"The Best American Poetry 2008" to Include Poem By Professor Forhan
Every September, Assistant English Professor Chris Forhan finds himself flipping through the newest volume of "The Best American Poetry" to see whose work has been included. His reactions typically range from "Arrgh, drat!" to "It's nice to see my friend's work in there" to "Wouldn't it be nice to be included?"x.JPG "forhan")
Next year, he will be.
Forhan's poem "Rock Polisher," which originally appeared in the New England Review, has been chosen for "The Best American Poetry 2008." The honor earns him $100 and a copy of the book.
"As far as awards given to individual poems, this is the best," Forhan said.
"Rock Polisher," which Forhan describes as a "list poem" written in second person, was inspired by a neighbor-friend in Seattle who had a rock-polishing machine when they were kids.
The rock polisher struck Forhan as an interesting metaphor – the urge we have to make things perfect. In the poem, he builds from polishing rocks and "glass knobs on your mother's bathroom cabinet" to school shoes to abstract things like a look somebody gave you and, ultimately, the sky, the ocean and God's mercy.
"I hate to say it wrote itself, because it didn't," he said. "But it was one of those poems where once I figured out my strategy, I let that compel me to the end of the page. I had a lot of fun writing it because I love sound and sonic repetition in poems and I went really over the top with the sound of that poem."
"Rock Polisher" was selected by "The Best American Poetry" series editor David Lehman and poet Charles Wright, the guest editor for the 2008 edition, from poems published in literary magazines this year. Forhan received e-mail notification that his poem was selected.
"Right now, I'm trying to publish my third book and I'm having a really hard time getting a publisher," Forhan said. "If I were given a choice between having my book taken and being in 'The Best American Poetry,' I'd choose the book.But this is nonetheless a great honor, and it gives me a chance to share at least that one poem with quite a fewreaders."
For Forhan, who joined the Butler faculty in August, the honor is a landmark in a circuitous life journey that's seen him change careers and criss-cross the country.
After graduating from Washington State University, where he majored in journalism and minored in English, Forhan worked in TV news in Great Falls, Mont., for three years before returning to school at the University of New Hampshire.
"I wanted to study with the poet whose work was most important to me, Charles Simic," Forhan said. "That was a life-changing decision, and I've never regretted it."
Teaching jobs and more schooling then took him to North Carolina, South Carolina, back to Washington state, New Mexico, Virginia (where he earned his MFA at the University of Virginia), Alabama and, finally, Indianapolis.
He hopes to be at Butler for a long time.
"This is the life-changing experience," he said. "To finally be someplace I want to stay."
Rock PolisherYour father bought it, brought it
to the basement utility closet, waited
while a test pebble tumbled in it.
One week: he’d willed it to brilliance.
The grit kit’s yours now, the silicon
carbide pack. Split it, have at it.
Jasper, agate, amethyst crystal,
it’ll churn to a luster. Listen
to small rocks grind the big one down.
Stones in the driveway, pry them up, why not,
they’ll fit, glass knobs on your mother’s
bathroom cabinet, your baseball
and mitt, polish them, polish that
zero-win Peewee League season.
The thing your sister said and then
took back, you still have it, polish it,
polish the snowless Christmas
when all you’d hoped for was snow.
It’s way past lights out now, you’re crouched
above the barrel, feeding it
your school shoes, your haircut
in eighth grade—flat bangs
to the bridge of your nose—the moment
that girl on the track team touched
your wrist, then kept her fingers there,
the way you loved dumbly
and do. If the sun’s up, it’s nothing,
you’re polishing, you’re pouring in
the ocean rolling rocks into cobbles
too slowly, and the sky, it was
Mozart’s, was Christ’s sky,
no matter, dismantle it, drop it
into the tumbler, and you too, get in there
with your Dad and your Mom and the cat,
one by one, the whole family,
and God’s mercy, perfect at last.
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