a spider scurries
across the sand, without
dislodging a grain
Spider in the Sand [Haiku]
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Tag Archives: poetry
Macbeth Limerick
Théodore Chasséria (1855)
There was a great General named Macbeth. All that kept him from kingship was a death, but - as with a Pringle - he couldn't do a single. So, he showed seven more their last breaths.
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No Christmas in April Blues [Blues Poem]
The dust is risin' down that dirt road; someone is comin' my way fast. The dust is risin' down that dirt road; someone is comin' my way fast. Hope it's not the f#@kin' tax man. Maybe it's Santa Claus, at last.
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Slack Flags [Haiku]
prayer flags hang still. i hear them go silent as i sit - eyes closed
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BOOK REVIEW: American Poetry: A Very Short Introduction by David Caplan
American Poetry: A Very Short Introduction by David CaplanMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
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This book does a great job of helping the reader understand what distinguishes the American strain of poetry from other poetic traditions, particularly the one from which it sprang and to which it’s most closely related, linguistically speaking: i.e. English poetry. Among the unique aspects of American poetry are a shift toward more idiosyncratic poetry, a shift that flows from America’s individual-centric orientation, the employment of American idiom – especially informal language, the connection to other American artforms (e.g. Blues music,) the diversity of form and style that resulted from being a diverse population, and the loud and clear expression of dissenting voices.
The page limitations of a concise guide keep this book from drifting wide in its discussion. The reader will note that it’s focused on mainstream poetry, and there’s little to no mention of counter-cultural movements, e.g. the Beats (e.g. Ginsberg and Synder) are not discussed. However, even within the restriction to mainstream poets, there’re only a few poets that are discussed in depth. Of course, these include the two poets largely considered the pillars of the American form: Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson. It also includes two poets who were challenging cases for a discussion of national poetic movements: W.H. Auden, a Brit by birth who spent most of his poetry writing years in America; and T.S. Eliot, who was an American by birth but moved to Britain. Both poets produced poetry of importance while on both sides of the Atlantic, and, so, the question is whether anything of note can be said about their poetry vis-a-vis its location of origin (and, if not, have we exited the era in which nationality of poetry is worth discussing?)
I learned a great deal from this book. Again, if you’re looking for a broad accounting of American poetry, this isn’t necessarily the book for you, but if you want to gain a glimpse of the interesting and unique elements of American poetry through a few of its most crucial poets, this is an excellent choice.
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Kapok Tree [Haiku]
sinuous roots of the silk-cotton tree; are they moving?
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Bad Anthropologist [Free Verse]
Today, I read about an anthropologist who was living among an isolated tribe, [as anthropologists tend to do] a tribe who believed that twins weren't really people, and that twin babies should be left to die of neglect. This anthropologist, like all good anthropologists, was trained to respect indigenous beliefs and to not go mucking around and breaking the "Prime Directive" [well, that term is from Star Trek, but good anthropologists have similar directives -- or, at least, proclivities -- i.e. to be objective, and - to the degree one can't be - to recognize one's biases and try to note the role they might play.] This anthropologist was doing a grand job of being an anthropologist, until a woman in the tribe had twins...
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Mad Mind-Fire [Free Verse]
My brain is an angry sac of neurons: hot wired / electrified. Sizzling synapses ready to snap and spew seedy scenes upon this world. But no one hears a scream in the dark void of a barren mind: though the scream radiates outward as a painful wave of unknown origin & purpose, a tremor in the fabric of us
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Urban Garden [Haiku]
the city's curated garden is both more & less than wildflowers
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In Tall Grass [Free Verse]
Do you feel unease, walking in tall grass? Visceral tension? A primal impression from a time when a wounded beast [on its belly, & with labored breath] retained enough energy for one last lurch to impale its hunter? A raspy groan or bloody burble, and the jerky wave of the grass might be all the warning one got before The End.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 