In the Land of Superstition by Stephen Dunn
The Beginning of Something Is Always the End of Another by Sarah Freligh
The Beginning of Something Is Always the End of Another by Sarah Freligh
How It Is by Maxine Kumin
Cross That Line by Naomi Shihab Nye
Morning Song by Naomi Shihab Nye
Whose sleeves: American Tagasode by Ed Roberson
We will continue with more Stephen Dunn Nov. 10. So many intriguing titles...
"The Other Side of Things"
Sisyphus as Rest; Sisyphus among the Cold Dark Matter; Angels in the Rafters; A Postmortem Guide. Always interesting to see where a poem will go when you explore old "friends".
How's the rock rolling business going? Is your rock getting any smaller over the years?
But to be more serious, I made notes quoting Wallace Stevens: "Life's nonsense pierces us with strange relation"... why not make up a land, filled with superstitions and wander around them... pretending that we are safe with our tried and true salt thrown over the shoulder, and all we avoid,
like 13th floors and black cats. I love Dunn's image: "the roulette of this or that"...
Why do we shy away from the world as it is, trying to create the world we want?
In the discussion it came up that more people used to know about superstitions... and actually believed them. And indeed, as Dunn says midway in the poem, "Sometimes it works"-- and if not,
we find/out fast...
We enjoyed the title of the next poem -- usually we think "the end of something is the beginning of another" but here Freligh has reversed the role. The "uh" sounds predominate... the images -- "ruff" of sun's first light (in a rough and tough life where you "butt" the last cigarette... the ex runs off with a slut)... The urn, the hugless state of losing a mother, and the scene at the cemetery-- the fellow who needs to dig the grave, waiting. So many layers that reached us all.
Comments; feel the sideways slide… the senses help us experience the poem… invent. physicality…
How it is: brought up because of Sarah's collection Sad Math, and Sarah had told the story of Maxine and Anne Sexton when we discussed her poem " Starting With an Old Photo of My Mother and Ending on a Hill" and the line in that poems "I will never wear her clothes.
Poignant... the details of what is left in the pocket... putting on someone else's jacket... imagining the last day of his/her life... going backwards in time... "reassembling the bits of bread and tuna fish into a ceremony of sandwich..."... which prepares perhaps the "fishing out letters", etc. the "uh" sounds here too... August... unwind... back up, unlaced, running, dumb... for the blue blazer, swelling (like Sexton's words) into the metaphor for death, the dumb resounding, silent.
Cross that line:
to listen: https://onbeing.org/poetry/cross-that-line/
The metaphor clear; Story of Paul Robeson... Voice carries. Discussion included remembering how Marianne Anderson. refused to sing in places with segregated seating; an immigrant from Ukraine singing waiting for entry;
All our thoughts are lines.
Morning Song: from The Tiny Journalist-- the mindfulness... the fact that a tiny journalist is bigger than we are, because of her ability to tell what she sees. Killer line: What was our crime? That we liked/ respect as they do? That we have pride.
Barricades of words and wire... how perfect to pin what divides us from understanding each other. We loved that the ending line led to a discussion of what a "better idea" than retaliation by fire would be. Whether it be peace, truth, or inciting people to also share what they see... Kathy reminded us of this quote by Amichai: “From the place where we are right flowers will never grow.”
American Tagasode: an invitation to learn about a Japanese Elegy from over 1,000 years ago, the metaphor of a dead wife's presence in the folded sleeves of her kimono, the trigger of scent for other memories. Here too, the style seems to fold in the spaces...
A perfect "balancing" between Autumn Equinox, Winter Solstice... explained in the multiple meanings of "Chada" in Korean... to wear... we are worn... to pick up on Ending and Beginning theme,
today you are the youngest you will ever be... you are the oldest you have been... the coldness of the season, the heat of the tea, the chill on the skin, the work of the heart...
It brought up these reflections: we look at things from Center. Asians look at edges. (action)
in order to see the ballet need to see what people on the outside are doing.
Othello with 4 dancers. http://joffrey.org/othello
different ways of being …
balance …
Don’t Bother the Earth Spirit: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/101675/dont-bother-the-earth-spirit-who-lives-here
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