As if to Demonstrate an Eclipse by Billy Collins
Of The Empire by Mary Oliver
Darkness of the Subjunctive by Paul Hoover
Elegy for the Disappeared by Forrest Gander
let it go – the by e.e. cummings
Mobile by Sarah Strong
It was difficult to choose poems this week, given the tumultuous chaos in the capital on Epiphany... a very dark day for America on the day traditionally celebrating the return of light. Note sent out with the poems:
Dear All,
I am grateful for these groups, O Pen and Poetry Oasis that celebrate the power of words to bring understanding and healing and poems that allow us to study the care with which they are made.
When I choose poems, I am looking those which reflect a poet’s love of words, the care of crafting sentences, a message which reflects the hand of someone who is paying attention to the world in an multi-faceted and empathetic manner. In turn, by discussing, we share reflections on how these poems help us navigate this complex world mindfully and with compassion.
I hope the line-up for next Wednesday will not disappoint in this regard.
I am pleased to share that this month’s curator of a poem-a-day is by Fatimah Asghar. In this spirit of continuing to learn, and foster better understanding of others, especially those we don’t know, I encourage you to read her poem chosen by the American Academy
I was pleased to read her choice for today which felt like a gentle introduction both to Sudan, but also Arabic customs, and that “cocktail” shaken together of old and new, Sudanese and American.
You might enjoy this link as well!
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/153217/modern-sudanese-poetry
from Poetry (May 2020)
In last week’s discussion, we were reminded of the solar system model (see my notes in the blog under Dorianne Laux: http://kdjospe.blogspot.com)… so in this same spirit of “learning” it seemed fitting to start with Billy Collins’ As if to Demonstrate an Eclipse.
Nutshell:
Collins:
We shared many different versions of appreciation for the delight Collins provides by taking the ordinary, gently transforming it into an object of wonder, all while infusing it with some self-irony without sentimentality. Note the title is as if to demonstrate an eclipse which by the end of the poem might be the greater metaphor of an eclipse in our mind where, in the dark, we lose the light of seeing all that prompts gratitude... After another glass of wine from that bottle, (from the echoing set up of 3 things, 2nd stanza) no longer comparing himself to a benevolent god "presiding over a establishment of a miniature creation myth... singing a homemade canticle of thanks..." but "singing the room full of shadows..." imagining the eclipse, with his usual mock-humility,", we too can join him, if not "cockeyed" with gratitude, at least convinced that it can be sincere without being schmaltzy.
Laux: How to link all the metaphors of wound as flower, (which in turn dies on its descent to earth, and is a bag of scent filled with war, forest, torches, trouble) and fire sinking into itself? Lori was reminded of Rumi, "When your thoughts are rose-like, you would be a rose garden; when your thoughts are thorn like, you would be firewood in a furnace"-- The poem deals with healing... and David recalled Robert Frost's distinction between grief and grievance... the first can be addressed by "sewing back together", the second only causes more harm. Ken underlined this wisdom, mentioning he had been reading about the backgrounds of the people who assaulted the capital last Wednesday: all very different and all with their own grief. Bernie brought up the power of listening to the body for healing... and Lori showed the icebag on her hand, a live enactment of calming a burn on her skin while she was making tea..
Oliver: Not the usual style of Mary Oliver, more like a thoughtful essay than a poem. Published in 2008, whether it was regarding the LA riots and Rodney King (1991) or happening right now, this address saying how we will be known, is a frighteningly true prophecy.
One thought was that starting with "we" and moving to what "they" say, the surprising repeat of the heart which is defined on the last line,
moves us back to the we... and how to address hearts that are "small, hard, full of meanness."
Hoover: Quite a biography, part of which includes publishing an anthology of Vietnamese poetry in 2008 which he hoped would change the US view of Vietnamese poetry, and bring awareness to the range of expression practiced since the "Nhan Van" development of the 1950's when members of the Writers Association demanded freedom of expression, for which they were punished with loss of their jobs, loss of publication privileges and in some cases, prison. The subjunctive mood, expressing layers of doubt, desire, uncertainty, and the "if" clauses that deal with the imperfect tense followed by the conditional allows expression of what is possible. Elaine told us the vietnamese language does not have this verbal mood. This is not a breezy poem with facile explanations... how to understand "the world is possible meaning"...
Jan demonstrated that the I in the poem is the poet, using the subjunctive to explore what could have, might have happened. How do you retire to your future? Who is this we that might have existed... and what small light as person, by a 60 watt bulb in such an endless, unmeasurable darkness....
Gander: It's best to see the artwork to understand the poem. The art asks us to fill in the blank... just as the poem does... the letter p, when combined with h makes an f sound, a fantom p... just as the b in limb, does not pronounce the b.
"I will need to listen well so I hear what is not"-- Emily I believe, quoting the difficulty of "listening between the lines" the way we need to read. The opening calls for looking carefully... what is mirrored? What is really there?
Cummings: Let it go... and the word play... the broken/open... length/wise.. the paradox of "truthful liars"... "false fair friends"-- calling as nouns "both" and "neither"... the "the" hanging on the first line has indeed lost its noun... the (you fill in the blank, you are the one who knows)... the endearing personal touch of "dear"... the making room... a gem of a poem.
Strong: She reads well (Mary was delighted -- the enunciation allows her to hear every word!)... There is a chronology from the spin of images, from birth when all is a blur, to growing up as things adopt meaning... to the complexity of memory. However, so many layers..
there is the processing and grappling with the world as it works... then with the same waltz in the mobile played by the real Danube, a reference to its passage through history... and the anecdotal authenticity of hearing the waltz played by it on guitar accompanied by the sweeping sound of the river, dancing fett (no squishy plastic smell, associations with asthma attacks, factory workers in China, Barbie dolls)
the threading of "shiny things" again, as distraction, but then a shiny cellphone (put down, the person holding it weeping), the magpie's love shiny objects... back to the "plastic" in ourselves... and by naming it... aware... of what we really want...
"green breath of those first fields,/blown towards us by the moving shapes of horses."
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