Nov. 25

 

Signs of the Times by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Thanksgiving Time  by Langston Hughes

Dignity  by Too-qua-stee

Dreams by Mark Strand

WHEREAS ["WHEREAS when offered..."] by Layli Long Soldier

Neighbors  by James Crews

In these times, what signs of Thanksgiving?  Dignity?  What dreams?  What "whereas" marks us and all our neighbors?

It is curious to me that the titles of the poems this week make a sort of poem in and of itself. 

My letter to all sending out the poems: 

This is a season labeled Thanksgiving—  where perhaps you are thinking of the contradictions of this “National Holiday”.  However we behave as human beings in the culture in which we land, the idea of gratitude for being alive remains at the root of providing nourishment for our minds, hearts, spirits. We will meet at noon on Wednesday to celebrate words that celebrate a spirit of such thanksgiving.

The best gift to me over these months of shutdown, is the knowledge of all of you who not only treasure poems as gateways to understanding,

but treasure the art of listening to others and sharing observations as we explore the myriad possibilities  of what it is to be alive.

I am grateful to each.  May you be safe, healthy, find joy in the simple and unexpected.

**

Below links to Barb's monologue; the TED talk about the Danger of a Single Story.

Nutshell: 

Signs of the Times:  This dialect poem comes from Dunbar’s collection published in 1895  called “Majors and Minors” which shows his dexterity to write in both standard English and and dialect. Hurray for Jan, David H., John, Ginny, Barb for giving dialect a whirl!  

The dialect reminded some of us of Uncle Remus, and how Joel Chandler Harris captured these tales told by Slaves. http://www.uncleremusmuseum.org    “Although Harris disavowed regionalism in art ("My idea is that truth is more important than sectionalism, and that         literature that can be labeled Northern, Southern, Western, or Eastern, is not worth labeling at all"),      his writings are unsurpassed in reflecting the southern environment. His short stories are born of the           Georgia soil, his novels echo the strains of the Civil War South, his editorials for the Constitution deal with       southern social and political issues, and, of course, his famed Uncle Remus tales capture the diction and           dialect of the plantation blacks while presenting genuine folk legends. Enlivened with gentle humor and     irony, Harris's portraits of the Georgia Negro and his faithful handling of the folk tales constitute his major      contributions to southern and American literature. His was a southern voice with a national range.”

            https://docsouth.unc.edu/southlit/harrisj/bio.html

            Thanksgiving Time: We appreciated the form and sounds which evokes the kind of weather we associate   with end of                                     November here in the North.  The  repeated “ow”sound of the opening and closing stanzas contrasts with the sparkling frost, sharp, cheery air, and all that those “ingenious cooks” will bake.

            

Dignity: Much as rhyming and form can be calming, it also depends on the skill of the poet to make it work well.  Too-qua-stee, also known as DeWitt Clinton Duncan, (1829-1909) born in the Cherokee Nation in Georgia was indeed, such a skillful wordsmith.  He worked as an attorney for the Cherokee Nation, as well as a teacher of Latin, English, and Greek. He unwraps all that dignity ensures for great character: tolerance, humility, encouragement of others, fair— the key to “the soul’s repose.”  Definitely a good poem to memorize!  We all enjoyed the mountain comparison.  Much more to admire, such as the play on “base” as noun,(fundamental to the framing of character) and “base” applied as adjective to emotion.

Perfect Thanksgiving reminder that man without dignity , is indeed like an apple pie, with the fruit left out.

 

Dreams:  a real tour de force which not only captures the complexity of dreams, the subconconscious at work, but as Jan remarked, had a “Shakespearean” overtone and beautiful sounds.  The lines are short,

each one complete in itself.  What is the truth?  In this time, perhaps the pandemic makes everyday living also seem like dream… nothing certain… nothing clear, as if life we live perhaps doesn’t belong to us.

Another poem to memorize!

 

Whereas: this is an excerpt from a book-long poem written in response to the U.S. government’s official apology to Native peoples in 2009, which was done so quietly, with no ceremony, that it was practically a secret. Layli Long Soldier offers entry points for us all — to events that are not merely about the past, and to the freedom real apologies might bring.  The passage we read pays attention to many aspects of how it feels to receive such an apology… 

Marne brought up the way nominalization can label and curtail any interest in pursuing understanding. It conveys an objective, impersonal tone. The reader is invited to imagine the feel of “crouched in footnote”…feel apology as a failing “noun-thing”… We use the verb “dash” for crushed expectations—

but here, it is more personal and physical:  Expection is “a terse arm-fold”. Metaphor is turned into verb.

 

Pages are indeed “cavernous places”.  Powerful and gripping.

 

https://swarthmorephoenix.com/2020/10/24/layli-long-soldier-reflects-on-americas-unapologetic-apology-to-native-americans/

 

Neighbors: delightful reminder of small kindnesses… connections.  We discussed rural life, Vermont,

how during the pandemic when out, we wave more.  Jim told of his experiment counting waves he received on his bicycle following the canal — 100% of the boaters waved first; about 70% of others… 

https://www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_ngozi_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story?language=en

 

The fictionalized monologue that Barb shared is a part of an entire show called "Voices in Isolation: Pandemic and Protest." The director is Beth Johnson. Here is the link to the whole production:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7sVr87Gykus&list=PLyRPgXovFmrb5ijva7vkFPQkk6cZoAMBR&index=2

Her contribution is called "Ballerina in the Bird Bath," and it is definitely about appreciating small things.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uYxoiwkM3-g&list=PLyRPgXovFmrb5ijva7vkFPQkk6cZoAMBR&index=16

For those who may want to hear the 16 poets selected by the American Academy, in last night’s reading, a list of poems, some of the quotes and a link to the recording here: 

https://poets.org/anthology/gather-poems?mc_cid=31319dd5d2&mc_eid=248758c95e 

 

 

             

 

 

 

November 19, 2020

 On Joy and Sorrow by Kahlil Gibran (excerpt)

How will it feel months from now by Mary Jo Bang

excerpt: to believe in things by Joseph Pintauro

Long Live Everything  by Joseph Pintauro 

Singularity  by Marie Howe

The Moment  by Marie Howe

Part of Eve's Discussion by Marie Howe 

Twilight by Louise Glück 

The two Joseph Pintauro poems were inspired by https://www.brainpickings.org/2020/11/10/to-believe-in-things-joseph-pintauro-corita-kent/

Without really paying attention to it, it appears the selection of poems allow the reader to imagine and wonder about what the "it" is all about..."  After the session, I was reading Glück's essay "Ersatz" which delves into "incomplete sentences" as the aborted whole and the sentence with gaps... a finger pointed to the nonexistent... and the unspoken becomes the focus... A sort of strategy of incompleteness... 

Many thanked me for this selection... especially for the links to the Pintauro which included the poem about his mother's star blanket... 

Nutshell:   

Mary Jo Bang:  We enjoyed the beautiful images and feelings in her poem which left a sense of hope--

with confirmation in the 3rd stanza:  It's so beautiful/when it sinks in.  Hold me, closeness/says.

Discussion included the notice of the "cart overturned" and "I fold myself away"... the juxtaposition of

short sentences and longer fragments and use of sight and sound. The sound of the word "sink"...  For me, a sense of ink penetrating slowly, making whatever "it" is real... whether it be the sky, and whatever color of sky... or perhaps the line before of the piano key.   What a great idea to start off with her title... How do you imagine it will feel months from now?   

Pintauro:  

In the beginning... some say, it was the void...  but Pintauro invites us to imagine nothing as

perfect, restful, about to vanish... and the sudden arrival of something. All alone.  Discussion included views about religious stories of creation, big bang theory, and the admission that they we will never be able to answer the question of how life began.  What is consciousness? 

In Long Live Everything... the pivot word, "somewhen" startles, but is also welcome... everything is not attainable... and never has been.  It reminds me of how with an overdose of  information... we often face uncertainty... polarization.. and seek to focus on things in our "control", and soon, that failing, settle for meditation and empathetic understanding.  Pintauro gives us such empathy as he presents big questions.

Marie Howe:  The first poem, "after Stephen Hawking".  We touched briefly on Stephen Hawking, his scientific contributions, his amazing coping with ALS, as well as some autobiographical detail about Marie Howe.  We appreciated the pondering, peppered with her precisions, how she balanced the personal with the vastness... The is,is,is,is,is has such an impact of sound, the opposite of the  six No's it follows -- and then the final line allowed to resonate.  3 words:  All.  everything.  Home.  Although there are no periods.  The middle line that hit us all in the gut:  "nothing... before we came to believe humans were so important/before this awful loneliness."  Enigmatically pleasing.

Her poem The Moment picks up the same theme... 

Part of Eve's Discussion:  Before the apple... but "It" starts the poem.  an unspecified moment... perhaps intensifying the moment before it all falls apart.art.  art.    Eternity... The end line words work well... still... and drop... about to say... The repetition of "it" at the end... "like that, and after that, still like that... only all the time."  

Louise Glück: This poem appeared in an October 2020 issue of the  New Yorker https://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/louise-gluck-whisperer-of-the-seasons.  She received the Nobel Prize in Literature, "for her unmistakable poetic voice that with austere beauty makes individual existence universal."But what does that mean?  Here is a February 2005 recording https://lannan.org/events/louise-gluck-with-james-longenbach

which starts with a wonderful  introduction by Jim Longenbach.   Although her voice really turns me off… it’s good to hear what she has to say.  

Yes, you can read plenty more about her, her poetry.  We enjoyed  discussingTwilight without it.  Do not confuse this poem with her poem "September Twilight" and 9/11.  I felt an ominous quality to the poem and was glad others did too, although not all.  A sense of anxiety...

with a non-identified "he"  about whom one only knows he works at his cousin's mill... The one window, the squared-off landscape... the slow diminishment, the arrival of sleep which removes sight, sound, smell... and then "I" we presume to be the poet.  Passage of time, life... what diminishes... rather like a modernist "tone poem" in music which is more about mood than melody, an invitation to a transition time, with the last line sounding like a prayer.  

**

Bernie had mentioned this article from The Sun  in response to the general lean in discussion toward everything being screwed up.

Pat Schneider, "If I were God", originally published 1997: https://www.thesunmagazine.org/issues/539/if-i-were-god-pat-schneider-issue-539

 

November 11

 Armistice Day... In the United States, Veterans Day honours American veterans, both living and dead. The official national remembranceof those killed in action is Memorial Day, which predates World War I. Some, including American novelist Kurt Vonnegut and American Veteran For Peace Rory Fanning, have urged Americans to resume observation of 11 November as Armistice Day, a day to reflect on how we can achieve peace as it was originally observed.

The following poems by Marvin Bell were chosen for discussion because they were read in a tribute to the Poet Marvin Bell on November 1, 2020.  The name of the poet reading each poem is listed.

There are two ways to go with poetry we learned in our workshops with Marvin. “My God!  It’s poetry.  Hey… it’s only poetry.”

A Man May Change -- read by Tree Swenson

Around Us -- read by Eric Pankey

The Alphabet  (not read, but a fine poem!)

Poem After Carlos Drummond de Andrade-- read by Michael Wieggers (Copper Canyon Press)

The Mystery of Emily Dickinson-- read by David Hamilton

The Dead Man and Government-- read by John Irving

"Why Do You Stay Up So Late? read by Tyler Erlendson

Things We Dreamt We Died For -- read by Tess Gallagher

The Last Thing I Say -- read by Naomi Shihab Nye

**

Nutshell:

A Man May Change: The subjunctive tone of the conditional  "may" reflects the "it sometimes happens" -- which is a subtle reference to the fact that how we perceive and live life is not a clear-cut black and white affair.   Comments included appreciation of the mysterious yet purposeful  meditation.  The use of "regular weather in ordinary days " is a wry underside to the fact that a life can go unobserved in the poignant ending that one can slip away before anyone "can find out" (that a man has changed...) And what kind of change?  The more time one spends with this poem, the more complex it becomes.  Who are we in the mirror, in the office? how slippery are we in terms defining ourselves as our life goes on.  

Around us: In just two sentences (and 17 lines), Bell creates a comforting, quiet tone in the description of what is helpful for the "rumbles that fill the mind"-- some might refer to as Monkey Mind.   The surprise at the end of the poem of a little sound of thanks -- with the humorous choice of zipper or snap-- to " close around the moment and the thought of whatever good we did" is so welcome.  Unlike some sermonizing statement, it is a humble meditation or a prayer.

Both poems give a sense that how our lives go may not have much impact... but poems make a difference and by extension, for those of us who worry... to help us confront the fears.  (an attempt to summarize David's observation.)

The Alphabet:  People! 5 times -- Three things people are saying... a bit E.E. Cummings-esque- https://poets.org/poem/9**

What is the authentic voice-- so simple... and what better than to feel encouraged... Specific (proper) names, could be a pun, just like the last line == 26, which might be the ideas the line before, using the 26  letters in the alphabet-- the endless possibilities.  Delightful!

Poem after Carlos Drummond de Andrade:  hearing Marvin read it is almost as good as the poem itself, often called "The Life Poem".  Comments included expressing appreciation of the juicy feel of being consumed by life... reference to the idea you cannot know joy without suffering... but at the end of the poem, one feels positive...  For reference, Khalil Gibran's passage https://poets.org/poem/joy-and-sorrow

Dead Man and Government:  I explained a bit about the Dead Man poems... The  name comes from the Zen admonition to live as if you were already dead. In other words, be present but have a long view too.   Each poem has two parts... organized by sentences-- no rule as to length.  This article gives the whole story and much more.  https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/a-lifetime-in-poetry-marvin-bell-on-iowa-and-the-dead-man-poems/

A timely reflection on absurdity... on oppression...  and perhaps part 2 is about futility... until the 3rd line from the end:  There is hope, there is still hope, there is always hope.

We followed with The Dead Man's Recent Dreams... it reminded Emily of the artwork of Robert Marx.

Another very interesting person!   https://www.rochestercitynewspaper.com/rochester/the-late-robert-marx-and-the-faces-in-the-mirror/Content?oid=12311658

The poet, person of imagination, "cannot stop seeing what is not there" -- the not yet... often called the fool, the "joker" ... and yet speaks the truth.  

We ended with "Why do you stay up so late?"

My favorite line:  The person I was, does not know me... again... as among the living we are constantly changing... and have the "last unanswered question."  Jan offered the idea that that question is "why are we here?".... The sounds of w's, the repetitions that never say the same thing... Unlike the poem, "The last thing I say" which is one sentence, this poem is peppered with short sentences.

A wonderful sharing... all these poems feel like companions with which to converse -- and you know the conversation will never be boring. 

** the idea of "mostpeople" developed in the introduction by  E.E. Cummings of his 1938 collected poems.

https://www.questia.com/library/97902356/collected-poems

The link is only an excerpt -- the rest of the passage...

They don't mean living. They mean the latest and closest plural approximation to singular prenatal passivity which science,in its finite but unbounded wisdom, has succeeded in selling their wives.  If science could fail, a mountain’s a mammal.  Mostpeople’s wives can spot a genuine delusion of embryonic omnipotence immediately and will accept no substitutes— luckily for us, a mountain is a mammal.  The plusorminus movie to end moving, the strictly scientific parlour-game of real unreality, the tyranny conceived in misconception and dedicated to the proposition that every man is a woman and any woman a king, hasn’t a wheel to stand on.  What their most synthetic not to mention transparent majesty, mrsand mr collective foetus, would improbably call a ghost is walking.  He isn’t an undream of anaesthetized impersons, or a cosmic comfortstation, or a transcendentally sterilized lookiesoundiefeelietastiesmellie.  He is little more than everything, he is democracy; he is alive: he is ourselves.”

November 4

 The first two we didn't have time to discuss last week (10/29).  The day after elections, perhaps it is good to be challenged by poems which present more puzzles than comfort.  

A Noun Sentence by Mahmoud Darwish  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vs9qBXq5_hI

This is the recording in Arabic.  To understand the title, “It’s a nominal sentence” you need to take Arabic 1. https://blogs.transparent.com/arabic/arabic-sentence-structure-nominal-and-verbal-sentences/

The translation below is by Fady Joudah and comes from the 2007 book, The Butterfly’s Burden.

This article will give you more background: https://aashiqepakistan.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/28.pdf

Night Migrations by Louise Glück

The Long Boat by Stanley Kunitz

Daffodils  by Henri Cole (https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2020/10/12/daffodils)

What There Was by Janice N Harrington 

Wind Talker  by Frank X. Walker  (not discussed) 

First Snow, Kerhonkson by Diane di Prima 

To Dorothy  by Marvin Bell 

Sent out Nov. 11 poems with a link to hear "To Dorothy"  read by Marvin Bell (last poem of today’s discussion)  go to minute 12:17. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-__g7iXlEk

It is followed by a poem for next week, Poem After Carlos Drummond de Andrade.

Nov. 11 poems sent with  this poem from Judith.  Nutshell discussion of 11/4 follows.

 

This is a poem that I turn to often in times of uncertainty. Maybe for me it's not even a poem now, but a prayer or hymn. It's titled "Great Things Have Happened" and it's by Alden Nowlan

 

We were talking about the great things

that have happened in our lifetimes;

and I said, “Oh, I suppose the moon landing

was the greatest thing that has happened

in my time.” But, of course, we were all lying.

The truth is the moon landing didn’t mean

one-tenth as much to me as one night in 1963

when we lived in a three-room flat in what once had been

the mansion of some Victorian merchant prince

(our kitchen had been a clothes closet, I’m sure),

on a street where by now nobody lived

who could afford to live anywhere else.

That night, the three of us, Claudine, Johnnie and me,

woke up at half-past four in the morning

and ate cinnamon toast together

 

“Is that all?” I hear somebody ask.

 

Oh, but we were silly with sleepiness

and, under our windows, the street-cleaners

were working their machines and conversing in Italian, and

everything was strange without being threatening,

even the tea-kettle whistled differently

than in the daytime: it was like the feeling

you get sometimes in a country you’ve never visited

before, when the bread doesn’t taste quite the same,

the butter is a small adventure, and they put

paprika on the table instead of pepper,

except that there was nobody in this country

except the three of us, half-tipsy with the wonder

of being alive, and wholly enveloped in love.

 Nutshell discussion  11/4

Helpful to read about Darwish, and the difficulty of being exiled from one's homeland.  The structure of the Arabic language has either nominal or verbal sentences.  In the case of the nominal sentence, there is no verb, and the verb "to be" is not considered to be a verb... hence, each image is static, cannot be displaced... cannot be moved in time/tense.  Displacement, with a foothold only in the painful present.  Almost haiku-like... 

 

Night Migration: The poem came from her 2006 book, Averno, the place Romans ascribed as entrance to Hades.  The title leads one to think of movement at night, not just of birds, but perhaps the soul, navigating from waking reality to dream, what belongs to life, this world, a “next” world.  Susan mentioned a “verbal thumbnail image” of the first stanza.  Whether this is 

related to the story of Persephone or not, the poem provides a meditative space about what seems 

to bring solace for the soul— both living and dead.  It would seem to be a nightly recurrence.  What do the dead see?  Perhaps like the Zen admonition, this poem asks the reader to imagine   

living as if you are dead.

 

The Long Boat:  Metaphor of letting go… a comfort to balance the two “Peace!” with the two “as if”.  June mentioned the story of the nurse telling her father as he was dying to “imagine you’re in a boat and floating out.”  I love that the poem includes the idea of mottoes we stamp on our name tags.  

 

Daffodils: It is the daffodil speaking in this surprising poem which takes a turn from yellow dust to talcum and tranquilizers… from erasure to trust in one sentence.  Is the woman dying? in a mental institution?  The similes are both intriguing and elusive.

 

What There Was: Another intriguing poem with 10 denials of specifics belonging to general categories: 4 couplets concrete:  tree, bird, flower, stench.  Silence, distance, music, continue with a quatrain and two tercets.  The longest stanza hints at stories.  A tercet hints at secrets… but here it is true, “the fire burned all evidence but not death”.  Finally, a poem, the hair of the dead, the connection with the dead,  clothes passed down but not memory.  Comments included appreciation of the spoken rhythm of the poem, the "noun sentence" feel, the internal rhythms, what feels to be autobiographical detail, perhaps an undercoat of anger, that whatever was, had an element of negation.

First Snow: enigmatic poem... nostalgic, but is the end line good or not?  She is free to go... 

To Dorothy: the power of love, makes me want to cry each time.