Bare Hands is the quite stunning e-journal of poetry and photography that was kind enough to publish “Telemachy” in their first issue as well as on Soundcloud. Having already published nine widely read issues in less than a year, which requires an uncommon amount of effort and dedication, the editors are well deserving of a birthday present this October.
Instead, they’re giving a present to everyone else: the Bare Hands Print Anthology. The full details are here, but their submission guidelines are simple:
Our deadline is September 1st 2012—that gives you loads of time. We will be publishing 15 photographs and 25 poems altogether. It’ll be amazing! All contributors will receive two copies of the print journal.
To submit simply send maximum three poems or photographs (you are welcome to send both) to firstname.lastname@example.org with ‘Anthology Submission’ in the subject field. Please send the poems within the body of the email and attach the photographs as jpegs. We can’t wait to see your work!
I’ve seen journals in rapid ascent before. Bare Hands is a train you want to board as soon as possible because it’s going to start moving bloody fast. For readers and viewers, this is your opportunity to become official patrons of Bare Hands, as they’re seeking pre-purchases to help finance the project (via FundIt.ie). The minimum donation magically results in a copy of the anthology being mailed to you. Karmic compensation for extra generosity ranges from a Bare Hands mini-book to signed copies of the editors’ own poetry collections (Out of the Blueness by Kerrie O’ Brien and Follies by Sarah Griffin).
For someone with limited publication experience, there’s little better than an editor asking you to submit a particular poem. It’s not exactly an ego boost (“submit that poem now thanks” doesn’t mean “you’re amazing” so much as it means “that poem won’t make my journal look bad”). But as a near miss it also prevents the extreme discomfort brought on by direct praise.
I read “Telemachy” at the floorshow, held by the Irish Writers’ Centre in Dublin, back in January 2011. Someone sat through it thinking, “Well, this isn’t entirely shit.” I’m probably being overgenerous—’not shit’ is high praise coming from an Irish mind—but the poem appeared in the inaugural issue of Bare Hands Poetry last October and is now available in audio on the Bare Hands Soundcloud collection.
I have an ambivalent relationship with readings. My preparation usually includes (1) looking up pronunciations for those words I foolishly used without having heard them muttered by another human, which should serve as an indication that my diction needs work but which I usually ignore; and (2) frantically getting drunk before it’s my turn to read. I also have an ambivalent relationship with recordings, which I use exclusively as a revision aid to defamiliarize a poem so I can better hear its rhythms, stresses, and other sound patterns you could classify blobularly as ‘assliteration.’ Yes, this involves sitting by myself listening to a recording of myself reading my own poems. Yes, that’s extremely masturbatory, which is precisely why I do it alone and delete the sound files afterward as if they were a sordid internet history.
(Poetry as a quasi-sexual experience? More on this here.)