Poems for June 2

Dead Stars  by Ada Limon (Section 3: Reframe)

Man on the TV Say by Patricia Smith (Section 4: Reshape)

On the Fifth Day  by Jane Hirshfield (Section 5: Persist)

ANTHROPOCENE PASTORAL by Catherine Pierce (Section 6: Feel)

Calling All Grand Mothers by Alice Walker (Section 8: Rise)

Ode to Dirt  by Sharon Olds (Section 7: Nourish)

The sections in these poems come from the book All We Can Save: Truth, Courage, and Solutions for the Climate Crisis edited by Ayana Elizabeth Johnson & Katharine K. Wilkinson. 

Nutshell:

Dead Stars:  A perfect poem in the section that identifies the problem of climate crisis as a failure of language...  The word "mute" appears in the beginning, and again towards the end (mute mouths of the sea, of the land) and the speaker's "mouth full of dust".  It is heartening to read a poem which calls on the power of language to drive us to activism indeed, to imagine how to "survive... love harder... use our bodies (and speech) to bargain for the safety of others.

We admired the brilliant juxtaposition of stars (heavens) and trash bins (down to earth detail), the "surburban thunder" which paves the way to reminding us that we are "dead stars".  What "new constellations"  do we need to learn-- and what do we need to remember that we keep forgetting?  It is reassuring to be told we are not unspectacular... and to imagine briefly what could happen if we "declared a clean night, stopped being terrified, launched our demands, made ourselves so big, people could point to us with the arrows they make in their mind?"

The sounds, rhythms, metaphors of the poem become a constellation to create in our minds... 

yes... dust... death... "after all this is over", and yet, the rolling of trash bins continues... 

Indeed, the question came up about democracy, and if it needs to be replaced by a system that requires

a universal system applied to all.  What have we learned from the pandemic?  What hope is there for 

positive change?

Man on the TV Say: We remarked the lines which like the title speak in dialect we associate with southern, poor blacks, the details of the few possessions that would be left  behind if evacuated...   and the quandary of no place to go to.  "Our favorite ritual is root..." which spoke to the poem last week about uprooting Palestinians from their homes.  This powerful poem could stand on its own  as commentary about the disparity between privileged and poor as well as reflect the terrifying circumstances of Hurricane Katrina.  At one point, if we do not change, repair what is worn down, torn, we're all going to have to go -- and we are given a taste of how that feels.  TV as where the "machine throat" has no regard

for those endangered.  "He act like we supposed to wrap ourself in picture frames, shadow boxes,

bathroom rugs, then walk the freeway racing the water."  He say it strong now: "mad like God pointing the way outta Paradise."  The ending gives shivers -- the dumb, both as silent and stupid absurdity...  running, the chaotic mechanics of trying to stay alive.  

On the Fifth Day: "And what do we owe to the powerful who lied for decades?" 

And those same powerful who silence the scientists... and facts... which have never spoken for themselves

except by their expression in nature -- rivers speaking of rivers.  We all enjoyed the line "The facts, 

surprised to be taken, were silent."  Every fact is there -- but unless registered, understood, indeed, cannot speak by and for itself.  The muzzling in the poem is reminiscent of the Trump administration's removal of the words "climate change" in official documents.  This article in The Sun explains human behavior when faced with fear of death: https://www.thesunmagazine.org/issues/544/this-mortal-coil

Anthropocene Pastoral: This poem, in the section feel, calls on our senses.  Valerie used the example of her mother, so delighted in te beauty of Spring, unable to make the connection that with Spring coming earlier, so arrives a whole web of deterioration.  At least... and off we go, justifying and trying to comfort

ourselves... Yes, indeed, "Built to say at least..." and the gentle finality of the end of the poem, where saying I'm sorry won't change a thing.

Calling All Grand Mothers: We did note that some men might be upset by the implied negative stereotyping, but Walker does allow for men "possessing the Grand Mother spirit" and we noted, that

the women imitating men who do not have it are not are no better off.  Kitchen, field... perhaps places of

underpaid work, beauty parlor and television, perhaps places of escape... This is a vital poem, with the same invigorating call to activism as Dead Stars but indeed well-situated in the chapter of the book that

is called "Nourish".  Grand Mothers, are bigger than the wisdom we hope are in our ancestor Grandmothers, and have a note of the indigenous respect for the greatest mother of all -- Earth.

Marna shared this link: https://www.mindandlife.org/event/2021-summer-research-institute

Ode to Dirt:  Valerie made sure we all understand the difference between "dirt" which is dead, lifeless, and "soil" which is teaming with aliveness.  Sharon Olds probably knows the difference, but her choice augments the shock value of the juxtaposition between "Ode" (a poem of celebration and praise) and  "dirt" as the trashed and lowly ground on which we stomp.  We were reminded again of Dead Stars, 

the need to reconfigure the larger picture.  How many times do we look up and see only sun, and not even consider the space in which it shines?  Without saying "Earth", indeed, "dirt" implies it-- our common denominator.  By turning "dirt" into a character, Olds addresses our prejudice -- we tend to shy away 

from off-putting details of appearance, especially those who do not look like us, or what we idealize.

David shared a personal memory of the importance of soil in his father's garden, as well as the creation story when God creates Adam (Adama= Earth).