A Blessing by James Wright
The Blessing of the Old Woman, the Tulip, and the Dog by Alicia Ostriker
Ode to a Thermostat by Paul Brennan
Unknown Bird (1999) by W.S. Merwin
Term (1999) by W.S. Merwin
In the Beginning by Anne Pierson Wiese
Advice for Using Blood in a Poem by Albert Abonado
Some weeks, I feel the poems chosen resonate well for everyone attending, no matter how wide the variations in understanding. This week, we did not finish the discussion -- only briefly touching on the poem by Anne Pierson Wiese, Judith summarized as "ashcan school-like" and no time to address the implied "art poetic" of the final poem. It is good to be reminded by Martin that when we read a poem that we don't like, or feels like the poet needn't have bothered to write it, we can ask ourselves, "what is it I have missed?".
The first poem by James Wright is familiar to many in the group, and a beautiful poem which creates a quiet peacefulness in a meeting between two horses and two people, in this case, Wright and his friend, Robert Bly.
The humor of the Ostriker and Paul's poem offset the sense of struggle in the two Merwin poems which come from his earlier work.
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The Blessing:
In responding to James Wright’s poem, both groups discussed the power of the bond between animals and humans, and the unplanned effect of witnessing two ponies, their welcome to Wright and his friend, as a beautiful blessing which confirms a sense of “agape”. A larger theme of what poetry can do, how to receive a poem came up.
How does hearing a poem change it? When does the sound feel intrusive to a quiet (silent) reading?
Depending on mood, how do we resolve what seems to be a highly subjective projection of the poet?
I love that poems are explorations, and our discussions allow us to delve in to understand them.
Some picked up on the feel of oxymoron: the horses eyes "darken with kindness"; others felt an antithetical pull with "there is no loneliness like theirs" and yet, the two horses together love each other. Certainly, Wright plays opposites of light/dark, solitude/union with others, male/female.
The romantic touch of a light breeze, the caress of a soft ear compared to touching the skin of a girl's wrist... the personification of twilight, the quiet observation of spring, and a sense of trust-- the friends "stepping over barbed wire" and the almost eager reception of the horses, the sense of interconnectivity, indeed prepare the spiritual transcendence of the final line. Although there is no formal rhyme, the light touch of alliterations, assonance and line breaks, particularly between line 9 and 10 and the last two lines give a special power to an unfolding of happiness.
Paul was reminded of Patrick Kavanagh's poem: "Plough Horses" (Their glossy flanks and manes outshone/ The flying splinters of the sun.) Judith quoted from Papashvily, Anything can happen , "I was happy and full of prance" confirming the association of happiness and energy of horses. Maura shared the story of Pedro, the burro (donkey) calling out the sheep
in answer to her asking him where they were; other's cited the science behind horses and their ability to demonstrate love of humans. Indeed in the poem, there is something "completing" about this encounter.
The blessing of...
This poem gave us all a light-hearted laugh! What is it to be blessed? I invited participants to add their idea of what it means. Marna came up with: "To be blessed said the bull, is to have a chat across a fence with your human neighbor". David's beautiful summary of the three stanzas:
"the analogy of organic process of milk transformed to God's love running through; dynamite eroticism of the tulip; dog's groove on scent".
The earthy sounds, of "slug of lust, up-ended", are sandwiched by God in the first and third stanza. Who would not delight in this trilogy of blessings?!
I add for myself, the following, feeling the strength of our "poetry family" that comes together each week.
Two Merwin poems:
Kathy gave us background of these poems from 1999, and commented on their difficulty which Merwin later resolves in Shadow of Sirius. We all commented on the the liberty Merwin allows us as we navigate the lines and lack of punctuation.
Unknown Bird: Both Jim and Valerie (representatives from in-person and zoom groups) both joined the final stanza with the enjambed "there/it goes again"
tell/no one. This is tricky territory -- almost a desire to dwell on "another/existence there"
and "tell" (as opposed to "tell no one"). Mary could hear the sounds of birds... and how birds tell us life is alive!!!The idea of "wild geese" as Irish refugees, leaving the homeland because of religious persecution came up.
We noted the alliterative effect of "dry days, dusty"; the "fluted phrase floating"... the "f" repeating in the final stanza with "foreign, filling ". Intriguing questions: What do we want to hide? keep secret? Where is this "somewhere else"? How to navigate two layers of "before" -- one for something new, one for what was... ?
Term: whether a literary term, a political term... the etymology of term implies a boundary... Paul kindly provided us a "golden shovel" technique of only final words on the line, to clarify: (my line breaks may need adjusting!).
A word is waiting be remembered
a household word,
ordinary living considered afterward.
It was the one through circumstances of its own--
the only word that would do.
He mentioned you could try this with just first words as well.
Marna commented on how words change their meaning... how "bad" now is used to mean "cool"..
David commented on how words become wedded, embedded; how a noun is often unable to shed the attachment of the thing in itself to the word. Any word balances a fusion of what might seem arbitrary but fixed assignation and sound, with variations of pronunciation and meanings that morph with use.
Judith quoted the ridiculous nature of terms such as "heteronormative" and such in literary criticism.
She reminded us of the fun in 1066 and all that and the exercises -- ex. "King John had no redeeming features. Illustrate."
In the beginning:
Far from the biblical overtones, and story of planning gone awry, the two "lumps" of this poem seem to hinge on the enjambed stanza break: Love displaces // everything.
Judith brought up the zen koan, " show me your original face -- before you were born".
If you do not know the photographs of Walker Evans (1903-1975) they indeed merit a look.
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