The Conditional by Ada Limon
The Ghosts of Georgia O’Keeffe and Sigmund Freud Meet in New Mexico
by krstaten
Who is Less Than a Vapor? by Rowan Ricardo Phillips
Why the HG is Holy BY MARK HALLIDAY
I don't know... a poem of semi-colons, set in unrhymed tercets to ponder what threatens our existence... a Race War, and what we have done to each other, and our equally undeclared, unacknowledged actions against the earth.
The poem's question is acknowledged yet any answer avoided in the first line of the last stanza about trapping a butterfly... followed by an embrace of mindful fulness. The last afterthought, a completed sentence of affirmation where the "it" can refer not only to the butterfly continuing...but also its world, replete with slavery... but is the final sentence only confirmation of wishful thinking? What do we take for granted? Why do we want to capture something?
so you trapped it in a jar & gave it to a girl
you liked. I asked if it died. you say you liketo think it lived a long life. yes, it lived a long life.
Comments: Truth has many forms. is 2 wks long for a butterfly? What is a long life?
Long life: = memory. Humans are like butterflies… in terms of Earth’s time.
How do you tell the truth? It takes 3 generations to complete a migration between Canada to Peru.
for poems,” said someone. Over the next thirty years,
there won’t be any poems where there are overhead wires.
Some poems may stay as a nuisance,
as a gorgeous marker of time.
Happiness if like a butterfly, the more you chase it the more it eludes you.
The final sentence sounds as if the narrator is trying to convince herself to be optimistic.
We enjoyed the note: “I think about the ways that our world feels unsustainable—some of the most pressing ways being the race war that always feels like it’s boiling right under the surface, and climate change/disaster. This poem is about a day that I got lost in a conversation with a friend, and it felt like things slowed down around me, and I was able to put those fears aside and just appreciate what was around me. And how hopeful that is, getting lost in the words and presence of someone you love, having them put a pause on the impending doom that seems right around the corner at all times.”
The Conditional: a series introduced by anaphor "Say"... part conjecture, part imperative...
One day, won't our sun be gone? And what will we say? Can you see yourself saying the last three lines with conviction? Or is considering that possibility enough?
Say, It doesn't matter. Say, That would be
enough. Say you'd still want this: us alive,
right here, feeling lucky.
The title, The Creative Drive by Catherine Barnett could be the fun of substituting poems for trees as the prime augmenter of the value of a home but also a physical drive in a car around a suburb where trees have been cut down where efficiency is more important than beauty…
“We’ve created a system that is not healthy for poems,” said someone. Over the next thirty years,
there won’t be any poems where there are overhead wires.
Some poems may stay as a nuisance,
as a gorgeous marker of time.
Group comments: Clever. likeable. The article the poet refers to is about neighborhoods where trees cut down… cultural environment nurturing for poets also on the wan. Do people still know Joyce Kilmer's poem, "Trees" (1913)? https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/12744/trees
... The systematic killing of trees reminiscent of ww2.
... The systematic killing of trees reminiscent of ww2.
Monty Python-esque…
The Ghosts: by k r staten: "loose cannon blogger"
We discussed at length who is talking -- O Keefe or Freud? or a dialogue between both? How that changes the understanding. Perhaps it is the narrator/[poet saying the repeated (and final)
line:
White—Fatimah Asghar
The last word on each line is "white"... but like a ghazal, the meanings are strung like pearls to make
a complex necklace... race, snowstorm, erasure
Why the HG is Holy BY MARK HALLIDAY
Using a term Halliday coined, critic David Graham describes Halliday’s work as “ultra-talk.” The New Yorker has also praised Halliday’s poetry, noting, “He is prolix and quotidian, a Whitman in a supermarket, a confessional poet who does not take himself very seriously.”
**
Chang poem:
“This poem is a part of a series of epistolary poems that are in my forthcoming book, Barbie Chang. I wrote these to my children, knowing that despite the wisdom that comes with my own aging, they will still have to make all the same mistakes (more or less) that I have made, which is a scary thought.”
—Victoria Chang
IMHO SECTION. we don’t write letters anymore.
The Ghosts: by k r staten: "loose cannon blogger"
We discussed at length who is talking -- O Keefe or Freud? or a dialogue between both? How that changes the understanding. Perhaps it is the narrator/[poet saying the repeated (and final)
line:
I didn’t come here to talk about painting.
So, who is coming where to talk about what?
Painting is a surface. Freud probing …
Two realms don’t interface. Is Georgia’s ghost speaking to Freud’s insistence… is she bodying out what was inside?
Statement by O’Keefe about the importance of details. It helps to know the lives of these ghosts!White—Fatimah Asghar
The last word on each line is "white"... but like a ghazal, the meanings are strung like pearls to make
a complex necklace... race, snowstorm, erasure
Who is Less Than a Vapor? by Rowan Ricardo Phillips PhD…
Complex... The introduction of the Jester at the end allows a way to counteract ruthless power. point out absurdities. One person thought it was about DT, another was reminded of Rush Limbaugh as daffy duck, another of Vaping…
Why the HG is Holy BY MARK HALLIDAY
Using a term Halliday coined, critic David Graham describes Halliday’s work as “ultra-talk.” The New Yorker has also praised Halliday’s poetry, noting, “He is prolix and quotidian, a Whitman in a supermarket, a confessional poet who does not take himself very seriously.”
Fun... immediate responses:
Mark Twain on heaven… This Life
Wendell Berry: How to be a poet
Title: Why: what is the purpose of having a Holy Ghost? To save us
From our absurdity…
Why is about telos or purpose.
Bye bye Miss American Pie.
HG: more familiar**
Chang poem:
“This poem is a part of a series of epistolary poems that are in my forthcoming book, Barbie Chang. I wrote these to my children, knowing that despite the wisdom that comes with my own aging, they will still have to make all the same mistakes (more or less) that I have made, which is a scary thought.”
—Victoria Chang
IMHO SECTION. we don’t write letters anymore.
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