115th Annual Conference - Honolulu, Hawaii
Friday, November 10 - Sunday, November 12, 2017

Selections from A Day of Glass and Other Recent Poems

Steven Salmoni, Pima Community College

Steven Salmoni is the author of A Day of Glass (Chax Press 2018), Landscapes, With Green Mangoes (Chax 2011), poems in Nerve Lantern, Fact-Simile, The Ilanot Review, Spinning Jenny, and Sonora Review, and articles and presentations on such authors as Henry James, Charles Bernstein, and Walter Benjamin. He received a Ph.D. from Stony Brook University and is currently Department Chair of English at Pima Community College, Northwest Campus in Tucson, AZ. 

Proposal: 

Steven Salmoni’s recent publications include the full-length collection A Day of Glass (Chax Press, forthcoming 2018), the chapbook “Landscapes, With Green Mangoes” (Chax Press, 2011), poems in Nerve Lantern, Fact-Simile, The Ilanot Review, Spinning Jenny, Versal and Sonora Review, and articles in The Salt Companion to Charles Bernstein, Studies in Travel Writing and The Journal of Narrative Theory. A selection of his work was included in “The Literary Field Guide to the Sonora Desert” (U of Arizona Press, 2016). He also serves on the Board of Directors for POG, a Tucson-based literary and arts organization that promotes an annual reading series.

Here's a brief selection from "A Day of Glass" that I think may be especially pertinent to the conference's theme:

from A Day of Glass

The water line secured, in the ground, some ground to secure
the water-line.

The grain was in the figure, the flight along a single plane, and
innumerable painters, burning shells,

drawing lost transparencies, having escaped this notice.

~

You brush two lines of higher order than what represents your line.

Then, something to be counted, like: “Looking up into the immense words, ‘one,’ ‘two,’ ‘three,’

assuming that whatever holds for one, holds everywhere.

~

It should be correct to speak of the tendency of movement, rather than of movement as such,

to make perception a matter of method – for instance, when walking, to be able to draw in line freely, quickly, in this way.

Breadth is painting with a belief that you must give it away.

One speaks of “the futility and permanence of color.”

. . . as it is the non-ideal point of each. Position on the line, is there before one.

I learned to draw a line, each line to a point, and only one’s line along the points can be ideal.

~

Or, to imitate the look of purpose. I echo some medium in which you marvel at your hearts as hearts, much as an anti-matter should be opposed.

The eye in consequence, all image, and quick to counter in this regard. Some have been created, the medium was

dissimulation, or the purpose of the picture, however subject

 ~

 The legacy of blue and green, respectively, is one of the things that can be finished in glass. That the sun did not set as an ideal sun is one of the things that can be finished in glass.

Half we distinguish from the analytic, whereas half the story is just extension. For unbranched read:

     as in the encouragement of branches,
     on soft-sand under the font of boundary-line,

in return for half in glass, half the things we know from half
the story.

~

It was that lie in the flat element, initialing the line between corridor, then transom, the lines, in each, less their regard. 

Above, I will assume that it contains and will be enough, but
only in relation, and line by line, in any case, will have tended.

I am looking for a will, for what the will telescopes: curvature, however small,

the appositive mass one had, once taken as the shape’s magnitude, in ratio when still enclosed.

In reality, a limit we divine, but there’s nothing to resign
the fiction of the viewer from the shadow, to encode what continues in clear view nonetheless.

“I am second-hand and thus transformed,” but then we are
only picture and point to one another.

Should east be decided by the request to go further?

“It’s not the don’t,” they said, “but another.” Each place
is the slight high doubtful hill.

The plain itself takes up the subject; now, picture the second
time around.

The name also wears the ground. The exception of the road is luminous.