Bøger af Joseph Massey

I was happily minded my own business working in Miami running an apparel manufacturing company, and I received a call from Jim Gilbert of General Personnel, sometime in the middle of May 1979. All he said was, "I have a hot spot for you that pays really big bucks; are you interested?" I said sure, but I bet this thing is so hot nobody wants it. Jim said, "Well, that's one of the main reasons it pays big bucks." He goes on to say, "It's in Managua, Nicaragua." "Come on, Jim, there's a war going on down there," was my response. "Don't worry about it. That war can't last forever," replied Jim. So, here we go again. Jim explained that the compensation package was all-expense-paid with a salary of $150,000 yearly with a two-year guarantee. And a bonus of $50,000 once the factory was back in operation. That's a guarantee of $350,000 US green backs. In addition to the salary and the fully paid living expense, there was almost no USA Federal Income Tax paid on this income. Jim gave me the details of the position, stating that it is a factory owned by the Kellwood Corporation that was indirectly owned by Sears at that time. The factory in Managua currently due to the war was closed but crucial to get back into production once the war was over because it produces all the bras that sold in all Sears' stores. I told Jim yes, of course, I was interested please get me the interview. He said I already have the meeting for you. Delta Airlines has a prepaid ticket in your name for tomorrow's flight to New Orleans, leaving at 9:00 am Miami International Airport. Fast forward a little bit ... San Salvador... . I walk into one hangar and ask the first person I see, "Where can I hire a pilot and plane that will take me to Managua?" He tells me to go to the next hangar and ask the people there. In the next hangar sits a twin-engine plane, and a guy is standing next to it. This guy was wearing an old Douglas MacArthur style hat with an unlit cigar in his mouth. So I addressed him as General and asked the same question I ask the first guy. The General laughs and says I am the second gringo to ask that question today. I ask him who the first one was. He says a gringo named Wilson, and he gave me the man's address. So I ask him again will he fly to Managua. He said he would if the money is enough. So my next question was, "How much and when can you fly"? He says, "$7,500.00USD paid before we take off and must be paid before we take off at 9:00am tomorrow. I told him I would see him in the morning. Next moring: The cabin cooling system starts acting up, but other than that, it was an enjoyable flight and a gorgeous morning in Central America. We are some miles away from Managua, and the General radios the Managua tower requesting permission to land. He identifies his plane and that he is seeking permission to land, and that he has two North American passengers. They denied his request to land, but the General says he has no choice because he is running out of fuel. They give him permission to land. Even so, they tell him once he lands come to a complete stop on the runway, open the doors, get out of the plane, and under no condition approach the terminal building. The anticipation of what will happen next is almost overwhelming, and I am resigned to the fact that I have no control over the chain of events that is about to happen. Understand, this is three days after Somoza left Nicaragua and I am the first Gringo to arrive. Landing going down the runway the plane comes to a stop, I see lots of military-looking guys on both sides of the runway. Many hundreds of guys all over the place and almost none are dressed alike. Most look like they are extras for some old Mexican movie of Poncho Villa with the cartridge belt across the chest. Most of them were sporting a long mustache, which I had been starting to grow, but the difference was I had short hair, and all of them had very long hair. The General cuts the engines, and we come to a stop..

"Observant, musical, coheres to nature; it's been a pleasure to read Joseph Massey for some years now. A poetry pared down to the essential inside the world where language interacts with itself and becomes the landscape it emerges from." -Tom Pickard

Back in print in this new, revised edition featuring pieces that did not appear in the original, Joseph Massey's Illocality is a revelation of season and setting. In an ironic turn against the collection's title, his poems are all about place, all about the immediacy of the moment. His poems focus on details as small as, "A diseased shrub // [absorbing] / the leftover glow" to bring us a rendering of the beautiful chaos around us which reflects a chaos within. His work has been called a "poetry of the environment," and indeed, while "December / reverberates with decay," in the end the speaker lives life "condensed. . . to forsythia's / rhythm."

In his new chapbook, Present Conditions, Joseph Massey writes that "the weather within / is the weather without." His poems chronicle a difficult winter where the universe grows colder, his speaker taking all day to "filter out the debris of a dream." These poems bring us the aching beauty of the natural world, and the crushing sadness of interior space. A speaker's failed suicide. The return to sanity. The waiting where we can't go on, but we do go on, if nothing else when "the windows / . . . go blind."

In 'At the Point', Joseph Massey's second full-length collection of poems, memory gives way to edges and angles, to "Sound heaped/on sound," to spaces that "make the shade/tangible" as words arrange a place for the actual.

Spare, vivid lyrics on the microclimate of coastal California