July 2020
Tributes to Firestone
From the community he built. We will not forget.
From the community he built. We will not forget.
Susan Feinberg's Tribute to Firestone and to Verse-Virtual
To All the V-V Community,
Firestone loved you all and always appreciated your contributions to the community, not just the excellent poetry, but your efforts to help form the community of which he was so proud.
Few things ever gave him more pleasure than bringing a crowd of strangers together to form community.
Whether it was the LOSP (list of special people) which he formed when we first got the Internet in 1996, to the Breakdancer Club he fostered while he was teaching at LaGuardia HS of the Arts, bringing people lovingly together was always his main purpose. People who didn’t know each other became friends because of Fire's leadership and values.
Just as he told you poets that the Journal's purpose was to publish poetry and support fellow poets, he told his dancers that they were NOT there to criticize each other but, rather, to support and learn from each other.
He felt very sad when he had to give up posting VV. He deeply regretted that he wasn’t able to reach out to each of you. He wanted to thank you all for VV and for the support you all gave to him during his illness.
You sent cards, and beautiful postcard pictures of your life, and your books, which he kept together on a special shelf, (except for the Seahorse book which he often used as a reference ;-), and other gifts and emails and prayers. He was grateful for them all. During the last week of his life (we had no idea it was his last week😔) he said for the umpteenth time that he wanted to write thank yous to each of you.
And, I, for the umpteenth time, told him I would write what he dictated, all he had to do was set me up a VV group email. Sadly, he never got to do that. He kept saying tomorrow we'll do it but we didn’t know there would not be a tomorrow.
Fire loved and appreciated you all. I cannot name each of you but I must thank Alan Walowitz for his friendship and support during Fire's well times and once he became ill.
When he was well, Fire and Alan met downtown for a coffee and sweet and enjoyed each other’s company every few weeks. Ordinarily, Fire didn't want to socialize with "his poets" but with Alan it was different. When Fire was hospitalized, or when he was too sick to speak on the phone, Alan still called weekly to speak to me and to get updates on Fire's condition. I am still so grateful to you, Alan, for your support during those difficult times, and for keeping the community informed.
When Fire became too ill to be able to handle VV anymore, rather than let the journal die, Alan put out a call to the community and, thankfully, Jim Lewis and others answered that call so that VV2 is now thriving. Fire was so grateful for that. I am so grateful for that.
Many of you have sent cards to me, for which I am very thankful. Unfortunately, I haven’t opened them yet...I have a pile waiting for me to have the courage, the mental strength, to read them. I will, eventually.
Our boys, Gabe and Zack, would also thank you for enriching their father's life and supporting him during this horrible year. They know what VV meant to their dad and are proud, once again, of the group he helped gather. We hope that you will all continue writing and submitting and enjoying your relationships with each other. Fire would be so happy...
With love and sorrow...
susan
* * *
To All the V-V Community,
Firestone loved you all and always appreciated your contributions to the community, not just the excellent poetry, but your efforts to help form the community of which he was so proud.
Few things ever gave him more pleasure than bringing a crowd of strangers together to form community.
Whether it was the LOSP (list of special people) which he formed when we first got the Internet in 1996, to the Breakdancer Club he fostered while he was teaching at LaGuardia HS of the Arts, bringing people lovingly together was always his main purpose. People who didn’t know each other became friends because of Fire's leadership and values.
Just as he told you poets that the Journal's purpose was to publish poetry and support fellow poets, he told his dancers that they were NOT there to criticize each other but, rather, to support and learn from each other.
He felt very sad when he had to give up posting VV. He deeply regretted that he wasn’t able to reach out to each of you. He wanted to thank you all for VV and for the support you all gave to him during his illness.
You sent cards, and beautiful postcard pictures of your life, and your books, which he kept together on a special shelf, (except for the Seahorse book which he often used as a reference ;-), and other gifts and emails and prayers. He was grateful for them all. During the last week of his life (we had no idea it was his last week😔) he said for the umpteenth time that he wanted to write thank yous to each of you.
And, I, for the umpteenth time, told him I would write what he dictated, all he had to do was set me up a VV group email. Sadly, he never got to do that. He kept saying tomorrow we'll do it but we didn’t know there would not be a tomorrow.
Fire loved and appreciated you all. I cannot name each of you but I must thank Alan Walowitz for his friendship and support during Fire's well times and once he became ill.
When he was well, Fire and Alan met downtown for a coffee and sweet and enjoyed each other’s company every few weeks. Ordinarily, Fire didn't want to socialize with "his poets" but with Alan it was different. When Fire was hospitalized, or when he was too sick to speak on the phone, Alan still called weekly to speak to me and to get updates on Fire's condition. I am still so grateful to you, Alan, for your support during those difficult times, and for keeping the community informed.
When Fire became too ill to be able to handle VV anymore, rather than let the journal die, Alan put out a call to the community and, thankfully, Jim Lewis and others answered that call so that VV2 is now thriving. Fire was so grateful for that. I am so grateful for that.
Many of you have sent cards to me, for which I am very thankful. Unfortunately, I haven’t opened them yet...I have a pile waiting for me to have the courage, the mental strength, to read them. I will, eventually.
Our boys, Gabe and Zack, would also thank you for enriching their father's life and supporting him during this horrible year. They know what VV meant to their dad and are proud, once again, of the group he helped gather. We hope that you will all continue writing and submitting and enjoying your relationships with each other. Fire would be so happy...
With love and sorrow...
susan
* * *
Robert Wexelblatt:
Firestone made music, poems, paintings, friends, a family, a community. With me, he was invariably encouraging, practically paternal. To make someone more honest it helps to praise their probity; they might try to live up to it. Firestone insisted my poems were good and told me I was a mensch. As an editor and very much a mensch himself, he had authority for me. I valued his good opinion, all the more the less convinced I merited it.
When Firestone told me about his plan to recruit regular contributors and found what’s become Verse-Virtual, I hesitated. This was less because my default is to join nothing than because I’m not a prolific or a confident poet. Luckily, Firestone permitted reprints and didn’t give up on me.
Over the years, I thanked him for his persistence many times over. When he seemed a bit down, I reminded him of the marvelous thing he had created, told him of the friends I’d never have had but for him, expressed my gratitude to him for a cherished sense of belonging. We owe Firestone so much for the labor of giving birth to Verse-Virtual, for his talents, humor, humility, perpetual encouragement. When he fell ill, I missed him provisionally; now I’ll miss him permanently.
* * *
Firestone made music, poems, paintings, friends, a family, a community. With me, he was invariably encouraging, practically paternal. To make someone more honest it helps to praise their probity; they might try to live up to it. Firestone insisted my poems were good and told me I was a mensch. As an editor and very much a mensch himself, he had authority for me. I valued his good opinion, all the more the less convinced I merited it.
When Firestone told me about his plan to recruit regular contributors and found what’s become Verse-Virtual, I hesitated. This was less because my default is to join nothing than because I’m not a prolific or a confident poet. Luckily, Firestone permitted reprints and didn’t give up on me.
Over the years, I thanked him for his persistence many times over. When he seemed a bit down, I reminded him of the marvelous thing he had created, told him of the friends I’d never have had but for him, expressed my gratitude to him for a cherished sense of belonging. We owe Firestone so much for the labor of giving birth to Verse-Virtual, for his talents, humor, humility, perpetual encouragement. When he fell ill, I missed him provisionally; now I’ll miss him permanently.
* * *
Steve Klepetar
Sad as I write this, bereft really, and I know nothing I say now will be especially articulate or meaningful. I never met Firestone, though I always hoped we’d get together in person one day, especially when I moved east to Massachusetts from Minnesota a few years ago. It didn’t happen, and I am very sorry for that. We were Facebook friends, of course, and we communicated regularly via email, at least once a month, but often more. What I remember most about Fire is that almost every time he wrote to me, he referred to me as a Mensch, that ultimate Yiddish compliment. I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but he never failed to encourage me, build me up. When he offered advice, editorial or otherwise, it was always smart and kind. Firestone was the ultimate Mensch, writing short, witty poems; writing and singing moving songs; creating vivid, fanciful artworks based on the letters of the Jewish alphabet; and more than anything, creating and sustaining a wide, positive community of poets through Verse-Virtual. I miss him more than I can say.
* * *
Sad as I write this, bereft really, and I know nothing I say now will be especially articulate or meaningful. I never met Firestone, though I always hoped we’d get together in person one day, especially when I moved east to Massachusetts from Minnesota a few years ago. It didn’t happen, and I am very sorry for that. We were Facebook friends, of course, and we communicated regularly via email, at least once a month, but often more. What I remember most about Fire is that almost every time he wrote to me, he referred to me as a Mensch, that ultimate Yiddish compliment. I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but he never failed to encourage me, build me up. When he offered advice, editorial or otherwise, it was always smart and kind. Firestone was the ultimate Mensch, writing short, witty poems; writing and singing moving songs; creating vivid, fanciful artworks based on the letters of the Jewish alphabet; and more than anything, creating and sustaining a wide, positive community of poets through Verse-Virtual. I miss him more than I can say.
* * *
Jim Lewis
ב״ה
Firestone welcomed me to Verse-Virtual in 2015, when I submitted a poem at the suggestion of a dear friend. He and I went back and forth over some edits that he insisted would make the poem better. That was a new experience for me, because editors just don't take that kind of time and interest in someone new to them. He never said directly why he liked my poetry, but he was never slow to praise a piece that struck him. It wasn't very long before he asked me to join the group of contributing editors. I still don't know why he asked, given how many in the community he could have chosen who are more accomplished and talented than I am. But it kept me involved in Verse-Virtual on a regular basis. His kindness and interest meant enough to me that when I learned last fall how ill he was, I was determined to find a way to continue Verse-Virtual to honor him.
Firestone, this is for you.
* * *
ב״ה
Firestone welcomed me to Verse-Virtual in 2015, when I submitted a poem at the suggestion of a dear friend. He and I went back and forth over some edits that he insisted would make the poem better. That was a new experience for me, because editors just don't take that kind of time and interest in someone new to them. He never said directly why he liked my poetry, but he was never slow to praise a piece that struck him. It wasn't very long before he asked me to join the group of contributing editors. I still don't know why he asked, given how many in the community he could have chosen who are more accomplished and talented than I am. But it kept me involved in Verse-Virtual on a regular basis. His kindness and interest meant enough to me that when I learned last fall how ill he was, I was determined to find a way to continue Verse-Virtual to honor him.
Firestone, this is for you.
* * *
Barbara Crooker
I was delighted when Firestone first came to me and asked me to be a founding member of this virtual community. He was unfailingly kind and generous, and it was always a pleasure to submit once a month and get an enthusiastic reply back from him. And he was so understanding when I told him I couldn’t be an active participant in writing reviews and responses, as my life was (and is) pretty overwhelming—I’m the caregiver of my son, now 36, who has autism, and so my writing time is pretty restricted. So this is also my apology to all of you who’ve written nice things about my work; while I’m sorry I can’t respond in kind, there are only so many hours in the day. But I always read each issue with pleasure, and am delighted to be in your company.
Firestone created something remarkable here, a wonderful achievement, and this issue, honoring his poetry and his art, is the perfect way to pay tribute to him and his spirit. We will never forget him.
* * *
I was delighted when Firestone first came to me and asked me to be a founding member of this virtual community. He was unfailingly kind and generous, and it was always a pleasure to submit once a month and get an enthusiastic reply back from him. And he was so understanding when I told him I couldn’t be an active participant in writing reviews and responses, as my life was (and is) pretty overwhelming—I’m the caregiver of my son, now 36, who has autism, and so my writing time is pretty restricted. So this is also my apology to all of you who’ve written nice things about my work; while I’m sorry I can’t respond in kind, there are only so many hours in the day. But I always read each issue with pleasure, and am delighted to be in your company.
Firestone created something remarkable here, a wonderful achievement, and this issue, honoring his poetry and his art, is the perfect way to pay tribute to him and his spirit. We will never forget him.
* * *
David Chorlton
Firestone's first response to what I sent him wasn't warm and fuzzy, but the lesson in it was, as with any good editor, stay the course and discover his (or her when applicable) vision. Verse-Virtual gives us the chance to connect beyond the pages of poetry and know other contributors better. In the digital age, Firestone found a way to make the online experience a warmer one than we generally expect from technology, and I found him to be a warmer person than was suggested by the slight (and, I admit, deserved) finger-wagging I received for a sloppy reading of guidelines. A lot of work goes into keeping a venture such as this one afloat, and I appreciate Firestone's efforts as I think I would have appreciated knowing him in person.
* * *
Firestone's first response to what I sent him wasn't warm and fuzzy, but the lesson in it was, as with any good editor, stay the course and discover his (or her when applicable) vision. Verse-Virtual gives us the chance to connect beyond the pages of poetry and know other contributors better. In the digital age, Firestone found a way to make the online experience a warmer one than we generally expect from technology, and I found him to be a warmer person than was suggested by the slight (and, I admit, deserved) finger-wagging I received for a sloppy reading of guidelines. A lot of work goes into keeping a venture such as this one afloat, and I appreciate Firestone's efforts as I think I would have appreciated knowing him in person.
* * *
Michael Gessner
Ours was an epistolary relationship. That is the source of my knowledge about Firestone Feinberg. That is how I knew him. And but for a few of the V-V community, this is how most of us knew him. Our relationship developed over nearly five years and through hundreds of email exchanges, and as clear as Firestone appears to me, it cannot be—and remains—less than those who knew him best; his dear wife Susan, and sons Gabe and Zack of whom he was so proud.
Ours is not an age of faith, and yet Firestone was a man of faith. You see it everywhere: in his poetry, often in his paintings, and in his correspondence. It was a faith in a divine presence, in the ability of individuals to transform themselves, in the common yearning for the respect of others, in a life devoted to the betterment of humankind, in principles above impulse, a belief in the general good.
My early schooling was influenced by numerous Dominican nuns, who emphasized that salvation comes through faith and good works. I believe that salvation isn’t necessarily just for the next life—it can be a part of our lives here and now.. In this equation, Firestone stands as an exemplary figure. In terms of human kindness and generosity, what work could be greater than the creation of a community such as this? Or of a life lived as he must have lived it? Teaching others, encouraging them in such a way as to lead them to understand their better selves, and to discover abilities they did not think they possessed; to lead them to realize their own intrinsic self-worth.
By way of a conclusion, I'd like to share two emails exchanged last December; the first was prompted by a concern for Firestone’s health, and the second was his response 10 days later when it must have been difficult for him to gather his thoughts, and to, once again, offer us his magnanimity, and affirm his concern for others, even though he must have been in dark days.
Before I share these, perhaps I could offer an echo of what has come down to us from history, and if it should sound a bit declarative, we can easily blame those overzealous sisters again:
Those hundreds of emails mentioned earlier are marked with dozens of instances where he overlooked the faults of others, and forgave what would be for many, too difficult to forgive; they carry messages of encouragement and endless hours of helping newcomers who had submitted their work. He shuffled manuscripts between contributors and other poets for comments and revisions, always helping us in the search for our better selves.
After his references to failures of the body, when things seemed to be turning worse last December, I thought that if I was going to write to Firestone about my sense for what he had done in creating the V-V community; of such riches he had given others, I better do it now, and if I didn’t, it would be to my lifelong regret.
______________________________
To: firestonefeinberg Dec 1 2019
Firestone!
Good to hear from you!! Thanks so much for taking the time to get in touch, and the effort as well considering recent circumstances. I'm gratified to hear there may be some progress regarding a liver transplant, and you are daily in our hopes, and thoughts, and prayers.
When I think of you, Firestone, I think of all the fine people I've known, and you are at the top of the list. I remember my Mother had memorized Leigh Hunt's "Abou Ben Adhem" (based on the Sufi saint, Ibrahim bin Adham, c. 718-782). She had memorized the poem as part of a school project when in eighth grade and won a ribbon, and was taken class to class to recite it for other students. She would often recite the poem for me when I was a boy before going to sleep.
ABOU BEN ADHEM
—Leigh Hunt
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?"—The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
____________________
Firestone, you are my Abou.
Love,
Mike
-----Original Message-----
From: firestonefeinberg
To: Michael Gessner
Sent: Tue, Dec 10, 2019 2:02 pm
Subject: Re: Thank you Dear Mike
Thank you Mike for all your care and kindness, your support and friendship—all of those warm words...but to equate me in any way with "Abou Ben Adhem" is beyond a simple nicety. It's incredible.
Mike, I'm sorry I can't write more (encephalopathy), but I am not myself. Cirrhosis hosts may symptoms -- confusion is one of them.
I'm thankful there is continued community at V-V. If you were on Facebook you'd see a lot more of it. I'm so glad Jim Lewis is taking over V-V. It kind of guarantees a future of some length.
I'm still waiting to get on the liver-transplant list: it takes a long time.
I hope you and your family are well have a happy a happy holiday season.
Thank you so much,
Abou
Ours was an epistolary relationship. That is the source of my knowledge about Firestone Feinberg. That is how I knew him. And but for a few of the V-V community, this is how most of us knew him. Our relationship developed over nearly five years and through hundreds of email exchanges, and as clear as Firestone appears to me, it cannot be—and remains—less than those who knew him best; his dear wife Susan, and sons Gabe and Zack of whom he was so proud.
Ours is not an age of faith, and yet Firestone was a man of faith. You see it everywhere: in his poetry, often in his paintings, and in his correspondence. It was a faith in a divine presence, in the ability of individuals to transform themselves, in the common yearning for the respect of others, in a life devoted to the betterment of humankind, in principles above impulse, a belief in the general good.
My early schooling was influenced by numerous Dominican nuns, who emphasized that salvation comes through faith and good works. I believe that salvation isn’t necessarily just for the next life—it can be a part of our lives here and now.. In this equation, Firestone stands as an exemplary figure. In terms of human kindness and generosity, what work could be greater than the creation of a community such as this? Or of a life lived as he must have lived it? Teaching others, encouraging them in such a way as to lead them to understand their better selves, and to discover abilities they did not think they possessed; to lead them to realize their own intrinsic self-worth.
By way of a conclusion, I'd like to share two emails exchanged last December; the first was prompted by a concern for Firestone’s health, and the second was his response 10 days later when it must have been difficult for him to gather his thoughts, and to, once again, offer us his magnanimity, and affirm his concern for others, even though he must have been in dark days.
Before I share these, perhaps I could offer an echo of what has come down to us from history, and if it should sound a bit declarative, we can easily blame those overzealous sisters again:
Character is more important than art. It is more important than
intelligence, or wealth, or fame. The larger part of character is
compassion. Character cannot be character without it. In our
literature and philosophy over millennia, it has been considered
the most notable condition of our species.
Firestone was an infinity of compassion.
Those hundreds of emails mentioned earlier are marked with dozens of instances where he overlooked the faults of others, and forgave what would be for many, too difficult to forgive; they carry messages of encouragement and endless hours of helping newcomers who had submitted their work. He shuffled manuscripts between contributors and other poets for comments and revisions, always helping us in the search for our better selves.
After his references to failures of the body, when things seemed to be turning worse last December, I thought that if I was going to write to Firestone about my sense for what he had done in creating the V-V community; of such riches he had given others, I better do it now, and if I didn’t, it would be to my lifelong regret.
______________________________
To: firestonefeinberg Dec 1 2019
Firestone!
Good to hear from you!! Thanks so much for taking the time to get in touch, and the effort as well considering recent circumstances. I'm gratified to hear there may be some progress regarding a liver transplant, and you are daily in our hopes, and thoughts, and prayers.
When I think of you, Firestone, I think of all the fine people I've known, and you are at the top of the list. I remember my Mother had memorized Leigh Hunt's "Abou Ben Adhem" (based on the Sufi saint, Ibrahim bin Adham, c. 718-782). She had memorized the poem as part of a school project when in eighth grade and won a ribbon, and was taken class to class to recite it for other students. She would often recite the poem for me when I was a boy before going to sleep.
ABOU BEN ADHEM
—Leigh Hunt
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?"—The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
____________________
Firestone, you are my Abou.
Love,
Mike
-----Original Message-----
From: firestonefeinberg
To: Michael Gessner
Sent: Tue, Dec 10, 2019 2:02 pm
Subject: Re: Thank you Dear Mike
Thank you Mike for all your care and kindness, your support and friendship—all of those warm words...but to equate me in any way with "Abou Ben Adhem" is beyond a simple nicety. It's incredible.
Mike, I'm sorry I can't write more (encephalopathy), but I am not myself. Cirrhosis hosts may symptoms -- confusion is one of them.
I'm thankful there is continued community at V-V. If you were on Facebook you'd see a lot more of it. I'm so glad Jim Lewis is taking over V-V. It kind of guarantees a future of some length.
I'm still waiting to get on the liver-transplant list: it takes a long time.
I hope you and your family are well have a happy a happy holiday season.
Thank you so much,
Abou
Tricia Knoll
I miss Firestone and am very, very grateful for inclusion in the Verse Virtual community. Snuggled in the list of poets between Klepetar and Knox, I’ve reached out and been welcomed into correspondence with many, many VV poets… you know who you are, each of you who practice this art form in love over and over again. Thank you.
The Seahorse’s Home
A prose poem is not a march that takes sharp corners on city streets. It’s more like the amble of the feeder creek to a conflux with deeper,
swifter waters. That was the nature of my relationship with Firestone Feinberg. In early days the creek revealed some unanticipated log jams:
no prose poems or poems about dogs, nope – send me something else. Use a bigger font. Five months of submissions some years ago, and then the
good news he liked a poem about my ancestors, Union soldiers. Soon the rafting together smoothed out. I loved his artwork…and we found a common
riverbank for a dalliance of correspondence about seahorses. My symbol of nurturing, the male bearing the young, the observed birth of seahorses
live, little clear-bodied beings the male delivered with all the birth pangs of a woman. I sent him articles about seahorses. The encyclopedia
of seahorses when I downsized. Then the day he sent me his painting of a seahorse, a postcard-sized image I treasure as much as any published
poem. Blessings to the current that still flows on the journey he began.
water color
in my mother’s box
of cherished paper
* * *
I miss Firestone and am very, very grateful for inclusion in the Verse Virtual community. Snuggled in the list of poets between Klepetar and Knox, I’ve reached out and been welcomed into correspondence with many, many VV poets… you know who you are, each of you who practice this art form in love over and over again. Thank you.
The Seahorse’s Home
A prose poem is not a march that takes sharp corners on city streets. It’s more like the amble of the feeder creek to a conflux with deeper,
swifter waters. That was the nature of my relationship with Firestone Feinberg. In early days the creek revealed some unanticipated log jams:
no prose poems or poems about dogs, nope – send me something else. Use a bigger font. Five months of submissions some years ago, and then the
good news he liked a poem about my ancestors, Union soldiers. Soon the rafting together smoothed out. I loved his artwork…and we found a common
riverbank for a dalliance of correspondence about seahorses. My symbol of nurturing, the male bearing the young, the observed birth of seahorses
live, little clear-bodied beings the male delivered with all the birth pangs of a woman. I sent him articles about seahorses. The encyclopedia
of seahorses when I downsized. Then the day he sent me his painting of a seahorse, a postcard-sized image I treasure as much as any published
poem. Blessings to the current that still flows on the journey he began.
water color
in my mother’s box
of cherished paper
* * *
Marilyn Taylor
Firestone, my friend, I’m pretending that this is a letter—which is why I’m directing it specifically to you, if I may take that liberty. And the very first thing I want to emphasize is how much we all loved you and admired you—a premise that extends to Susan, of course, who has demonstrated such remarkable courage throughout this sad and painful interlude. My heart goes out to the rest of your grieving family as well, and to your closest friends—but also, and perhaps especially, to the far-flung circle of poetry people who had an opportunity to interact with you. Whether you were aware of it or not, the impression you made on each of our creative lives is an indelible one -- intricate, genuine, something to be treasured.
And now that you’ve left us, we’re grieving. I’m aware that some of us are able to find a degree of solace in translating grief into words and sentences, but for me, it’s just not working. This time, Fire, I find myself flailing about, looking everywhere for precisely the right words, exactly the right sentences—the ones that will do some justice to your ongoing support for and commitment to all of us. I think (and perhaps I’m not alone in this) that right now I’m in need of a cheerleader.
You yourself, of course, served admirably as cheerleader, with unfailing tact, dignity, and good humor. I wish I’d known you well enough to have anecdotes to relate and stories to tell that could illustrate those attributes, but I know others will do so brilliantly elsewhere in this issue. I’ll close instead with the following lines from Edna St. Vincent Millay—which I hope bring with them some comfort in an honest and unflinching way:
Firestone, my friend, I’m pretending that this is a letter—which is why I’m directing it specifically to you, if I may take that liberty. And the very first thing I want to emphasize is how much we all loved you and admired you—a premise that extends to Susan, of course, who has demonstrated such remarkable courage throughout this sad and painful interlude. My heart goes out to the rest of your grieving family as well, and to your closest friends—but also, and perhaps especially, to the far-flung circle of poetry people who had an opportunity to interact with you. Whether you were aware of it or not, the impression you made on each of our creative lives is an indelible one -- intricate, genuine, something to be treasured.
And now that you’ve left us, we’re grieving. I’m aware that some of us are able to find a degree of solace in translating grief into words and sentences, but for me, it’s just not working. This time, Fire, I find myself flailing about, looking everywhere for precisely the right words, exactly the right sentences—the ones that will do some justice to your ongoing support for and commitment to all of us. I think (and perhaps I’m not alone in this) that right now I’m in need of a cheerleader.
You yourself, of course, served admirably as cheerleader, with unfailing tact, dignity, and good humor. I wish I’d known you well enough to have anecdotes to relate and stories to tell that could illustrate those attributes, but I know others will do so brilliantly elsewhere in this issue. I’ll close instead with the following lines from Edna St. Vincent Millay—which I hope bring with them some comfort in an honest and unflinching way:
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind: Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.* * *
Robert Knox
To Firestone Feinberg: I will never forget what I owe him.
After a hiatus of more than thirty years, I began writing poetry again in a 'committed' way, i.e. on more than on the rare occasion. During those unpoetic years, I wrote for newspapers and I wrote fiction (and tried to keep the two separate). When my newspaper work dialed down and the poetry urge came back, I realized that if I wished to write for more than a one-man cheering squad, I knew I would have to start at the beginning. I would have to find someone, some place, seeking what I was attempting to offer.
Good fortune comes sometimes from good people.
I found mention of Verse-Virtual in an email sent to the newspaper I work for. I checked the online product: the work good, the editing clean. I sent some of my latest offerings to this editor, and wondered what a 'timely' response would consist of. A few hours later the same evening, I received a response from the journal's considerate editor. Firestone Feinberg was as good as his word, and he wished to publish some of my poems. A little more than five years later, I remember that night as one of the happier moments in my later life.
Poets don't make money. But a chance to have one's work noticed, seen, read—is everything. It's virtual currency.
In all the issues, in all the months since, Verse-Virtual has been a fixed star in my writing life, a community mural in which I have painted a few flowers, or scribbled some graffiti. It's been a source of pride to be part of something so good and so unusual; an opportunity to connect with a community of strong and diverse voices and to write for a journal with a mold-shatteringly active publication schedule.
Firestone Feinberg was a strong, attentive, and timely editor. Too often editors say they'll get back to you, or submit again in the future. Many of those futures never come.
If Firestone didn't like something, he told you straight off. 'Too many long poems,' he told me once. I sent him shorter ones, while still tossing in the occasional lengthy, self-involved screed. Fire published them.
Though we never met in person, Firestone and I kept in touch and shared family news. When he worried about an illness in his family, I told him my sister was going through the same thing and mentioned my own cancer history. When he shared the happy news of the birth of a grandchild, I was happy for him.
So many of the poems I still care about saw the light of day in Verse-Virtual because of Firestone Feinberg. I will never forget what I owe him.
* * *
To Firestone Feinberg: I will never forget what I owe him.
After a hiatus of more than thirty years, I began writing poetry again in a 'committed' way, i.e. on more than on the rare occasion. During those unpoetic years, I wrote for newspapers and I wrote fiction (and tried to keep the two separate). When my newspaper work dialed down and the poetry urge came back, I realized that if I wished to write for more than a one-man cheering squad, I knew I would have to start at the beginning. I would have to find someone, some place, seeking what I was attempting to offer.
Good fortune comes sometimes from good people.
I found mention of Verse-Virtual in an email sent to the newspaper I work for. I checked the online product: the work good, the editing clean. I sent some of my latest offerings to this editor, and wondered what a 'timely' response would consist of. A few hours later the same evening, I received a response from the journal's considerate editor. Firestone Feinberg was as good as his word, and he wished to publish some of my poems. A little more than five years later, I remember that night as one of the happier moments in my later life.
Poets don't make money. But a chance to have one's work noticed, seen, read—is everything. It's virtual currency.
In all the issues, in all the months since, Verse-Virtual has been a fixed star in my writing life, a community mural in which I have painted a few flowers, or scribbled some graffiti. It's been a source of pride to be part of something so good and so unusual; an opportunity to connect with a community of strong and diverse voices and to write for a journal with a mold-shatteringly active publication schedule.
Firestone Feinberg was a strong, attentive, and timely editor. Too often editors say they'll get back to you, or submit again in the future. Many of those futures never come.
If Firestone didn't like something, he told you straight off. 'Too many long poems,' he told me once. I sent him shorter ones, while still tossing in the occasional lengthy, self-involved screed. Fire published them.
Though we never met in person, Firestone and I kept in touch and shared family news. When he worried about an illness in his family, I told him my sister was going through the same thing and mentioned my own cancer history. When he shared the happy news of the birth of a grandchild, I was happy for him.
So many of the poems I still care about saw the light of day in Verse-Virtual because of Firestone Feinberg. I will never forget what I owe him.
* * *
Robert Walton
Wise words, beautiful words forge our shared future. None knew this truth better than Firestone. None did more to share such words, his own and those of many others. He has departed from us, but his work will surge beneath the surface chatter of events to shape a better future.
* * *
Wise words, beautiful words forge our shared future. None knew this truth better than Firestone. None did more to share such words, his own and those of many others. He has departed from us, but his work will surge beneath the surface chatter of events to shape a better future.
* * *
Judy Kronenfeld
What I found extraordinary about Firestone, from the very beginning of my relationship with Verse Virtual was that he was so completely unlike editors of other poetry journals. I was stunned when I first submitted a few poems he didn’t care for, and he went to the trouble to look up my work on the web, and to list a few poems he’d found that he liked a lot, and ask me to send more in that vein. Really?! No “we’re sorry your poems are not suited for our present needs”! I’ve since learned, of course, that this individualized, generous, and kind response was not at all unusual for Firestone.
I don’t think any other creator of a poetry journal can say he has fully brought a community into being. His idea of finding ways to encourage contributors to get to know one another so that we’ve all made wonderful friends with other poets was and is just brilliant. He took the initiative and made a corner of the literary world a better place. And we are all the better for it. His memory is for a blessing.
* * *
What I found extraordinary about Firestone, from the very beginning of my relationship with Verse Virtual was that he was so completely unlike editors of other poetry journals. I was stunned when I first submitted a few poems he didn’t care for, and he went to the trouble to look up my work on the web, and to list a few poems he’d found that he liked a lot, and ask me to send more in that vein. Really?! No “we’re sorry your poems are not suited for our present needs”! I’ve since learned, of course, that this individualized, generous, and kind response was not at all unusual for Firestone.
I don’t think any other creator of a poetry journal can say he has fully brought a community into being. His idea of finding ways to encourage contributors to get to know one another so that we’ve all made wonderful friends with other poets was and is just brilliant. He took the initiative and made a corner of the literary world a better place. And we are all the better for it. His memory is for a blessing.
* * *
Martin Pedersen
Firestone printed several of my poems from 2015-2017. He was very supportive, kind and generous. Basically, he got me started sharing my poems. In 2020-21, I'll have three poetry collections coming out. I owe him. Now, it's on me to find a way to pay forward.
* * *
Firestone printed several of my poems from 2015-2017. He was very supportive, kind and generous. Basically, he got me started sharing my poems. In 2020-21, I'll have three poetry collections coming out. I owe him. Now, it's on me to find a way to pay forward.
* * *
Ed Ahern
For a Man I Never Met
This caring shepherd of our words
Has had to leave us in the lea
And we holding in the flock
Give evidence of his nurture.
* * *
For a Man I Never Met
This caring shepherd of our words
Has had to leave us in the lea
And we holding in the flock
Give evidence of his nurture.
* * *
Penny Harter
Firestone's heart was so giving, so encouraging. He was personally there for all of us, and in his email responses to me when commenting on or accepting my submissions, he went beyond the professional to inquire how I was (knowing I was a cancer survivor), sending warm and caring wishes my way.
Back in February 2019, responding to my submission of three "favorite" poems, including two reflecting my healing from grief after my late husband Bill's death, Firestone replied, "What beautiful poems. They made me cry." His was a humble and beautiful spirit, and I miss him. May he find peace and health on the other side. I know that he is so glad that our V-V village is continuing!
* * *
Firestone's heart was so giving, so encouraging. He was personally there for all of us, and in his email responses to me when commenting on or accepting my submissions, he went beyond the professional to inquire how I was (knowing I was a cancer survivor), sending warm and caring wishes my way.
Back in February 2019, responding to my submission of three "favorite" poems, including two reflecting my healing from grief after my late husband Bill's death, Firestone replied, "What beautiful poems. They made me cry." His was a humble and beautiful spirit, and I miss him. May he find peace and health on the other side. I know that he is so glad that our V-V village is continuing!
* * *
Alan Walowitz
Coffee and Nosh with Firestone
Firestone didn’t want to meet me, but it was his own fault. I had invited him to my poetry reading at the now-also-lamented Cornelia Street Café on March 7, 2017. Firestone responded: “I'm thinking about it; I have cataract surgery the next day... we'll see (no pun intended). Anyhow it sounds great and it would be wonderful to meet you.” Though he couldn’t attend due to his impending surgery--and, later, I came to realize, his decided preference for home-- he’d said it would be wonderful to meet me. I had it in writing; he was cornered.
Though Firestone stalled as long as he could, we finally agreed to meet shortly after New Year’s Day in 2018 at the NY Society Library, a beautiful private sanctuary where he was a member. He showed me where he met with the poetry group he had organized there. I wanted to know more about it, but it wasn’t Firestone’s way to provide all the details. As he often told me, creating community was what it was always about for him. Community was more important than anything--more important even than poetry. Community was why he had developed Verse-Virtual and, though he loved poetry and each of us, making V-V into a community was truly his work.
Our in-person meeting was a little fitful, at first. Fire told me that he had met one other member of Verse-Virtual a few years before, and that
hadn’t worked out. Again, he didn’t tell me the details. Still, we seemed to be doing okay. After he showed me around the Library came that crucial
moment. Would you like to get some coffee? I asked. The rest was history, as memorialized in this photo. Two anxious Jewish boys, pretty much
the same age, both retired teachers, with the same interests--we both liked the great indoors and loved poetry. We found plenty to talk about.
However, he did take advantage of our meeting to fire me from my job as moderator of the V-V Shmooze Facebook page. He claimed I wasn’t doing
enough to create community. He was right. I told him that I would quit, if that would be easier. He told me he preferred to fire me. His work
as editor of V-V had taught him to be direct and honest.
Firestone and I met many more times over the next two and a half years. We’d embrace and talk like long-lost brothers. We eventually found a place
to our liking--Breads Bakery near Lincoln Center. We could sit as long as we’d like, drink coffee, have a piece of babka, and schmooze. If it got
too hot or too cold, we could head across Broadway to the David Rubinstein Atrium, where we could sit inside, drink coffee, and schmooze a while more.
We talked about everything and nothing. Poetry. Our careers working with kids. Some V-V stuff. Our lives. If one of us got up to get more coffee, Firestone could never remember what he’d been saying. If he told me the same story again, I didn’t care; they were good stories, about growing up the only Jewish boy in the sticks, about meeting Susan at college, about playing music to accompany New York’s most talented high school kids, about losing his mom when he was young. How can I remember exactly what we talked about? All I know is, each time at the end, we’d embrace, and he’d kiss me on the cheek, and say either “I love you” or “You’re a good boy.” One time he said both. I’ll have to hold on to that. Who’s going to tell me that now--and sound as if he really means it?
* * *
Coffee and Nosh with Firestone
Firestone didn’t want to meet me, but it was his own fault. I had invited him to my poetry reading at the now-also-lamented Cornelia Street Café on March 7, 2017. Firestone responded: “I'm thinking about it; I have cataract surgery the next day... we'll see (no pun intended). Anyhow it sounds great and it would be wonderful to meet you.” Though he couldn’t attend due to his impending surgery--and, later, I came to realize, his decided preference for home-- he’d said it would be wonderful to meet me. I had it in writing; he was cornered.
Though Firestone stalled as long as he could, we finally agreed to meet shortly after New Year’s Day in 2018 at the NY Society Library, a beautiful private sanctuary where he was a member. He showed me where he met with the poetry group he had organized there. I wanted to know more about it, but it wasn’t Firestone’s way to provide all the details. As he often told me, creating community was what it was always about for him. Community was more important than anything--more important even than poetry. Community was why he had developed Verse-Virtual and, though he loved poetry and each of us, making V-V into a community was truly his work.
Our in-person meeting was a little fitful, at first. Fire told me that he had met one other member of Verse-Virtual a few years before, and that
hadn’t worked out. Again, he didn’t tell me the details. Still, we seemed to be doing okay. After he showed me around the Library came that crucial
moment. Would you like to get some coffee? I asked. The rest was history, as memorialized in this photo. Two anxious Jewish boys, pretty much
the same age, both retired teachers, with the same interests--we both liked the great indoors and loved poetry. We found plenty to talk about.
However, he did take advantage of our meeting to fire me from my job as moderator of the V-V Shmooze Facebook page. He claimed I wasn’t doing
enough to create community. He was right. I told him that I would quit, if that would be easier. He told me he preferred to fire me. His work
as editor of V-V had taught him to be direct and honest.
Firestone and I met many more times over the next two and a half years. We’d embrace and talk like long-lost brothers. We eventually found a place
to our liking--Breads Bakery near Lincoln Center. We could sit as long as we’d like, drink coffee, have a piece of babka, and schmooze. If it got
too hot or too cold, we could head across Broadway to the David Rubinstein Atrium, where we could sit inside, drink coffee, and schmooze a while more.
We talked about everything and nothing. Poetry. Our careers working with kids. Some V-V stuff. Our lives. If one of us got up to get more coffee, Firestone could never remember what he’d been saying. If he told me the same story again, I didn’t care; they were good stories, about growing up the only Jewish boy in the sticks, about meeting Susan at college, about playing music to accompany New York’s most talented high school kids, about losing his mom when he was young. How can I remember exactly what we talked about? All I know is, each time at the end, we’d embrace, and he’d kiss me on the cheek, and say either “I love you” or “You’re a good boy.” One time he said both. I’ll have to hold on to that. Who’s going to tell me that now--and sound as if he really means it?
* * *
Michael Minassian
Out of the blue, in the fall of 2015, I received an email from an editor by the name of Firestone Feinberg inviting me to submit some poems to his online publication, Verse-Virtual. Also surprising was that Firestone told me he had seen my name and publication credits in the Poets & Writers Directory of Writers.
Someone actually looks at that site? I thought to myself. A few weeks later, I submitted my first poem, “Grief was a Stone,” and Firestone included it in the November issue. I kept submitting poems (in spite of one sharply worded rejection) and with the exception of a few months, my poems have appeared regularly in VV ever since.
In 2016, Firestone invited me to become a Contributing Editor. Over the years, we often exchanged emails and developed a warm (and funny) correspondence. I think we shared a similar sense of humor and view of the world.
A few years ago, we got on the subject of names, and he asked me about my email address. I told him I used the name Mikial (also the name of an alter-ego in some of my poems) because it is what my grandmother always called me: Mikial is Michael in Armenian. He told me his given name was actually David, and he used Firestone to honor his own grandfather who was named Firestone. After that exchange of emails, he always addressed me as Mikial. It was a touching gesture and meant a lot to me.
Of course, I continued calling him Firestone, and we often spoke about meeting in New York someday where I would join him and Alan Walowitz for bagels and coffee (without ever agreeing on who would pick up the tab). Unfortunately, that meeting never happened.
I miss him, his vision, sense of humor, and his warmth as a human being.
* * *
Out of the blue, in the fall of 2015, I received an email from an editor by the name of Firestone Feinberg inviting me to submit some poems to his online publication, Verse-Virtual. Also surprising was that Firestone told me he had seen my name and publication credits in the Poets & Writers Directory of Writers.
Someone actually looks at that site? I thought to myself. A few weeks later, I submitted my first poem, “Grief was a Stone,” and Firestone included it in the November issue. I kept submitting poems (in spite of one sharply worded rejection) and with the exception of a few months, my poems have appeared regularly in VV ever since.
In 2016, Firestone invited me to become a Contributing Editor. Over the years, we often exchanged emails and developed a warm (and funny) correspondence. I think we shared a similar sense of humor and view of the world.
A few years ago, we got on the subject of names, and he asked me about my email address. I told him I used the name Mikial (also the name of an alter-ego in some of my poems) because it is what my grandmother always called me: Mikial is Michael in Armenian. He told me his given name was actually David, and he used Firestone to honor his own grandfather who was named Firestone. After that exchange of emails, he always addressed me as Mikial. It was a touching gesture and meant a lot to me.
Of course, I continued calling him Firestone, and we often spoke about meeting in New York someday where I would join him and Alan Walowitz for bagels and coffee (without ever agreeing on who would pick up the tab). Unfortunately, that meeting never happened.
I miss him, his vision, sense of humor, and his warmth as a human being.
* * *
Sylvia Cavanaugh
In the spring of 2015, after I submitted to Verse-Virtual for the first time, Firestone and I discovered that we had both been advisors for breakdancers. Now, that is quite the unique commonality and he and I bonded over it. We wrote back and forth about what a pleasure and privilege it was to have been a part of that rarified scene. The high school crew I advised was comprised of Hmong teens, while Firestone was advisor for the breakdancing club in his New York high school, where he also taught music. New York, of course, is the hearth of breakdancing and hip hop culture. I was very impressed. Firestone published my first breakdancing poem, and then encouraged me to write more b-boy poems for Verse-Virtual. Fire was always kind and supportive of me and my poetry and I am thankful for the thoughtful way in which he built and nurtured the Verse-Virtual community. The Verse-Virtual community has enriched my life and expanded my poetic horizons.
* * *
In the spring of 2015, after I submitted to Verse-Virtual for the first time, Firestone and I discovered that we had both been advisors for breakdancers. Now, that is quite the unique commonality and he and I bonded over it. We wrote back and forth about what a pleasure and privilege it was to have been a part of that rarified scene. The high school crew I advised was comprised of Hmong teens, while Firestone was advisor for the breakdancing club in his New York high school, where he also taught music. New York, of course, is the hearth of breakdancing and hip hop culture. I was very impressed. Firestone published my first breakdancing poem, and then encouraged me to write more b-boy poems for Verse-Virtual. Fire was always kind and supportive of me and my poetry and I am thankful for the thoughtful way in which he built and nurtured the Verse-Virtual community. The Verse-Virtual community has enriched my life and expanded my poetic horizons.
* * *
Betsy Mars
I don't remember how I first became aware of Verse-Virtual, but I do know that I considered "applying" to join the community for at least a year prior to finally submitting my request. I felt inadequate, inarticulate, and uncertain whether I had enough to offer to be a valuable member. I felt it was a commitment that I needed to fulfill and wanted to be certain that I had the right motivation to participate in what seemed to be an almost sacred endeavor.
I took my responsibility seriously and tried to contribute as I was able. I was fortunate to find kindness, encouragement, and generosity. Before I
wormed my way in as a poet, I somehow forged a nice relationship with Firestone. I loved seeing each new painting he shared, and for some reason, he
proposed to gift me one. I was thrilled. We talked back and forth as I (in my usual indecisive way) tried to pick one from among the offerings, and he
finally chose for me, sensing that I had a particular liking for one. The one he selected was really perfect (and I share it here). It has a feeling of
balance to it that I am always seeking. In addition to his generosity in making a present of his art, he shared some of his own struggles as I talked
to him about my son's mental health issues as well as my own.
In terms of my poetry, we had a rockier relationship, with him rejecting many of my submissions, outright disliking some, and finally just saying, "choose one and I will publish it." Even after that, it was hard for me to predict whether he would like what I sent, and I went through a period of frustration and tears trying to gain his approval. I think I learned a kind of endurance and developed an understanding that each editor's taste is unique and it does not (necessarily) reflect on the quality of my work. He pushed me to improve, and supported me, but most of all, by word and example he showed me that what was most important were the bonds formed in V-V, and they remain strong in his absence, and have helped me in this period of isolation and moral rebirth. Firestone leaves a legacy of love, love of language, and mutual support among the writers who form this community. I am sincerely forever indebted to him.
* * *
I don't remember how I first became aware of Verse-Virtual, but I do know that I considered "applying" to join the community for at least a year prior to finally submitting my request. I felt inadequate, inarticulate, and uncertain whether I had enough to offer to be a valuable member. I felt it was a commitment that I needed to fulfill and wanted to be certain that I had the right motivation to participate in what seemed to be an almost sacred endeavor.
I took my responsibility seriously and tried to contribute as I was able. I was fortunate to find kindness, encouragement, and generosity. Before I
wormed my way in as a poet, I somehow forged a nice relationship with Firestone. I loved seeing each new painting he shared, and for some reason, he
proposed to gift me one. I was thrilled. We talked back and forth as I (in my usual indecisive way) tried to pick one from among the offerings, and he
finally chose for me, sensing that I had a particular liking for one. The one he selected was really perfect (and I share it here). It has a feeling of
balance to it that I am always seeking. In addition to his generosity in making a present of his art, he shared some of his own struggles as I talked
to him about my son's mental health issues as well as my own.
In terms of my poetry, we had a rockier relationship, with him rejecting many of my submissions, outright disliking some, and finally just saying, "choose one and I will publish it." Even after that, it was hard for me to predict whether he would like what I sent, and I went through a period of frustration and tears trying to gain his approval. I think I learned a kind of endurance and developed an understanding that each editor's taste is unique and it does not (necessarily) reflect on the quality of my work. He pushed me to improve, and supported me, but most of all, by word and example he showed me that what was most important were the bonds formed in V-V, and they remain strong in his absence, and have helped me in this period of isolation and moral rebirth. Firestone leaves a legacy of love, love of language, and mutual support among the writers who form this community. I am sincerely forever indebted to him.
* * *
Neil Creighton
One of the great privileges of my life was my friendship with Firestone Feinberg. To list attributes or gifts never does justice to the person but he had lots of gifts: poet, musician, songwriter, artist, publisher, community builder and warm, kind, generous human.
Our friendship didn’t have a stellar beginning. I submitted a few poems to Verse-Virtual and happily, Firestone accepted one of them. That felt great. Next month I submitted another, something I thought was good. “Look,” he said, “don’t feel bad. Lots of people only get published once in V-V.” I thought about this and decided to test his patience with another try. “Be gentle on this one,” I said. “It’s personal and important to me.” “You are strange,” he responded. Then an hour or two later he wrote again. “Well, well,” he said, “the man can write. I will publish this if you change the name from ‘Brenda’ to ‘Mother’.” I did, and the rest, as they say, is history. Almost immediately Firestone asked me to be a Contributing Editor at Verse-Virtual. He didn’t have to ask me twice.
After that we began to correspond. He was always so generous and caring. Then one day a parcel arrived from New York. I opened it up and there was one of Fire’s watercolors.
Fire has given me a community, a village of poets and some deep friendships. What vision he had. It wasn’t enough for him to create a journal. He wanted to create a community and he succeeded. Verse-Virtual is the village of Firestone Feinberg, one of the wonderful people to have breathed on earth.
There is a rich part in my heart where Firestone dwells. It has informed something of who I am. There is another part in my heart, an empty part that carries the sorrow that this man no longer walks the earth.
Firestone, you are much loved and greatly missed.
Vale, dear friend.
* * *
One of the great privileges of my life was my friendship with Firestone Feinberg. To list attributes or gifts never does justice to the person but he had lots of gifts: poet, musician, songwriter, artist, publisher, community builder and warm, kind, generous human.
Our friendship didn’t have a stellar beginning. I submitted a few poems to Verse-Virtual and happily, Firestone accepted one of them. That felt great. Next month I submitted another, something I thought was good. “Look,” he said, “don’t feel bad. Lots of people only get published once in V-V.” I thought about this and decided to test his patience with another try. “Be gentle on this one,” I said. “It’s personal and important to me.” “You are strange,” he responded. Then an hour or two later he wrote again. “Well, well,” he said, “the man can write. I will publish this if you change the name from ‘Brenda’ to ‘Mother’.” I did, and the rest, as they say, is history. Almost immediately Firestone asked me to be a Contributing Editor at Verse-Virtual. He didn’t have to ask me twice.
After that we began to correspond. He was always so generous and caring. Then one day a parcel arrived from New York. I opened it up and there was one of Fire’s watercolors.
Fire has given me a community, a village of poets and some deep friendships. What vision he had. It wasn’t enough for him to create a journal. He wanted to create a community and he succeeded. Verse-Virtual is the village of Firestone Feinberg, one of the wonderful people to have breathed on earth.
There is a rich part in my heart where Firestone dwells. It has informed something of who I am. There is another part in my heart, an empty part that carries the sorrow that this man no longer walks the earth.
Firestone, you are much loved and greatly missed.
Vale, dear friend.
* * *
Joan Leotta
His Talent and Kindness Blessed my Life
When I first started sending poems to VV, I was a bit intimidated by Firestone. He reminded me of one of the teachers I had. He was constantly challenging me to do better. Even when I submitted poems that had been published, Fire would sometimes reject them with a note: “You can do better.”
Although the criticism smarted in moments of low esteem, when I was feeling good, I took it as a challenge, as the critique of a true friend. So, I wrote on , each time trying to exceed my own sense of musicality, line, expression of the depth. Some of those, Fire accepted. Only some!
On a whim, I became Facebook friends with him. There I encountered his alphabet series— paintings for each letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Through those I began to understand how fully committed he was to have each person become the best they could be—and through those I was able to glimpse a bit of him that even his poems did not reveal. The continuing optimism, the sense that our existence offered wonderful possibilities was real in those.
Around the same time he came to K, the sixteenth letter, in the third set, a friend of mine’s husband died. I wanted to send her the k painting for kaddish, that wonderful prayer that is said for the dead among other times. I wrote and asked Firestone for permission. He replied right away that I was welcome to use the painting but corrected me. He told me that in Hebrew, it was not the K but the Kuf or Quf, the nineteenth letter that began the word kaddish. He apologized that he had not yet reached that letter in his latest series but told me I was free to use the letter from either of his two previous alphabets if I wished.
I scrolled back and found that same sense of peace, of joy, of affirmation of all that is good, in the previous number nineteen paintings. I showed them to him to be sure and sent one to my friend who found great solace in them.
And now, these alphabet paintings, especially Kuf, afford me solace. I know his memory will always be a blessing to those who have loved him, family, close friends, and to folks like me who hardly knew him, but who were privileged to glimpse his goodness through the VV Group he founded and his desire to help us be our very best selves and poets at all times.
Thank you, Firestone, for your encouragement, tough love, and for creating a community of poets whose work I have come to admire and with whom I’ve become friends— poets from across the world.
His memory will indeed be a blessing to me and to us all.
* * *
His Talent and Kindness Blessed my Life
When I first started sending poems to VV, I was a bit intimidated by Firestone. He reminded me of one of the teachers I had. He was constantly challenging me to do better. Even when I submitted poems that had been published, Fire would sometimes reject them with a note: “You can do better.”
Although the criticism smarted in moments of low esteem, when I was feeling good, I took it as a challenge, as the critique of a true friend. So, I wrote on , each time trying to exceed my own sense of musicality, line, expression of the depth. Some of those, Fire accepted. Only some!
On a whim, I became Facebook friends with him. There I encountered his alphabet series— paintings for each letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Through those I began to understand how fully committed he was to have each person become the best they could be—and through those I was able to glimpse a bit of him that even his poems did not reveal. The continuing optimism, the sense that our existence offered wonderful possibilities was real in those.
Around the same time he came to K, the sixteenth letter, in the third set, a friend of mine’s husband died. I wanted to send her the k painting for kaddish, that wonderful prayer that is said for the dead among other times. I wrote and asked Firestone for permission. He replied right away that I was welcome to use the painting but corrected me. He told me that in Hebrew, it was not the K but the Kuf or Quf, the nineteenth letter that began the word kaddish. He apologized that he had not yet reached that letter in his latest series but told me I was free to use the letter from either of his two previous alphabets if I wished.
I scrolled back and found that same sense of peace, of joy, of affirmation of all that is good, in the previous number nineteen paintings. I showed them to him to be sure and sent one to my friend who found great solace in them.
And now, these alphabet paintings, especially Kuf, afford me solace. I know his memory will always be a blessing to those who have loved him, family, close friends, and to folks like me who hardly knew him, but who were privileged to glimpse his goodness through the VV Group he founded and his desire to help us be our very best selves and poets at all times.
Thank you, Firestone, for your encouragement, tough love, and for creating a community of poets whose work I have come to admire and with whom I’ve become friends— poets from across the world.
His memory will indeed be a blessing to me and to us all.
* * *
Donna Hilbert
In May of 2015, Firestone wrote to me asking for permission to re-publish two of my poems that he had read in another journal. As I was unfamiliar with Verse-Virtual, he said to take a look at past issues, and let him know. Of course, I loved what I saw, and From June of 2015 forward, I have had the privilege and pleasure of dwelling in every issue of the virtual village that Firestone created. Though we never met personally, we were in steady contact and he became a dear and beloved friend. During my flood of almost unbearable tragedy, Firestone, and the community he built from the brick and mortar of poetry and love, held my head above the water. Firestone, I will never forget you.
* * *
In May of 2015, Firestone wrote to me asking for permission to re-publish two of my poems that he had read in another journal. As I was unfamiliar with Verse-Virtual, he said to take a look at past issues, and let him know. Of course, I loved what I saw, and From June of 2015 forward, I have had the privilege and pleasure of dwelling in every issue of the virtual village that Firestone created. Though we never met personally, we were in steady contact and he became a dear and beloved friend. During my flood of almost unbearable tragedy, Firestone, and the community he built from the brick and mortar of poetry and love, held my head above the water. Firestone, I will never forget you.
* * *
Tom Montag
FIRESTONE'S LESSONS FOR ME
Firestone was somewhat more of a traditionalist than I am, I think. Early on, I remember sending him a batch of my poems for the next issue of VERSE-VIRTUAL, my usual spare and airy little things, mostly short-lined couplets as I remember, and Firestone reformatted them without any stanza breaks, wondering why they wouldn't be just as good if they looked like that.
What a revelation this was to me. I was stunned, seeing them. It was as if I had been kicked in the solar plexus. I hadn't known that I was so attached to my "style," if that's what you call it. It was as if I was frozen. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't respond to Firestone.
After a day or two, he wrote back to say he would run the poems as I had sent them.
The lesson Firestone taught me, the surprise, was how deeply visceral my attachment to the form of my poems is. And I learned also how sensitive he was to his poets, my silence to his suggestion being all he needed to hear.
* * *
FIRESTONE'S LESSONS FOR ME
Firestone was somewhat more of a traditionalist than I am, I think. Early on, I remember sending him a batch of my poems for the next issue of VERSE-VIRTUAL, my usual spare and airy little things, mostly short-lined couplets as I remember, and Firestone reformatted them without any stanza breaks, wondering why they wouldn't be just as good if they looked like that.
What a revelation this was to me. I was stunned, seeing them. It was as if I had been kicked in the solar plexus. I hadn't known that I was so attached to my "style," if that's what you call it. It was as if I was frozen. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't respond to Firestone.
After a day or two, he wrote back to say he would run the poems as I had sent them.
The lesson Firestone taught me, the surprise, was how deeply visceral my attachment to the form of my poems is. And I learned also how sensitive he was to his poets, my silence to his suggestion being all he needed to hear.
* * *
Ingrid Bruck
Dear Susan and family, I’m sorry for your loss.
I’m a relative late comer to the Verse-Virtual poetry community. I’ve been a member for five years, which is when I first starting sending out poems for consideration. Firestone published one of my first poems in the January 2016 Issue of Verse-Virtual and how that happened is typical Firestone. He rejected the five poems that I sent but could tell I was serious about getting things right and offered me second chance. Firestone offered to read more of my poems and didn’t even shrug when I sent him nineteen poems. He accepted three. Firestone was that kind of guy, encouraging me as an emerging poet and creating an environment that nurtured and supported my writing. I was thrilled to gain admittance to the supportive V-V poetry community Firestone created and have been an active participant in this wonderful group ever since.
Firestone’s encouragement and support has meant a great deal to me and so many of us at Verse-Virtual. We keenly feel his absence as our leader, but the V-V community he created remains strong and vibrant, all because of the man he was. Thank you for supporting Firestone as the musician and artist he was and for sharing him with us.
In Sympathy, Ingrid Bruck
* * *
Dear Susan and family, I’m sorry for your loss.
I’m a relative late comer to the Verse-Virtual poetry community. I’ve been a member for five years, which is when I first starting sending out poems for consideration. Firestone published one of my first poems in the January 2016 Issue of Verse-Virtual and how that happened is typical Firestone. He rejected the five poems that I sent but could tell I was serious about getting things right and offered me second chance. Firestone offered to read more of my poems and didn’t even shrug when I sent him nineteen poems. He accepted three. Firestone was that kind of guy, encouraging me as an emerging poet and creating an environment that nurtured and supported my writing. I was thrilled to gain admittance to the supportive V-V poetry community Firestone created and have been an active participant in this wonderful group ever since.
Firestone’s encouragement and support has meant a great deal to me and so many of us at Verse-Virtual. We keenly feel his absence as our leader, but the V-V community he created remains strong and vibrant, all because of the man he was. Thank you for supporting Firestone as the musician and artist he was and for sharing him with us.
In Sympathy, Ingrid Bruck
* * *
Laura Kaminski
In 2016, Firestone Feinberg, founder of Verse-Virtual, and Jim Lewis and I were chatting online, and Firestone (may you rest in perfect peace and stay forever blessed, dear friend!) challenged us to write a poem on the theme of patience. Firestone, thank you for inspiring these and many other poems, through your own words and through the Verse-Virtual community you created. Thank you for encouraging me to become a better poet...and a better person. May your family and all those whose lives you've touched be comforted, and may we be forever grateful for having known you, and the legacies of poetry and community you have left us. Amin thuma amin.
* * *
In 2016, Firestone Feinberg, founder of Verse-Virtual, and Jim Lewis and I were chatting online, and Firestone (may you rest in perfect peace and stay forever blessed, dear friend!) challenged us to write a poem on the theme of patience. Firestone, thank you for inspiring these and many other poems, through your own words and through the Verse-Virtual community you created. Thank you for encouraging me to become a better poet...and a better person. May your family and all those whose lives you've touched be comforted, and may we be forever grateful for having known you, and the legacies of poetry and community you have left us. Amin thuma amin.
* * *
Kate Sontag
Firestone, Fire, FF, I could never decide what to call you, so I called you all three. You will be missed and remembered for your immense poetic vision, your empathy, and many speedy acceptances. Know that I think of you every time I walk past my bookshelf where your whimsical watercolor sits. When it first arrived, I smiled, and was moved that you went out of your way to send it to me, snail-mail! It’s always in the back of my mind like this community of writers with whom I’ve had the most amazing conversations and whose poems have nurtured and inspired. Oh editor and human extraordinaire, poet and artist, heartfelt thanks.
* * *
Firestone, Fire, FF, I could never decide what to call you, so I called you all three. You will be missed and remembered for your immense poetic vision, your empathy, and many speedy acceptances. Know that I think of you every time I walk past my bookshelf where your whimsical watercolor sits. When it first arrived, I smiled, and was moved that you went out of your way to send it to me, snail-mail! It’s always in the back of my mind like this community of writers with whom I’ve had the most amazing conversations and whose poems have nurtured and inspired. Oh editor and human extraordinaire, poet and artist, heartfelt thanks.
* * *
And some words from Firestone himself
Editor's Note: This is definitely a glimpse into the personality of a wonderful human being. It's about poetry, but it is equally about what he wanted from our commnity. This was posted to the V-V Facebook page in 2016. Try reading it and substituting the word "people" or "person" in place of "poem" where appropriate. You'll see what I mean. And then to close this page of memories from those who loved him, I am repeating his poem, "The Tourist". The same poem that opens this issue of Verse-Virtual. We certainly know you traveled here, Firestone.
"A few of the criteria for accepting poems for V-V: The opening must be attractive in some way; if the first few lines of a poem don't grab me I probably won't publish it. I prefer shorter poems but do take longer ones if interesting all the way through. I do accept well-written work which contains references to classic literature—even as ignorant as I am -- bec I know there is a significant, if not large, audience for them. I'm generally not impressed with Asian forms. I prefer poems with a strong "turn." I like some kind of surprise. Of course the cadence must be gorgeous or profound and it should leave me feeling complete except in rare cases where the poet wants to leave the reader feeling incomplete. I think of poetry as an art in time, like music or dance. The composer is changing the color and pace of time in his poem. He is somehow changing the reader or listener in some way—it need not be in a dramatic way. Making him smile or think about something interesting is enough. He should be an even slightly different person from who he was before he read the poem."
"I appreciate dark and depressing poems, but there has to be a good reason for upsetting the reader. If possible the ending should be redemptive, but obviously that is not always possible or appropriate. I like narratives, ballads, sonnets, villanelles, poems with rhymes that aren't forced, meter if used well, humorous poetry, lyric poetry, poetry abt real experiences — bec they are more likely to be moving, honest, sincere... I don't like most choppy poems or poems that are abstract. I'm also not crazy about prose poems and found poems.
WHAT KIND OF POEMS DO YOU LIKE?"
b''h
The Tourist
My pen is dry — it's out of ink,
My paper's brown with age,
But still I'll write — or so I think —
At least another page.
It need not be pure poetry,
Neither perfect prayer,
But just a word to tell someone
That once I traveled here.
© 2018 Firestone Feinberg
* * *
Editor's Note: This is definitely a glimpse into the personality of a wonderful human being. It's about poetry, but it is equally about what he wanted from our commnity. This was posted to the V-V Facebook page in 2016. Try reading it and substituting the word "people" or "person" in place of "poem" where appropriate. You'll see what I mean. And then to close this page of memories from those who loved him, I am repeating his poem, "The Tourist". The same poem that opens this issue of Verse-Virtual. We certainly know you traveled here, Firestone.
"A few of the criteria for accepting poems for V-V: The opening must be attractive in some way; if the first few lines of a poem don't grab me I probably won't publish it. I prefer shorter poems but do take longer ones if interesting all the way through. I do accept well-written work which contains references to classic literature—even as ignorant as I am -- bec I know there is a significant, if not large, audience for them. I'm generally not impressed with Asian forms. I prefer poems with a strong "turn." I like some kind of surprise. Of course the cadence must be gorgeous or profound and it should leave me feeling complete except in rare cases where the poet wants to leave the reader feeling incomplete. I think of poetry as an art in time, like music or dance. The composer is changing the color and pace of time in his poem. He is somehow changing the reader or listener in some way—it need not be in a dramatic way. Making him smile or think about something interesting is enough. He should be an even slightly different person from who he was before he read the poem."
"I appreciate dark and depressing poems, but there has to be a good reason for upsetting the reader. If possible the ending should be redemptive, but obviously that is not always possible or appropriate. I like narratives, ballads, sonnets, villanelles, poems with rhymes that aren't forced, meter if used well, humorous poetry, lyric poetry, poetry abt real experiences — bec they are more likely to be moving, honest, sincere... I don't like most choppy poems or poems that are abstract. I'm also not crazy about prose poems and found poems.
WHAT KIND OF POEMS DO YOU LIKE?"
b''h
The Tourist
My pen is dry — it's out of ink,
My paper's brown with age,
But still I'll write — or so I think —
At least another page.
It need not be pure poetry,
Neither perfect prayer,
But just a word to tell someone
That once I traveled here.
© 2018 Firestone Feinberg
* * *