Past-Oral Poetry
There have been sudden winds and rain this past week.
This morning it came out of the gray.
I was driving to drop off a John Berger book that Beth needed for one of her classes, and as I turned into the driveway to her apartment, I saw something oft-noted poetically but that I have never personally seen:
Five fat robins bathing in a small puddle. Five fat robins, up to the crest in rainwater. They looked like big-guy kingpins wheelin' and dealin' in a hot tub.
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The west wall of the Sanctuary collapsed this past week during a storm. Thankfully, it was non-supporting, and no one was hurt. Spent Saturday helping clear rubble inside and outside. Joe also helped yesterday, readying for construction of the new wall. I am voting for a picture window with some sewn-in memory of the ruin. Traditional gothic, no?
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I have got 2 of 3 new Cole Swensen books now and an readying to write. I balked a bit at "Try" since it is purely ekphrastic, being intense associative readings of paintings, almost as if she were in them. I half-admit, though, I have tired somewhat of poetry that refers obsessively to high art. At least Swensen usually manages to tie the work to material culture. And at least ALL of her books don't turn so doggedly to that approach.
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Tomorrow night, I host my first Poets' Cafe at the library. I am excited. I intend to make it a resource group for local poets: help with editing, publishing, reading, organizing book structure, researching contests, etc. My big dream is to move us towards finding ways to voice ourselves publically, locally; I want to get us a slot on the library radio station, a regular show of local poets reading their stuff.
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Gimme more and more gray days to lay in ... .
This morning it came out of the gray.
I was driving to drop off a John Berger book that Beth needed for one of her classes, and as I turned into the driveway to her apartment, I saw something oft-noted poetically but that I have never personally seen:
Five fat robins bathing in a small puddle. Five fat robins, up to the crest in rainwater. They looked like big-guy kingpins wheelin' and dealin' in a hot tub.
*
The west wall of the Sanctuary collapsed this past week during a storm. Thankfully, it was non-supporting, and no one was hurt. Spent Saturday helping clear rubble inside and outside. Joe also helped yesterday, readying for construction of the new wall. I am voting for a picture window with some sewn-in memory of the ruin. Traditional gothic, no?
*
I have got 2 of 3 new Cole Swensen books now and an readying to write. I balked a bit at "Try" since it is purely ekphrastic, being intense associative readings of paintings, almost as if she were in them. I half-admit, though, I have tired somewhat of poetry that refers obsessively to high art. At least Swensen usually manages to tie the work to material culture. And at least ALL of her books don't turn so doggedly to that approach.
*
Tomorrow night, I host my first Poets' Cafe at the library. I am excited. I intend to make it a resource group for local poets: help with editing, publishing, reading, organizing book structure, researching contests, etc. My big dream is to move us towards finding ways to voice ourselves publically, locally; I want to get us a slot on the library radio station, a regular show of local poets reading their stuff.
*
Gimme more and more gray days to lay in ... .