October 27

 Incantation of the First Order  by Rita Dove

In an Unrelated by Elaine Equi

Saudade by Silvia Bonilla

What the Astronaut Misses About Earth  by Liz Steppe

L.O.S.S. (Lack of Spiritual Significance)  by Brenardo 

NUTSHELL:

Rita Dove:  What does "Incantation" evoke?  "Lullaby"? ... "Sonnet"?   If you hear "First order" -- what do you fill in to follow it?

First Order of Magnitude comes to mind... but then... I need to look up specifics about how "orders of magnitude are used to make approximate comparisons." 

Already, title, form, and last word of the first line (unrhymed, mind you) create a sort of magic... and Rita's note provokes another layer of thinking about how we use incantation... and how both "beauty and beast" are brought out in us in these times of incertitude.  She does not say "Pandemic", but "pestilence" -- not just the physical fact of covid... but a worse infection of fake news, brainwashing, a way of living counter to our well-being and that of our planet... The absolutist beacons of black and white thinking, Never! (last resorts) and Always (fanatics rallying cry) paint a desperate "end-of-the-world feel".  Many smiled after reading this poem-- and we agreed... it felt good to have a clear voice, with a light touch of humor, address the often unspoken consequences of covid and the times... Say bleeped sheep 10 times in a row... and think interrupted sleep, interrupted sentences, censored speech... or as Barb informed us... there are meditation devices called Rosebud, and a twitch channel to help those addicted to video games... Maura joined the fun added an "s" to relative --  peril and risk, indeed have become relative, but also "relatives" to which we are bound... 

 Rita Dove reads her poem, in a calm manner, and she smooths over the enjambments, as the eye registers the break between

stars/will diminish... waking//get up into he same day you dreamed leaving... bells/stuck... might as well//

There is a sense of warning in the opening "Listen..." , an unsettling sense of danger, line 9, "I'll try to couch this in positive terms"

and even a special reserve message for "those inclined toward kindness", which subtly emphasizes the importance of kindness...

and its possibility if practiced, to " come out of your houses drumming!" 

juxtaposed with threatened teeth for those who don't. We discussed "smile"... the usual cover-up... perhaps a hint of our current "masquerade of mask",  the implication of the teeth.  It feels good to have a strong spokeswoman address what Judith calls "the flockata-flockata-flockata of orthodoxies for the soul", what David pinned as our helplessness in face of virulent brainwashing... 

No matter if every day feels like the day before... get up and at it and grab the opportunities! 

Elaine Equi:  As Kwame Dawes says, "the elegant irony of this lament about this contemporary phenomenon of "the news cycle"

provides us a modern "campfire" around which to gather-- a reminder of poetry's role as collective connection and reminder of our humanity.  The title uses the commonplace use of an adjective, minus its intended noun, allowing the reader to fill in all that

"unrelated" could mean in the context of a large world-weariness (Weltmüdigkeit) of our individual, isolated bubbles.

I had read "mini series" as a combination of "miseries" and "ministries". So much is said in these short lines...and the poem demonstrates the power of awareness that writing provides us.  The minimalist approach provides condensed illustration of examples of advertisement, facebook, disinformation.   The final line pegs our subjective human nature, echoing Dove's underlining of absolute "black and white", either/or formulations of thinking.

Yes... we see what we want to see... sometimes not even aware that desire is involved, especially when counter to our

best interests... It is well known psychological fact that if we are interested in something, we start to see it everywhere.

Silvia Bonilla:  Her title, Saudade, illustrates this feeling of longing, melancholy, nostalgia.  We noted the almost surrealistic flavor and chromatic opposites of orange  (oil spill? reflection of sunset?) and blue... (synaesthesia of sound of fish in ocean)

in the setting of the first 5 lines.  Elaine noted that it felt like two poems, with an actual story implied about a young man selling bracelets.  (different from the boy in the first line) 

The dismissive advice "to take a pill" to numb "precise sadness, /a counterfeit gift received early in life",  seems a powerless

and ineffective remedy for the ache of missing someone.  David explained this complex fragment as  the fiction-making we do... and its mood, our projections, and the gift of invention.

Maura pointed out that we have names for children who have lost parents, spouses who have lost partners, but not word for a parent losing a child.  

We discussed the "gladiators on sand" -- many had images of the the blood swept up after the fight, with the macho winner strutting on the new sand.  Maura described sweeping the hot sand on the beach with her children to be able to walk on it.

The smile... hungry? torn? a something... like trying to pinpoint an ache of sadness... that "remote tenderness" conveyed

through the thin wire of a telephone.  Susan shared the thought of how it must have been in the civil war, or other times pre-telephone, waiting for new... and the impact of our tools of technology-- and how we use them... 

Ending the poem with a question accentuates the uncertainty-- the fact we cannot truly know how life is for another far away. 

I love that Ada Limon describes the poem filled with "cantaloupe-colored longing that makes no apologies".

  

Liz Steppe:  We enjoyed how this poem played with our perspective of our planet-- It reminds me of this poster. 

Many shares about astronauts...and now, movie stars and some people are in love with the possibilities of exploring space/the universe, others, afraid of it.    Mary reminded us of William Shattner, coming back from Space "all poetic".  What would you miss, if an astronaut?  Most of us agree, everything!  The poem allows us to imagine detachment... a zen approach of letting go... not only weightless but understanding gravity as metaphorical "gravitas" -- is also a bit of trickery).   Martin mentioned a PBS special on space 10/27...  We tried out all the possible intonations to say the last line.  The poet says it in a matter of fact way... perhaps a hint of tongue-in-check . The ladies at the Open Door Mission shelter  on 10/22 totally enjoyed the fantasy… the perspective… and yet… are happy to have green and gravity here on earth!

L.O.S.S. (Lack of Spiritual Significance)  by Brenardo (from Billy Brown, Fixed and Free anthology 2021)

I wrote this note to him: deotp123@gmail.com

I lead a weekly session of poetry appreciation and discussion in Rochester, NY and chose your fine poem

L.O.S.S. (Lack of Spiritual Significance) as part of the line-up yesterday. I copy Billy to thank him again for providing the connection of the great reading on Oct. 16 and publication of the anthology for us all.

I wanted to let you know how much everyone appreciated the braiding of your words — each one capitalized…

and a sense of great weariness with the repetitions, of how it must feel to “Live Black” — (opening line) ending with 

being “Busy Living Black”.  We admired the way you pegged loss, fear, the unanswerable “why” and role of the spirit.  

One participant saw the poem as an exercise in versatility and loved the fact he could read the first line of each stanza and make a poem… 

then do the same, reading only second lines, then third lines, then read the poem backwards from last line to fit…

Another participant was eager to know more about your feelings… your story… 

and we all respected the struggle  and the underlining of the uniqueness of any human being, by emphasizing

your own precious position, “I Can Only Speak For Me”— which has a truthful power.

I don’t often attend the New Mexico meetings, being on the East Coast, but I am glad I did, and was part of Billy’s “Fixed and Free” and had a chance to see your poem!

Thank you! 

Oct. 20

Villanelle of the Poet's Road.  by Ernest Dowson

For the Sake of Strangers  - Dorianne Laux

What’s Broken by Dorianne Laux

The Word by Tony Hoagland

The Names of Flowers by Abby Murray

Cairns by Kitty Jospé

Nutshell:

Dowson:

In the in-person session, Judith gave a lovely background of Ernest Dowson, as one of the "decadents",  their reputation for absinthe, and the tragic death of both parents dying of TB (at that time quite common) and his own early death at age 32.  "Poor wounded wonderful fellow that he was, a tragic reproduction of all tragic poetry, like a symbol, or a scene. I hope bay leaves will be laid on his tomb and rue and myrtle too for he knew what love was".^{[10] Oscar Wilde.}

We discussed the almost comic way he makes fun of his own complaint, and although one could say the villanelle lacks power and vigor, David quoted the story of the critique of Maria Callas for sounding tired in her role in a Verdi opera, to which she replied:  I should certainly hope so... I worked for three months to sound tired!  

For the Sake of Strangers: 

Normally "for the sake of" is not connected to strangers... and in a way the title honors strangers--

which reminds me of proximity of "angel" in the French étranger and étrange which contains the word ange.  Perhaps each one of us is a "messenger" for the other, as a way of connection.  Several commented on the ghostliness evoked in the "empty body" and perhaps an underlying thought of suicide with the last line.  The opening generalization reminds me of Dorianne's earlier work, The Things we Carry, and 

"dull strength" evoked for some a sense of depression.  Who is this self that desires a stranger to

"keep her from herself"?  We commented on the gratuitous goodness of things that touch us.

Maura brought up how spot on this poem is for the pandemic... how being with people, no matter if strangers, allows us to feel more part of the world. Carmen mentioned how she looks at people and imagines their story... and Ken mentioned the fun of watching a school bus driver waiting for three kids. 

I shared the story of the women at the Open Door Mission (ODM) shelter who helped out a stranger, giving money, imagining them worse off or in a state where maybe they had been and a few dollars might have made a difference.  

What's Broken: 

Just in case you forget that the universe is a rather violent place, with black holes sucking up matter,

meteors crashing randomly to pockmark the moon, and that indeed... just about everything will one day

be broken, this poem provides a fine reminder.  People were reminded of a Tibetan sand painting, where

a beautiful work of art is carefully constructed, only to be blown away and erased.  As one of the women at the ODM shelter said, it is a testimony.  The discussion included associations, for instance with Elizabeth Bishop's The Art of Losing, or the second law of thermodynamics, John Donne, Edna St. Vincent Millay, the Zen acceptance of inevitable "decay is inherent is all components in all things"

or a sense of a "momento mori" when a painter creates images of all that will not last-- that lemon zest, the fresh shellfish, the small bubble at the end of a pipe, the smoke coming from the lit tip of a rope, etc.

One suggestion was to call the poem, "What's Beautiful", as like the poem before, many of the things mentioned  are treasures while they last.  The mother's necklace brought up poignant memories... and one can smell the parsley and mint... see the beauty of the white roots... which is a confirmation of the power of memory to keep things alive.

The blue cup fallen had a universal reminder of a broken heart.  I believe Marna reminded us that a broken heart is also free...   As for the cricket, a few offered the possibility of an unintended crushing the cricket... or maybe something as small, yet "possible" or still,

"unthinkable" in terms of what will be/could be/is broken. The enjambments emphasize the juxtaposition of "broken" and rose... (or later, the days, the night sky, star patterns) "glass" and knobs... last summer/pot of herbs; roots/shooting;  Even for those who felt it was not a positive viewpoint, the "moral" of finding and appreciating beauty comes through.

The Word:

The title carries biblical overtones... and carries on the theme in the two Laux poems of what brings us joy.

I love the humor of a "to do" list and the surprise of "penciled 'sunlight'" between green thread and broccoli, which could be penciled in as word, or a random appearance of actual sunlight... 

The enjambments between stanzas enhance a sense of waiting expectancy:  "sunlight"/resting..

pleasure/a thing//that needs accomplishing... love/no less practical than a coffee grinder/

or a safe spare tire.  The rhythm of the syntax flows easily, yet constantly surprises... Lovely 2-tercet opening; a short burst of a sentence pronouncing the word is beautiful followed by an almost 3 tercet  ramble of how it touches... with two elucidations with "as if..." following by a short burst of a question, "Do you remember". 

The turn at the 9th tercet, but today, emphasizes "the kingdom/still exists.  The final metaphor of

the telegram from the heart in exile carries a message for a universal you-- an invitation to hope

if you find the time to "sit out in the sun and listen".  

If you haven't pencilled in "sunlight" -- this might prompt you to remember it is there for the noticing,

and even on a grey day, not something you "do", but simply a pleasurable and often surprising gift...  

Names of Flowers: 

We do not know them... but taking the time to say how they "feel", smell, look... the visual synesthesia of the gold ranging from pineapple and honey,  the description of

their circumstances (in markdown buckets at Safeway)... and then the surprising juxtaposition 

of happiness and cheaper... this close to a dumpster!  The idea of leaving behind  a former self

who had no name for "what is both vital and necessary", is an elegant way of realizing the

vital and unnecessary serendipity of possible joy.

What is vital?  How wonderful that an unplanned, not classified as necessary "thing" or happenstance

is paradoxically a necessary ingredient that confirms something indeed vital.  

Mary brought up the pleasure she has imagining the story behind the person who buys a bouquet of flowers-- no matter for whom, what occasion... that vital and unnecessary act spreads its effect on the person buying them.  Maura brought up the Dag Hammerskøld comparison of happiness as a butterfly... 

unpredictably landing, not staying long.  He puts it differently:  "Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, seems always just beyond your grasp. 

Cairns:  a forwards-backwards poem where the first 5 lines repeat in reverse order, the last 5 lines

which provides a familiarity, yet small twist of difference, as if following a mountain path.

Stories of cairns included the problem of people creating new ones that might lead others astray, and Paul's marvelous story of creating a cairn with the capstone "Brennon" with his friend, which turned into

a tourist stop for travelers inviting a selfie.

Such a good feeling in both discussions, although a small "zoom" session.

 

 

October 6 + 13

 

zoom: Elaine had to use a new zoom number: 81539887297

She, Marna and Emily had a good discussion.   

In Person: 

 It seems an overused word, but "great" ( or "grand", in the ould sod) always comes to mind in recollecting an hour or so of real fun at O   Pen. Five stalwarts today, Jim, Joyce, Mary, Judith and I. Jim always brings humor with him and stories....and he has always done his homework as well. Joyce hits the top with homework, and is no slouch in the humor department, either. She didn't think that the Chinese number "sounded Chinese enough". And Mary's readings are always done perfectly, strong and clear and emphatic...and, Oh, is it necessary to remind you of Mary's humor ? Judith, God bless her, was quick to take up slack in conversation, usually startling us with information on art, dance, literature, poesy and reams of humor. There is a common thread of humor in our bunch...I mean the whole bunch.....and it applies so much the better to criticism or critique than sour milk for desert. 

    Kitty will not be here/there for next week because of a prior travel date. Poor butterfly ! Those wings will need a rest. So, with Kitty gone for three in a row, Martin and I will complete a palace coup, replacing modern poetical tomfoolery with a steady diet of Victorian fluff as well as 17th c. selections of religious fervor, or fervour........We'll love Herrick......maybe an occasional break with Skelton or the Earl of Rochester.........................Nirvana, indeed.

Barbara's comments:  I did enjoy today's musical poems.  I even listened to some Brahms last night after reading "Romantics." It seems so sad that they didn't marry! And "The Disappeared" with its sinking and disappearing letters in mother and father was very moving and a visceral experience. I loved the poet's reading of it too. Speaking of listening, I couldn't hear your poem because I couldn't get that little blue microphone to work, but I do appreciate your ability to work creatively with the villanelle.

Oct. 13 : In Person-- Paul's report:

It was a grand day with the O  Pen gang of seven on Wednesday last. Martin, Ken, Jim, Joyce Maura, Judith and meself . Judith started us on our descent to Hades with , Acheron. We all had little thoughts about Hell and the poem brought back memories of 4th year Latin for me. We translated from Latin and the story was so engrossing, there was a minimum of grousing about how long it was. It was a swell Villanelle.    

Jim kept us laughing, read loud enough for all those wax filled ears to hear the lines. I mentioned an old Irish Pub poem and Judith sprang up jackrabbit like and recited the whole thing ( A Glass of Beer, James Stephens) without slowing down for a breath......or a swig. Maura and Ken and Joyce and Martin all joined in on the rare occasions that we strayed from the menu. 

It was, as usual, a fine affair and, really, a testimony to you ,who have done so much to put things together week after week . It is an harmonious group ....friends who can sit together, be serious, frivolous, entertaining. But, we will all be happy to get the Skipper back at the helm. The ship wandered somewhat under the windy breezes of the substitute helmsman.