Wednesday, 10:00 a.m.
Introducing Candace Black, Marianne Zarzana told us this writer has "the remarkable, rare gift to say always and only what is true." Black's collection of poems, The Volunteers, was published in 2003. She teaches at Minnesota State University in Mankato.
Black threw us a baseball poem. "The men in my family were always controlling the game with hidden signals," she said.
"Walked to an imagined mound, stalling for time...."
"Yes, I did grow up with the Marine Corps. As we watched Walt Disney on Sunday night, my father would be polishing his shoes for the coming week...."
"I'm really slow about writing in response to current events...."
To her surprise as a writer: "Oh, my gosh, I've been carrying these folks with me...."
"Your bad dream of the monster-wave has already come true...."
"Ever since, you've insured yourself with the habitual...."
"My lovely brown book...."
"Volunteer - in the botanical sense, something sprouting the next year...."
"We've already been judged worthy. The gift is in being chosen...."
"Now is when the trees give up. Silver maples turn in to themselves...."
"It's a hard time when air becomes something to be wrestled...."
"We'll become the lives we touch...."
"Hold you beyond the point that touch is what matters...."
Getting something first as the youngest daughter "felt like a sin," she said.
"I knew this choice mattered...."
"I need the hands of those dead women around me at night...."
"That's the trick - if you have a recurring dream, write about it to exorcize it," she said.
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