Batykefer, Erinn. Allegheny, Monongahela. Los Angeles, CA: Red Hen Press, 2009.

Erinn Batykefer’s Allegheny, Monongahela may be her first collection of poetry, but it displays a mastery of form and content that underscores the awards and publications listed in the book’s acknowledgements. “Dog Poem” begins the collection with an image of what it means to be a poet: “I’ve been known to drag old bones with me for miles./If I bury them, the only question is how long/ till I’m clawing the ground to feel them under my teeth again.” From there Batykefer launches into explorations of death, love, and identity. While the collection features some more open poetry, Batykefer’s talents shine brightest when working in the formal modes. The sonnets “Red Hills with White Cloud,” “Pittsburgh as Self-Portrait I & II,” and “Haute Couture” demonstrate that the poet is comfortable working within the strictures of the form but also feeling the freedom to stretch the edges of the form to meet the poetic needs of the material. “Allegheny Love Letter” teems with earthy anthropomorphic imagery that sketches not only the many moods of the mighty river but also provides a chilling profile of the kind of love that cannot help but destroy the beloved. The most successful of the free verse works dwells on an extended anatomical metaphor to describe the speaker’s experience with opera—“The palate lifts like a curtain; the skull a dome for resonance.” This is not the only poem to dwell on what is going on under the skin of the body. “X-Ray” describes the portrait produced by the medical device, while “Horizontal Horse’s or Mule’s Skull with Feather” evisions a future “When my face is scoured clean, sun-whitened, / when my vulgar skin has been stripped / from my body.” “Egyptology” outlines the mummification process “because grief requires compartmentalization.” Lest you think that Batyfefer’s collection is nothing but dark tropes, “Heirloom Recipe” provides a touching—not sentimental—tribute to the power of a peach cake to remind us of our history. While Allegheny, Monongahela does have its weak spots, the delights far outweigh them.

Today’s Daily Office includes reading Psalm 72. It’s only 19 verses, but the repetition of a certain theme in 5 of those verses is unmistakeable:

1 Give the King your justice, O God, *
and your righteousness to the King’s son;
2 That he may rule your people righteously *
and the poor with justice.
3 That the mountains may bring prosperity to the people, *
and the little hills bring righteousness.
4 He shall defend the needy among the people; *
he shall rescue the poor and crush the oppressor.
5 He shall live as long as the sun and moon endure, *
from one generation to another.
6 He shall come down like rain upon the mown field, *
like showers that water the earth.
7 In his time shall the righteous flourish; *
there shall be abundance of peace till the moon shall be no more.
8 He shall rule from sea to sea, *
and from the River to the ends of the earth.
9 His foes shall bow down before him, *
and his enemies lick the dust.
10 The kings of Tarshish and of the isles shall pay tribute, *
and the kings of Arabia and Saba offer gifts.
11 All kings shall bow down before him, *
and all the nations do him service.
12 For he shall deliver the poor who cries out in distress, *
and the oppressed who has no helper.
13 He shall have pity on the lowly and poor; *
he shall preserve the lives of the needy.
14 He shall redeem their lives from oppression and violence, *
and dear shall their blood be in his sight.
15 Long may he live!
and may there be given to him gold from Arabia; *
may prayer be made for him always,
and may they bless him all the day long.
16 May there be abundance of grain on the earth,
growing thick even on the hilltops; *
may its fruit flourish like Lebanon,
and its grain like grass upon the earth.
17 May his Name remain for ever
and be established as long as the sun endures; *
may all the nations bless themselves in him and call him blessed.

18 Blessed be the Lord GOD, the God of Israel, *
who alone does wondrous deeds!
19 And blessed be his glorious Name for ever! *
and may all the earth be filled with his glory.

Quite possibly a new series of creations to appear on truffin.com. Superheroes acting out song lyrics. Here’s the first attempt: Sam Phillips’s “Taking Pictures” from the Fan Dance album.

Enjoy.

Been awhile since I posted. Excuses? We don’t need no steenkin excuses.

At work I’ve taken to signing certain emails “TcT” instead of using my full email signature. (I think my dean knows who I am. As do people with whom I’m having a lengthy email conversation.) I thought today that folks unfamiliar with my employment and family history may not know what “TcT” means. It’s even possible that my family doesn’t really know how it got started.

It all got started in the yellow-walled backroom of The Good Book Shoppe in North Olmsted, Ohio. I was a youngin’, 14 maybe, when I started working for an actual wage doing actual work at the stores my family owned. Previously I had been handed a quarter to go dust books or straighten pencils, but I was now being trained in actual bookstore operations and being paid hourly. My grandfather was teaching me the shipping/receiving procedures. At some point, there was some confusion over a packing slip or something that I had initialled. I was supposed to initial the paper, but the problem was that my father and I have the same first/last initials: TT. Also, in typical son-copying-father tradition, I was even making my initials in the same fashion as he; I made something that looked like the Greek letter pi, or stonehenge. Obviously, having both of us making the same sign was going to get confusing, and equally obviously my dad was not going to be the one to change since he did have the very true claim of having “done it first.” So, I decided that I would continue making the TT like a “pi” but I would insert a “C” (my middle initial) between the uprights. I’ve continued to initial items this way ever since, even when one around could ever confuse who TT is.

When I handwrite the initials, the “C” sinks a bit, the “C” beginning half to all the way down the stem of the “T”. When it came time to start doing this electronically, I thought the lower-case “c” hinted at the stylishness of the handwritten version. Is that vain? Yes. Probably.

Now you know not only who TcT is, but why it’s TcT.

And knowing’s half the battle.