Nothing to Embrace

Nothing to Embrace

A tin can that rattles of air
A limp sting with no kite
A battle with no one
The war is over

They’ve all gone home.

I’d wring my hands
Of this blank space in time
But how, and where
Would I hang my head?

Wednesday Poet Series No 9

Connie Wanek is the author of two books of poems:

• Bonfire, (New Rivers Press in 1997)
• Hartley Field, (Holy Cow! Press in 2002)

She was anthologized in Poets Against The War. Her work has also appeared in The Atlantic Monthly, The Virginia Quarterly Review, Quarterly West, and a number of other venues.

She she was born in 1952 in Madison, Wisconsin and has received fellowships and support from the Arrowhead Regional Arts Council and The Jerome Foundation. She's been a finalist for both the Minnesota Book Award and the Northeastern Minnesota Book Award and won the 1998 Willow Poetry Prize.

In the early 1060's her family relocated from Wisconsin farming to Las Cruces, New Mexico. In 1990, she took residence in Duluth, Minnesota she lives with her husband and two children.

The first poem of Waneck's I read was Coloring Book . The paper is cheap, easily torn. / A coloring book's authority is derived / from its heavy black lines / as unalterable as the ten commandments / within which minor decisions are possible: / the dog black and white, / the kitten gray. I loved the authority of the black lines she ascribed to the page.

In Butter she denotes a commonality between butter and love. And I love the line: Will the rope never strike her ankle, / love's bite? from Jump Rope so much to decide... Whom will she marry? Whom will she love?

More of Wanek's Poetry: After Us Two Poems: Children Near The Water & Daisies

Radiator

22 Lines

Busy weekend with family gathering on Saturday and Sunday I spent most of the day at my wife's office helping rearrange things. I did carve out a little bit of time to read some poetry over the weekend and did write a bit, even if it wasn't a great deal.

The sky was a beautiful filtered pink glow when I left for work this morning. Looks like it could turn out to be a nice day outside even though the morning started out a bit chilly.

Found a deliciously interesting article on Donald Hall I wanted to share. There were several things I found fascinating but among them was reference to a poem of Hall's that appeared in the Nov. 13th New Yorker under what now seems a somewhat ambiguous title, Maples. Mike Pride reports in this article that the poem condenses Hall's nearly entire 78 year lifespan into these 22 lines and at the same time providing an insight to the themes of his life's work in poetry: decline & loss, place, nature, mankind's addiction to wanton destruction. Read the piece here.

Multi-form success

Was reading this on Margaret Atwood that I found on Jilly's blog and got quite a kick out of the following line... "I think I'm this way because I never went to creative writing school and nobody told me not to. Nobody said, 'You have to specialize,' or 'For heaven's sake, control yourself.' " She was talking about the fact that she has been published in so many forms...poetry, short stories, children's literature, thrillers, a romance, criticism, even science fiction. I've only read Atwood poetry, but I admire the versatility as a writer. Especially since I find her poetry to be very agreeable to my taste, I don't get the feeling that she is simply a half-assed writer in a variety of areas. Am I envious? Not especially. I am myself content to better myself in poetry, but I am none the less impressed with her success outside of the form.

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Voices behind bars... Poetry in Prison. [story]

New Blog Project

I've started a new blog project to list the poets I am reading periodically and note observations about the work. You'll find the link on the side bar as well as here.

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Yesterday, I caught this really interesting podcast on NPR that deals with the question of Creativity, Learned or Innate?

[photo: a shot I took of one of the Seven views of Grand Canyon - sculptures]

Ahh ~ Friday at last...

The week is coming to an end like a locomotive pulling into a small town station... the brakes stalling the wheels and the metal to metal glide amid all the steam and noise, the motion continues a bit longer but at a declining speed. Then the jolt and there you are. It has stopped.

I definitely feel the holiday upon us. Two Christmas parties yesterday. One for the office and one an evening at the Writer House. I read a couple of poems. I'll have Christmas shopping to do this weekend.
There is a mixture of a sort of manic world and this inner calling for peace and tranquility. They do not mix well together. I suppose that is would support James Hillman's assessment when he said, "Slowness is basic to the notion of melancholy from the very beginning. Mania is often described in psychiatry by the absence of sadness." When the world is in chaos it tends to overlook the sadness of war and famine and sickness, and so on. It is at these very moments that I believe mankind needs poetry the most. But no, we somehow find it easier to be numb to the horror and immune from humor as well. We are just to busy to let silly emotions get in the way of anything.
Bits from my journal this week:

• A fog of silence settles in the gully sunken between us.
• The reeds of hope / sprouting runners / travel across the anticipatory terrain
• I am transparent, here but out of sight.
• Nights of curview / days strung between roads / boardered by odds / not quite palatable / survival will apply to travelers / moving between strife // What are the options? / a sigh of indigestion /rather resignation of lost causes / St Anthony Pray for us. //

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The President is not going to make "rash decisions" on Iraq. He has moved back the time for his anouncement to after the first of the year. Some military people are now calling for more troops. {sigh} The President has rejected major parts of the ISG. He talks about changing stratagy. I'm thinking that chage is going to look a lot more like "stay the course."

Question for Iraqi citizens. Are you better off now than you were four years ago?

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Driving through Taco Bell - "Hold the green onions, hold the lettuce. Uh, come to think of it, just hold my order."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Latest Iraq War Deaths to date since U.S. Invasion in March 2003:
U.S.-LED COALITION FORCES = United States 2,941 / Britain 126 / Other nations 121
IRAQIS = Military Between 4,900 and 6,375 / Civilians Between 50,585 and 56,083
[source]

Poet's memorial riddle solved

Five years of secrecy over the location of a memorial to the late Poet Laureate Ted Hughes have come to an end.
BBC Spotlight's environment correspondent Simon Hall has spent two years searching for the site on Dartmoor in Devon. He was helped by a guide, and used clues in Ted Hughes' will and his work. [full story]