March 30

Sic Terminus by Robert Pence

I Forgive by Carolyne Wright

Mercy by Stephen Dunn

The Cry by Ai Qing

The Mirror by Ai Qing

Sea and Tears by Ai Qing

 

two extras for the in person group:

Paul’s Puzzle (all palindromes, like racecar)

All will be revealed when smoke and mirrors disappear. The racecar driver will go backwards on the track from front to rear.

 

                                    Yo, Banana boy !

                                    

                                            Don't nod...

 

                                 Dennis and Edna sinned.

 

                                 Won't lovers revolt now ?

 

                             He lived as a devil, eh, Mom ?

 

                                            ( Wow!)

and I love This Land  by Ai Qing http://poetrypacific.blogspot.com/2014/08/3-poems-by-ai-qing.html

Sic Terminus:  Why the title in Latin?  Thus it ends... but the 3 stanza poem discusses  beauty, illusion, subjects which allow us through art, through the power of our thinking, to imagine a "thus" to be a multiple array of conclusions.  What would you list after the colon, "This is beauty:" ?

The poet carries out the metaphor of "illusion" of a river seeming to reverse, the rewinding and retelling of our stories, and the  "end" lying in the sea.  

The power of words to draw forth old associations works well in the opening stanza, setting an intimate mood-- the breeze "tousles" the river...  a friendly, intimate gesture.  Some might read "Ohio River"  and think of Pittsburgh, others might think of the north-south divide and slaves struggling to be free as they follow the "north star".  58 degrees and a tease of Spring in the notoriously fickle month of March (in the North).   Of course, as readers, we know the first stanza is a perfect example of only one possible set-up that can be associated with beauty! 

At first glance, the "reverse" is rather like looking into the mirror of time, the "tape" flowing backward like a rewind of a cassette... perhaps a measurement.  The poem does not provide any sound of the garbling of a tape played backwards, only the idea of retelling -- and the powerful tool of our story-telling which can provide a slant sense of truth (although this is absent from the poem) to how we see our lives.

Bernie went into a lovely reflection about illusion and beauty that "easy on eyes and heart" is a way of preserving a trust in beauty, a hope for the future.  Judith brought up  “close but no cigar” for the metaphor of "the tide returns"... 

 (and I learned  the expression "close only counts in horseshoes (and hand grenades)” ) The poem shows nature at work,  explores the art of story telling, and the gift of art to allow us to recreate.  Marna liked the idea of water providing the bread of a sandwich in 1st and 3rd stanzas, the one a particular detail, the other a larger universal, containing possibilities our illusions provide.

I forgive:  For the Carolyne Wright, the zoom group thought this was an amazingly poignant way to tell a story and got into the discussion of abuse— how one doesn’t know until the policeman asks what to do with the “abuser” (Whadda we do with him, lady?) that the speaker is a woman.  Is Roy Otis a stranger?  Or does she live with this man, a “wanted man” — is she making excuses for him, yet another time?

Judith's first response: "Frosting on the politically correct cupcake."

The discussion embraced the ambivalence… If there is mention of a “white cop” does that mean Roy is a “black man”… 

Does she want to protect him because of this?  Does she feel guilty if she doesn't for any reason? Do both sides want revenge?  Bernie saw the line, “I forgive my heart for being glad” as an indication of self-acceptance… Jan noted how she has used all her body… left hand, right arm (and our associations with right and wrong and arms of justice perhaps, although that didn’t come up); ears, eyes, heart…ending with the tongue.

How important our words are, pronouncing the final decision… Both groups admired how the poems provided  different shades of complexity.  

Mercy:  How do you say this word?  How many different contexts do you associate with it?  How many does the poem provide?

Delightful romp, " chock full of tidbits", a treasure trove of feelings, reflections and a recognizable situation of "I really wish I were elsewhere".  Welcome to the execution! The humor of the pun, followed by the enjambed "of a theory" doubles the pleasure.

Execution, both of the notes of music, and the “atonal hell” of cerebral exercise called “music”.  What about feelings? is it  just "the old-fashioned, I don’t want to feel anything"… and is this a problem?”  

Some music really grabs us -- and Judith shared the story about the opera fan providing the tenor part to Violetta’s solo: https://www.classicfm.com/composers/verdi/lisette-oropesa-tenor-audience-duet/

The memory of a meaningful moment of a full octave is a fine escape for whatever sounds of the concert (another sort of pun--

how can the music be better than it sounds if they are creating atonal hell?).  And he returned in time to applaud appropriately. 

What unresolved thoughts do we have?  How do we judge others fairly, without knowing what unresolved, possibly conflicting thoughts another has?  (I brought up Bryan Stevenson's work with justice in Alabama: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JfZPl4CFEUc.  

Towards the end, he discusses choices, where circumstances are such that they force an action that would not happen should the circumstances be otherwise.   Is it "just a bad choice and he should know better" if a young teen take drugs, joins a gang, because s/he can escape the intolerable anxiety for a few hours from feeling constantly threatened, with no hope?

 

For the Ai Qing… 

The Cry: the quality of “piercing” — not how we think of a cry of life — but in the opening stanza, almost a hurtful  sound… 

The translation renders a triple repetition of "piercing", and anaphor of "where" with moving, spinning, flying to describe the universe.  It comes as a surprise  to find the contrast, twice of “from a place of darkness”… towards that glittering clarity leads us to the "cry of life".   Marna spoke of all the liquid sounds that lead to that word “life”.  This is spring:  rather like "this is beauty:"

 David mentioned the tree frogs near the pond where he lives. 

The mirror: The larger mirror of life, reflecting everything -- as Paul puts it, the mirror reverses... so we are looking at "anti-matter".  Perhaps you can read it and think, nothing new here...  But the very word draws us in with associations,

what we see, how hard it is to see for instance when shaving... Flat, unfathomable, and up to you to deal with the truth it shows.

The translator's note says this:  "The mirror in this prophetic and minatory work, is a metaphor for art, or, perhaps, the artist: within art one search to find oneself, although what is found may not be what was wanted.  If one is a true artist, it is hard to avoid the censure of those who wish to destroy the truth revealed."

Sea and tears:  Why the question?  What is it we need to understand about sea becoming tears and vice-versa?

The need for hope as hardship follows peace, as it does repeatedly in the history of Chinese dynasties, is underlined.

It is not "A day MIGHT come" -- but a day WILL come... there is a quiet reassurance in the wheel of life to continue to repeat and return. 

Antonia's Education: There are many disparate tidbits in this point....  Jan called on the roll of language — first reading Ukranian, the speaking Russian, the difference of the Aunt and the boyfriend who spoke “buttery words” as opposed to the German drilled by the Aunt which later, allowed her to speak in German to the guard.  Bernie’s comment on her surprise — perhaps like the poem, “I forgive” — the amazement was that she could care about her jail guard’s suffering… but then again — and this we did not discuss— is the “shhhh” to herself… don’t say that?   or the unsolvable complexity of being prisoner, given only a bite of food, yet human being knowing the grief of losing a son?

As always, we all appreciated the sharing of our explorations seeking insights.  Thank you all who attended. 

March 23

 Spring was definitely in the air for the March full moon 3/18 called the "Worm" moon.   It is also a time of great unrest and anxiety in the world, and makes me gladder than ever for these thoughtful weekly discussions.

There Will Come Soft Rains  by Sara Teasdale - 1884-193 (Thank you Judith)

COULD YOU EMBRACE THAT?( St. Thomas Aquinas) by Daniel Ladinsky

Amethyst Beads by Eavan Boland - 1944-2020

Every Mourning by Michael Kleber-Diggs

Marina Tsvetaeva  by Ilya Kaminsky

Not Once by Sharon Olds

The session started with quite lively sharings:

from Paul: 

Pact:  no trouble.  they sign.  No nervous cough

peace is  a moment when murder pays off.

 

He provided this from Ralph Waldo Emerson: stand-up comic.

I dream of a better tomorrow

for chickens can cross the road and not be questioned about their motives.

 

from Jim: 

Dust if you must : https://www.ellenbailey.com/poems/ellen_218.htm

https://www.ellenbailey.com/poems/ellen_218.htm

Sara Teasdale:  the poem is highly anthologized; https://www.bartleby.com/103/56.html

Everyone loved the sounds, the evocation of smell,  form where the rhyme flows without notice… As one person put it, a strong message in soft delivery… and how timeless! Looking at her dates, one thinks of her writing about WW1, after the flu pandemic and our current year…

Can you Embrace:I was bad about not putting Ladinsky as poet for the next one, l which got Mary looking up poetry by St. Thomas Aquinas (he did write lots).  That is only the title, which comes from Aquinas indeed.  Ladinsky's book "Love poems from God: 12 sacred voices from the East and West is highly recommended.   As for sides of God we do not expect... it came up that in Deuteronomy  apparently God shows his “back” …  Note the form of the poem as a chalice… The conversation veered to how we deal with horrors, stand up to tyrants, and attitudes towards negatives.   In one of the Hafiz translations by Ladinsky, (more renderings, than sticking to literal meanings) the question also comes out about how we can love even the most terrible thing in any "that".

Eaven Boland:  Kathy brought up her poem, The Pomegranate https://poets.org/poem/pomegranate where the first line mentions the Persephone/Demeter story was the only legend she has ever loved.  

Amethyst, known for its calming effect…and is the zodiac stone for February... ) Zodiac stone for February)

The "old simples" (archaic use to refer to herbs) for Martin provides a clue -- what magic do we need to survive -- promises, compromising, bargains-- what brings us back to light?  When something feels "right" we light up... see the world in a positive light perhaps.

Paul was reminded of Irish myths, Judith of Danish trolls dancing to switch places with children.  

In this different "twist" on the myth, the emphasis is on the mother-- but we know, this "I" is not just 

for Demeter.  It is a hard poem to read... and we were struck by "the well of the throat where tears start."

We also were struck by the repeated end line -- it is not a question. A child... Is it the child, the separated subject from "who will never remember this"?  The bond between mother and child... the ache of separation... and these amethyst beads as reminders, healers...  A good poem resists "explanation"-- and this metaphor of amethyst, "an old stress of crystal" ... "an impression of earthly housekeeping" where

the press of "stress/impress..." will almost rhyme with promise.

Every mourning:  Such a poignant coupling of grief with the quotidien in the title.  One person remarked the predominant feel of pronouns... I... she... I... she... and then the dividing  solo line, "Dear friends, I am the nicest man on earth."  The use of ants as metaphor follows... all kinds: weaver, carpenter, fire ants...

slaves of the pharaoh... and one little black ant, alone, alone.

This desire to belong, to be part of a colony, lighten/the weight of the day...

I highly recommend this documentary about Bryan Stevenson and his work in Alabama to bring  justice into the legal system, prisons.   

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JfZPl4CFEUc He has created an amazing Legacy Museum which exposes the horrors of lynching and what it must feel like to be treated as 3/4 human, an innocent pawn thrown not just into jail, but mistreated there, on death row. https://joyofmuseums.com/museums/united-states-of-america/montgomery-alabama-museums/legacy-museum/

The poem is strong... the detail of the first part of his "feet" -- there are two, and they can breathe in the sandals, reinforces the contrast in the second part where he yearns to breathe...  The poem calls for stories... how stones are thrown at a woman walking too close to a synagogue; how a dog will remember treatment associated with a language and tone of voice... 

Marina Tsvetaeva: 

You may have heard Kaminsky's poem, "We lived happily during the war" -- https://slate.com/culture/2022/03/interview-ilya-kaminsky-poet-ukraine.html

I  listened to the Cornell program on 3/24— he ended with a terrific new poem, “I ask that I do not die” — I wish I had a copy! What keen intelligence he applies to powerful lyric.  His poem, Marina Tsvetaeva ( on poets walk) creates a feeling of dream— or perhaps she is creating the poem with him, as his muse.   The metaphor of "gull", (see Chekhov) as soul... coupled with the verb "torn" prepares the link between  soul… and pain.    The final stanza seems to have him genuflect… and we felt the break before the final line made the very window he wants… is he inside the house, looking out? outside looking in?  looking up at the “house” of his poem?   He takes his "human-ness" to see the world.  The poem elicited much discussion including the problem of turn of the century translation of  Akhmatova and Tsvetaeva's work in this time period of transition from czarist to soviet rule.   Of course Tsvetaeva’s life is tragic https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/marina-tsvetaeva… 

It was a coincidence that Jim’s wife knew Ilya, a student at Brighton HS, after immigrating with his family from Odessa. Partially deaf because of a misdiagnosed illness, he has a delightful Russian accent that he invites the audience to adopt to join in his expression of strong emotions, peppered with humor.  

Not Once: We ran out of time in the first group to discuss this.. 

Not once... never once... ... did she feel lucky... and through the chaos of falling in a hospital while tending someone else

we too struggle to understand what is going on.  Not until today -- a double realization: grateful for good fortune ... 

and understanding a certain numbness -- not just about her circumstances but applied to those "struck in her name" (i.e. as American and American war?)... 

Strike is a powerful verb...  to hit: as in deliver a blow; lightening strikes... but so does an awareness of an idea; The strike out...(baseball)  strike out on a trip (set out).  Here, she hits the floor... is struck by it... and reviews her expectations -- 

"as if to be struck by the earth" -- -- floating in space and struck by a wrecking ball?

A gleam of empathy for others struck...

We didn't discuss the  title... but Kathy offered some insight into the poet's life and experiences of  a series of bad strikes.

 

March 16

 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.  

comments:

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. 

To be blessed

said the moderator

is to live and work hard,

knowing there will be no end

of reading and choices,

and trusting that

whatever poems are chosen

they will offer their threads

for the needles

of the readers

to embroider!

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. 

March 9

 O, in the Sour Cherry Tree Orchard Ukranien folksong translated by Hélène Turkewiecz-Sanko

My Father, The Astronaut  by Warsan Shire

It Bruises, Too by Kwame Dawes

Egrets by Kevin Young

Time Passes  by Joy Ladin

His poem, After the War went viral: See  https://slate.com/culture/2022/03/interview-ilya-kaminsky-poet-ukraine.html "we lived happily after the war" by Ilya Kaminsky.  His poem  on Poets Walk: Marina Tsvetaeva https://mag.oncell.com/en/poets-walk-she-awakes-as-a-gull-59520.html

Discussion:

We listened to the virtuoso skill of the Nightingale https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XdlIbNrki5o

a perfect backdrop for a the love poem...

I interspersed a few thoughts from  5 poems by Kim Stafford about Ukraine: https://www.rattle.com/five-poems-for-ukraine-by-kim-stafford/

Sunflower seeds... just one... can spiral into 1,000 in a halo of gold... Where will you hide it so every seed may declare peace for a survivor's knees at a brother's grave?

Top hit:  You can kill a man.  Someone will make a martyr song.  And it will become an anthem in the streets, theirs, ours... in persons and soon children sing it.  You can kill 1,000s of men, but a song?

two poems by Ida Kiva https://lithub.com/february-get-the-ink-and-weep-contemporary-poetry-from-ukraine/

Both Marna and Judith filled us in about the shifts of borders, shares of language in what is now 

called Ukraine.  Book recommended by Judith: Lost Kingdom by Serhi Plokhy,

It made the first excerpt by Iya Kiva make more sense...

... and when it came my turn to be killed...

btw, Yanukas, are defenders of Sofia -- 

For the second poem, the first group discussed the image of "sewing the mouth shut"... the invisible of

white thread on white fabric (and the "disappeared" in Argentina)... the images are haunting.

What defines identity?  With such a cross-stitching of heritage and history, what is kept, mended? what discarded? what new aspect adopted ?  This poem allows us a more sensitive understanding of the difficulty of a war where people are forced to kill people who look like themselves. 

My Father... This poem appeared in the Atlantic on Sunday 2/27/22, but I am not convinced it was written for the Ukrainian invasion, although the first line seems that way.  Powerful images and extended metaphor.  Why astronaut in the first line, then Black cosmonaut on the 4th?  The spacesuit, which should protect, is slashed... the failure... the forsaken, dead astronaut hurtling through space... his eyes weeping blood... These are unforgettable images that underline the "vast desolate".  The turning of the adjective

into a noun reinforces the sense of a dessert of no opportunity.  It makes sense that Shire, born of Somali parents in Kenya, transported to London should feel Europe as removed as the moon.  One senses the perilous journey fleeing an unstable country.  Angels, who are messengers, have drawn back their wings... the sense of abandonment, hopelessness also confirmed.  Kathy felt there were two directions for the longing that slashes:  on one hand, longing for the home left behind... on the other, a longing for the journey to end...

This young poet is certainly deserving of her recognition as laureate in London.

It Bruises, Too: We don't know what the haunting is... but that stone, heavy in the bowels is indisputably real.  There are so many pronouns... us, we, I, you, back to we, etc.  In a way, I feel removed from the poem, only able to observe a part of a scene-- trying to imagine how silence bruises.   What is the penance to which he refers?  The note about the poem helps place it in the pandemic, and the silence we become used to, the awkwardness of meeting again after two years, after being used to isolation.  We had a sense of the meeting as a chance to break into blossom--  

Why in this crossing does the speaker cross into the gloom of the other and not towards the light?

We mentioned the guilds, from apprentice to journeyman, to master... but a journeyman is also he on a road, peppered with lovely King James language reminiscent of Psalm 23.  

We noted that the way Kwame read it, he gave no space for enjambments but read as an uninterrupted script.  This changes the feel of it. 

Judith felt it was his "letter to the world" -- unlike Dickinson, we are allowed to see it.

Egrets: Is it too clever to parallel birds, profiting from the paths of cows who rustle insects and frogs and the like into ready prey for the egrets, to horses arriving like "regret"... ? We definitely felt the James Wright poem, Blessing, here, the soul bursting into blossom. https://poets.org/poem/blessing

What does epiphany feel like? There is a dark undertone in the cows sensing slaughter... 

an appealing use of clear language, yet elusive.  The Poet starts with observing, rejects birds as source of soul... and an understanding of connection that creates the spark.

Time Passes: We enjoyed the personification of time... and loved that the last 4 lines do not have a subject... it could be time speaking, or the speaker of the poem.  Many of us felt we could substitute ourselves for time.  

Needing the Dragon:  indeed we do! Judith says: "On dragons:  in her book of essays The Wave of the Mind le Guin wrote:  People who deny the existence of dragons are often eaten by dragons.  From within."

We wondered if Ostriker had a series on the Old Woman, and this was one of them.  (The Old Woman, The Tulip and the Dog.)

We were running out of time... but would have wanted to wax philosophical...  What is real?  Has humanism replaced gods?  How do we deal with dragons?  Really as toys?  how as masks?

 Line breaks: 

A woman sits in my armchair and speaks:
We have slain the many gods
they were unreal
the one god in whom we say we believe
is also unbelievable
Humanism keeps the dragon
as a kind of toy
no
as a mask

Pear:  Not a particularly friendly pear tree -- nothing good comes from being so self absorbed!!! 

The details are so outrageous -- and yet we all have a dark side, and recognize it here... and admit...

failure is indeed part of being human... let's try to make better fruit!

 

 

March 2

 

Love at First Sight by Wislawa Szymborska

The Thing is by Ellen Bass

My Heart, Being Hungry by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Disappointment by Tony Hoagland

Gloria Mundi by Michael Kleber-Diggs**

Bloom — is Result — to meet a Flower— Emily Dickinson

** (see his Acrostic (Title of poem: America Loving Me to Death + Golden Shovel using the first 24 words of the pledge of allegiance: https://poets.org/poem/america-loving-me-death

Nutshell:

We were delighted to have Joyce join us, from the Jewish Home!  Zoom has so many advantages!

The poems today brought out Martin's view of Love being the most important need; our desire

for connection; very different takes on how to live, without feeling a need to be remembered for something. 

Love at First Sight:  Although we've discussed this brilliant poem before, it is a perfect one for reminding us that "certitude" can indeed be reassuring, and often our adopted attitude towards the way we want to explain how things are... but what of that mystery of the inexplicable -- it often is "more beautiful still".

As one person put it, another title of the poem could have been "Ode to Incompleteness of What We Know".  Elaine noted the capitalization of Chance and Destiny... and we briefly discussed the difference--

how indeed, they act like Greek or Roman gods... the one offering possibility, good or bad, the other a sense of a required set of circumstances dutifully fulfilled per expected requirements and by definition.

The repetition of perhaps, and other ER sounds, the alliterative "signs and signals", "doorknobs and doorbells" add to the pleasure of the excellent translation.  Why can't there be love at first sight?  Is love always a mystery?  The witty examples of chance encounters, the metaphorical suitcases, a certain leaf... all add to the pleasure.  Nothing new in the conclusion, and yet it does not take on the tone of a sermon,

with the tongue-in-cheek, "after all"... in the "book of events", always open halfway through. David cited Tom Stoppard, "Every entrance an exit somewhere else... " and brought up the idea of a deliberate structure with a dénouement will happen only in art-- not life.

The Thing is:   The visceral description of grief, the throat unable to breath, the weight, the obesity, like an obscenity a grease of grief, where indeed one wonders how a body can withstand it... The question seems to offer a choice point, after the pile up of circumstances, when you have no stomach for it, when grief... when grief... only more... But Ellen Bass does not say if.  She offers then.  She returns to the beginning, the fact is, to love life... is to be able to keep on going.  She translates grief into words that weight us down, then offers this tenderness of "holding life like a face" -- the gentle touch one uses holding a child, a lover.  It reminds me of Stanley Kunitz, "Touch Me".   Yes, one is once again, 

because of that, to love life again.

My heart being hungry: /Disappointment: Both poems use the word querulous, Millay for need,

Hoagland for the insistent chatter of desire.  Again, I think of Kunitz poem, "what makes the engine go?  desire, desire, desire" Millay, to quote Judith, sketches an elegant pity party.  Both poems address our hunger for connection, and what "fills the heart".   It is curious, Millay without using the word desire, hints  at need others "fat of heart" would not appreciate,  such as edge acrid tansy in the dark.  The second stanza hints/ projects the loss of satisfaction should that hungry heart be dull (no longer clamoring).

Hoagland uses a tongue in cheek approach, with lively language:  "fish in tin armor", the "trench coat of solitude/scarf of resignation".  It could seem that the set up is for a suicide... but he sketches the freedom of being off the hook when no longer needing to worry about meeting exceptions!  This is definitely a poem that profits from being read outloud.  Sadly,  I could not find a recording of him reading it.

Barb's sigh, reading the title, Carolyn's clipped trot through the last two stanzas with no punctuation gave the feeling both of disappointment and that blend of discrepant details, the contrast of "minor roadside flowers pronouncing their quiet colors",  the reversal of a mother goose hey diddle diddle with the moon

going over the barn, and loss of a job a freedom.  

It is fun to image the kind of conversation  Bass, Millay and Hoagland might have!  

Gloria Mundi:  Thanks to Bernie, we discovered this poet, who clearly enjoys playing with form.

The title provides a paradoxical embrace of praise to life while discussing death and how to proceed 

with a funeral, burial.   Mary is eager to send it to family to reassure them it is not necessary to make

a trip to come to a funeral.  We all agreed, it would be helpful to establish one's desires and let people know them before we die. Judith was reminded of the Rubiaiyat of Omar Khayyam and the Potter's tale... 

https://www.bartleby.com/380/poem/1017.html

The enjambments are effect for the most part, although slightly overdone.  Come to my funeral dressed as you are/ (as you) would for an autumn walk...

Arrive on your schedule; I give you permission/ (permission) to be late...

We loved the calm distance, the acceptance of our small moment on earth, the fact of being smaller by 

being mixed back into the earth.  David pointed out, the poem is actually a set of directions on how to live.

Bloom:  We didn't have enough time to consider this enigmatic poem-- overtones of duty to bloom--

"to meet a flower and casually glance" is not enough... given the "profound Responsibility" -- for all of us to bloom, surviving all the offsets and unpredictable weather!

 The zoom session didn't have time for the Dickinson!

We didn't have time for the poems below.  I shared the Dunbar, The Sparrow on the Rundel central library facebook page. https://poets.org/poem/sparrow-0 As Spring gives hints of arriving  in March, I picked this poem which reminds us not to be so wrapped up in our work and lives, but take time to appreciate the gifts of the natural world around us — indeed, sources of peace, hope, love. 

There are SO many poems that came up in February for Black History Month.  If time we can choose from:

—As I Grew Older by Langston Hughes   https://poets.org/poem/i-grew-older

—"Let my anger be the celebration we were never supposed to have."by Natasha Oladokun

https://kenyonreview.org/kr-online-issue/2018-novdec/selections/natasha-oladokun-763879/

In today’s poem, we see both rage and truth. Here is a poem that looks America in the eye, and tells the country how she feels. It’s also an ode to the power of anger. — Ada

—Bearing Witness by Laura Weaver https://www.lauraweaver.org/poetry “On the edgeof the 6th mass extinction, with species vanishing before our eyes, we’d be a people gone mad, if we did not grieve.”

— Celebration of Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906) on  2/22/2022 (Tuesday twosday)

I will be glad to send the audio recording as soon as it’s available!

Sympathy by Paul Laurence Dunbar

 

February 23

 During the Pandemic I listen to the July 26, 1965 can-les-Pins Recording of A Love Supreme by Ellen Bass

Length of Moon by Arna Bontemps

Nocturne of the Wharves  by Arna Bontemps

The Weight by Linda Gregg

What for?  by Kim Stafford (only discussed by in person group)

The Sun’s Words  by Ai Qing

She Ties my Bow Tie by Gabrielle Calvocoressi

Nutshell: 

During the Pandemic... a love supreme: 

Kathy declared that  this poem is now her favorite by Ellen Bass — although she found it hard to change allegiance from her up-until-now favorite, The Thing Is.

Whether jazz enthusiast or not, everyone appreciated the way Ellen wove the effect of Coltrane’s horn— the elemental breath (aka, spirit, sacred wind)— the repeated “still” (as if we as readers had been with you, listening to him for 37 minutes) in those four repeated notes playing , A love supreme… 

We loved the power at the beginning of “A love supreme”, where her love for your daughter, title of the song, Coltrane’s playing, the idea of a supreme love, combine in the again and again, /as though if he says it enough, he can ease/that mercy…

… This generous sound that can mean/anything, nothing, whatever you need.

She had us in the palm of her hand with her questions… the echo of Noah’s flood, the still small voice, the image of perhaps davening elders making sure the Torah is precisely recited.   And Coltrane, infinitely patient… offering the same 4 notes.  A love supreme, as theme, improvised and returning.  4 notes in the unsayable Yahweh.

It was funny, as there was a miscue as Bernie  read, after the Torah line, “everybody” instead of “someone”— and we laughed heartily — how we as readers bring our baggage into the poem, associations and memory sifting in as we sieve and transform the words.  (Case in point, Judith brought up the Hindi word for conjoined twins, ude hue judava and bonding came up briefly…)

 

I fondly call Judith “the eloquent walking encyclopedia” who can recite Shakespeare by heart and tell you all about Indian dance. She praised the poem as “a lavish treasure-filled thing”… David described the religious feeling evoked by the word breath, that “brilliant integration” of sound vibrating and spirit moving through.  We all could feel the visceral effect.  

I could go on and on… how the precision necessary in reciting the Torah reminded us of Blake and his view, "“Without minute neatness of execution, the sublime cannot exist! Grandeur of ideas is founded on precision of ideas.”

Marna loved the contrast of the cascade of words, the run on referring to nature… and the way the short questions bring us to great metaphysical wonderings.  

Arna Bontemps:  

Both the poems have an incantatory feel.  The first, knowing he wrote as a young 24 year old, Harlem Renaissance poet, led some to believe Length of Moon was more than a meditative piece on the passing of time.  What is the "golden hour" ? 

Judith was reminded of this painting, Grapevine in Wind and Moonlight (Smithsonian,National Museum of Asian Art).

Jim picked up on a sense of regrets, others picked up a poignant sense of loss.  More miscues arrived in the 4th stanza but are helpful to examine more deeply: 

A stone will fall vs. what is written: fail. (inevitability of stone cracking, turning to gravel, sand... ) a rather unexpected fall if failure, of what is expected to hold, to last.

A rose is sure to grow, although what is written is go. 

This stanza appears like a turn... what is the something in the imperative "should forget" ? It doesn't mean we will... although the last line seems to indicate this as distinct possibility.

I love that the poem starts in media res  with "Then".  What is it that makes the golden hour "tick its last"? There is a prophetic sense of doom... 

Equally in Nocturne, a beautiful music and personnification of the boats and nocturnal sounds of boats "whining" against the dock.  w's, the sharp k's of the captain, the copper coast, linked to the mist, the memory... the dissembling (both as in concealed and pretend) or trees...   Restlessness tugs against weariness, in prevalent hiss and slap of s's.  The first stanza recalls memories of China, "bright" Bombay, Formosa (so much more melodious a name than Taiwan!).  Cities ruined by the sea.

The second stanza repeats Tugging at the dim gray wharf they think... but this time of Africa, and dead men.

Is this only a dream of the little ships or as real as the memories in the first stanza?

We discussed the pros and cons of the very last line.  Dave feels it fills in the entire poem, allows us to connect speaker to the ships and an extended metaphor.  Someone reminded us that captains refer to their ships as alive.  

A gorgeous, ambiguous poem which invites both research and dwelling in a meditation of what uneasiness makes us want to move, what exhausts us, and the role of  dreams.

The Weight: what grounds us?  and horses? As title, it is repeated in the 10th line as part of the closeness of these two horses put together.  

We discussed "enclosure" of the paddock, confinement and Kathy brought up Nelson Mandela bound in his tiny cell where he spent 20 years, yet like fragment describing the horses, "The dignity of being", he maintained his dignity and a vision of freedom which grew in a way no one might have suspected.

Another fragment after "The privacy of them had a river in it."  is "Had our universe in it." The lines afterwards bring shivers-- this freedom built at night by stars -- outside of our human efforts of controlling.

We discussed the intuitive nature we cannot know... but which the horses do in their shared intimacy.  

Jim mentioned that you can see these horses in Fishers  adjacent to the Auburn trail north of the Thruway that perfectly fit the description in the poem.  https://www.traillink.com/trail/auburn-trail/

He adds,  one, especially, is huge (but not, at least, a Clydesdale).  

What For?

Just the in-person group read this one.  It reminded Judith of Stephen Crane's poem, In The Dessert  

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46457/in-the-desert-56d2265793693

 and Edna St. Vincent Millay's, My Heart being Hungry:  https://sonnetsandothervices.weebly.com/my-heart-being-hungry-by-edna-st-vincent-millay.html

Beauty and truth have countless poems examining their relationship.  What is beauty for? and more questions...about pain of loss, how beauty becomes nourishment for good things... but for truth, 

we need to "gnash on salty structures of sorrow, bite the bitter rind."

The Sun's Words: A fitting reminder in March.  Knowing that Ai Qing spent 3 years in prison adds a somber slant, reminding us to be grateful!

 

She ties: 

A rather humorous extended metaphor and perfect poem to present on Valentine's day.  I love the use of the 2nd person pronoun-- the assumptions of the poet about the assumptions of the reader and "forgive yourself."  Small gestures become huge testimony!

Judith was reminded of Blake's poem, I asked a thief to steal me a peach. https://allpoetry.com/I-Asked-A-Thief-To-Steal-Me-A-Peach

February 16

 

The Prestige by Hanif Abdurraqib

Snow by Anne Sexton

Could this be me? by Charles Simic

On Pleasing by Kimiko Hahn

Brown Furniture by Katha Pollitt

Capra Aegagrus Hircus by Terrance Hayes

What a shock to find out that Joyce was hit by a car — and how amazing that her husband, Elmer, made sure that she was connected by zoom for poetry from the ICU! Likewise, what a surprise to have Rose Marie join us from Sardinia!  As we enter year 3 of the pandemic and zoom, I am grateful that it allows us to stay connected.

February marks the beginning of our 15th year of "O Pen", and Joyce is one of the initial members! No matter diverging views, likes and dislikes, I appreciate all the points of view, and the respectful tone in our discussions.  It never ceases to amaze me how many different responses there are to a poem… Sometimes it is enough to allow the words on the page, other times, it is helpful to know more about the poet or the context.  As ever, I am grateful to those providing background, especially this week. 

Nutshell:

The Prestige

If you didn't know the 2006 movie, or Hanif's connection with it, it might be difficult to know how to "read through"  the leaps and wonder how to connect the words and thoughts, I am glad that the in-person group felt moved by the poem in spite of not fully understanding it.   I shared is this quote:"How is a poem like a magic trick?  What is the cost to the performer, the magician, to the poet, in order to astonish their audience?  Have you considered the cost?"https://tinhouse.com/podcast/hanif-abdurraqib-a-fortune-for-your-disaster/. This link tells more about the film: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Prestige_(film)

On zoom, I was grateful to Elaine for finding out more: https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/authors/interviews/article/80928-survival-poems-pw-talks-with-hanif-abdurraqib.html

there are three parts of a magic trick: the pledge, where a magician shows a participant something that appears normal; the turn, where the ordinary thing becomes extraordinary; and the prestige, where the ordinary thing returns to its normal state, with the new understanding that it could easily become something else. The main magic trick of the book is the question of “how do I trust myself with the world again?”

Carolyn provided this link of a conversation with Wesley Morris which will introduce you to the personable and caring character of this poet from Columbus, Ohio.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdHF7rMB48s

David brought up the “old trope” of love akin to war in the Wilfred Owens, poem  https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46560/dulce-et-decorum-est

and that old lie, Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

(It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country).  He also brought up Robert Frost and his poem Directive, where indeed, the poet warns, "I am going to be hard to follow."

"The road there, if you'll let a guide direct you/

Who only has at heart your getting lost,  https://www.brinkerhoffpoetry.org/poems/directive

Where does a poem begin? How do we understand gratitude? We follow the complications of memory as mirror, and wonder if all the pain is worth it.  Perhaps there is a mindset of criticism, and as Mary pointed out, the poem is outdated... as we do not watch the sky for bombs anymore-- they have been replaced by something far more ominous... but comments pointed out how fervently we want to understand 

"the body as a door..." and "no one will bury their kin /when desire becomes a fugitive between us."

 

Snow

The in-person group found the images strange, perplexing.  It was helpful that Kathy offered a larger background to this poem, found towards the end of her book, Awful Rowing Toward God.

Unlike her other works, the poems in this book came to her quickly over 2-3 weeks.  Kathy remembers an interview between Anne Sexton and Al Poulin and Bill Heyen over 50 years ago where she explains  "her designation as a "confessional poet" and the shifts in the themes of her poems through the years. She says that she writes what she wants and has to write, but that she often uses other people's stories, making them her own with an "I" voice. She also feels free to fictionalize experience, and isn't worried about being misinterpreted. Sexton talks about a progression in her poems from madness and sin to love and God, but feels that sin is a theme she has carried throughout.” https://dspace.sunyconnect.suny.edu/handle/1951/80449?show=full

Snow is one of the poems towards the end of the book and indeed, follows an arc toward hope.  It is sad, that after working on edits with her dear friend, Maxine Kumin, she committed suicide shortly after.

David Sanders brought up the point of the Puritan struggle of feeling worthy — the possession of that pail.  

Kathy was kind to thank me for bring up Anne Sexton and Adrienne Rich and these older poems which remind us of how difficult it was to articulate their struggles.

Could this be me:  everyone had a smile on his/her face!  David commented on the delightful metrics, with the two spondees (no hands / town dump). Reminded some of Al Gore and how his message about climate change was ignored.  We all want to be heard (ticking loudly)… no matter

if without hands, and thrown out! Thank you Jim for sharing the observation of a commentary on how our society treats older people.  And Maura, for your poignant story about that tea-kettle who never received its artistic embellishment...

On Pleasing:  Thank you Mary for sharing your story about reading this poem to your friend who was dying… and how the sounds reached her, made her smile! For those in-person I shared another sound poem, written to console those waiting for those on the brink of death to pass. 

The Zoomers  came through with research about the poet.  Elaine mentioned that Kimiko Hahn offers a course on “identity themes”  such as jealousy, regret, deceit, etc.  It is one way to deepen or subtly vary its use so the poems are not redundant or one-dimensional.  For example, what kind of deceit, concealment, treachery or pretense?  How might the opposite interplay: frankness, uprightness, fidelity?  Kathy brought up the next to last stanza, first line, separate, pronounced as a verb… the sounds separate

from noise… which makes clearer the contrast of “blur” with “fidelity of events”.  We spoke about memory… Marna offering the scientific lens of the amygdala, able to register emotion, operative at birth, vs. the hippocampus which develops later and deals with memory of facts.

Not an ode or meditation on pleasing, as the title suggests, the poem seems to unfold a story of a mother and baby.  The  job is  to please (repeated in stanzas 1, 2 and modified as last line)… Perhaps as Carmin suggested, a story moving in time… perhaps as Elaine suggested, a story about a response to the neediness of a baby, the effort it takes over a lifetime to raise a child… 

Brown Furniture:  a big favorite with in person and zoomers alike… Rose Marie  spoke about the sadness viewing the collections of china, linens, that the next generation don’t want… David S. hopes that children are more sentimental than we think… and we all agreed, objects help us connect with experience—

I look forward to hearing stories your furniture tells.  Dave Harrison told the story of his Trinity chair — first, a chair for his dorm room at college… then in his dorm at law school… later an occasional chair which finally ended up in the kitchen — the perfect height and quite comfortable!   Telling the story of scent might be another trigger!

I like Maura’s idea of coming with a picture and a poem/story of the furniture we are thinking of getting rid of.

Capra:  The link DID work on zoom, unlike in-person.   The way Terrance reads it, one doesn’t sense any quatrains, but a seamless telling.  David gave us the idea of a father comparing his daughter to a goat with those complimentary aspects of goat: pinpoint balance in precarious places… climbing trees… conversing… and something magical given to the mother that the daughter could communicate right away.  Elaine again provided the background that Hayes is an artist (as well as professor and poet).  One of his books is “How to be Drawn.”  I could imagine a playful interaction between a father and child, he’s drawing a goat, the town, the flowers, the chains and the bell… the way it was in the time of the Greeks to be a goat… and then the lead up as David S. put it, of the “goat divagation” coming to that last killer line of apology.

Perhaps all parents feel that.

For us, listening to Paul’s description of the Puck Fair, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puck_Fair

that too, is in the poem.  And Maura’s idea of the legacy we leave, whether as goat, as mascot, as parent, the real legacy is who we are.

I shared the Guest House with the zoom session as well…