Poems for June 23 + 25

  

 

Our Land  by Langston Hughes

Knowledge  by Louise Bogan

We Are Commanded Forty-Seven Times to Be Kind to Strangers by Becka Mara McKay

Sonnet by Aaron Novick

Meanwhile the Wolves

In the ن  of it all by Kamelya Omayma Youssef

Wildflower  by Stanley Plumly 

I sent out the poems the morning after June 19th -- "Juneteenth", 155 years later, is a federal holiday commemorating the emancipation of enslaved African Americans . I am grateful for the poems on which I stumble each week from the American Academy of Poets... and other sources.  It is like taking a pulse of the world... and our town, as one of the poems relates to

the current exhibit at the MAG of Archie Rand's 613.  

Nutshell:

Our Land: It is an interesting coincidence that this poem was paired by Susie Dodge Peters at the MAG with the Norman Ackroyd painting, "Landscape with Rainbow" in the MAG collection. http://magart.rochester.edu/objects-1/info/4516

In the subtle crafting, the repetitions (sun/sun/ trees/trees/... the moving joy each line of the third stanza) the rhymes (gold/cold; day/gray; song/wrong) the question of  who is  represented by "we" remains a mystery.  It is hard not to think of the ironic 

hypocrisy of "we the people", coupled with "this land is your land, this land is my land" with the first two sensuous stanzas that evoke the Carribbean, and slave trade.     When Hughes says "Our land", whose land?  With the conditional should have... it is hard not to think of those who do not have... David was reminded of Blake, 

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43661/holy-thursday-twas-on-a-holy-thursday-their-innocent-faces-clean "Is this a holy thing to see... babes reduced to misery..."  The word "bandanna" stands out-- a gypsy or Indian cotton... evocative of both a sign of freedom and of hard work.  The rhythms have a lovely undertow, like the sea in the first two lines of the first two stanzas, rolling in, pull back,  followed by a longer line... the stanza length, a septet, quintet  (less length rolling out) and  block-like tercet.  Visual, aurally, conceptually, a powerful piece and one to visit many times.

Knowledge: This sly poem shows the problem of thinking we know something... only to find, nothing is here to stay, even  understanding.  Starting with the form, and sounds of the darker "oh" of "know/shadow", the "ow" of "ground/sound" "ohl" of the old-spelling of mold with the mould... which looks almost like moult... weave in the end rhymes; the liquids are tapped with "t" in little/brittle, open up in lie/learn contrast with  long and light. What is flesh in the mould?  We concluded, death... but also, the moulding and making of a child to be born.  One thinks of the tree as grounded, but also the "ground"  in music, a bass melody or theme.  What is not "grounded" is indeed, brittle... Judith recalled the Musician's Tale by Longfellow... and it's hard not to think of Frost, and nothing Gold is here to stay... The more you try to explain... the less clear is any knowledge...  

We are commanded... the note explains the inspiration from a free-write response to Archie Rand's book of 613 Biblical commandments.  The poet, who wrote "The Little Book of No Consolation", about to be published by Barrow St. Press, confesses she loves "leading readers through a house, but not helping them through every door." She succeeding!  David compared this to finding "islands of clarity".  The two sentences that hit most of us were the enjambed "I've begun to carry my heart/in my toes" and "That dust was/my mother says your enemy."  Certainly the poem will question what is at the root of the behavior that one must kill the first born donkey (“Redeem with a lamb every firstborn donkey, but if you do not redeem it, break its neck. Redeem every firstborn among your sons.” — Exodus . This recalls the edict that all first born sons be killed in the time of Herod. Judith brought up the wild donkey… Onager and Egyptian connections. 

We looked at the "cover-ups" rife with contradiction... please -- don't redeem us by the unredeemable!

For sure our imagination was evoked.  The broken crockery is far more jagged than pottery... but to hide under what is broken is a potent metaphor.

Sonnet:  Perhaps without the author's note, we might not understand "silent thunder", "solid fog" and "empty glut" which sound paradoxical.  What is reality?  Our mind will tell us by assigning an equation, a definition, by naming... but Novice creates for us a ominous and visceral image of the gathering of

thunder before it makes a noise.  He throws us back on ourselves to find meaning in the final line.

Calling the poem "Sonnet"  gives it a label... but indeed, like the preparation and gathering of thunder, it is much more.  

Meanwhile the Wolves:  Lori had brought up catastrophic thinking with "Sonnet" -- how we can influence how we perceive reality by how we think of it.  This poem is similar... with an almost wry sense of humor... We believe what we want to hear... how can "God repeat a rumor" ?  Who says what is a rumor, and is this not bordering blasphemy?  And our response: to have "all out faith come bucketing from our mouths."  Yes... like thunder mumbling -- she doesn't mention the gathering before it speaks... but the same idea of the storm's trajectory... we flesh out the details before choosing the vocabulary for the whole story.  And even then... is that the whole story?

In the ن  of it: Both poem and explanation feel Biblical, mythological, mystical and magical.

She uses the word, palimpsest-- this constant overwriting, rewriting of the beginning of life... 

Lovely sandwiching of "The body" -- between the two mentions,  the universe... the "you, you" towards the end, repeated 3 times, like double repeat of "a  ن "... the visual where  the one to be sacrificed, or nurtured, the one who oversees is all contained... as life goes on underneath the waiting stars... and yet... these words are not accurate -- you cannot "tell" this poem... just note the repeats, the anaphors, the

flow.  Judith reminded us that you cannot properly read the Koran if you can't read arabic -- the shape and flow of the calligraphy means as much as the meaning created by the words.  The Nun... as Nut, God of the Sky in her arc... over the sun/moon boat... and so much more.  The ark as what contains the sacred,

the protection of hope.  Beautifully powerful poem.

Wildflower: What's in a name?  Everything!  We honor something if it is named... whereas an anonymous weed is devalued.  Why the quote around "the look of flowers that are looked at"...? perhaps to make it sound like a long adjective, give the distance of looking at a still life...

For the final stanza, we weren't sure who "she" is... perhaps anthropomorphizing the lily... symbol of resurrection. The mention of Hyacinth brings forth the Greek myth... how Zephyr was jealous as he was playing coits with Apollo, and turned one of the arrows around to stab him dead.  All lilies... all

of us too... ephemeral... and yet, returning in different ways perhaps. 

Judith was reminded of John Singer Sargent's painting : https://artsandculture.google.com/asset/carnation-lily-lily-rose/lAGrEoFGzGZEEQ?hl=en

and this blog https://hazlittblog.wordpress.com/2014/11/22/anonymous-as-weeds-on-plumlys-wildflowers/

mentions that the Plumly poem figures in Tony Hoagland's book, 20 poems to save America.

In the spirit of the theme you might enjoy the full quote from Gertrude Stein: "As I say a noun is a name of a thing, and therefore slowly if you feel what is inside that thing, you do not call it by the name by which it is known.

 

Poems for June 14 &16

It's Important I Remember that the Moral Arc of the Universe Bends by Cortney Lamar Charleston

Honk by Mary Hood

The Turkey  by Mary Hood

Hydrangea by Mary Hood

Amish Clotheslines by Mary Hood

How the Oriole Got Its Colors by Mary Hood

How Two Small Inventions Explain the Laws of the Universe by Mary Hood

Omnivores by Mary Hood

The first poem (May 3, 2021) came from the "Teach This Poem" site of the American Academy of Poets.

The poems that follow are by Mary A. Hood,  a microbiologist and local poet who for over 30 years of teaching and research has a keen understanding of how certain bacteria survive and thrive.  As she puts it, “the perspective of working with ‘invisible things’ perhaps gives these poems a more scientific and detailed insight into the nature of the small

and common.  After all, E.O. Wilson rightly claims, it is all the “little things” that run the world.

Mary  read and discussed her work at the June 16th zoom gathering. She explained the title of her book was inspired by essays by Chris Arthur.  How easily we overlook the familiar... even adages might look familiar, but we forget what they mean.

"With a surgeon’s touch, the “common” is re-exposed, plated, gently stained in her wisdom and left for us to ponder. 

Insightful past the point of delightful, her work is plain, accessible and simply wise. It takes time write lines like these.

 Deep lines, not masked in some hard to grasp allusional reference, no, her work is not hard to see. The beauty is right there."

-- review of her reading 6/8 by David Delaney 

I quoted from her title poem of her book Camouflage of the Known available from FootHills Publishing: http://www.foothillspublishing.com/2021/hood.html

We all know the adage, "familiarity breeds contempt" , but Mary's sense of humor applies it to defend the dandelion. "to take an ordinary thing and make it less so/ to give it beauty and significance or meaningfulness/does not change reality--

what changes in our perception.  These lines prove the point.

"If its white spheres of seeds,/ghostly in their translucency blown by the wind everywhere/ so that next year the fields become a cemetery of/self-perpetuating globes, the dandelion might become a palette on which something accustomed is newly seen.". 

 

She also read 

(p. 14) Honk before the first poem in the line up which helped the discussion of it and 

p. 45 Sonnet #5 after that discussion and in closing

p. 20:  The Pencil

On June 14, Carmin, Paul, Marna, Mary, Judith and Martin and I gathered to discuss the poems.

One question that came up is what makes for "poetry" vs. observations.  I've come across recently the term, "Observational Poet" -- but aren't all poets observing?  

6/16 discussion: David H, David S, Bernie, Elaine, Rose-Marie, Barb, Emily, Lori (Mary and Marna!)

Summary:

Cortney Lamar Charleston:  as a Cave Canem fellow, it is not surprising to see a "left-of-center" poem.  Certainly, a biblical flavor of proverbs and politically "woke" .  We  at first wondered if he was self-indulgent in his criticism of lack of morality and justice.  Interesting that he says, "my country" and not "the country I live in" or "the United States". It takes several readings to see his "apology" to make morality a weapon, followed by the way slaveowners used the Bible  and "morality" to justify unimaginable cruelty.  (David brought up Mark Twain on 6/16 who understood there was nothing better than the Bible to defend the atrocities of slavery.

https://www.brainpickings.org/2014/10/24/mark-twain-on-slavery-empathy-compassion/

There's a sense of Martin Luther King, but a different kind of power which is not rhetorical.   Judith remarked he is "heavily creative" with the "crimson tide" towards the end, and we wondered if this is necessary or effective.

6/16: discussion: It's amazing how sequence can change things.  It had worked very well to start on

Monday with the Charleston poem... and indeed, on Monday, Martin brought up the era of protest, and the failure of the "war against drugs"; the military attitude in police and how the rules changed from "you may not fire unless fired upon to  new rules of look out for yourself.  protect yourself.

on 6/14 we had followed with Mary's poem Honk -- which says what normally would never be said in polite circles, referring to horrific actions provoked by anger.  On 6/16, I reversed the order.  The Charleston poem was last, and I had Mary read Honk first.   As Rose-Marie pointed out, we are not trained to read poetry about the black experience written by young contemporary people.  "Honk" (written by a white scientist approaching 80) gives an insight into rage in ways we understand, and we can identify with confessing to want to do the things  you should never do, let alone admit feeling.

Cortney Lamar Charleston gives an understatement that "not to say saying no to violence isn't commendable" before getting to the point: cracking a skull or two indeed has a strong case.

The metaphor of cracking open a skull "like an everyday egg in hopes whatever golden light resides inside shines through"... immediately draws attention. We struggled with the next word, "throughs"-- the pluralizing of through, as in pushing through... however, there's also that grim knowledge... that things don't change -- tides might recede, but they come in again.  Back to the title: the role of morality... 

it might bend toward, or away justice... but indeed, it does not confront the truth this country "has conveniently and consistently eluded."  The poet's choice of title starts with a quote used by Martin Luther King: “The Arc of the Moral Universe is Long, But it Bends Toward Justice.”

I do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways; I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by conscience. And from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theodore_Parker

 

Mary's poem refers to her own heart of darkness... which lends a reference to Joseph Conrad's portrayal of how "civilized" and "savage" can be understood.  It is accessible but also invites us to think more

deeply about how to right a wrong... Cortney's poem reminded David Sanders of a James Baldwin play where a mother says to her boy, you gonna make yo'self sick with anger. To which he replies, no, I gonna make myself well with anger. (forgive the perhaps inaccurate quote.) We discussed history... no violence... no action... but can we stop violence with violence?  

 This article by James Baldwin from November 1962 is well-worth the read: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1962/11/17/letter-from-a-region-in-my-mind

interesting to compare with this article from 1998:

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1998/02/16/the-enemy-within-hilton-als

The Turkey:  we enjoyed the sotto voce play of "wattles" (that fleshy pendulous "process" in some birds) with the first verb: waddles... Direct and visual... and we did check the science of how many are in a mother turkey's clutch -- 4-17! 

Mary explained this was inspired by an actual event she saw.  Her response to Bernie's compliment about the hawk "suddenly inking its way along the ground like an arrow":  All poets are basically thieves!

Hydrangea:  we enjoyed the humor of this... and got into a discussion about the beauty of the ornamental hydrangea... and the little "hair net" of blooms... Mary confirmed the tongue-in-cheek, and as many of us feel, we can lose a lot as we age, but may it not be our sense of humor!

Amish Clotheslines: for sure a dandy and brought up all sorts of associations... the geometric nappies... the wonderful alliterative sounds, the sh-sh-sh like a washing machine in shirts shrug, sheets, proportions, the sibilance and liquids.  The idea of impressionistic painting, offering a different vision from the realists came up  as well.   Refreshing!

Martin brought up the idea of laundry as something normally inanimate, treated as if it were animate, indeed, filled  as with a soul. One could leap into thinking about psychology and physics... the big bang, free will, determinism--  The last two stanzas give us first the physics of “how things get put together”, then the “if” of the practical moral… the topsy-turviness of vice-versa which explains reality — first things one way… going up… then another… going down… and really, nothing held together.  This poem addresses indirectly what it is to be human... 

6/16: Mary explained that she lives in Amish country.  Bernie:  "The first line launches us, presages what comes next (spread of goodwill).  The poem is simple and acts like a prayer in itself."

Barbara picked up on the scientific contrast in the 3rd stanza, "evolutionary sequence", glad for the choice.

Rose-marie loved the beauty of the images-- the rhythm of wind-music!

Marna loves folk-dancing and said not only was the poem dancing, but evoked the joy of dancing inside her.  When we brought up what a good poem this would be for an animation, Mary said the images originally were inspired by the Nutcracker suite.  Barbara brought up the vulnerability of putting clothes on the line -- how certain items perhaps not everyone would like to place in view...  

Some wondered... do the Amish know they are doing something so beautiful?

 It would be sad to think one day clotheslines (or the Amish) might be no longer... 

How the Oriole ... 

Reminds us of Kipling's Just-So stories... How the Whale got his Throat', 'How the Camel got his Hump', 'How the Rhinoceros got his Skin', 'How the Leopard got his Spots'. Judith reminded us that Aesop's fables are Indian.  Also Native American overtones.

Paul helped us with the mafia expression "to dip his beak", meaning "give a little share"... but I doubt

the other slang use is intended here.  David continued  (6/16) with the idea of a dipped beak meaning "incurring debt" which matches the moral perfectly.

How 2 Small Inventions... 

Another delight... clever yet philosophical.  Mary reminded us that a paper clip is awfully handy when straightened as tool... Rose Marie loved how this poem illustrates the motif of looking at things in a different way, including time.  Vice-versa takes on a new meaning and the  one and the same of sand in the hourglass reminds us how glass is made of sand. 

It prompted Judith to recite this verse 

from the chapter on Zen in Langdon Warner’s The Enduring Art of Japan which she has owned probably since 1952 or thereabouts.  It is not credited with any source.

 

Broom said to Buddha

We saints may never sleep.

 

Buddha said to broom

We little folks must sweep.

 

Old brocaded Abbot

Smiled as he knelt to broom.

 

Buddha leaned in cupboard

While Abbot swept the room.

Omnivores: more wit and fun... Mary reminded us that the title, to an ecologist, refers to those species who eat any and everything... Inspired by watching a blackbird foraging, she creates a scene where we can observe how the bird participates in a world consumed by the other... 

More About Mary:

6/16: Mary explained her concern that her poems be accessible above all.  Her interest in poetry came after her PhD in microbiology, and work with Chiton in Louisiana marshes, bacteria affecting oysters, and joining a writing group

in Florida.  She was impressed by the women involved… like Jorie Graham https://poets.org/poet/jorie-graham

and Martha Collins. https://marthacollinspoet.com

 

Poems for June 7 & 9

 not discussed on 6/2:

Mornings at Blackwater by Mary Oliver (Section 8: Rise)

Orca Speaks by Patricia Schwartz

 

Wondrous  by Sarah Freligh (discussed previously however, her book Sad Math in which is appears is again available! https://www.uapress.com/product/sad-math/

In Praise of Dreams  by Gary Soto

In Praise of Dreams  by Wislawa Szymborska

The Last Quatrain Of The Ballad Of Emmett Till  by Gwendolyn Brooks

Len Bias, a bouquet of flowers, and Mrs. Brooks by Michael Collier

Muscular Fantasy by Terrance Hayes

Email sent before discussing the poems.

You may notice that the first poem has been discussed several times… but, this is because Sad Math  by Sarah Freligh in which is appears is again available! https://www.uapress.com/product/sad-math/

 Sarah says this about her poem: Please know that I’m grateful to anyone and everyone who has read and shared this poem since it first appeared in The Sun Magazine in 2012 and again in my book Sad Math in 2015. And to those people who bought the book after/because they read the poem, so much gratitude! In 2019, the poem was shared 6,000 times on Facebook. It went around again this spring and was shared nearly 700 times!

I  usually do not encourage those who will be participating to read the poems in advance, however, this time is an exception. There are two poems with the same title, one inspired by the other.  The same with a golden shovel technique (Gwendolyn Brooks’ poem “we real cool” provided the inspiration for this form to Terrance Hayes who invented the form) which links her poem to Michael Collier’s.** (see link below)  

"All poems are in conversation with other poems" (Michael Collier  and in the case of the last poem, with a musician…\

**

Overview: A tale of two sessions

Wednesday's session was so different from Monday's -- not just because one was in person, the other by zoom-- but "so much depends on..." so much -- the background of the readers, the mood of the day, the ordering of the poems, etc.  Case in point -- on Monday,  I made a bigger deal of Szymborska , not  feeling the positive vibe on the Gary Soto poem inspired by hers.  The Wednesday group had such a good time reading it, it felt as if each person had tried out for the stanza he/she read and was hand-picked for the part  to the point that I thought I was listening to a theatre group... 

Another fact:  on Monday, I was flummoxed (Paul suggests a better adjective is "puzzled") by the fact there were several DIFFERENT versions of the Michael Collier poem, Len Bias, a bouquet of flowers and Mrs. Brooks.

One of my questions to both groups was how much each person is willing to google and use do a little research.

I know for myself, I had to do a lot of work to appreciate the Gwendolyn Brooks, the Michael Collier which both rely on

untold parts of a complex story. As for the Terrance Hayes, the Monday group 

 poem discussions about having patience and time to spend on a poem that doesn’t seem to have

something to say.  A poem always has something to say — but whether we pick up on it depends on whether we are able to hear more than our own story— or delve deeper than what triggers it.

Nutshell: 

Wondrous:  Sarah came to the Pittsford Library  many years ago and read this poem, (see notes sent in the email...  I saw her post of it on the anniversary of her mother's death this past April).  

So just what makes this the kind of poem you are glad to read again? Send to a dear friend?

The discussion in both groups was so rich -- each person sharing a special story -- some of reading Charlotte's Web, and how they too cried, and the children to whom they read it cried... And indeed, you read this poem, and there's a shiver, and a plug 

into grief.  We shared stories of how grief repeats-- how each funeral service for Maura's grown son, would bring the grief of

funeral of his father who died when he was four... how EB White must have had some large grief that had nothing to do with Charlotte that he cried 17 times trying to record the words of this beautiful book where the last words are: " It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both."  You might want to read that last chapter: https://legacy.npr.org/programs/death/readings/stories/ebwhite3.html

Sarah captures with math references the deep emotions of loss, the repeats of a story (the fifth time Charlotte has died...)

how each grief (line and stanza break) multiplies... and that 17 times, like the syllables in a haiku...EB White tried to record the 

words, She died alone. Our own fear, perhaps the biggest.   Just like Charlotte, Sarah weaves her threads from the title, Wondrous to the 14th line-- a spider "spun out of the silk threat of invention-- //wondrous how those words would come back and make// (line and stanza break) him cry... and the word wondrous repeats, but this time for the poet's 

mother... ten years (talk about exponential...) -- and that generosity of reassurance... I'm ok.  Our greatest hope, that indeed,

despite death, somehow, yes, not only our loved one, but we too are OK.

This poem provides a bridge for each of us to connect to those we love...allows us that wondrous phenomenon that allows us to replay meaningful connections and the importance of friendship. 

Valerie shared her metaphor of wheel: "Basically, each of us is the rim of the wheel, supported by the spokes radiating out from the center, which are the other people in our lives.  If we lose one spoke in our wheel, it's not too bad, because the other ones can provide adequate support.  However, if a second spoke drops out, the loss of structural support is greater, and so on; just as the loss of people in our lives becomes exponentially rose with the more people we lose.  The advice that someone wisely gave me was to put a lot of spokes in my wheel, while I am young."Indeed, the physical shape of a wheel reminds us of a spiderweb, (minus the cross-threads.)

Lori's poem (see below) and Jane Hirshfield's poem both use an inventive "math".

In Praise of Dreams: 

How do we define ourselves by our dreams? There is a sense the Szymborska title has a more visionary quality beyond an autobiographical sketch.

Soto: In his version, inspired by Szymborska, we enter a crazy dream... it's playful... vibrant, vivid.  Perhaps he chauffeurs Picasso because Szymborska mentioned Vermeer and a car that obeys her...  and what delicious wishful thinking -- that all it takes is to lick your fingers, and you play guitar masterfully!  Compare to Szymborska's tongue-in-cheek reference to her virtuosity on the piano!  Both sessions enjoyed stanza 4: "I use index cards to make sense/Of the universe".

Would Soto have written this poem without knowing Szymborska poem?  

So what is a dream?  Our way of processing experience, our subconscious at work.  As Martin observed, Soto's stanzas seem more like sharing of imagination.   Monday's group felt the tone was frivolous.  Wednesday's group enjoyed the poem and called on Soto's non-fiction which paints poverty.  Marna suggested a possible understanding of the 8th stanza about the refrigerator was a sense of gratitude for a small miracle... that things work.  Bernie shared the doctor joke about the patient

who got up to pee in the night and told his doctor a light went on and he was sure he saw God.  The doctor's reply: oh, I've heard that before, it simply means you opened the door of the fridge to pee.

As for the final stanza about a trophy: several ideas of what that might be, but the best was understanding a metaphor for "messing up a chance".

Szymborska: Paul mentioned how her details (stanza 3, car... stanza 4 major saints, ) invite the reader to provide names; Monday's group felt her poem was more autobiographical, witty, and delved deeper in more subtle ways that seem to ask the reader to explore what else is meant.  ("I am, but need not /be a child of my time." ) In particular the stanza about the outbreak of war and the pun of  the "favorite side" which addresses the greater issue of war, and our response to it.

Did she play piano?  We know she is talented, (stanza 4) so why is this in a dream?  Does she want to write long epic poems?

Two suns- star wars? Was this around when she wrote this poem?  And what about that penguin, seen with utmost clarity?

 

The Last Quatrain of the Ballad of Emmett Till: 

Another brilliant technique of Gwendolyn Brooks where the story of this 14-year old's life, an innocent black teenager, lynched in grocery store in Mississippi in 1955 is not told.  The reader only sees the mother... and Brooks paints the scene with colors--

the caramel taffy (her sweet face), the black (bitter) coffee... the red repeated twice.  John explained "windy grays" refers to the whites trying to exonerate racial injustice.  The occlusives (coffee, kisses, killed, chaos) cut through.  

In the last two lines, I felt the spare suggestion and rhythm of Ezra Pound's "In a Station in the Metro:" -- The apparition of these faces in the crowd:/Petals on a wet black bough

Len Bias, a bouquet of flowers, and Mrs. Brooks**

In spite of the confusion of several versions, like The Last Quatrain above, this poem does not tell the whole story and uses the golden shovel technique ** borrowing the lines  "She kisses her killed boy and she is sorry" but turns it around.  Is it his magnified gaze (from cocaine) or hers as featured poet at University of Maryland-- or both?  He was not late because he had been playing basketball... she knows, can see he is "gone"-- and like Emmett's mother regretting she allowed her son to go south to visit family, is sorry he's made the choice of snorting cocaine.  And his flowers... an apology to her, also sorry...

As Reginald Dwayne Betts remarks in his selection of this poem in the NY times magazine 6/5/21, "it is difficult to hear from the poems."  

Muscular Fantasy: *** 

Below, I give a few references.  I had provided references to Satie, the actual piece "Muscular Fantasie" -- part of a series called "Things seen right and left (without glasses). his satirical directions (how do you play a piece "sheepishly"?) and as Hayes remarks, his  poems are as strange as Satie and his  surrealistic music.  So... we read the series of quatrains with a rather arbitrary pattern of rhyme, the recurring details of a painting , a boy in the well, time and an insistent repetition of "people".

For some, it did not seem worth spending time on trying to "figure it out" and for others, the question of whether the poem had

something to say seemed to eclipse desire to find coherence.   Judith was reminded of E.E. Cummings ’ “next to of course god america i", Marna pointed out the clear references to oppression, and indeed, would you rather be "blessed or lucky",

although since the question is quickly denigrated to the taste of soda/beer in can or bottle, with the alliterative b's 

pointing to the next non-sequitur:  "It's better, plus less stressful to think the best of people.

On Wednesday, we discussed our human need for stories, and inclination  not to have our patience tried.

On Monday, we discussed the increased need to google and research and work to be able to "access" poems.

In my email with references, I summarized how unique and  marvelous it is to gather around poems, share insights, observations, associations they prompt.

Indeed, we are keen as readers, to find mirrors for ourselves, build on our own stories and engage when we can identify.  But the beautiful benefit is in the gathering

of a group and the amazing variety of stories we see and share.  

I thank each of you, whether you are able to attend in person, or remotely, for taking the time to cultivate the patience required of understanding.

allusions and references (shared by email)

On grief: 

Judith brought up The rocking horse winner — DH Lawrence… although in reference to Wondrous, and what makes us cry…  today’s discussion saw it fitting the Terrance Hayes reference to the choice between “blessed” or “Lucky”.  https://www.shortstoryproject.com/story/rocking-horse-winner/  She also brought up Act 2, sc 2 of Hamlet: 

Tears in his eyes, distraction in his aspect,/A broken voice, and his whole function suiting/With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing—/ For Hecuba!/ What’s Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba/That he should weep for her? What would he do/Had he the motive and the cue for passion/That I have? He would drown the stage in tears/And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,/Make mad the guilty and appall the free

3. Maura was reminded of  Elizabeth Bishop:  One Art; https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47536/one-art

4. Marna brought up Jane Hirshfield  for the mathematical allusions in Wondrous:  Zero + anything, which I read aloud to both groups.https://poets.org/poem/zero-plus-anything-world

5. Lori brought up her poignant poem: Learning Quantum Physics from a 13th Century Sufi Poet: The opening line, "I can't make it add up"... and the fact that clearly we are not in charge of life's calculus... (see email sent out 6/9).  To (loosely) quote Valerie, "This stunning poem will take your breath away in the way she speaks of life, love, loss so subtly and poignantly.  The weaving in of math and quantum physics is masterful."

**Michael Collier: new version: https://goodwordnews.com/poem-len-bias-a-bouquet-of-flowers-and-mrs-brooks/                  article about Michael Collier’s new book: My Bishop and other poems.    https://dbknews.com/2019/10/10/umd-professor-poetry-michael-collier-my-bishop-and-other-poems-event/

** Golden Shovel technique: (Gwendolyn Brooks and Terrance Hayes: Her poem, We Real Cool, His poem Golden Shovel https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/55678/the-golden-shovel which gave rise to the form of aligning each word of a phrase, sentence, poem, vertically as last word of each line. (background: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/articles/92023/introduction-586e948ad9af8

*** Terrance Hayes: a) the painting within a painting: https://www.nrm.org/MT/text/TripleSelf.html   

b) overtones with use of “people”…and who anybody is in the “we”, how some people… and other people can be (mis)understood; role of oppression, etc.

  Judith thought immediately of E.E. Cummings: ’ “next to of course god america i” https://sites.google.com/site/theliteratureofpoetry/3

c) although I didn’t bring it up either day, there is a strong overtone (undertone?) to this poem with the reference to who falls in the well: In the Well by Andrew Hudgins: : https://www.loc.gov/programs/poetry-and-literature/poet-laureate/poet-laureate-projects/poetry-180/all-poems/item/poetry-180-108/in-the-well/

Addendem:  see Terrance Hayes' poem George Floyd, published June 22, 2020 in the New Yorker. https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2020/06/22/george-floyd

He plays with clichés like "bell/of the ball and chain around the neck... puff the magic bullet1999 bottles/... and  Emmett Till with till as small letter last name and passing of time. 

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).