Book Signing at Star Line Books

Ray Zimmerman is pleased announce a book signing for his new poetry and photography chap book Healing and Conflict:

Saturday, November 24

1 PM to 3 PM

Star Line Books

1467 Market Street, Suite 106

www.starlinebooks.com 

(423) 777-5629

This will be a second chance for those who missed the book launch earlier this month.

More than half of the poems are previously published in journals, including:

The Avocet (Fountain Hills, AZ)

Number One (Gallatin, TN)

Quill and Parchment (Online)

Weatherings Anthology (FutureCycle Press, Lexington, KY)

Terrence Chouinard of The Wing and the Wheel Press contributed the perfect typography and design skills to this collection. The local Chattanooga printing company Wonder Press did an excellent job with production. The author will assume primary distribution at readings, signings and open mic events. The book is locally written and locally printed.

Fellow poets had this to say about the advance copy:

Ray Zimmerman’s collection of poems Healing and Conflict invites the reader outside: “go and watch/rain falling on parched earth. /see it come back to life.” His words, like that rain, are transformative to those who look and listen. Trees burn with ice, water cascades, booming, against mountain hardwoods. Most memorable are the birds. Warblers, hawks, barred owls, chickadees, and cranes provide this book’s unifying motif, and a delightful surprise, when the reader joins a flock of blackbirds in flight.

Marsha Mathews,

Author of Beauty Bound        

“I have come to understand / that my poems are not poems…but the poetics of the earth” (“Intro Part I”). Ray Zimmerman explores nature through language and language through nature. With images and similes like “The winter snow arrived like a sonnet. / It reached the house in three waves, / capped by a couplet of ice” (“Winter Snow”), the reader becomes immersed in Zimmerman’s vivid landscape, both verbal and actual. Though he claims, “My poems are shadows on the wall” (“Intro Part II”), Zimmerman’s words intrigue the reader as she delves into the subtext of these poems, and they continue to haunt her long after the book is closed.

KB Ballentine

Almost Everything, Almost Nothing

In “Introduction, Part II, Zimmerman says “If you enjoy my poem about falling rain or about cranes in flight…go and watch rain falling on parched earth…listen to cranes trumpeting as they take to the air.” In Healing, these poems not only have a prayerful devotion to the natural world but use specific names, images and Zimmerman’s hard-won humor from handling hawks, eagles and owls. In Conflict, he reminds us of the massive plastic islands humans have left floating in the oceans, of trends of certain species’ depletions. Yet, this chapbook is a celebration of birds, amphibians, reptiles and mammals, of seasons and landscapes of planet earth, narrated with sensory details and a deeply personal voice.

--Bill Brown, The News Inside

Sunrise

Sunrise

November 11, 2016

The morning sun gave light in brilliant bands of red, offset by cloud cover gray, the sort of brilliant sunrise once attributed to air pollution. The air still smelled of yesterday’s smoke, a thick haze of particles. I could smell the smoke in my apartment, in my workplace, and anywhere I went outside. I was frightened.

I had heard about how the fire at Gatlinburg had invaded the city and burned a thousand buildings, but that did not frighten me. Neither did the tales of all the timber burned at Cohutta wilderness in North Georgia.

Health alerts from local agencies warned those with heart disease, asthma, and other conditions aggravated by poor air quality to stay indoors, run air conditioning not at all. I have heart disease, asthma, and other conditions aggravated by poor air quality. I was afraid I would breathe smoke until I gurgled my last breath through congested bronchial tubes, unlike the pleasant sensation as my exhalations once gurgled from the hose of a regulator as I observed shocking neon green and blue fish at coral reefs near the Florida Keys.

This dry October caped the hottest summer on record, with the driest October in 140 years, according to official figures.  A man from California said that this is no drought, not like it is out west, with his state and several others dividing the water from the Colorado River. That river becomes a dry stream bed by the time it reaches the Sea of Cortez.

This year, our relative abundance of water is paltry. The parched leaves and twigs of forests became a tinder box prepared for any spark. The land may lose its hair at any turn.

Mountains blaze in Georgia and East Tennessee. Gatlinburg suffered the worst but is not alone. Campfires are strictly prohibited. Lightning struck at Cohutta Wilderness. The area remains closed until further notice. Fires rage on Fox Mountain and Signal Mountain, on Lookout Mountain, and at Cleveland, Tennessee. More fires blaze in North Carolina.

Meanwhile, there is good news from out West. Conservation groups bought some water rights and left a little water in the Colorado. Water reached the Sea of Cortez and recharged marshes and estuaries.

Here in Tennessee, we hope for rain that the green earth may be restored.

Further reading:

We think of fire as a hazard to the natural world and to ourselves, but some natural areas depend on fire for their continued existence. In her book Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer address our relationship to nature. The chapter “Burning the Headland,” specifically addresses beneficial aspects.

Question:

How do you feel when confronted with aspects of nature that are beyond our control?

Eyeshine

February: Eyeshine

A warm winter night sent me down the road with car windows open. My body told my mind that anything could happen. The mountain road was lonely enough to break your heart … or fill it to overflowing.

The green shine of an eye rose on the road, perhaps the eye of a deer. As I hit the brakes a much smaller creature appeared. A fox ran off the road and into the bushes below.

I exited the car and walked to the side of the road, but the fox was gone. I turned to walk back and glimpsed fur on the roadside. Three young foxes lay on the berm. I could have tapped them with a toe but did not.

Instinct told them, “don’t move if you want to live.” They lay as flat to the ground as possible. Their eyes were paradoxically rolled up to the top of their heads, fixed on me, the large predatory threat above. In this pose they looked as though a cartoon artist had drawn them there, among the sparse roadside vegetation in the light of a half moon.

Their fur looked coarse with the guard hairs which protect wild creatures from briars and catch snow, natures insulation for the body beneath. Under the guard hairs, the short fur next to the body would be soft as a duckling’s down, warm to the touch.

I did not try to touch the three. Foxes can give a painful bite and are known to carry disease, including rabies, but there was more to it than that. Seeing them here in the light of a half moon was a rare gift of nature, whom I have called my muse. I would intrude into their world no further.

Caught up in the magic of that moment, I nearly jumped when a fast-moving shape cut through the brush below; crashing through the woods as if it were a bear or a human. When I looked back down, the three were gone, following an adult fox to safety.

I have since pondered that distraction. Foxes can move silently. Why did the adult fox crash so noisily through the underbrush? It had to be an intentional distraction. It got me to look away as the three escaped. I was sure that these three would safely reach adulthood, though they certainly are gone by now, more than twenty years later.

For further reading:

Sally Carrigher gave close views of wild creatures in her books, including One day at Beetle Rock, The Twilight Seas, One day at Teton Marsh, and several others.

For the Reader:

Describe your own close encounter with a wild creature.

Eye of the Beholder

I rode in on the dirty dog, as they call the Greyhound bus, Ohio farm dirt still in my hair. At least I had the sense to clean the cow shit off my boots.

Then I briefly lost my luggage, or so I thought, standing there in the Port Authority of New York. They could call me any name in the book, or even a few that weren’t, but I was stubborn and would not get on that local to London, Connecticut, until I saw my duffle bag stuffed into the compartment underneath the bus.

Despite reassurances that my luggage would catch up with me, I remained steadfast until a man appeared driving the world’s smallest tractor. He pulled behind him a string of small carts with my duffle bag standing up in the first one. He just shook his head as he loaded it into the luggage compartment.

“Sit up front, son,” the driver said. “There aren’t that many passengers on Sunday Morning, not even at port authority. Keep your eyes peeled and I will show you one of the sights not on the official tour.” With those words, he backed the bus out and exited the bowels of that building through a grimy archway.

Born onto that city street, I shielded my eyes from the light and looked to my left.  There they were, lined up as they must often beat the precinct. Number three, take one step forward and turn left.

The driver turned his speaker system to public address and said, “Good morning, ladies.” One of them smiled and waved, as the others glared. “They think I’m bad for business,” he said.

They were prettier than I would have expected, dressed in hot pants and leg warmers with the temperature not twenty degrees out. Now that’s dedication.

Commentary

The story is a performance piece, based on, but exaggerating actual events My writings identify me as a person most at home in the woods, but I have come to appreciate urban environments and realize that even the cityscapes are part of nature, what is sometimes called the “built environment.” Trees grow out of walls, nighthawks circle parking lots hunting insects, and migrating cranes sometimes circle downtown Chattanooga on their way to Hiwassee Wildlife Refuge. The book, Coming of Age at the End of Nature, with introduction by Bill McKibben and including essays by members of the millennial generation, addresses coming to peace with nature impacted by human activity.

For the Reader:

How do you respond to urban environments?

Where is wilderness in your world?

Do you see nature as ending or enduring? 

Bull Gator's Lament, with Introduction

Introduction

            I am writing a series of blog posts which may become a short book of daily meditations on the natural world. Some of these entries began as short articles published in newsletters and periodicals. Some began as performance pieces read or recited to live audiences. In some cases, I learned the hard way how long is too long for a performance piece. I also learned that the tolerance for lengthy pieces varies from one audience to another in sometimes unpredictable ways.

Some of the pieces were written as short essays and combined for submission to journals as braided essays. Longer pieces are fine as essays, but do not work well as orations, so I have unwound a few essays into component parts to create the short meditations presented here and for use in performance art.

In most cases I have included citations to places where the reader can find more information. Use of these references is, of course, up to you, but I want your experience of the pieces to be as much about you, the reader, as it is about me, the author. I have also posed questions which you may view as a starting point for your own meditation, an opportunity for rebuttal, or questions to be ignored. A few people may view them as writing prompts. Posting them on my blogs creates opportunities for reply.

Bull ’Gator’s Lament

What’s that man lookin’ at, down here in this cypress swamp, so thick with branches that the sun barely gets through? He’s lookin’ at me, Old Bull ’Gator, and I’m lookin’ at him.  Why don’t you come on over for dinner?

Speaking of dinner, you should have been here when I grabbed that turtle from his sunny spot over there by the water hyacinths. When I broke through to meat, those tourists thought a rifle shot had gone off. Fish, man, bird, or turtle, I get my dinner.

Sometimes, man eats us though. He’ll come down to this swamp and put a bullet in a ’gator’s brain. Those poachers don’t waste any time. They skin the ’gator out right here and cut up the tail meat for Cajun delight. The hide gets made into boots.

The poachers never got me though. Bigger ’gators missed their chance too. I had to be careful when I was young, because we've been known to eat our own. But now, I’m king of this here swamp.

Springtime is my favorite time of year, with Spanish Moss fluttering in the breeze, like curtains in an old mansion house. That’s when I get to bellowing. My bellows echo off the cypress trunks and all through the swamp. Those lady ’gator’s bellow right back. When one of them judges Old Bull fit, we spin like two demons in a whirlpool.

Pretty soon, she will be building a nest out of mud and sticks. When the eggs hatch that fierce old momma ’gator hears those young’uns grunting She gently pulls the nest apart and tenderly frees the baby ’gators. That’s when she won’t want Old Bull around, because we’ve been known to eat our own.

Maybe I’ll just wonder off and watch those fishing boats go by. Perhaps one of them will flip over. Man, fish bird or turtle, I get my dinner.

Look over yonder at those little ’gators sunning themselves on their momma’s snout. I believe one of them is a baby bull. He will have to grow some before he can be king of my swamp. 

Commentary:

Bull ’Gator’s Lament is a performance piece, generally well received by the audience. It was once much longer and is now shortened to a length that works better. I will continue to refine it as I present it at more venues. It is of course, pure fantasy. For a factual look an alligator’s habitat, read Everglades, River of Grass by Marjory Stoneman Douglass

For the Reader:

Though nature is sometimes portrayed in the cuddly realm of soft bunny rabbits and downy goslings, predation is a day to day reality. Some animals are downright frightening.  

How to you perceive the natural world?

Is it a resource for the creation of wealth through extraction of such materials as timber and coal?

Is it a wilderness to be protected, or perhaps tamed?

Is it a place of solace and healing?

Is it a frightening place? 

Chattanooga Writers Chat

Thursday, March 30

6 to 7 PM

Star Line Books

1467 Market Street # 106

Chattanooga, Tennessee

Chattanooga Writers Chat is an encouragement group in which area writers can gather to discuss resources available to writers to develop their craft and promote their work. For the month of March, we will discuss the book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life by Anne Lamott. Participants are advised to obtain and read a copy before attending. Ray Zimmerman will lead the discussion. Ray has produced, promoted, and hosted numerous events in the Chattanooga region.

What people are saying about Bird by Bird

“A warm, generous, and hilarious guide through the writer’s world and its treacherous swamps.”

- Los Angeles Times

“Superb writing advice...hilarious, helpful and provocative.” - New York Times Book Review

“A gift to all of us mortals who write or ever wanted to write...sidesplittingly funny, patiently wise and alternatively cranky and kind - a reveille to get off our duffs and start writing now, while we still can.

- Seattle Times

An Excerpt from the Book:

“Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils, and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the bigness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother’s shoulder, and said, ‘bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.’”

We Are Water

Dry weather this year

Color fades on dying trees

We are water

I am excited to announce that my new book, We are Water, is in the final stages of production. I review the final draft at the printer tomorrow, and hope the print run will be complete next week.

This book is a very small product, featuring haiku and color photographs. The photograph and matching haiku appear on facing pages, and the poems are inspired by the nature photographs. In technical terms, they are ekphrastic.

Initial production will be a short run, due to the cost of color printing, and the book will be available from the author and through a local book store. Five of my poem/photograph combinations are also available as post cards at Star Line Books in Chattanooga. I am looking into an ebook version of We are Water, but the unique size and shape may make electronic publishing difficult.

I began looking at my photographs (originally shot on 35 mm slide film and digitized more recently) and writing matching haiku after reading The Art of Haiku by Stephen Addiss. I also had the opportunity to participate in a church art show with my poetry last summer. I produced a poster of a longer poem and a poster of one of my photographs as companion pieces. I have since produced four poetry posters (also known as broadsides), with signed and numbered copies available at Star Line Books and from the author.

I am also pleased to announce that the writers book club I organized had its first meeting on February 2^nd and will meet again at Star Line Books, on Thursday, March 30^th at 6:00 PM, We will discuss Anne Lamott’s book, Bird by Bird, an excellent resource for writers wishing to develop their craft.

​www.rayzimmermanauthor.com