Crossroads by Louise Glück
Cold Solace by Anna Belle Kaufman
Childhood by David Baker
The Shoes of Teenage Boys by Tim Nolan
The Chambermaids in the Marriott in Midmorning by Maxine Kumin
I had included And The Beautiful by Paul Celan which inspired my powerpoint shared last week-- contact me if you want to see it.) We ran out of time to read it. I appreciate Mike's comments at Rundel: Celan sets up a pattern of past tense followed by present (tore/tear; heaped/heap) but that wind is in the present, sweeping, and caught in the final question, as if to carry it to the next generation. How do we face a violent and brutal world? Note how the poem starts with And... as if there is a whole story that included the beautiful... and in our grief, yes, we understand the tearing out of pages, hair as we bury all we loved.
It reminded many of the movie Life is Beautiful.
I stumbled on this quote from Louise Glück: Everything is change ... and everything is connected. Also everything returns, but what returns is not what went away—
I had mentioned thoughtful quotes from great writers on the nature of death on Maria Popova's blog: https://www.themarginalian.org/2019/02/07/you-cant-have-it-all-barbara-ras-emily-levine/ : Here, from Rilke: Death is our friend, precisely because it brings us into absolute and passionate presence with all that is here, that is nature, that is love." Popova's comment seems to sum up "Crossroads" and contemplating death as "the most difficult and rewarding art: "befriending our own finitude".
Where to start to pay homage to the discussion this poem sparked? I think the timely sound of the "cricket" on Maura's phone as we read "a new tenderness" was perfect...
Crossroads: crossing from life to death; a point where one contemplates which direction to take, and what choices to make. As Maura put it, there really should be a lemonade stand there...
Poetry is not about "answers" and this poem demonstrates the power of unspoken, perhaps implied
possibilities.
In this article from the Guardian https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/oct/17/louise-gluck-a-poet-who-never-shied-away-from-silence-pain-or-fear I loved the sentence about her "clotting diction with dashes-- semi-colons, odd breaks. Indeed, in our discussion, this came up.
The semi-colon after "My soul has been so fearful, so violent;" is arresting-- the idea will be continued, without any "and, or but". There is something contradictory and unusual introduced.... and then continued with asking the body to forgive "its brutality".
How is a soul fearful? violent? Brutal? Does the soul desire substance? There, she stops you short with a colon:
delivers the final couplet:
it is not the earth I will miss,
it is you I will miss.
We discussed "earth"... something external to a self... something to which we return. We discussed at length this "you". Is it the body? and this poem a love-letter to it? Or is the you, someone the body has loved-- not just her body, but anybody reading the poem thinking of a loved one? Is you the blend of body and soul as one?
The tone of the poem is tender, indeed, as we read the words, our hands moved over them cautiously,
(last word of stanza 4) -- as if these words could allow the soul to achieve "expression as substance".
I didn't bring up William James: "Spirit worn of sinew, mind of marrow" and how the body experiences time... how without soul... some sort of seat of consciousness... there is nothing...
Cold Solace
https://www.themarginalian.org/2020/02/24/immortality-in-passing-lisel-mueller/?mc_cid=93f7af5baf&mc_eid=2e713bf367 : The quoting of Lisel Mueller's
poem, "In passing" works perfectly with the "honey cakes"...
Perhaps a lot could have been left out, and some of us were struck by the heavy dose of alliterations describing the honey cakes. Judith thought Marna's response to the discussion of poets getting a bit above themselves technically or with wordplay,
quite good: it is as if the writer is so into what he is creating that sometimes what seems like ego excess jut boils out--like the ending to Nemerov's poem--Somber November amber and umber embering out. He simply could not help it!
Jan mentioned how she was overcome having her partner read the poem aloud to her. The ending lines
could not have been written without the "long thaw" and time spent describing the flavor, the taste,
proustian effect of these cakes. The last fragment, "Leave something of sweetness/and substance/in the mouth of the world" could be both plea, and also connect to the "It", that will end, that in turn is connected to the cakes, the memory of the love when the mother was living. Beautiful, inexplicable mystery of our feelings, grief, that feels complete without any further "messing".
Childhood: poem in the New Yorker. We enjoyed the sensory effects and sounds and that the poem opened and closed with "I miss the cold, but curious about the last line as the singing is not "set up". Unlike "Those Winter Sundays", there is not a sense of presence of a person placing the hot water bottle, or making the fire. Judith was reminded of Purcell's Aria, "Cold Song". We all could relate to the relief when coming in from the "icepick cold" and leaving the howling w's in the 3rd line, that no tucking tight of scarf can keep out!
The Shoes of Teenage Boys: just delightful and perfectly captures adolescent boys!
Famous: Equally delightful and unusual position to address what "fame" means in terms of relationship.
The couplet about the photograph is not just about a picture in a pocket... but bent, implying both that it traveled long with the person, inevitably suffering from being placed close, not matter how carefully.
Each item allows something else that would other not be without the other. The brevity of the length of a tear staying on a cheek, how an idea held close to a bosom, puts a different spin on both idea and bosom,
and the boot changes function depending on where it walks. Perhaps the least obtrusive and humblest thing is a button, which also requires patience to manage if opening and closing the clothing on which its found. And you? What is it you do? Can it be as simple as smiling back? Let's not forget the simple.
(cf. 10/26/22 poem: I always wanted/to be famous.)
The Chambermaids: Such a cheerful snapshot -- rather like a soap-opera moment as the chambermaids are indeed cleaning, sharing their banter, their own opera... listening to the tv soaps!
The importance of small things -- performed with Rabelaisian vigor (understanding this is a reference to Gargantua and other giants Rabelais invented for our pleasure in the 16th century!)
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