Dec. 8

Island by Langston Hughes - 1902-1967

If You Knew  by Ellen Bass

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmXqnSc41Dg

How to Apologize  by Ellen Bass

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/03/15/how-to-apologize

Without by Joy Harjo – 1951

These Aren’t Just Words by Abby Murray

Our Land by Langston Hughes

A big thank you to the American Academy of Poets for organizing this reading of chancellors, who picked a poem by another, followed by their own in a program called "Gather In" on December 9. https://www.crowdcast.io/e/gather-in-poems/1

Paul brought in a volume of Langston Hughes with a portrait of him as a young man on the cover.  Carolyn mentioned the new book by Joy Harjo, Poet Warrior and highly recommends.  

We will meet next week, then take a small break for Christmas, resuming on January 5, 2022

with in-person sessions at 11:15, followed by zoom sessions at 12:30.  It has been special to hear two very different discussions of the same poems.  I try to share the very rich flavor of the two conversations below  

which reflect the power of a smaller group.  Thank you to all who attend!

Nutshell summary: 

Island: David pointed out that indeed, Hughes instills a sense of hope, but also, is not quiet about what is wrong. Paul reflected on how to read a poem by a black poet of a different time, as a white reader.  He tried a flavor of southern dialect-- but however one might read these words, whatever background, race, religion, Hughes words bring forth a strong universal message of hope in the future.  David also mentioned how the African slaves drew from the Jewish part of the Bible-- Moses, Exodus, and this idea of "crossing over".  Rose Marie emphasized the power of the word, somehow in the second couplet.

In today's world,  refugees, rides waves of extreme sorrow in their passage from known to unknown to survive.  The subtle repetitions of the poem call attention to our yearning for connection.

The title echoes on the first line of the 2nd and 3rd couplet.  The repeat of the opening line in the end couplet, the shift of rhyme of sorrow/now/somehow to fair/there. Several remarked on how it is riding the difficult allows the experience to raises the spirits in hope.

If you knew: The title is not a reminder, but a  call on the deep knowledge we all share of the fear of dying alone, without touch of another.  The discussions started with observing the particulars that pop out:

the tearing of the tickets... the ragged stubs, the gay man, powdered  cheek, the crack//in heaven and the mysterious closing image that applies to all: soaked in honey, stung and swollen,//reckless, pinned against time.

How do we make exchanges-- and a deeper metaphor of the act of handing over a ticket... and receiving back a torn stub?  Powdered, as sign of an older person, or perhaps a corpse prepared by undertaker; the young gay, with perhaps a 6th sense, an intuition of the holder woman's death, and the permission, as gay,

to kiss her cheek, not available to a "straight" man especially as a waiter, a stranger.

Regarding the metaphorical end posed in the two questions: the enjambed "crack" is split to fall on "in  heaven"-- just as the "spume" distanced from "have to come".  Marna defended dragons, where "spume" should not mean an implied, frothy poison, or danger, but perhaps a positive sign of the dragon as water spirit, protector as in the Asian cultures.  

We discussed at length the ending lines... who are we "as we are" -- and what actions, circumstances, "soak us", "sting"?  The use of "pinned" evoked for some the image of butterflies and insects pinned in a exhibit... David recalled this passage from Prufrock: 

And I have known the eyes already, known them all— The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?

Reckless is a perfect adjective that counters both "knowing" and "understanding/seeing".

The reader is gently propelled to review everything about life again... our judgements, pleasure, and price we pay, how we touch each other... with an echo of  what if... to re-examine.     

How to Apologize:  I shared this thought to address our human response to "commission of sins"...  "Why do we apologize at all? Because human behavior is interdependent, people apologize when they have breached someone's trust, or wronged them in any manner, with the objective of restoring their relationship. ... Moreover, by validating the feelings of the person one wronged, an apology also shows care. Aug 30, 2020"

repair yourself... accept yourself... forgive yourself... 

As psychologist, Ellen provides some helpful advice... reassurance... "it is permitted/to receive solace" and adds a note of compassion to traditional prayer of confession, ("forgive us for what we have done, and left undone") -- pitiful, beautiful humans... 

Judith was reminded of the dreamlike quality in  Finnegan's Wake.  There is no breath in this poem-- it starts with the advice of cooking a fish... backs up on with two alternatives of how to get to the lake where you will catch it, followed by what sounds like a dispensation from the Pope,  slides into an anecdote about the mother, slips into the need for a boat... how to make it in the spirit of repairing the world, an extra sprinkle of reassurance about how each night we can dream back what we've lost...

Yes, one could read this as a way to apologize for plundering our planet, as Rose Mary so aptly put it.

Yes, one could see this as a call to look inside yourself, see that you have already what is needed for self care and repair as Martin kindly explained.  Emily reminded us of the impact of small actions in the book, How to Move a Piano-- give the 3 movers a glass of ice water-- how even the smallest gesture will have an important impact.

Some saw a metaphor for Christ... others a metaphor for our interdependence... how we need to repair when there is a breach of trust... and the good news... we are not alone .... 

Jim supplied us with an understanding of the 5 million bones of a Northern Pike --

but how to understand the need to choose a "fish with many bones", requiring "skill to expose" the skeleton?

All of it, all... with the ifs, the perhaps, the "someones" -- all ways to know -- indeed, "you are alive".

Not with an exclamation point, but said with Ellen's gentle voice... pointing things out on our journey--

understanding that apology is part of it... So cook a large fish; build a boat; grill it-- carry it to the one you hurt.  The problem is... we don't easily "unharness ourselves from our weary stories". 

Without:  Rose Marie was reminded of the movie Alfie (What's it all about?);Many provided information about Hyenas -- how smart they are... how they are a necessary part of the clean-up crew, and that we could learn from their laughter... not taking ourselves quite so seriously.  Carolyn cited p. 85 of Harjo's new book, "poetry is like a dance"... Marna reminded us of the Haudenosaunee myth of Sky Woman who births twins... one good, one evil... 

The poem,  without punctuation aside from one m-dash and final period, allows each line to enrich the one after:  "when we lift from the story contest..." is connected to the truth that the world trudges through time without us ... but also connects to a vision of an  afterlife -- watching those who have not yet lifted up... who in turn watch us as falling stars.

The repeated, maybe then... that starts the 2nd and 3rd stanzas, introduces possibility: we will see the design (through the metaphorical smoke of illusion... our distractions as well as cooking fires;)

 maybe then, we will find ...

(I don't mean to copy the words of the poem and perhaps you will re-read them...)

I love that we are all involved as "beloved rascal"--and are reminded of "timeless weave of breathing".  Perhaps it is only the hyenas who laugh-- or perhaps we will join them.  

These Aren't Just Words: In the second group, we did not discuss this poem... but rather Carolyn shared the sorrow of losing so many who have died recently.  How do we learn to answer to tragedy?

And yet... because of the words we read and shared in this session, and that others who were not able to be there in person, are reviewing and sharing, we have words for what has no words.

How do you start discussing such a poem?

Judith started with a story of the wife of oboe player Chief Musician Walter M. Penland, killed in Pearl Harbor who did not attend her husband's funeral because she was pregnant, and bleeding in the hospital. 

Who needs words from a President in such circumstances?  Who dares to pass judgement on her?

All the expressions we have using "words" -- to have words, last word, use words wisely, or eat them; struck dumb,  burning through words... "just words" in the double meaning of justice served and "mere"

lip service.  Where tragedy leaves us with no words at all.

Our Land:  the second group also did not have time to discuss this poem, filled with "should"...

The powerful contrast of what should be with the coldness, the grayness, of a land where joy is wrong,

does not avoid the problem, and yet... the should provides hope-- an invitation of some moral imperative to ensure we celebrate sun, protect fragrant water, trees, brilliant colors of birds... and fill each possible moment with  singing --  love and joy. 

I thank everyone for participating in this powerful and moving discussion.  Please feel free to add.