Knowledge of a Grandfather
Look before you leap
Or you may just drown
I must have laughed
Headed to prom
Pure abuse
Work hard
You will eventually succeed
Two quarters jingled in my pocket
Left on the washer machine
Enough to buy a cigarette
And a sip of Boones
Trust the government
Believe in the troops
Angry vets
Old men without lives
I knew neither
Love with your heart
And believe in God
Weekly catechism
Confession
Sin removal
I felt better
What was I thinking?
A grey haired fellow knows
Nothing
Something
Everything
The things I will probably never do
I will buy a book at the local book store
and never open the cover
I will plant a vegetable garden
and forget to turn on the water
I will pack my husband’s clothes for vacation
and probably forget to take him
I will sing to the words of Blind Melon
and not even know the words
Perhaps I will apply for a job or two
and not really want to be hired
One day I will wake up from this madness
and realize I am normal
That I am not one of those people who scratch
their name on a bathroom stall
I don’t need to change my identity so that I can
spray paint on the side of a truck or building
I am real, confused, an angel fluttering
searching for direction
Monday, April 23, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Jim Harrison
First and foremost, it is nice to be back…back to a place that I can attempt to grasp and understand. Where the water is merely acting as water on one level, or a tear being shed from a child’s eye on another. Or a key ring hanging from a belt loop is just that, yet it can also represent the circle or bond of life. There is no need to romanticize ideas when the reality of the matter is that he will probably not be taking his grandchildren to Disneyland in a camper and that is the beauty of the situation.
Jim Harrison is refreshing. Who can’t appreciate a man that gives personal advice throughout his poetry. “Dance with yourself with all your heart and soul, and occasionally others, but don’t eat all the berries birds eat or you’ll die.” This to me seems like words to live by. And better yet, “kiss yourself in the mirror but don’t fall in love with photos of ladies in magazines.” Harrison continues this matter-of-fact tone throughout. His choice of words conveys the tone that everything he says we already know and he is just simply reminding us to take the time to notice.
Harrison speaks of love from experience, loss from tragedy, experience through travels, and children through questioning; incorporating these ideas into the very heart of his poetry.
The dead are not meant to go,
but to trail off so that one can
see them on a distant hillock,
across the river, in dreams
from which one awakens nearly healed:
don’t worry, it’s fine to be dead,
they say; we were a little early
but could not help ourselves.
Everyone dies as the child they were,
(Sullivan Poem)
Although, at times I am perplexed by his ideas I can honestly say his poetry is beautiful, inviting, and inspirational.
Jim Harrison’s poetry is stimulating, provocative, and unfailingly interesting to read. Throughout, he shows himself to be wonderfully imaginative. Through a deep engagement with language and meaning he takes each poem in many different directions. He writes in a multitude of poetic forms and techniques that leave the reader engaged and questioning his approach. For instance, the varying lengths causes me to question the importance of individual poems and why he choose to expand a poem over thirty pages in comparison to his five line Kobun. I appreciate how some of his poems follow the conventions of prose narratives.
One poem that completely puzzles me is “New Love”. I really like this poem although I question how much I truly understand. First, it is interesting to note the body parts that Harrison takes the time to list. On first glance it appears to me that all of these parts are extremely bony and the least “loved” or mentioned parts. Then he throws in the idea of risqué photos of the tender inside of the elbow. The language is lovely but what is he trying to do? What is he suggesting when he talks about relearning the future “as we learned to walk, as a baby grabs its toes, tilts backward, rocking”? And how exactly do we get to the moon after we have dealt with all of this death? Maybe I have too many questions to bring this poem up, but I really like it.
Did I mention that I understand what is going on? Can I take that statement back and rephrase it as such…I understand words and phrases, but not necessarily the entire poem. I appreciate Harrison’s style and use of imagery that never fails to amaze me. Any individual that can invoke the image of a dripping faucet intertwined with the sigh of a cat and cells that are deprived of oxygen is worth reading again. Wouldn’t you say?
Jim Harrison is refreshing. Who can’t appreciate a man that gives personal advice throughout his poetry. “Dance with yourself with all your heart and soul, and occasionally others, but don’t eat all the berries birds eat or you’ll die.” This to me seems like words to live by. And better yet, “kiss yourself in the mirror but don’t fall in love with photos of ladies in magazines.” Harrison continues this matter-of-fact tone throughout. His choice of words conveys the tone that everything he says we already know and he is just simply reminding us to take the time to notice.
Harrison speaks of love from experience, loss from tragedy, experience through travels, and children through questioning; incorporating these ideas into the very heart of his poetry.
The dead are not meant to go,
but to trail off so that one can
see them on a distant hillock,
across the river, in dreams
from which one awakens nearly healed:
don’t worry, it’s fine to be dead,
they say; we were a little early
but could not help ourselves.
Everyone dies as the child they were,
(Sullivan Poem)
Although, at times I am perplexed by his ideas I can honestly say his poetry is beautiful, inviting, and inspirational.
Jim Harrison’s poetry is stimulating, provocative, and unfailingly interesting to read. Throughout, he shows himself to be wonderfully imaginative. Through a deep engagement with language and meaning he takes each poem in many different directions. He writes in a multitude of poetic forms and techniques that leave the reader engaged and questioning his approach. For instance, the varying lengths causes me to question the importance of individual poems and why he choose to expand a poem over thirty pages in comparison to his five line Kobun. I appreciate how some of his poems follow the conventions of prose narratives.
One poem that completely puzzles me is “New Love”. I really like this poem although I question how much I truly understand. First, it is interesting to note the body parts that Harrison takes the time to list. On first glance it appears to me that all of these parts are extremely bony and the least “loved” or mentioned parts. Then he throws in the idea of risqué photos of the tender inside of the elbow. The language is lovely but what is he trying to do? What is he suggesting when he talks about relearning the future “as we learned to walk, as a baby grabs its toes, tilts backward, rocking”? And how exactly do we get to the moon after we have dealt with all of this death? Maybe I have too many questions to bring this poem up, but I really like it.
Did I mention that I understand what is going on? Can I take that statement back and rephrase it as such…I understand words and phrases, but not necessarily the entire poem. I appreciate Harrison’s style and use of imagery that never fails to amaze me. Any individual that can invoke the image of a dripping faucet intertwined with the sigh of a cat and cells that are deprived of oxygen is worth reading again. Wouldn’t you say?
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Feeding of the Soul
Myth: is it merely a dream or is it simply our legacy? We have looked to mythological stories for answers to our heritage and our existence since the beginning of time. These stories tell us who we are and who we will become, but why must we always come back? According to Thomas Moore in Care of the Soul: A Guide For Cultivating Depth and Sacredness in Everyday Life “The great malady of the twentieth century, implicated in all of our troubles and affecting us individually and socially, is ‘loss of soul.’ When soul is neglected, it doesn’t just go away; it appears symptomatically in obsessions, addictions, violence, and loss of meaning…we have lost our wisdom about the soul, even our interest in it… [We] must draw on…past wisdom, taking into account how we live now, to show that by caring for the soul we can find relief from out distress and discover deep satisfaction and pleasure” (xi). Moore continues, “the ultimate cure, as many ancient and modern psychologies of depth have asserted, comes from love…the cure…is love” (14). Therefore, it should be no surprise as to why we search in the depths of myth to give us answers and meaning to our specific era.
To serve this appetite for love, a plethora of mythological stories are being displaced into our modern day society exemplifying the very notion of being “in love with love”. According to Frye, “in every age [people] tend [] to project [their] ideals in some form of romance” (186); which, satisfies our need to “cure” the soul. Mythological stories serve as “a sort of …stage on which to place contemporary characters or [events]” (Eco 68) allowing us the opportunity to fulfill this craving. Therefore, it should come as no surprise as to why we take the mythological story of Eros and Psyche and directly displace it in Cinderella and further supplant it in the story of Bridget Jones Diary.
To serve this appetite for love, a plethora of mythological stories are being displaced into our modern day society exemplifying the very notion of being “in love with love”. According to Frye, “in every age [people] tend [] to project [their] ideals in some form of romance” (186); which, satisfies our need to “cure” the soul. Mythological stories serve as “a sort of …stage on which to place contemporary characters or [events]” (Eco 68) allowing us the opportunity to fulfill this craving. Therefore, it should come as no surprise as to why we take the mythological story of Eros and Psyche and directly displace it in Cinderella and further supplant it in the story of Bridget Jones Diary.
Monday, April 9, 2007
Is This What Nature Is All About?
Walking Sunflower
Every day
corruption
left for interpretation
Smell of orange
perhaps
sunrays
Chilled
shifting
night overcomes
Grab a hold
you are about to be taken
on a bumpy ride
Deception
let your imagination do the walking
or talking
or creating
Hidden
hunger
yearning
Release the emotion
don’t run
sunflowers are inviting
Come home
Dear or Deer
I am waiting
Let go…
it is only a field
of burning bushes
Life
Birth gave you hope of a brand new day.
You didn’t quite understand what you would be expected to do
as mother, teacher and wife.
Applauds filled the room for the sweet baby girl. Precious sweet baby.
But what applauds did you get? You were overlooked as you helplessly
coddled this new life form.
You are no more a mother, teacher, or wife than the rushing rain
pounding the window pane. Or the west wind that brings with it a
lawn of tumble weeds.
All night you wonder.
Perfection. Close to the delicate petal of an untouched orchid
or the sweet smell of lilacs in full bloom.
A little slice of heaven.
Every day
corruption
left for interpretation
Smell of orange
perhaps
sunrays
Chilled
shifting
night overcomes
Grab a hold
you are about to be taken
on a bumpy ride
Deception
let your imagination do the walking
or talking
or creating
Hidden
hunger
yearning
Release the emotion
don’t run
sunflowers are inviting
Come home
Dear or Deer
I am waiting
Let go…
it is only a field
of burning bushes
Life
Birth gave you hope of a brand new day.
You didn’t quite understand what you would be expected to do
as mother, teacher and wife.
Applauds filled the room for the sweet baby girl. Precious sweet baby.
But what applauds did you get? You were overlooked as you helplessly
coddled this new life form.
You are no more a mother, teacher, or wife than the rushing rain
pounding the window pane. Or the west wind that brings with it a
lawn of tumble weeds.
All night you wonder.
Perfection. Close to the delicate petal of an untouched orchid
or the sweet smell of lilacs in full bloom.
A little slice of heaven.
Friday, April 6, 2007
What Am I Going To Do???
I am attempting to make sense of everything that is going on in my muddled head. How am I going to take the myth of Eros and Psyche and show how it has been displaced in the story of Cinderella and Bridget Jones Diary. Hmm? This is what I am thinking.
First, I want to look at the significance of the story itself and how it fits into the Mythos of Romance. (Frye)
Then I want to examine what happens to the story as it begins to become displaced directly in Cinderella.
Thirdly, what happens to the myth when it is taken one step further in Bridget Jones Diary. I will examine how Bridget Jones fits into Frye's Mythos of Irony
This is what I am exploring:
a. The relationship to these three stories is that all of the woman are "in love with love"
b. How are the symbols and elements replaced along the way?
c. I am going to argue that the mother figure is replaced with Bridget herself. Idea of the all encompassing female character of contemporary society. Bridget creates her own three tasks keeping her away from the "right" man.
d. I am also going to argue that Bridget Jones is told ironically because we live in an ironic world and not a romantic one.
e. In Hillman I am going to look at the shadow figure and how it relates to the interchangable characters in Bridget.
What happens to the original myth as it is displaced from a romantic story to an ironic one.
First, I want to look at the significance of the story itself and how it fits into the Mythos of Romance. (Frye)
Then I want to examine what happens to the story as it begins to become displaced directly in Cinderella.
Thirdly, what happens to the myth when it is taken one step further in Bridget Jones Diary. I will examine how Bridget Jones fits into Frye's Mythos of Irony
This is what I am exploring:
a. The relationship to these three stories is that all of the woman are "in love with love"
b. How are the symbols and elements replaced along the way?
c. I am going to argue that the mother figure is replaced with Bridget herself. Idea of the all encompassing female character of contemporary society. Bridget creates her own three tasks keeping her away from the "right" man.
d. I am also going to argue that Bridget Jones is told ironically because we live in an ironic world and not a romantic one.
e. In Hillman I am going to look at the shadow figure and how it relates to the interchangable characters in Bridget.
What happens to the original myth as it is displaced from a romantic story to an ironic one.
Monday, April 2, 2007
What is Contemporary
Contemporary poetry…what does that exactly mean? I am not even sure I could give you a working definition of contemporary and how it applies to literature/poetry. I know it deals with what is currently happening and everything that is going on at the time. But when is the cut-off? When is something no longer contemporary or current? When does it become “old” or outdated? Hmmm?
When I think of contemporary poetry I think of Billy Collins. We live in a society that believes the best approach to things is to lay it all out on the line. With all of the “isms” there really isn’t time to beat around the bush concerning your thoughts and feelings. There is no reason to dabble in falsified beauty when reality can create the beauty for us. This is how I see contemporary poetry.
Of course there are the poets (surrealists) who do not give the answer up front. They in turn give you some obscure idea and let you create the image. Although Billy Collins is quite different from these poets they do take on a similar approach. They take the idea of nature and realistic events/people and tell their story in as close of a depiction as possible.
Contemporary poetry doesn’t seem to romanticize ideas. Maybe that is why our current society is so messed up. We have forgotten about love…
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints!---I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!---and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
(Elizabeth Barrett Browning)
And replaced it with Roy.
Roy could move a lot of sheep.
He moved them off the mountain
with his arms outstretched
at forty degree angles.
Roy never spoke.
He wore navy corduroys.
This annoyed some of the guys.
He walked like a foster child
stepping carefully
and sometime robotically.
The sheep respected this.
They kept their mouths shut
for once, and flowed down, down,
in a tight and docile band
over the uneven terrain,
because of Roy.
(Michael Earl Craig)
With this being said I personally think contemporary poetry is real. It can be touched and experienced-it is accessible. It can be heard and enjoyed. It is healing yet not sappy. It is obscure yet imaginative. It is our reality…the messed up junk of contemporary society.
Now looking at the poets for this week.
Mary Oliver, (I could not find the “Black Vietnam Vet”) represents her subject intertwined with nature. I am not quite sure how you discuss poetry with nature. I am sure there is some proper way.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
For hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
(“The Morning Poem” by Mary Oliver)
This poem struck me as fascinating. She connects the subject’s imagination to a winding trail with endless possibilities. All of her poems did this exact thing. Whether the subject is being related to wild geese or the earth it takes on the physical characteristics of nature.
Sylvia Platt takes on an entirely different approach to nature. Similar to Oliver her characters do become one with nature but in a very different way. They become nature in its darkest possible way.
I shall never get you put together entirely, Pieced, glued, and properly jointed.Mule-bray, pig-grunt and bawdy cacklesProceed from your great lips.It's worse than a barnyard.
She makes no attempt to beautify the image but keeps it very real and visual; leaving no true need for interpretation. It is what it is.
I crawl like an ant in mourningOver the weedy acres of your brow
When I think of contemporary poetry I think of Billy Collins. We live in a society that believes the best approach to things is to lay it all out on the line. With all of the “isms” there really isn’t time to beat around the bush concerning your thoughts and feelings. There is no reason to dabble in falsified beauty when reality can create the beauty for us. This is how I see contemporary poetry.
Of course there are the poets (surrealists) who do not give the answer up front. They in turn give you some obscure idea and let you create the image. Although Billy Collins is quite different from these poets they do take on a similar approach. They take the idea of nature and realistic events/people and tell their story in as close of a depiction as possible.
Contemporary poetry doesn’t seem to romanticize ideas. Maybe that is why our current society is so messed up. We have forgotten about love…
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints!---I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!---and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
(Elizabeth Barrett Browning)
And replaced it with Roy.
Roy could move a lot of sheep.
He moved them off the mountain
with his arms outstretched
at forty degree angles.
Roy never spoke.
He wore navy corduroys.
This annoyed some of the guys.
He walked like a foster child
stepping carefully
and sometime robotically.
The sheep respected this.
They kept their mouths shut
for once, and flowed down, down,
in a tight and docile band
over the uneven terrain,
because of Roy.
(Michael Earl Craig)
With this being said I personally think contemporary poetry is real. It can be touched and experienced-it is accessible. It can be heard and enjoyed. It is healing yet not sappy. It is obscure yet imaginative. It is our reality…the messed up junk of contemporary society.
Now looking at the poets for this week.
Mary Oliver, (I could not find the “Black Vietnam Vet”) represents her subject intertwined with nature. I am not quite sure how you discuss poetry with nature. I am sure there is some proper way.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
For hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
(“The Morning Poem” by Mary Oliver)
This poem struck me as fascinating. She connects the subject’s imagination to a winding trail with endless possibilities. All of her poems did this exact thing. Whether the subject is being related to wild geese or the earth it takes on the physical characteristics of nature.
Sylvia Platt takes on an entirely different approach to nature. Similar to Oliver her characters do become one with nature but in a very different way. They become nature in its darkest possible way.
I shall never get you put together entirely, Pieced, glued, and properly jointed.Mule-bray, pig-grunt and bawdy cacklesProceed from your great lips.It's worse than a barnyard.
She makes no attempt to beautify the image but keeps it very real and visual; leaving no true need for interpretation. It is what it is.
I crawl like an ant in mourningOver the weedy acres of your brow
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Everything is Clear...
This weekend as I was sitting with Emma outside she asked me "mama, why is it raining?" I went on to give her this lengthy explanation of scientific hoopla. Deep down I had no idea why it was raining when the sun was out and the sky was blue. Why does this happen? If anyone knows please tell me. Anyways, she was completely satisfied with my answer and went on with playing in the sand box. This is when it hit me...it is obvious that she did not understand what I was telling her but she was OK with that. She wasn't about to waste quality playing time trying to understand everything I had just told her. And the bottom line was she wasn't bothered. She had more important things to do. It is amazing what children can teach us.
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