Several years ago, three local poets, Janice Moore, Marsha Barnes and Glenda Beall, submitted poems to Negativity Capability Press for an issue with the theme of food. Negative Capability Press is a non-profit, independent press and has been publishing quality books and a journal for 34 years.
Many months passed after acknowledgment of having accepted the poems with no word as to publication. Years passed and Glenda Beall accepted that her poem was not going to be published in the journal. Janice began to think the same thing. Glenda contacted the press and asked if the book had been published and if so was her poem in it. She received a note saying the editor had been ill and others were working on publishing the volume.
A year or more passed and Janice Moore called Glenda to ask if she had received an emailed copy of the manuscript to proofread to be sure there were no mistakes in how her poem was printed. Glenda said no, she had not received anything. "Your poem is in the book," Janice told her.
A few weeks ago, Janice emailed Glenda to tell her that the long-awaited book had arrived. Glenda was out of town and did not get her copy until January 2022. But the finished article was worth waiting for.
Negative Capability, Mise en place: Volume 2021, is a feast for the eyes with visual art, photographs, short prose, and poetry encapsulated in a colorful cover, Fleur de Banana. The work comes from all over the world and includes a unique interview by the editor/publisher, Sue Brannan Walker with Maria Loi of Manhattan, NY. Maria Loi is the owner of a popular restaurant and is referred to as the Greek Martha Stewart.
Another interesting piece in this journal is an essay, An Afternoon with Eudora Welty, by Gregg Swem. He and his friends paid a visit to the famous writer in her home in Alabama. One of them gave Ms. Welty a jar of homemade fig preserves.
Janice Moore's poem, Cubism, takes one back to childhood when jello was fun to eat.
Glenda Beall's poem, Two Buttermilks for Pamela, touches the heart with imagery of an elderly woman living alone in the mountains.
Marsha Barnes's poem, Sanctuary, takes us to Aunt Mirt's kitchen and we watch, with the eyes of a little child, Grandma roll out dough.
This vast book is a work of art, filled with paintings including cartoons, comic strips, collage poems, and more. Former NC Poet Laureate, Shelby Stephens' poem The Trench is included.
Not since Like a Summer Peach which includes a poem by Janice Moore, have I enjoyed so much reading a book of literature and art on the theme of food.
Cubism
Long before I learned of Picasso or Braque, there was jello,formed in perfect little boxes at the S&W on Peachtree Street,
the place to dine before movies at the palatial Lowe's Grand.
Served in crystal sundae glasses with fluted tops, it shimmered
first in line before cream-covered chocolate pie and egg custard
with its crunchy brown top. Imagine the daily job of kitchen elves
unmolding huge trays filled with gelatinous cubes--cherry, orange,
lemon and lime--or did they cut them by hand in those days?
Artists, they stacked the cubes without damage
to a single one, a balancing act to applaud. How crazy then,
was the man in front of me one unairconditioned Atlanta day,
who by-passed these multi-faceted coolers for a flat slice
of rusty pumpkin pie in a soggy crust, hissing that he hated jello.
...by Janice Moore
I knock but know she can’t hear me.
The TV blasts through the door. I turn the knob,
walk into the kitchen calling
Meals on Wheels.
I set her institutional lunch
on the counter. In the other room,
like a gray mourning dove,
she’s perched before the screen.
I approach gingerly, afraid I’ll startle her.
She looks up with a wide smile.
Don’t get up, I say. I brought your lunch.
Ninety-four years old she lives alone,
in a mobile home on a twisting mountain trail,
her son a stone’s throw down the road.
Struggling to her feet, she pushes
her walker toward me,
Oh, thank you. A hundred times thank you.
I enjoy so much the buttermilk. It keeps me going.
I get two, you know.
We inch our way to the door.
Hope you enjoy it, Mrs. Lawrence.
She takes my hand, speaks to me
as if we were dear friends,
Call me Pamela.
--- Glenda Council Beall
