Foundry – June 2017

Foundry online poetry journal is true to its name in that it ​​views poems as “manufactured objects—the intangible cast into forms.” But unlike the foundries of yore, Foundry magazine is a great deal more flexible in its production, supporting an array of poetic forms and styles. In fact, in searching for a singular descriptor for the type of poetry readers can expect to find here, it was not possible. The editors encourage poems that “feel as much as they think,” and that’s probably the best descriptor I could imagine to draw readers in.

Foundry online poetry journal is true to its name in that it ​​views poems as “manufactured objects—the intangible cast into forms.” But unlike the foundries of yore, Foundry magazine is a great deal more flexible in its production, supporting an array of poetic forms and styles. In fact, in searching for a singular descriptor for the type of poetry readers can expect to find here, it was not possible. The editors encourage poems that “feel as much as they think,” and that’s probably the best descriptor I could imagine to draw readers in.

Accessibility is a litmus test for me. For online journals, if it isn’t simple to navigate, quick to load, and easy to read on a handheld device, it won’t even make it this far with me. Foundry’s online layout is simple and easy to navigate both on a desktop computer and personal device. The clean text design makes for quick page loading and easy scroll reading. On a handheld device, it’s necessary to use the horizontal view to allow some of the poems their intended line breaks, but other than that, the formatting is pure readability. Navigation at the bottom of each page will take readers “back” or “next,” with “home” always available via the top menu.

Each poet receives their own page regardless of how many poems, and each page includes artwork from open source collections or from a contemporary artist. Bios are included on each page for artists and authors alike. On the desktop computer, the image will often compliment the reading side-by-side, but on a handheld device, the image appears below the work on the scroll down.

My favorite work in this issue was actually the last one I read, “Legs” by Hope Wabuke, which gives a perspective on the role of Lot’s wife that could be perceived as feminist, though humanist is just as accurate an analysis. It’s a short work, but provides a version of this woman as strong, ‘not worried’ about her actions and their resulting consequences. In her “looking / back to hold / memory close,” she owns her own action—has this one thing to own, this woman who

long before being
turned to salt she

had never
even owned

a name.

Trenton Pollard’s poem “Reincarnation” juxtaposes a condensed array of images and observations in such a way that remind me of the riverboat ride in the original Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie. Beginning with “Blackberries hang low / in the brambles. The aphids are full up, / death is still hungry.” Pollard takes readers to “string-theory-dimensions” and to hoping “the universe doesn’t collapse Switzerland” and then on to “The first time they powered up the Hadron / I wanted to tell him that I still loved him. // I didn’t, so we all lived.” It’s dizzying in a way, ending on images of the grave and lilacs – back to grounding the reader in place.

“Late Night Cartography” by Chelsea Dingman which begins “In my sleep, I invent cities known on no map.” introduces readers to the speaker’s father:

How do I explain my father,

his eighth-grade education, his body
like the frozen river running through ghosts

of cities? An immigrant’s child. I map the wind
that pushed him west. I map his fists

before they unclenched in death. I map
his murder. The river, a witness.

Dingman follows the speaker’s dream connection with the father, with the loss of this family heritage, and the effort of the speaker to hold on to something of him, keep it hidden yet tangible: “I would stay asleep / if it meant that you’d live.” The impossible, of course. The loyalty is palpable, and heart wrenching.

There were images from two poems by Emma Bolden that were stunning to read, creating a blurred line between the feeling and thinking of poetry. From “Downburst”: “I was thinking of his head / on a plate in my lap. I was thinking of its soft loops of curls, // fine as the hair punched into plastic doll skulls.” And “A Breviary” opens with these lines:

Instead of saying early the morning strung
its beaded condensation over the clarity

of glass where all of the morning a cat’s tongue,
barbed and thirsty, licked a way towards cool.

So much of the work in this issue continues to blur the ability of the reader to fully articulate exact meanings or exact feelings, which is a mark of good poetry. It is difficult to define, but not impossible to talk about, and best discussed when readers can share in the experience of reading.

For an enhanced experience of the thinking aspect of the works, Foundry includes a “Five Questions” section in each issue. In this, three poets whose works appear in the issue are asked five questions each—not the same questions, and a combination of craft inquiry specific to the published poem(s) and just plain fun stuff. Brionne Janae is asked to tell readers about the making of her poem “Newly Wed.” While a first read reveals a strong sense of time/place, reading Janae’s commentary really helps to enlighten and solidify the reading. Janae offers this:

“Newly Wed” comes from the section of my book set in 1910 in the Black town of Slocum, Texas. [. . . ] Particularly, I was imagining what the experience of a woman raised with middle class privilege, whose parents had expected her to become a teacher or wife to a professional, would be once she married a man living near poverty. I also was interested in what it must have been like to be a young bride back in 1910 when women, especially Black women, had so little space in the world.

Cynthia Manick, who has two poems published in this issue, is asked to talk about those as well as to share “Which common piece of writing advice do you loathe and why?” (Thank you for your answer, Cynthia. I’ve always hated that analogy as well.) and John Allen Taylor is asked “When you feel uninspired, what poet might you read for guidance and motivation?” and a great question for many writers to ask of their own work, “Which three words do you overuse in poems?” These are enjoyable conversations to read and add to the reader experience in understanding the craft of poetry as well as these particular poems.

Foundry is available to read online, and with only four issues to its production line, is one to easily catch up on and continue to follow. The editors are aggressive supporters of poetry, as this is a paying publication and one that pursues Pushcart (2017 Recipient) and other award recognitions for its writers.
[www.foundryjournal.com]