We Used Our Words We Used What Words We Had by Franny Choi
Many were intrigued by the poem and looked up more information about the poet, a Korean-American, gay, slam-poet. Bernie provides this u-tube: https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=We+Used+Our+Words+We+Used+What+Words+We+Had++by+Franny+Choi
(Note: in the American Poets Journal, the lines are triple-spaced. https://www.frannychoi.com/the-world-keeps-ending . It makes it harder to see right away there are only 14 lines, so technically a sonnet form, and yet, one would not read it necessarily to draw attention to the form. As one participant put it, there is a disconnect between the visual disposition on the page and traditional expectations of a sonnet form, as the reading doesn't line up with the lines which has an effect of disconnect. It was good to read one line at a time, one per person to allow space.
The 8th line end word, "yawp", conjures up Whitman's "barbaric yawp" in "Song of Myself", but there is no "volta", only another ampersand, a repeat of "tried" and a fizzling flow of f's. Note the f's continue line 10, adding a past tense "ed" at the end of each verb, arriving at a repeat of the verb "felt" with an enjambed reference to Wordsworth (felt/the words' worth stagnate", which beautifully illustrates with sonic finesse the fatigue of the failure to fix, affix any point of the brilliant word play to either feel or understand. Indeed, what is the message of the poem? One person thought there was a bit of yearning in the tone; certainly the verbs are hard at work, and the poem seems to be a demonstration of urgent effort to use words -- perhaps line 4 explains... to use words "to want ourselves"... line 5, "to want (enjambed to 6) the earth we mouthed". What is the "it"?
The difficulty in English of needing to know whether a word like "wound" is a noun (with an oooh sound) or a verb (with an ow sound) compounds the intricacy of the word play. The "ow's" of wound, mounted, roused would indeed ward off any sleep. The uncapitalized "meanwhile" in the penultimate line starts a fragment stopped by a colon. Does a tide still a tide? Is the tide still a tide? What is "still washed" for sounds to mark. Graehm suggested that the use of ampersands de-emphasizes the role of "and" which perhaps supports the idea of the tide coming in to mark, going out, both the tide and sand marked. The tide as "time" bides in place perhaps, repeatedly rolling. This supports the title of the poem collection The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes on from which the poem comes. The overtones of old anglo-saxon roots give a sense of history along with all the past tense endings. Judith thought of the weaving in the song, "The Foggy, foggy dew". This is a lovely rendition of this old folk song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=toWv2u10U7Q
Reactions to the poem: readers found it clever, intriguing, captivating layers and sounds. Some found the poem irritating, annoying, others, fascinating.
A Poem of Thanks by Wendell Berry
Who is I, and who is You? This engaging, yet enigmatic poem allows the reader to imagine different guises of reciprocity, whether the poet or another, and his/her mate or an abstract relationship with body/soul; physical presence/love. Perhaps we cannot put the understanding into words, but there does seem to be a religious overtone, almost like intoning a psalm. Interesting that the repeated first two lines have a more informal iteration from "I have been spared" to "I've been spared". We spoke also of the unusual invitation to "come into this night" with a mutual casting aside in order to rise into a temporary joy.
Our Prayer of Thanks by Carl Sandburg
Written and published in 1916, it is a curious poem, where title is repeated as closing line of each stanza, except in the case of the final line where it is a separate and final fragment. The first four stanzas seem like typical subjects of prayer. The two stanzas that begin with "God" are fragments. There is no sequel to "if you are deaf and blind, or the various dead", only an implied "we offer" before "our prayer of thanks. It is jarring and hard to imagine such lines uttered without sarcasm. It could be that we will never "get the game" and however it is played, so be it, and yet still.. even then, this "prayer of thanks" goes on. Judith brought up the Hassidic story of the uneducated man who only knew the alphabet, who said to the Rabbi, it would be enough for God to create the words of the prayer. This Mark Twain poem came to mind: https://www.americanyawp.com/reader/19-american-empire/mark-twain-the-war-prayer-ca-1904-5/
Friends by William Stafford
Much as we might not like to admit the truth, friends who live far away do forget you. "They have to", is not a matter of argument but solid fact of truth and circumstance. The double meaning of "hand" as the handwriting, as well as what holds the pen, touches things as last word is effective. How many of us take the time to write, especially "handwrite". On Wednesday there were a few chuckles at the line about it being "the phone/itself is what loves you, although it isn't the fact of the line that is funny. Touch confirms us however as do objects. Such a short poem, poignantly touching. Comments brought up other aspects of Stafford as "quiet of the land", his poem, Travelling through the dark, and his quiet wisdom. Indeed, the process of writing feels good, and in many ways brings us beyond ourselves. Martin brought up ESP and other ways we use to draw near to those far away.
Although we ran out of time to read the next two poems, at Rundel we did read Give-Away Song by Gwen Westerman, a contemporary Native American writer which is a perfect sequel to the Stafford. When we sing in a group, it is like a prayer of thanks, for living, for the fact that we can touch what is good in each other and around us, and have a sense of connection. Wopida ye, means "Thank You".
The other Native American poem, " Let There Be by Manny Loley for his nephew calls on the power of poetry, which like story telling, lives and breathes, reminding us of who we are, where we come from, where we are going. Hooghan, the space of a home, can also be the space of a page, a dwelling space we can fill up with song singing in all directions. No matter if it is raining, or sunny in summer, the voice we use is not ours alone.
This is the spirit of the final poem by Jane Hirschberg, The Weighing. You can hear her read it here: https://youtu.be/XyqXGL7ArKM Elaine brought up the importance of listening to others, as she spoke of her work of Pastoral Care. Others were reminded of the message in different guises: "Keep Calm and carry on" (Winston Churchill) or as Judith said her daughter put it to her, "Suck it up and deal!". Joyce at Rundel mentioned the importance of forgiveness. How it is not just that we need to forgive others, but, we all face the possibility of needing to be forgiven. Nature teaches us lessons, for instance, in times of drought, if the starved lion did not eat the eland, that is not necessarily good for the eland. How is it that the scales balance? The importance is not the answer to the question, but the proof, over and over again, that they do and we are asked only one thing: to give all of our strength to the world and each other.
I included in the weekly send-out a lecture by Robin Kimmerer (author of Braiding Sweetgrass) at the Institute of American Indian Arts in California. https://iaia.edu/event/talk-with-author-dr-robin-wall-kimmerer/ Thank you Maura who shared it, and reminded us of this concept of "ki" that active energy that binds the universe. She says the first 5-8 minutes are just about seeing people come on and sit down etc. but worth the wait and thinks it can be close captioned.
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