Stay Tuned

Last night I read some poems by Frieda Hughes. I wish she had a lot more stuff out there because I am especially enjoying the book of her work that I am currently reading. I read and re-read each poem a couple more times (which is what I always like to do with poetry) and I appreciate the intensity of her work. It is not really at all like her mother's but at the same time she has certainly the aptitude for intensity.

The morning ride into work - listened to "Air Supply" and then NPR.

My current feeling is something close to ambivalent.

All-Star game is tonight! My plan is to watch it and root for the NL.

I have been giving a lot of thought lately to starting an online lit journal with a primary emphasis on poetry and critical review of poetry. Actually I've really gone beyond the "lot of thought" stage and I'll talk more about that in a couple of days. Stay tuned.

Tags: Poetry Literature Frieda Hughes NPR Air Supply

Global / Isolation

All the furor over immigration (not just in the U.S. but elsewhere as well) captivated my thoughts this morning as I dropped my wife off at work and continued on to my own job. The spark I suppose came from a piece on NPR about how other countries, France and Germany are struggling with what to make of their own immigration laws. It peeked my attention that we (Americans) were not the only ones struggling along with this issue.

First of all, I suppose I sometimes forget that there are actually other places than the United States that other people would find desirable to move to. A sort of cavalier sounding view now doubt. I really don't think on my part it is really anything more than lazy thinking. Of course there are people in other parts of the world wanting out of the country they were born into and finding sanctuary in a near by country is a dream than many would like to transform into reality. For those people, the U.S. may be simply too far away to reasonably look to, or cultural or family ties may make us seem less desirable than some other location.

Why is it that we, who were once so proud of our heritage as the "melting-pot" for so rich a diversity of immigrants not find ourselves fearful of what immigration means to the future of this country?

Some in this country look at this a simply a national security matter. Many speak of security as a basis for immigration reform, but it seems to me that for the vast majority, that is only a reason of convenience. It seems less selfish to say we are simply protecting our boarders than to say that we are fearful of losing jobs, or what our society will become through the assimilation of other cultures into our own. Yet, it seems to me that an assimilation is just exactly what we are!

What appears even more fascinating to me is how fast we are becoming a global community and at the same time how quickly we seem to want and to seek isolation. Confusing you? I'll confess it confuses me.

I have a hunch that most of the people who are drawn to this blog by the nature of the poetry connection are less likely than the majority of Americans to be concerned by immigration. We are probably the people for whom "closing the boarders" is not likely the political buzz word that will get our attention in November. My hunch is that people who are into poetry are generally more open to cultural differences and do not fear the threat of assimilation.
(And you wondered how I was going to tie poetry to all this....)

Honestly, like so many of the arts, poetry goes a long way towards breaking down such barriers. It is, I believe, the openness to such artistic expression that programs us for a broad mindedness that simply will not allow room for much of the "fear" associated with other people. Is poetry then the answer to multi-national understanding? Maybe not, but it sure wouldn't hurt.


Tags:Isolation Immigration Globalization Poetry Poets Culture Arts

Sunday... He actually bloggs

I've managed some really rough drafts the past few days- but I haven't spent any time refining any of this or previous material. Picked up a new book yesterday. My wife has this radar for books that would interest me. We were walking through a bookstore in Topeka, Kansas - she in the mark downs and I looking at the poetry section. When I caught up with her she has Ariel's Gift by Erica Wagner. "Do you have this one?" [I have enough Plath and Hughes material she would have to ask] Of course she had come through once again. I could not pass it up and just under $2. Cathy (wife) bought a new crossword puzzle book this weekend and I have to agree with her - a lot of the clue and word associations are pretty lame. Example "brisk" - their answer was crisp. No way do I stretch my imagination far enough to consider crisp and brisk synonyms. "Gee, the lettuce in this salad is really brisk." I DON'T THINK SO.

Bits from my Journal:

Peeling onion skin off layer at a time,
wrinkles and worry lines sparked by tiny
two feet responsibilities, fell to the floor-
shavings of curled tongues
that will not soon lash out again.

Bookoholics

Check out Librarything.com [here] if you are into books. You can see what others are reading and you can easily catalogue your own library easily. It is easy to join and unless you are serious enough to add more than 200 of your own books, it is free. Beyond that, the costs are nominal.

You can catch up with Sam Hamill this Saturday in Seattle - Tanabata Star Festival
SAT Celebration of poetry and romance features music, haiku, reading by poet Sam Hamill, 2 p.m.; docent-guided garden tours, 12:30 and 2:30 p.m.; and tea and floral demonstrations, 11 a.m.-3 p.m. (garden is open 10 a.m.-8 p.m.), Seattle Japanese Garden, Washington Park Arboretum, 1075 Lake Washington Blvd. E., Seattle; entertainment free with admission, $3-$5 (206-684-4725).

Tags: Sam Hamill Book Lists books Reading List

0704

Mosaic glitter pounded the sky
Stealing breath-
Sulfur coating my mouth,
As frosting drizzled
Across the night

So it is...

Pictured to the left is a piece of artwork in downtown St. Louis. What I like about it is the urgency and the starkness of a black medium. Sort of reminds me of a windup for a pitch frozen in mid sequence.

Here is a crumb from my journal today:

So it is, standing here I've become a part
of the timberline, mired in translucent absurdity.

In another life...

I chuckled at Mark Strand's poem Two Horses in the July 3, 2006 edition of The New Yorker. The horses must have sensed I was holding back. / They moved slightly away. Then I thought they might have known me / in another life - the one in which I was a poet. /

Yes, back in the day. Strand's words take me back to six or seven years ago. No, last month, hell maybe it was yesterday. He captures in the next few lines that feeling we all have in the beginning of eagerness. Then the style changes. Trying to find ourselves.

They might have even read my poems back then, / in that shadowy time when our energies new no bounds, / we changes styles almost as often as there were days of the year. //

This poem was a fun read and it did something interesting. It took me back to the beginning and plugged me into where I was with all that excitement. Then the experimentation with forms and subject matter. With looking everywhere, including under the kitchen sink for a voice. My Voice! The funny thing is the more I think about it, I find myself returning to that mode again and again. Reliving the past I guess.