POETRY READING MARKS 30 YEARS OF `THE CAPE ROCK'

The Cape Rock was one among a flurry of university literary magazines spawned by the creative explosion known as the '60s. Today, the slim early editions' typewritten pages and poetry-only content appear almost quaint alongside the newest's book-quality typeset pages and dramatic black and white photographs.

For one reason or another, most of those '60s literary journals have vanished. But The Cape Rock, published by Southeast Missouri State University, lives on -- if seemingly on tradition alone.

The magazine celebrates its 30th anniversary of publication with a series of events today.

A reception will be held at 3 p.m. in the Program Lounge of the University Center for those who have had a hand in publishing the journal through the years. Afterward, some of the editors and contributors to the magazine will read from past issues.

Past editors who will read include Peter Hilty, Max Cordonnier, John Bierk and Robert Burns, along with current editor Harvey Hecht.

The celebration will conclude with a 7 p.m. reading by poet William Trowbridge, whose "O Paradise" was just published by the University of Arkansas Press. Trowbridge also is the author of "The Book of Kong" and "Enter Dark Stranger."

All the events are free and open to the public.

Over the years, The Cape Rock not only has survived but has achieved a good reputation. There are kind words from Sipapu, a library journal that called it "One of the best small poetry magazines anywhere." And the poet Howard Nemerov, who lauded its "work of seriousness and distinction."

The aim of The Cape Rock is the same today as when it was founded, says Hecht: "To simply be a source for beginning and established poets."

One difference between the magazine and others is that potential contributors' cover letters and publishing credits aren't considered. "I throw them away," he says.

Unlike many literary journals, The Cape Rock doesn't print contributors notes. "We just want the poems to stand for themselves," he says.

As a result, each issue usually contains the work of a few first-time poets.

"It's a joy to give that encouragement that every artist, every writer needs," Hecht said.

Established poets are part of the mix as well. He found the work of four or five past Cape Rock contributors in a new anthology of women's poetry. "I see people we've published in The New Yorker," he said.

The contributions, each day numbering three to five packets containing numerous poems, come in from all over the U.S., and not a few from overseas.

The best poem in each issue is awarded $200 and the best photograph $100.

Hilty and H.O. Graul were the magazine's founding fathers. Cordonnier incorporated mixed media and art that now has evolved into it's extensive use of photography. Burns, he said, "is probably the person most responsible for the magazine's success."

Still, publishing two issues a year with a subscription base of 91 always has been a financial balancing act.

Beside its $1,450 yearly sustenance from the university, reduced a few years ago, the magazine has been helped since 1984 by a Missouri Arts Council grant. But rising production costs have resulted in overruns the past two years -- thus far absorbed by the university.

The magazine recently received a special technical assistance grant from the arts council. A consultant is coming in to help find ways to expand its subscription base and ease the financial strain.

"Hopefully in the future we will not have to worry about going crazy when postage goes up," Hecht says.

He hopes the poetry reading will bring the magazine more readers and help fulfill the university's mission to expose its community to outside artists.

Given poetry's limited commercial appeal and the frequent political attacks on publicly funded art, the existence of The Cape Rock seems to speak volumes for itself .

"It's something of a miracle we've lasted 30 years," Hecht said.

O Paradise

Maybe it isn't choirs of cherubim with perfect pitch

or lions snuggling up with lambs and shepherds. Maybe

it's something like a friend and I once saw,

looking in his basement window when we were shy

with zits and stumble bones. There was my friend's

big brother with a girl and his own motorcycle, a candy-apple

Triumph with red-orange flames along the tank and chrome pipes

wide enough for Charlemagne to hear. Yes, there he was,

sitting by the furnace with girl (ital) and (no ital) motorcycle, his hands

dark with gear oil and expertise, and hers the same,

so that if they kissed, and they did, they had to hold

their hands away, as dancers might -- a (ital) pas de deaux

by Kelly and Caron

One kiss, then back to bolts

and sprockets for a while; then later, I supposed,

the two of them astride that friendly beast.

And there

(ital) we (no ital) were, outside, about to pedal into another

Friday night, toward the football game, where cheerleaders

lifted up their arms, which lifted up their breasts,

and kicked the cold October air for love.

-- William Trowbridge