themes you explore most in the book?

Well, I depict the domestic front, though as Karen Solie-with whom I had the privilege of working with at Banff Arts Centre said-“the work is not domesticated. It reflects the nature of language as both a domestic product and as wild—impossible to fully manage or control.” I take a lot of risks in my poems, have an instinct for the weirdness of language, the sound and rhythm. I’ve written a suite of island poems, others about relationships and family; my life partner, my mother, my father, nieces, nephews and several inspired by my son. I also describe the battle front you could say, a suite of poems inspired by my travels with many alluding to our post 9-11 guilt and angst here in the *safe zone.* I think we’re collectively waiting for the other shoe to drop, a dread summed up with a flying motif and section titles named Sky Watchers, Wax Wings and Hard Landings. In addition, I’ve addressed the classic man against nature theme in Hot Dogger, My Mountain and Habitat. I’m intrigued by extreme sports enthusiasts, adrenalin junkies. My father was an intrepid hunter and fisherman, I grew up in the great outdoors but we never felt compelled to climb for the sake of climbing, just lived in the woods.

In a brief paragraph describe what you think the book is about (assuming there is a theme)?

I think The Theme is simply prevailing. One of the poems called How To Remain moves beyond mere survival, endurance, but portrays thriving, prevailing. Boldly. With panache. Style, grace and good humour. I hope.

Why did you write this book?

Because Continue reading

Olympics rant postponed, please read about my reading @ Real Vancouver Writers Series

Well, I was going to rant about the Olympics descending upon us, from the local (Bowen Island) perspective but I haven’t time at the moment, need to get my kid on track with his new Distance Education program and tackle a long-due to flu-list of tasks. In the meantime, I will invite you to come hear me read at Real Vancouver Writers Series at the W2 Culture and Media House. Located across from the refurbished Woodwards Building in Downtown Vancouver, Wednesday, February 17, 2010, 7:00pm – 10:00pm at 112 E. Hastings, a few doors up from 109 E. Hastings, the Smilin’ Buddha, where my life as an artist was begot.

I swore I wouldn’t leave the island for the duration of the Olympics but Sean Cranbury of Books On The Radio invited me and I’m excited to participate and to be reading that night with Teresa McWhirter, Lee Henderson, Elizabeth Bachinsky, Nikki Reimer, Chris Hutchinson, Dina Del Bucchia, Amber Dawn, Donato Mancini, Sonnet L’Abbe, Jonathon Wilcke and Catherine Owen. In addition, I will be live in ‘The Artist Lounge’ hosted by J Peachy on CJSF 90.1 FM on Tuesday Feb 16th at 7pm. Hope you can tune in. The next day, the day of the reading, Wed. Feb. 17 I will be visiting friends Steve Duncan and RC Weslowki on Wax Poetic @ 2pm (PST) 102.7fm CFRO Co-op Radio. I’ll be back to rant later. This is from Real Vancouver Writers Series press release:

“The Real Vancouver Writers Series consists of 4 weekly events showcasing local Vancouver writers, publishers and creative literary artists at the W2 Community Media Arts Centre located at 112 East Hastings Street. These evenings are designed to show the city and the world real and diverse Vancouver culture and real creative individuals in the literary and publishing communities at a time when the eyes of the world are on our city. Countless millions of people will want to know what real Vancouver culture looks like. We are determined to take the opportunity to show the world just how amazing, diverse, talented and fun our literary and publishing culture is!

In conjunction with Books on the Radio and Geist Magazine. “W2 Community Media Arts Society presents W2 Culture + Media House – a 24 hour/day media centre for non-accredited bloggers and journalists to share their perspective on the 2010 Olympic Winter Games in Vancouver with the world.”

Evolution, from urbanite to islander!

Island view south

This poem from my new book, Three Blocks West of Wonderland, inspired by our move to Bowen Island in the . . .


Year of the Monkey

Full house. Madhouse. Ill-fated deejay,
jester fixed to his back, grinding out tunes
in celebration of our new digs, life,
in the forest, despite the clear-cutting
a hundred years ago. There is talk

of the I-Ching. This will be
an extremely progressive time predicts
a guest with faith enough to practice.
Monkeys are shrewd. Agile.
You will find great success in 2004.

Happy New Year! A toast. To the pileated
woodpeckers, heard more than seen. Cheers!
To the deer phantoms, droppings molding
in the front meadow. Where do they go
in the winter? Why don’t I know these things?

We make clumsy attempts at lighting a fire,
heating the house, woodstove couched
and cold-shouldered as a guerilla soldier
brooding over such hatchet-challenged wimpiness.
We brave the Jacuzzi though. January. Naked ape it

on the Continue reading

“What is west coast music?”

Onstage at the Smilin' Buddha

My friend, singer/songwriter Julie Vik recently posed the question, “What is west coast music?” because as she said, I was there for the “transition.” Well, I replied, I can only speak from my own experience. I used to tour up and down the west coast, play the west coast circuit. I always say we shared more camaraderie with our American punk cohorts than those in the rest of Canada. I know some bands like DOA toured across country and around the world but most of us were strapped for cash and stayed closer to home, or at least west of the Rockies. A fellow islander and musician Chris Corrigan said that in the traditional music community there are strong connections within the scenes in Washington and Oregon and not so much with the rest of Canada. “When I was really active in the scene in the 1990s, you could look at the repertoire of traditional Irish tunes we played and see that they were heavily influenced by what was happening in Seattle. We’ve always been closer to Cascadians.” Makes sense to me. Cascadia, as a region, certainly, draws musicians, the arts together. I’ve noticed lots of overlap between the San Juan and Gulf Islands as well in the spoken word, literary scenes.

In any case, it was always more expedient for us to tour in a southerly direction than back east. The snowy passes and mountains certainly are formidable, then you have three days or so of flatlands-prairies-and then three more days of bush-Ontario!

The Dils (from San Francisco) came up and played Vancouver often, hung out with us and were very comradely. Black Flag from LA as well. I became friends with many Californians introduced to me by Brad Kent who had done a stint as the Avengers guitarist; Chuck Dukowski, Gregg Ginn, Darby Crash, Margo from the Go-Gos, Jello Biafra, Kid Spike and Karla MadDog from the Controllers. I got so weary of driving up and down the 1-5, pooling pennies to buy gas and arguing over which fast food drive-in to pull into. One time I begged to take PCH, just for a change of scene, and mentioned that it would be fun to go visit Henry Miller in Big Sur. They thought I was crazy. “Henry who?”

I shared these opinions with Scott Beadle once too, in an interview. He is Vancouver’s defacto punk rock historian, did a talk at the Vancouver Museum a few years back. Man, does that make me feel old! I recall being at the Experience Music Project in Seattle, in the punk rock section and looking at flyers under glass, flyers I have copies of at home!

In my humble opinion, Vancouver was Continue reading

It’s Mary I See

Season’s Greetings friends from Heather, Josef and Lucas.

FIRST COMES MARY

Enchanted morning swim, matrix of turquoise
lagoon. Silver palometas, yellow damselfish
caress my legs. Casa Ocio walls whitewashed
in cactus milk. Coconuts on the lawn.
Palm fronds bowing, rippling like sea anemones.
Heavy mahogany Hemingway digs.
Gecko chirps from behind a gilt frame.
Cool terrazzo marble pulls sand from toes.
Double rain showerhead. Full throttle bottle bar
under a palapa. I ponder the power
of local masonry to withstand hurricanes,
why it seems odd to name them after men.

Who are you going to meet at a resort?
Mail carriers from St. Catharines. Chiropractors
from Winnipeg. Programmed amusements for fraught
tourists wary of beggars. Cockatiels. Street vendors.
They recoil at pulque, mescal, even tequila,
unless it’s frozen, goes down like a Slurpee.
They tap into barrels of Corona or deposit derrières
under cabanas to read the latest Grisham.

Beneath an arbor of pink bougainvillea
sit my dubious nephew, delicate girlfriend,
doubts sinking slowly into the deep
purple cushions. We are going to town. To Playa.
Soft brown doves adorn neon.
Turtles bask on green tile mosaic. Red house
hosts a party tableau of orange Fanta, blue corn
flowers, flags of paper lace, chocolate pan de huevos.
We smell agave, chili, vanilla, coriander and anise,
hear mariachis blaze a mighty La Bamba. Gobble
pumpkin tamales, snow-white beach cooling our heels.
Mongrels expire at the feet of professional urchins
soliciting pesos. I will not cry, pick a white handkerchief
festooned with poinsettias embroidered by his mother.
No, I can’t buy them all. Though downcast he will not cry.
Our Lady of Guadalupe provides. Protects.

Christmastime but it’s Mary I see. Everywhere. To the faithful
the forever virgin manifests in Continue reading

Moving about during the holidaze

Off to Grandma’s house in a freezing drownpour! Need to stop off and buy some flowers. Went to a lovely party last night. Our friend Fitch always hosts the liveliest assortment of islanders. The Black Morris Dancers showed up and spiced things up with their shenanigans. Bob Doucet invited me to join. I am not too inclined to prance around in blackface and feathers, had to decline his kind offer. I do want to participate in one of his kitchen junkets-don’t get to sing enough-so I will make an attempt to go next time.

Sean Cranberry of Books On The Radio kindly invited me to participate in his Advent Book Blog on Books On The Radio for December. Here’s what I sent: I heard Keath Fraser read from The Voice Gallery this summer at the Write On Bowen (Island) Festival, a book about his journey with laryngeal dystonia, a misfiring of the vocal cords caused by faulty transmitters in the brain. His story resonated with me on several levels, as a language artist, singer, traveler and mother of an autistic child. So, I bought a copy; a fascinating read indeed. Check it out. The Voice Gallery-Travels with a Glass Throat Thomas Allen Publishers-ISBN: 0-88762-101-5

Yesterday we tried to shoot some video after rising to a rainless morning and some promising light. We need to re-shoot some of the shots from the AURAL Heather How To Remain video. I corralled the dogs, dug out some ladders and props, applied makeup. We had to conduct a search to find the charger for the camera. I have designated a cupboard in the family room for such gear but it still seems to wind up spread throughout the house or in Josef’s office. Fortunately I found it though I wasn’t sure what the thing looked like, charged the camera while I ironed a black sheet to use as a backdrop. By then time was running out. We had about fours shots to get, we started with the most important one of me lying on the ground. “She could retire to her body.” Josef’s back is screwed and he had a difficult, painful time trying to hold the camera steady enough for the directly-above shot. “The things we do for art!” he moaned. Turns out the main problem was composition. I could not get my hair to look the way I wanted and turns out it was night impossible to lie on the cold ground, be the subject as well as director, grip, stylist, makeup artist. Of course we ran out of light by 4 pm and though the lighting looked better than I thought it would, the damn hair was all wrong. I’m just going to have to get help next time or try to rescue the shot we already did. Urf. DIY ain’t easy!

A life roiling with verse, visible and otherwise

Let there be confusion and terror, bleached bones in the closet, crows soaring into the chimney. Here I sit, sweating in the dead of winter, mind and guts roiling. My new collection, Three Blocks West of Wonderland, is out, I’m feeling fabulous and working hard at workin’ it. That’s actually the cover of Gabrielle Everall’s remarkable verse novel Dona Juanita and the love of boys but there is so much life within this one life! My life. Such as it is. Still, precious.

This frenzied phase began about a month ago, in Gibsons of all places. Brian Palmu kindly invited me to read my poetry along with my dear friend Peter Trower. I had reassured Pete that I would go up there to help clear out the 40-year long residence he was vacating. Small house, big job. So, I thought I would kill the proverbial two birds with one stone, keep my promise and do the reading.

Pete grovelled, grateful for my well-honed organizational skills. I walked in, opened cupboards and drawers, asking, “What’s this? You keeping it? Giving it away?” Then I made piles, one for the Salvation Army, one for Stuff To Keep and one for The Dump. This town still has a town dump! Bear Watching we called it in Salmo, cheap entertainment, featuring the best in local talent. Voila! The packing took a while, we had to retrieve boxes and tape, but the work was accomplished with a minimum of fuss.

The next day, Brian and his girlfriend Verna graciously hosted Pete and I Continue reading

3 Blocks press release. Life has been nuts! I mean more than usual…

…which is my excuse for the dearth of blog entries. My neck was screwed up and caused an incredible amount of pain.

I’ll shall return with a proper journal type entry, I promise


FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

HALEY’S POETRY STIRS AND SHAKES, KNOCKS AND SHOCKS
Heather Susan Haley, Three Blocks West of Wonderland, Ekstasis Editions

Vancouver, BC, Dec. 14, 2009 —Trailblazing poet, author, musician and media artist Heather Susan Haley’s new book, Three Blocks West of Wonderland, has hit the streets just in time for the holidays.

“Fierce, racy, full of stiletto irony, verve — yet rife with sensitivity. Three Blocks West of Wonderland is a highly fuelled poetic ride. Her LA, southern B.C. coast, energy-haunted world draws you electrically in and does not let you go. Like the subject of one of the elegies in this collection, Haley stirs, provokes the atmosphere.” – Author Russell Thornton,The Human Shore, House Built of Rain, Harbour Publishing.

Haley has been actively involved in her art for over a decade and has gained renown as an engaging performer and media artist; she is the author of a previous collection, Sideways (Anvil Press), Haley’s poetry has been selected for inclusion in numerous prestigious journals and anthologies including Geist and last year’s Verse Map of Vancouver.

Haley has been an editor for LA Weekly and publisher of Rattler and the Edgewise Café, one of Canada’s first electronic literary magazines. Founder of Continue reading