4.30.2015
cultural essence
Some say fewer people are reading poetry these days. I think of us who do as the perfect distillate in a culture that requires much evaporation.
Labels:
audience,
culture,
distillate,
evaporation,
readers
4.29.2015
4.28.2015
secondary source
They often quoted his ars poetica but could hardly recall his poems. [Thinking of Archibald MacLeish]
Labels:
archibald macleish,
ars poetica,
body of work,
quote,
recall
4.27.2015
list resisted
After about 5 items into a list it’s no longer a poetic device, it’s a poet’s tic.
Labels:
list,
litany,
poetic device,
tic
4.26.2015
moment of performance
I used to be an opera singer and have, therefore, experienced what it means to have to do your very best at one specific moment. That’s what performers have to do; one of the pleasures of being a poet is that poets don’t. A couple of my poems about performance are included in this book (“The Later Mother,” about a daughter and her dying mother, is the other and might be labelled with the phrase, “in the performance of her duties.”), but I have many more—about tightrope walkers, a man who walks through fire, an orchestra conductor, etc. Performance, I believe, is a metaphor for those moments we all face when we make crucial decisions quickly, using all the abilities we possess, perhaps even summoning some we didn’t know, until that moment of necessity, we had. In that moment our capacities are heightened, as in each successful poem our perceptions are heightened so that we can recognize and delight in something which previously had been just beyond our grasp.
—Cynthia Macdonald, Poetspeak: in their work, about their work (Bradbury Press, 1983), a selection by Paul Janeczko.
—Cynthia Macdonald, Poetspeak: in their work, about their work (Bradbury Press, 1983), a selection by Paul Janeczko.
Labels:
capacities,
cynthia macdonald,
decisions,
moment,
perception,
performance
4.25.2015
these words
And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. And he said unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful.
Revelation 21:5, King James Version
Revelation 21:5, King James Version
4.24.2015
venn diagram
The universal set of poetry now encompasses any kind of text. Therefore each reader is required to draw the circle of his/her own subset.
Labels:
set,
text,
universal,
venn diagram
4.23.2015
conversion experience
The day the minister mistook the collected Dickinson for his Bible.
Labels:
belief,
bible,
collected,
emily dickinson
4.22.2015
4.21.2015
hush money
Poets who never made much money until they were offered money not to write so much.
Labels:
lives of the poets,
money,
silence
4.20.2015
4.19.2015
what have you done
James Joyce is supposed to have said that certain of Verlaine’s poems, among them the short best-loved ones, were the greatest poems ever written. The haunting sensitivity and disarming simplicity of Il pleut dans mon coeur, La lune blanche, Chason d’automne, Colloque sentimental, Le ceil est par-dessus le toit, etc., are to me unequaled.
I have before me two photos of Verlaine at the Café Francois 1er. From one I have done several drawings and paintings. In that photo Verlaine is leaning back with his head against the edge of the top of the bench on which he is sitting. He is staring upward into space, dreaming. No one else is visible in the café. He looks relaxed, not wanting for anything. Whatever was going to happen has happened.
* "What have you done, you, weeping there
Your endless tears?
Tell me, what have you done, you there,
With youth’s best years?"
—Paul Verlaine, “Above the roof the sky is fair…” translated by Norman R. Shapiro, One Hundred and One Poems by Paul Verlaine (U. of Chicago Press, 1999).
I have before me two photos of Verlaine at the Café Francois 1er. From one I have done several drawings and paintings. In that photo Verlaine is leaning back with his head against the edge of the top of the bench on which he is sitting. He is staring upward into space, dreaming. No one else is visible in the café. He looks relaxed, not wanting for anything. Whatever was going to happen has happened.
Qu’a-tu fait ô toi que voilà
Pleurant sans cesse
Dis, qu’as-tu fait, toi que voilà,
De ta jeunesse?*
* "What have you done, you, weeping there
Your endless tears?
Tell me, what have you done, you there,
With youth’s best years?"
—Paul Verlaine, “Above the roof the sky is fair…” translated by Norman R. Shapiro, One Hundred and One Poems by Paul Verlaine (U. of Chicago Press, 1999).
Labels:
age,
café,
french poetry,
james joyce,
painting,
paul verlaine,
photograph,
robert de niro,
sensitivity,
simplicity,
time,
youth
4.16.2015
4.15.2015
passing strange
The attraction of the poem was that it could not be immediately recognized as such.
Labels:
category error,
poem is,
recognition,
unusual
4.13.2015
speed writing
Often we recognize poetry by its language speed.
Labels:
concision,
language of poetry,
pace,
poetry is,
speed
4.05.2015
tight titles
Too many titles are tight-lipped, offering but a word or two.
Labels:
laconic,
terse,
tight-lipped,
title
4.04.2015
worth breath
Say something worth breath.
—Yusef Komunyakaa, from “Safe Subjects,” Copacetic (Wesleyan U. Press, 1984)
==
I love the raw lyricism of the blues. Its mystery and conciseness. I admire and cherish how the blues singer attempts to avoid abstraction; he makes me remember that balance and rhythm keep our lives almost whole. The essence of mood is also important here. Mood becomes a directive; it becomes the bridge that connects us to who we are philosophically and poetically. Emotional texture is drawn from the aesthetics of insinuation and nuance. But to do this well the poet must have a sense of history
—Yusef Komunyakaa, from “Forces that Move the Spirit: Duende and Blues,” commentary accompanying the poem “Safe Subjects,” in What Will Suffice: Contemporary Poets on the Art of Poetry (Gibbs-Smith, 1999), edited by Christopher Buckley and Christopher Merrill.
—Yusef Komunyakaa, from “Safe Subjects,” Copacetic (Wesleyan U. Press, 1984)
==
I love the raw lyricism of the blues. Its mystery and conciseness. I admire and cherish how the blues singer attempts to avoid abstraction; he makes me remember that balance and rhythm keep our lives almost whole. The essence of mood is also important here. Mood becomes a directive; it becomes the bridge that connects us to who we are philosophically and poetically. Emotional texture is drawn from the aesthetics of insinuation and nuance. But to do this well the poet must have a sense of history
—Yusef Komunyakaa, from “Forces that Move the Spirit: Duende and Blues,” commentary accompanying the poem “Safe Subjects,” in What Will Suffice: Contemporary Poets on the Art of Poetry (Gibbs-Smith, 1999), edited by Christopher Buckley and Christopher Merrill.
4.02.2015
poems from the prehistoric
Now when I watch old footage of poets using typewriters I feel like I’m seeing poems made with stone tools.
4.01.2015
no hardcopy
To think of a digital Dickinson, her poems locked away in some scrapped hard drive.
Labels:
computer age,
digital,
discovery,
emily dickinson,
hard drive,
lost
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