Opening Quotations from Nature:
"If I ever see more clearly at one time than at another, the medium through which I see is clearer."-- Thoreau
As a blind man, lifting a curtain, knows it is morning,
I know this change:
On one side of silence there is no smile;
But when I breathe with the birds,
The spirit of wrath becomes the spirit of blessing,
And the dead begin from their dark to sing in my sleep.
-- Theodore Roethke (strophe from Part II, "Journey to the Interior"
Poems for discussion : Depth of Field by William Heyen; The Poems of our Climate by Wallace Stevens; Meditation by William Stafford; Emancipation Proclamation by William Heyen; Tell me a story Robert Penn Warren; Fana al-Fana by William Heyen; For the Anniversary of my Death by W. S. Merwin;
Depth of Field (Heyen) : Do you remember the days of those heavy cameras with all manner of possibilities to manipulate lenses? Like the quote from Thoreau about "the medium through which we see", adjusting the depth of field will indeed enable us to see in a different way. The poem, filled with the musical alliterations, weaves observations of a black widow spider (at first you might think a woman, curled in grief with a metaphorical interconnectedness where "whorl" winds to enjamb with"threads"), along with the arrival of first "shaft of sunlight" steering among the blades of grass.
The strum of the low wind, the net sings the music of its catch, harmonizes with the greater music of
"the harp of curved sun that orchestrates the morning."
We appreciated the enjambments which allowed a pause as if the thought were finished on the final line of each quatrain, only to float through the stanza break to land on a fuller, often unexpected completion. The repetition, with variation, such as "imperceptible" to "imperceptibly", "dark grass" "darkening the whorl of threads"
The Poems of our Climate (Stevens): (for a fuller explanation of this poem and Stevens work: Harold Bloom published a volume by the same title in 1980). The poem, written in 1942, is from Parts of a World .
There are three sections and indeed, it seems a trilogy moving from a cold "climate" with a view of "simple perfection" of carnations floating in a bowl, passing to a "monkey wrench" stanza, as one person put it, looking at the "evil eye of ego" to conclude on a reflection on the "imperfect" so "hot in us". Fitting that the final lines starts with "lies", the wonderful paradox of noun and verb...which reminds us that our perceptions are "illusions" resting in our mind. It feels much more accessible that Stevens explanations in "Of Modern Poetry".
It would seem with the repeats in the first stanza, we are dealing not with obvious redundancies, but reflections about perception. And yet, "One desires so much more than that." Carolyn remarked that porcelain warms to the touch which perhaps points to a need to understand "cold" metaphorically.
There is no verb in the first two lines. Just a glimpse. I think of old-fashioned television sets with "snowy air". What kind of reflection of snow is that?
Stanza two modifies "brilliant bowl" to "world of clear water, brilliant-edged" and desire is more impatient! "Still one would want more, one would need more".
Stanza three sets us straight about our desires, and whatever we might think about Paradise. It feels very Zen to be able to let go of wishing to "go back" (echo of "return" in the first stanza) to understand that whatever "now" is, our words and music can only approximate Paradise.
Meditation (Stafford): Knowing that Stafford was a pacifist, and knowing the title is "Meditation" this should influence the tone of the poem. There are many ways to say "That's the world". You could design an entire semester around religious studies to examine the explanation of the world as "God holding still/
letting it happen again,/ and again and again.
Stafford does not specify that "it" is good or evil, just as the animals filled with light might be the ones walking through the forest, or they are simply part of a description of a moment: Animals; a walk in the forest... this vague idea of "someone" the eerie feeling they hold a gun loaded with darkness that threatens it. We did not discuss fear, but could have gone on at length . Why do we humans insist that "God would never let THIS happen", and yet, when we see the horrors of war repeat, we shake our fists and say, "how could you let this happen". When we think we could have avoided a horrible accident, we do the same,
blaming ourselves.
Looking at the simplicity of the poem, the first two lines set the scene... what's next? It might be good, or not, and I think of all the folk tales which try to remind us not to judge or place value prematurely and expect we are right! (see Bronowski: https://www.themarginalian.org/2014/04/24/jacob-bronowski-ascent-of-man-knowledge-certainty/?mc_cid=ca2c397ca3&mc_eid=2e713bf367
The mind is also loaded, and can fire with words... we fear words that bring darkness. But back to the yin and yang, there is light... and potential of darkness. If there is a God, or however you conceive of God, the fact is, the job description does not ask for His action.
You can imagine in a room full of 20 people, everyone had the urge to explain an understanding of God.
Since the poems in the session had a strong Emersonian flavor, the idea of God as being inside any living being, invites humans to take responsibility. For further thinking I suggest this link:
“Character — the willingness to accept responsibility for one’s own life — is the source from which self-respect springs,” Joan Didion
Thus starts a magnificent posting about Hesse and embracing uncertainty: how it is better not to have fixed ideas about God, right and wrong.
Emancipation Proclamation (Heyen): Well... with a "prologue" of the discussion provoked by Stafford, the next poem perhaps was not given a pristine condition free of prejudice. The poem adopts the language in which our country's democratic principles are expressed and some felt reminiscent of the Magna Carta. The unusual first line undoes any pomposity... and part of the poem seems to be a critique of how we humans act in our society as opposed to a tree, upholding its faithful, generous, authentic self. Perhaps there is a bit of "underground railroad" involved in the gospel of the roots... perhaps "heartwood grave" is a noun, or indicates the solemnity of awe, that the tree hold "our firmament" (a word that immediately leads to the sacred, carried on in the next stanza). Some thought the final stanza not necessary. Some felt every school child should memorize this poem. As one person put it, this poem is like life-- there is nothing boring about it, or life.
One has an immediate vision of famous trees in myth and history: Ydrassil, the Tree of Life, the Bodhi Tree ( "tree of awakening") where Buddha received his enlightenment, etc. Enough. Read the poem. Listen to it, to the calm intonation. I am glad the poem is there on the corner of Prince and University as part of Poet's Walk.
Tell me a Story: (Robert Penn Warren): The group demonstrated good understanding of this last section of Warren's book-length poem, "Audubon: A vision" (1969). Indeed, the two parts draw a sharp contrast: A, the child's world, the sense of wonder but without any "visible" reasons; B, the repeated title three more times as if by telling a tale, we could repair the hollowness of modernity and ravages of time. Rose Marie mentioned a book she is reading Time Shelter which explores time by thinking of the past as something "ahead of us", and the future as something to learn from that lies "behind us." https://wwnorton.com/books/9781324090953 Indeed, Time is one of the most important inventions by which we organize our life. I love that the slant poetic advice "show don't tell" slips into the story the narrator demands (the name of the story, Time, but you must not pronounce its name.). Yes, ironic... but a reminder, "in this moment of mania", what we seek is "depth". That is a poem's major job. To surprise us,
give us that delight of "why, I hadn't thought of that in that way", which immediately alivens us, elevates and uplifts us.
The group took a long tangent to discuss associations with geese. Yes, they tell a story too... and for each of us, perhaps a different spin -- for some "Gabriel Hounds foretelling death", for other renewal, change of season. All agreed there was a sense of "Indulge me... while I'm alive, freeze time, and let us connect through our stories."
Carolyn shared her lovely memories of the Robert Penn Warren Poem, “Tell me a Story” afterwards: "13 years ago she had pitched an art program for seniors based on this poem to the regional museum in Orange County and it was picked up by the Irvine Foundation for $500K and then an additional $1mill.based on this poem. It was a huge success."
Fana-al Fana: (Heyen): The dedication poem of Nature to Heyen's wife, addresses this theme of time,
and our fear of not using our time well. We are brought back to "rootless light from dead stars"—a small sprinkle of life in each of us, so infinitesimally tiny in this immense universe around us. And what helps us cope with this fear, but love, which indeed, stays alive as long as we live.
For the Anniversary: (W.S. Merwin): One senses an older person imagining his death. There is no "personal bemoaning" or regret, but rather a meditative examination of what it might be like to be dead, and look back on life. From this perspective, he can look differently at our earth, at love, shake his head at the shamelessness of humans. There is that unspoken awe in the last line after the physical detail
of rain... associated with a sense perhaps of endless falling (and repeat of shamelessness, failing)
the bird song uplifts. There is a satisfying abruptness -- indeed, back to the imperfect...
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