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
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43661/holy-thursday-twas-on-a-holy-thursday-their-innocent-faces-clean
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
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