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Thursday, December 13, 2018

poems for Dec. 12-13

1. Only as the Day Is Long, by Dorianne Laux
2.  13 Questions for the Next Economy, by Susan Briante
3.  Approach of Winter, by William Carlos Williams
4.  The Last Word of a Bluebird, by Robert Frost
5.  The Last Thing, by Ada Limón
6.  Perennials, by Maggie Smith
7.  To the New Year, by W.S. Merwin


Only as the day is long… 
There is something haunting in the title, that reminds us that nothing lasts forever. 
The six-line first sentence filled with analogies of who “she” or any of us, will be once
We die, is followed by an octet of a second sentence filled with anaphora of atoms which point 
To the not-quite vanished life ending with the word “slippers”. A final question, repeats that final word,  which tumbles out of the string of liquid sounds – laughter, cruelty, lies, lilies, to slippers.
The group had images of abandoned shoes, gathered in a bin in the holocaust museum.  Slippers… the most intimate footwear, which “she” will not need – but echo our human concern
About finding where we have put things we use daily, but cannot find… as if with her death,
She has taken even this reminder of who she is.

As Rita Dove describes it, “it is a sonnet, albeit unrhymed, still singing,
A fitting vessel for this litany of conflicted sorrow.  Indeed, we are all bags of contradictions…
juxtaposition of what is circling the earth with what is not:  boozy atoms, with piano concerto atoms…   Evanescent, yet permanent, the poem provides more than broad look at humanity… 
with an inventory of particulars of a specific person

13 questions:  13 is a number rife with associations… the 13throll in a dozen (lagniappe);
Jesus and his 12 apostles… 13 ways of looking at a blackbird..  
“The next economy” identifies the measurement of a time period not by the reign of a monarch,
But what drives the social order:  money. Large spaces leaves holes in some of the couplets;
The line breaks create suspense but also uncertainty.  What metaphor// (line and stanza break)
(indentation) can I use to describe …
The spaces pull apart – as the poet says, she is not interested in “smoothing over crisis”
And wonders if there is potential for transformation in staying within what’s uncomfortable.
What would YOU cross out, on this list of questions? 
My favorite sound is the fragment: “a break-the-state twig-quick snap” (referring to a revolution
The group responded with these observations:
Feels like a warning. Uses questions in times of crisis…. to open mind.
poem of oppressed… French revolution… 
gestures through her examples – what is around her… turns into ominous symbols… 
Measure for measure… I’ll tell everyone… will you believe it anyway???
Omission of sentence… What price, salvation now?

WCW: The poem is an 11-line sentence, also filled with l’s.
(The unpronounced one in “half”), all, leaves, flutter, drily, let, hail, bitterly, fall, salvias, leaf.
Play with plural to singular, all falls… leaves fall… 
The r’s also lend a liquid sound: stripped, trees, struck, together, drily, driven, stream, hard, carmine bare garden.

The line breaks provide some pauses, and then the m-dashes mark a hard finality 
of a final resting place. The group summarized, “when hard times come, the best you can do is hold on.”  The rhyme of the red carmine, like living blood, and the garden, waiting for the
bareness of winter.

The last word of a bluebird: delightful scene between a wise Crow, and the fair-weather
Bluebird that Robert Frost wrote to his young daughter. The assemblage of advice ends with the delightful “And do everything!” which captures the       spirit of the poem
There is no predictability that the bluebird will return… the “perhaps” softens such certitude
With the conditional in the final line:  “He would come back and sing.”  A sense of “God willing”.  Not up to us to say what will be.

The Last Thing:  The title announces a sequence, and the first three details set a scene with a jay, a mouth, and a roaring quiet.  The jarring note is that these are not “happenings” so much
As “noticings” in the mind of the poet shared with “you”.  By the end of the poem, it
Feels not so much as eavesdropping on a dream than overhearing a dying mother talking to
a child, or  someone being visited in a nursing home; two old people. The confessional “I” does not discount her own “big deal” of noticing. The term “love poison” came up. 
It is an unsettling poem as if on purpose, and makes me wonder, about what I would want
To notice as the “last thing” in my life, in another’s, or simply in a day, a passage of time…

Perennials: Two lines at a time: slows us down… as we take in ghost towns… and wind, praise of ruin, what survives and this real voice of a child calling to her mother in a real garden, “pretend I’m winning”.  Effective set up to address the need for someone to bear witness.

To the New Year:  W.S. Merwin talks to the New Year as gently as to a new born.
Each line, suspended without punctuation.
First light of the New Year, still… a dove, whether or not anyone is aware,
The here and newness, our hopes such as they are, still possible.






Tuesday, December 11, 2018

poems for Dec. 5-6, 2018

1. The Poem Said, by Michael Dickman (New Yorker, Nov. 26, 2018 issue)
2. Transubstantiation by Susan Firer
3. In This Country, I Hear, by Bertolt Brecht. (translated in new volume of his poems, 2018; 11/12/18
4. Autumn Passage by Elizabeth Alexander
5. Equinox by Esther Morgan
6. A New National Anthem, by Ada Limon
7.Let America be America Again, Langston Hughes
(I too,
Spanish next to the English translation of Roque Dalton, "Like You"

**
Comments:
1,  I love the title -- it's the poem that said these things --
so what does that mean about words and how we use them?  about poetry.
Hallucinatory quality -- is grass marijuana, lidocaine, a numbing street drug,
ramen and coke a substitute for rum and coke or cocaine... breathe sugar--
Like Kubla Khan, the sounds weave around... and there's a pleasant sense of entering a bath of wit.

The experience of waking up in the morning.


2.  The next poem got caught up in petrichor
And one thing becoming another, until
rain ribbons the windows, and rocks
deepen and shine their colors in the rain,
the smell of the rain like ichor, which runs
in the veins of the gods.

The tone felt baptismal, sacred... but the lineation and sound was not very poetic.
A cycle of life... finding beauty in sorrow.

3.  Long discussion about how "not-smiling" is apathologized in America.
Role of sales in America.  That this is an old poem, written by a social activist
who wrote 3-Penny Opera... reprinted in the Nov. 12, 2018 New Yorker. 

The jab of the poem is the problem with blind acceptance... "buying into" a culture
without question, at risk for self-deceit.  What is happiness?  What traps us into
believing something is "successful"?  If we all hide behind the mask of a pleasant smile,
we cannot distinguish the reality of people.  We dare not not smile.

4.  A totally accurate description of the beginning of death.  The repetition of the fragment introduced by "on" has a feel of an ode.  Unusual juxtapositions:  miraculous dying body; dazzling toddler; the body magnificent as it dims, shrinks, turns to something else.  A sense of autumn, the glory (repeated 3 times) of the vibrant colors, passing into death of winter... On… as in onwards… through the passage… urging… 

5.  A totally accurate description of the innocence of a baby sleeping-- and beautifully poised
with 8 lines about a child balancing on "I feel the earth's pause" (see title) followed by 8 lines, all about nature.  Love the "lifelong tilt...."

6. The start is "ineloquent" but when she starts to speak about the flag, and all that needs saying
in a true National Anthem -- that could be sung in all countries if we could understand "my bones
are your bones..."  Wonderful poem.

7.  I had the group read the words in parentheses like a chorus.  No black people attended.  We were like trespassers, adopting the words of black people like outsiders.  We also read "I too Sing America" written 9 years before, in 1926 which was more hopeful.

8.  The Roque Dalton -- the Spanish revealed the problem with translation in the opening lines.
I love love. vs.  Like you I love love, life.



Friday, November 30, 2018

Haitus: from June 6- November 14 2018



This year was around May, for some reason, blogger made it difficult to post write-ups, so I just stopped.
That's not to say 6-7 poems were not sent out, sometimes 14 different poems between the two groups.
New members came, regulars swelled like tides coming in, always 20, just never the same...

I was grateful for the hiatus, as it was a challenging year with big changes.
Two memorials for my father; a visit in the summer to see my father-in-law, who also passed away,
almost a year after my father.

My husband's retirement, and re-peated, "almost" retirement all summer.

In addition to life at home, we made many trips to visit friends... saw our family as best we could, as
everyone seems super busy.
When not traveling, we did a lot of hosting, and thoroughly enjoyed our sister city contacts, with a visit to Rennes in March, and receiving a delegation in May.

International travel:
March and Aug visit to London;
March in Brussels (as well as London and France);
Trip to Portugal : Aug. 29-September 8.
Trip to Japan : Oct. 21- to Nov. 11

Talks at Rundel (Jan. + April 18) NYSAFLT (March); book launch (May);  Twilight Venus !!
Happy to provide details.

French found increased use moderating tours at MAG from October 6 on for the special exhibit on Monet as well as moderating The French architect (11/14).

I am not sure if writing up the poems makes a difference in my life or not.
It's rather like playing the piano every day -- I don't do this in preparation for a concert, but
for the pure pleasure of being in contact with something that feeds my soul.

I will be using this blog more like a personal sketch book --  but please know I welcome comments.

Poems from Oct. (November:no meeting 10/17, Pittsford)
Thanks to Kathy Button, David Sanders and Elaine Olsson for facilitating 10/24; 10/31 and Nov 7.

Poems for November 14:
Like You, Roque Dalton
The Names, Billy Collins
Names of the Lion -- a selection from David Larsen's translation of Ibn Khalawayh
This is not a Small Voice, Sonia Sanchez
The Blessed Angels, Toi Derricotte
Keeper of Sheep, Alberto Caeiro (one of the many names used by Fernando Pessoa.)
Deleting Names -- a Decaying Sestina, Lawrence Schimel
When Giving is all we have,  Alberto Rios

Poems for November 21:
Thanksgiving in the Anthropocene, 2015 : Craig Santos Perez
The Pumpkin, John Greenleaf Whitter
Peace Path, Heid E. Erdrich
Crows, Marilyn Nelson
The House on Moscow St., Marilyn Nelson
The Moment, Marie Howe
The Moment, Margaret Atwood



O Pen - Poems for June 6

When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities by Chen Chen
Remember by Joy Harjo

Prayer by Galway Kinnell, 1927 - 2014
Experience by Carl Sandburg
To You by Walt Whitman

poems for May 30-31

Ritual Object by Tsitsi Ella Jaji
Touched by Deborah Tall
Answers  by Virginia Lee Hines
 The Laws of God, the Laws of Manby Alfred Edward Housman
What The Dickens?  by Cortney Lamar Charleston
Broken Sonnet For The Decorative Cotton For Sale At Whole Foodsby ASHLEY M. JONES
 Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven by W.B. Yeats

See poems for commentary

May 22-23, 2018

see poems for commentary 

Poem for South African Womenby June Jordan
Commemoration of the 40,000 women and children who, August 9, 1956, presented themselves in bodily protest against the “dompass” in the capital of apartheid. Presented at The United Nations, August 9, 1978.


from Passion (1980). (see Interview p. 66; March 21, 1979: Poetry in Person)
 
Sunday Lemons by Derek Walcott
[1]p. 122 Poetry in Person.  "London. wondeful line, -- marvelous exactment… is it in the music? the metaphor? in the rhythm that moves as the line moves…"
Walcott:  This is going to be very detailed, what I'm going to say:  I don't like that line anymore.
… the pitch of a line is where one tests the honesty of a poet… reality is the vibration that happens differently to millions and millions of people over generations, and that is where the validity of the thing is. 
… That line is one extra key, one extra pitch up that is not true to the harmony, or maybe the modesty, or what is being painted."  modesty of speech: plain words, not necessarily the right ones. p. 123
vague (wave in French). the joyous torment all your life, doing the wrong thing… "ruin a fine tenor voice for effect that bring down the house". (Auden, In Praise of Limestone)

Water by Philip Larkin2

chemotherapy by Lucille Cliftonthe right hand column shows words from the original versions. Poetry in Person p, 158-9)
La Chapelle. 92nd Division. Ted. by Rita Dove (September, 1918)


Love is smoke stardust-like but smoke nonetheless. – Kamakura, Sayumi



Like a ghost that dances from the tip of a lit cigarette
I know what romance is, but it hasn't happened yet
Watch it floating up to heaven only knows
Disappearing before you get too close

It's only smoke
You might say a flame is burning
Only smoke
But my heart is more discerning
Only smoke...

Eyes are hypnotizing when they hold you within their embrace
Words are mesmerizing even when they've got nothing to say

The game is charming in an empty kind of way
What's the harm in asking me to play?

It's only smoke
You might say a flame is burning
Only smoke
But my heart is more discerning
I keep dreaming of a fire, but when I wake up to the cold
It's only smoke



Thursday, November 29, 2018

Nov. 28





November 28-29

Thanksgiving by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Rhapsody by Aditi Machado
portraitures and erasures by Chiwan Choi
Instructions on Not Giving Up Ada Limón
Images by Jaime Manrique

Style of 19th century... familiarity of form... tucking in message; 
fun of choices... Rhapsody or rhubarb? and where do you go when you leave familiar behind?
sounds... Ashbery-like...
dream-sequence... passionate, personal; memory and what it is like for parents to leave homeland,
and lineage ends with their children... legacy and they die on foreign soil.

Fine then... I'll take it.  (Whatever it is.). A sense of confidence of who this tree, leaf, being, is.  
Images:  photographs... imagining the stories.

Here are a few more thoughts from the group:
" I realized when I thought about class that it is no wonder we all were so responsive to the poem "Instructions on Not Giving Up"! We did talk about searching for "roots" and the significance of family "trees". And then the idea of legacy and how a tree drops it's seeds in abundance as it nears the conclusion of it's life cycle. We humans might not be able to understand how we drop, and receive, seeds of our life to and from family and friends. And even if there isn't progeny to carry on a family name, there is the progeny of us, of the essence of us, which lives on in our friends and in our family as we have interacted with them. And then as a dropped seed, it lives on in the legacy of themselves. All of that cannot be chartered in the DNA!! Maybe it could be in the interstitial fluid that Bernie talked about as if we filter each moment of the day through the subliminal essence our entire being!??!!"


The “I” in the poem that talks about all that over-the-top headiness of spring so beautifully captured in the sonics,
almost seems to grow into a “we” — so it’s not that only  the tree seems to say, “I’ll take it all” —

it’s a contagious, inclusive spirit for all of us.


From Maura’s Grandpa Fred Goerdes:

Don’t you be 
        what you ain’t,
If you isn’t 
        what you am,
Then you ain’t
        worth a damn.