POEM: Midnight Climax

The walls throb and gargoyles attack

an hour into midnight climax.

Pipe cleaner Kama Sutra twists

chronicled indiscretion lists.

 

His hand dissolves into puddle.

Giggling; he’s become befuddled.

She’ll take him for a midnight ride

while with acid he is plied.

 

A night to remember, he will have lost

until the Polaroids do accost

BOOK REVIEW: How to Read a Poem by Edward Hirsch

How to Read a Poem: And Fall in Love with Poetry (Harvest Book)How to Read a Poem: And Fall in Love with Poetry by Edward Hirsch
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

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If one were to judge solely by the mundane title, one might expect this to be a different book—i.e. more along the lines of “Poetry for Dummies.” That’s not what Hirsch is offering with his book. There’s plenty of opportunity to learn to differentiate pentameter from tetrameter or a lyric from an epic poem, but the book isn’t arranged according to such fundamentals. It might even take one a few pages (or chapters) to realize there is an organizing structure. But you’ll get there because of the author’s contagious passion for poetry and his presentation, and an analysis, of many beautiful poems by masters such as Keats, Yeats, Whitman, Dickinson, Frost, Neruda, and many others–more ancient or modern and equally or less well-known. In the end, you’ll think of poetry in a new light.

The book is arranged into 12 chapters, each of which looks at poetry from a different dimension. Chapter 1 considers the poem in two ways. First, it emphasizes the importance of the reader, i.e. the poem is presented as an interaction rather than an act of transmission. Second, the author considers how various poets have defined poetry, and what we can learn from said definitions—besides that poetry is defiant in the face of definition. (Like a wet bar of soap, the tighter one tries to grasp it, the less one succeeds.) Chapter 2 continues to investigate the nature of a poem using the framework of the word’s etymology, coming from the ancient Greek word meaning “to make”–thus the chapter title: “A Made Thing.”

Chapter three delves into the making of connections (or lack thereof) as a theme in poetry. As with most of the book’s chapters, it’s built around a small number of poems that elucidate the author’s point. In this case, poems by Keats, James Wright, and Baudelaire are used to describe cases in which a human connection is sought, in which it momentarily exists, and in which it is shunned. As is true of other chapters, this doesn’t mean that these three poems are all that are mentioned. It’s just that they are given in-depth analysis, while other poems and fragments are referenced to help illustrate points.

Chapter four is entitled “Three Initiations” and it introduces three types of poetry through quintessential examples. The three types of poems are: 1.) poetry of trance; 2.) poetry of praise; and 3.) poetry of grief. The latter two may be more easily grasped than the first, which are poems that convey an altered state of consciousness.

Chapter five examines the subject of authenticity and vividness in poetry and how poets convey such genuineness—even by way of surrealism. The classic example is Shakespeare’s sonnets that mock Petrarchan sonnets in suggesting a less hyperbolic form of love letter (i.e. Sonnet 130, “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun”)

Chapter six is entitled, “5 Acts,” and, as such, it covers five different subjects through the motif of a play. This first act is about opening poems or introductory soliloquy. The second act is about drama and its role in verse, and is heavily influence by a quote from Robert Frost (i.e. “Everything written is as good as it is dramatic.”) Act three is about what might be called “character” in the scheme of a play, but is really about the personhood of a poem. Act four delves into the topic of dialogue as a poetic tool. The last act is about concluding poems / death poems—as exemplified by Bashō’s deathbed poem and the postcard poems written by Miklós Radnóti on a Holocaust death march.

Chapter seven considers desolation as a theme in poetry. The next chapter places poetry in the context of history, using Polish poetry of war and Holocaust to convey the emotion and numbness of tragic events. Chapter nine proposes a nexus between art and justice, and looks at how this is displayed through jeremiads and political poems. The two core examples of this chapter are a work song by Sterling Brown and an ode by Pablo Neruda.

Along with chapter four’s “poetry of trance,” I found chapter ten’s discussion of poems that transport the reader to a moment of epiphany–or ecstatic / transcendental experience–to be particularly fascinating. There are a couple modern pieces that Hirsch presents herein, but some work by Dickinson introduces the topic and truly shows how it’s done. Chapter eleven presents the soul as a poetic theme. The poem gives substance to that which is inherently insubstantial, but which is somehow essential and beyond refute. Walt Whitman’s references to the soul offer particularly vivid insight on this question.

The last chapter is a brief echo of the first, reiterating the role of the reader and the need for poetic definitions for poetry because any definition that tries to capture the medium in precise prose loses it as it’s reinvented countless times over. If one prefers a simple and direct definition of poetry—e.g. writing that displays meter and rhyme–this is may not be your go-to book. (You might prefer a book such as Fry’s “The Ode Less Traveled” that is more dogmatic about prosody as the sine qua non of poetry.)

As for ancillary material, there is a huge glossary. It’s huge not by virtue of containing a vast number of words, but rather because it goes into considerable detail on most of the entries. There is also an extensive and thoroughly organized “recommended reading” section. The book also offers discussion questions for those who want to review or used the book for a book club or whatnot. There’s not much by way of graphics, except for one or two displays of visually oriented forms of poetry, but there’s no need of more than that.

I found this book to be insightful and I welcomed the unique way in which the author divvied up and evaluated the topic of poetry. If you enjoy poetry, or if you write it, there is much to be garnered from reading this book.

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POEM: Residue of a Dream

The residue of an unremembered dream
clings to my consciousness.
Tainting my day in indescribable ways.
These tailings leave a taste.
Indescribable, but if feels a little bit like
a place that I once lived,
mixed with a monsoon rain morning,
and just a hint of angst.

 

POEM: Some Books

Some books are wings,
lifting one up to see countless things.
Untethered, be your rise,
glimpsing vistas known to the wise.

Some books are blocks,
building up a reader’s bulwark box.
Barring ideas opposed
to a mind certain and closed.

Which books are which?
book’s soar = f (reader’s fears)

POEM: A Sherd of Truth

Grant me my ignorance.
Don’t encroach on this spinning enigma
with false facts
&
didactic diatribes.

The part I was written was one
naïf & wary.

Let me embrace the grandiosity
of mystery.

Let me stare dumbstruck at
the weight of all
I do not know.

Let me revel in subtle discovery,
leaving findings grand & mythical
to others.

And should I unearth a shard–
a dull and fractured fragment
of truth.

Don’t feel it’s weight puny
&
shuck it into the desert
of the known.

Let me treasure it as a monument,
if simple & unadorned.

POEM: Cupboard’s Creak

I feel the “eee” in the cupboard’s creak–

every last “e” of that god-awful squeak.

It pierces all ears and betrays my sack,

notifying the world of my impending snack.

BOOK REVIEW: Maya Angelou: The Complete Poetry by Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou: The Complete PoetryMaya Angelou: The Complete Poetry by Maya Angelou
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

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This posthumous collection gathers together 180 poems of Maya Angelou. A collection of collections, it amasses six of Angelou’s collections as well as four stand-alone poems, and is said to represent the entirety of Angelou’s published and publicly released poetry. (Actually, it’s said be all of her poetry, but I suspect even a poetic genius like Angelou had notebooks of fragments and pieces with which she never made peace.) Her famed collections: “Just Give Me a Cool Drink of Water ‘Fore I Diiie,” “Oh Pray My Wings Are Gonna Fit Me Well,” “And Still I Rise,” “Shaker, Why Don’t You Sing,” and “I Shall Not Be Moved” are presented as released.

Angelou’s poetry tends toward the playful and melodious even when its topics are angry or distressing. She favors short pieces that have rhyme and rhythm that please the ear—at least in those early collections for which she is most recognized. Reading the poetry chronologically, I noticed a shift toward a little bit longer free verse poetry—though always with attention to the issue of sound (if not to creating song-like sound.) As this was my first reading of this collection, some of this perception of shifting length and style may be an illusion created by the fact that the freestanding pieces are toward the end, and they tend to have been released for special occasions that called for longer run times. But maybe she felt that poems of dissent and social commentary ultimately called for a more discordant quality. Delivering a jeremiad with pop tune catchiness can feel as though it undermines the message—though it also makes a commentary about the nature of being underdog.

I don’t want to suggest that Angelou’s work doesn’t capture the happy and hopeful as well as the daunting, because it is. But poets deal in emotion, and that means confronting dark topics such as slavery, racism, domestic violence, etc. Her use of dialect language breathes authenticity into her poems and builds the emotional weight of them, which often supports the song-like quality. And there is plenty of precedent in music for delivering hard material in a melodious package.

I’d recommend this collection to poetry readers. It’s powerful and poignant, and makes a beautiful sound.

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POEM: Pratyahara


Silence
Ears ring
Inventing a monotonous tone
to thwart
Silence

on inner eyelids
a dragon dance plays out
in purple & black

a flower scent
too faint for a human nose
swells to a garland market
and becomes
the taste
of
rosewater on the tongue

as the mind wonders,
was it a real
flower
or a
phantosmia?

POEM: Electrochemical Destiny

bitter stories writ in circuit fire

rifling down the pipes

can you imagine:

“You’re the worst!”

as a tale slung on electron backs

couriers spew into tiny chasms

floating forward to light the next fire

nothing chiseled in granite

but each time electrons dance that line

it makes fast the path

change the dance

change your story