Here\u2019s a sample poem:<\/p>\n My Son\u2019s Theology<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n Shahob asks if I believe in God.<\/em> And God created nothing, Shahob says,<\/em> Cool drink in hand\u2014when I ask,<\/em> they\u2019re right next to his bed\u2014<\/em> \u201cdon\u2019t be afraid to say hello,<\/em> The official launch for the book will be sometime in June, and I am excited to be sharing the spotlight at that event with two other Ghostbird authors, Kimiko Hahn and Roger Sedarat. In addition to\u00a0For My Son, A Kind of Prayer<\/em>, Ghostbird has just released Hahn\u2019s Resplendent Slug<\/em> and Sedarat\u2019s Eco-Logic of the Word Lamb.<\/em> I hope you\u2019ll check those books out as well.<\/p>\n Meanwhile, I\u2019ll be doing some readings to promote For My Son, A Kind of Prayer<\/em>. Click on the links for full details, but here are the dates:<\/p>\n If you\u2019re able to come, please make sure to say hello.<\/p>\n Sati, 1987<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n for Roop Kanwar, in memory<\/em><\/p>\n On September 4, 1987\u2026 a young girl of 18 in the village of Deorala in Rajasthan was murdered. She was burnt alive on the funeral pyre of her husband. Yet, according to local tradition, Roop Kanwar had become a \u2018sati\u2019 and had \u2018voluntarily\u2019 immolated herself \u2026 . Two decades later, the problem has not disappeared. 1.<\/em><\/p>\n They said a hundred hand-sewn butterflies<\/em> once, when you fell off<\/em> back, onto the fire: Sati<\/em> from its burning stem.<\/em><\/p>\n 2.<\/em><\/p>\n What do I know,<\/em> Weeping for whom?<\/em><\/p>\n 3.<\/em><\/p>\n They said you cradled<\/em> a Kali<\/em> his.<\/em><\/p>\n I hope you will consider buying a copy of\u00a0Veils, Halos and Shackles<\/a>, if not for yourself then for someone who should have it. Poetry has an important role to play in the fight to end gender-based violence. It may play that role more intimately and more slowly than other, more obviously visible forms of activism, but the possibilities of healing and transformation that poetry\u00a0holds out are no less real. In the coming months, I will be participating in several launch readings for this book. Again, click on the links for full details:<\/p>\n If you\u2019re able to come, please make sure to say hello.<\/p>\n This is not, strictly speaking, a publication announcement, at least not yet, but I am very happy to tell you\u00a0that my translation of what is commonly known as Farid al-Din Attar\u2019s \u201cTale of Marhuma,\u201d the first story in his Elahi Nameh,<\/em> or Book of God,<\/em> has been accepted for publication by Modern Language Studies<\/a> (MLS), a publication of the Northeast Modern Language Association<\/a>.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve blogged a bit about my reading of, among other things, some of the sexual politics in The Conference of the Birds<\/a>,<\/em> the work for which Attar is best known in the west (See\u00a0here<\/a>, here<\/a>, here<\/a>, here<\/a>, here<\/a>, and here<\/a>). The introductory essay that will appear with my translation in MLS continues some of that thinking. Unfortunately, I had to put my Attar project aside some time ago. Perhaps this publication will spark some new interest, both in me and in a potential publisher. Attar\u2019s Book of God,<\/em> I have become convinced, deserves as much attention in the west as Conference of the Birds<\/em> has gotten. This poem, still in early-draft form, is one of the stories from Book of God<\/em> that I find absolutely fascinating:<\/p>\n When Abolqasem Hamadani<\/em> The shaikh observed this from a distance,<\/em> April 2016 has definitly not been cruel to me. I have three publication announcements I’d like to share with you. Announcement One:\u00a0For My Son,\u00a0A Kind of Prayer I am very happy to announce that my new chapbook For My Son, … Continue reading ![\"Picture1\"](\"http:\/\/richardjnewman.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/04\/Picture1.png\")
<\/a>I am very happy to announce that my new chapbook For My Son, A Kind of Prayer<\/em> is now out from Ghostbird Press<\/a>. (They\u2019re updating their website, so my book does not yet have its own page; but if you scroll down a bit from the top, it\u2019s there.) The book is quite reasonably priced at $10. If you\u2019re local\u2013meaning in Queens or at Nassau Community College\u2013you can get a copy from me. Otherwise, I hope you will support Ghostbird and buy from them<\/a>. Peter Vanderberg, the publisher, and his brother Paul Vanderberg<\/a>, who is an artist, combine their talents to weave words and visual art together into beautifully made chapbooks. In For My Son, A Kind of Prayer,<\/em> Paul\u2019s art\u2013the cover image is his\u2013helps shape the rhythm of the book, adding to the work\u2019s resonance in a way that even the most careful ordering of the poems could not have achieved.<\/p>\n
\nI tell him no; he doesn\u2019t ask me why.<\/em>
\nInstead, he tells me God is a dust-speck<\/em>
\nfloating on the wind, watching<\/em>
\nand waving, though we can\u2019t see Him.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nexcept Himself, but He\u2019s not lonely,<\/em>
\nand He\u2019s not sad, so we laugh, picturing God<\/em>
\nlounging poolside at some Hollywood<\/em>
\nsuperstar\u2019s house. We don\u2019t discuss God\u2019s gender.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nit\u2019s orange juice of course\u2014God\u2019s wearing<\/em>
\nprecisely the gun-metal-blue sunglasses<\/em>
\nShahob convinced us just last week<\/em>
\nto buy him for the beach. He puts them on now\u2014<\/em><\/p>\n
\nleans back against the wall and waves.<\/em>
\n\u201cAnd if you do notice God is there,\u201d<\/em>
\nhe says, sitting up straight,<\/em>
\nraising his eyebrows and smiling,<\/em><\/p>\n
\nor give Him a high-five.\u201d Then my son<\/em>
\nlifts God\u2019s beverage in the generous welcome<\/em>
\nhe imagines divinity is and grins,<\/em>
\n\u201cJust make sure He raises His hand first.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n
Announcement Two:\u00a0Veils, Halos & Shackles<\/em><\/span><\/h2>\n
<\/a>I am also very excited to tell you that Veils, Halos and Shackles: International Poetry on the Oppression and Empowerment of Women<\/em><\/a>, which includes my poem \u201cFor My Son, A Kind of Prayer,\u201d is out from Kasva Press. This first-of-its-kind anthology assembles 249 poems from poets in more than two dozen countries who have chosen to raise their voices against violence against women and in support of the women who are victims and survivors of that violence. Compelled by the December 2012 rape and murder of Jyoti Singh Pandey in Delhi, and by the public activisim for women\u2019s safety that followed, editors Charles A. Fishman and Smita Sahay spent three years combing through more than a thousand poems to compile this volume. They received poems in English, of course, but also in languages as far flung as Sindhi and Irish, a breadth and depth of response that, in their own words<\/a>, \u201csuprised and encouraged [us]\u201d but also hurt when they realized \u201chow deeply needed this book was.\u201d My own poem is too long to offer you as a sample, so I will offer instead this poem by Susan Kelly De-Witt:<\/p>\n
\n\u2014 the Hindu, September 23, 2007<\/em><\/p>\n
\nignited the gauze filaments<\/em>
\nof your veil, that<\/em><\/p>\n
\nthe pyre with plainly scorched<\/em>
\nfeet, they hurried to lift you<\/em><\/p>\n
\nMata ki jai! Glory<\/em>
\nto the Sati Mother!<\/em>
\nThey said you were struck by<\/em>
\nthe beauty of the gesture: Your body a lotus<\/em>
\nof flame, your soul rising like incense<\/em><\/p>\n
\nsitting here, continents away,<\/em>
\nweeping?<\/em><\/p>\n
\nyour dead husband\u2019s head<\/em>
\nin your lap as you burned,<\/em><\/p>\n
\nwith one skull \u2014<\/em><\/p>\n\n
Announcement Three:\u00a0Farid al-Din Attar’s “Tale of Marhuma”<\/span><\/h2>\n
Do The Latter<\/h3>\n
\n left Hamadan on a sudden journey,<\/em>
\n he came upon a crowd of people<\/em>
\n gathered outside an idol\u2019s temple.<\/em>
\n On a fire, an oil-filled cauldron<\/em>
\n bubbled like a windswept ocean.<\/em>
\n Some minutes passed and then a Christian<\/em>
\n entered and bowed before the idol.<\/em>
\n When he stood, they asked him this: \u201cHumble<\/em>
\n servant, what are you to God?\u201d<\/em>
\n \u201cA slave,\u201d he answered. They responded,<\/em>
\n \u201cThen quickly make your offering.\u201d<\/em>
\n He did and left, like smoke rising.<\/em>
\n Another person did the same,<\/em>
\n then another, and ten more came,<\/em>
\n and each was similarly dismissed.<\/em>
\n At last, a man who could\u2019ve passed<\/em>
\n for dead, shriveled and weak, pale,<\/em>
\n emaciated, lean, feeble\u2014<\/em>
\n he was a walking shadow. They asked,<\/em>
\n \u201cAnd what are you? A man, a corpse,<\/em>
\n or both?\u201d He said, \u201cI am a piece<\/em>
\n of skin. I love my God.\u201d At this<\/em>
\n they told him, \u201cSit down.\u201d He did, at ease<\/em>
\n on the golden throne they showed him. Then,<\/em>
\n they carried over the boiling cauldron<\/em>
\n and poured the oil onto his head.<\/em>
\n The man\u2019s skin melted from the heat;<\/em>
\n his skull landed at his feet.<\/em>
\n When it had been removed, they set<\/em>
\n the rest of him ablaze. \u201cThese ashes,\u201d<\/em>
\n they said, \u201ccure every pain there is.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
\n and when they finished ran at once<\/em>
\n to ponder what he\u2019d seen. \u201cYou fool,\u201d<\/em>
\n he said to himself, \u201cthat Christian, full<\/em>
\n with false love, gave his life to it.<\/em>
\n If you\u2019re truly an initiate,<\/em>
\n for love of your God do the same.<\/em>
\n Otherwise, go make your home<\/em>
\n with catamites. If you are sure<\/em>
\n of your love for God, then choose: abjure<\/em>
\n your life or forsake your faith. The former<\/em>
\n you have not done; so do the latter.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"