“Aubade” by Philip Larkin “He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven” by William Butler Yeats Read more →
EppsNet Archive: Poetry
Coursera Recommendations
Coursera‘s been around long enough now that some classes are being offered for a second time, including a couple that I’ve taken and recommend: Modern & Contemporary American Poetry, taught by Al Filreis at Penn Social Network Analysis, taught by Lada Adamic at the University of Michigan Read more →
Poems I’ve Read Recently and Liked
“Fisherman” by Kurt Brown “George Gray” by Edgar Lee Masters “The Panther” by Rainer Maria Rilke Read more →
Language Poetry and Aleatory Poetry
The last couple of weeks in ModPo, we’ve been reading “Language Poetry” and aleatory poetry, including the work of Ron Silliman, Lyn Hejinian, Bob Perelman, Charles Bernstein, Jackson Mac Low, Jena Osman and Joan Retallack. I have to admit it all seemed lazy to me. The reader has to do all the work. (See below for a differing opinion.) I didn’t like any of the poems enough to share one, so here instead are the lyrics to Randy Newman‘s “Marie”: You looked like a princess the night we met With your hair piled up high I will never forget I’m drunk right now baby But I’ve got to be Or I never could tell you What you meant to me I loved you the first time I saw you And I always will love you Marie I loved you the first time I saw you And I always will love… Read more →
Aside
Favorite Poem of the Week
My favorite poem of the week — again from Modern & Contemporary American Poetry — was “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” by Bernadette Mayer, especially the final image of the stressed-out new mother reading The Wild Boy of Aveyron, about a feral child raised by wolves. Read more →
Poems I’ve Read Recently and Liked
I’ve been reading a lot of poetry as part of the Modern & Contemporary American Poetry class on Coursera. One of the things I like about the class is that the video lessons are done a little differently than other Coursera classes I’ve taken. Rather than recorded lectures, the videos consist of the instructor, Al Filreis, leading a small group of Penn students in close readings of selected poems. Anyway, here are a few of my favorites so far: I dwell in Possibility by Emily Dickinson Tell all the Truth but tell it slant by Emily Dickinson The Brain within its Groove by Emily Dickinson Danse Russe by William Carlos Williams This Is Just To Say by Willim Carlos Williams A Supermarket in California by Allen Ginsburg Lines for an Abortionist’s Office by Ruth Lechlitner Incident by Countee Cullen These next two, both by Richard Wilbur, I want to single out as being particularly… Read more →
I Have Heard What the Talkers Were Talking
I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end. There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now. — Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself” Read more →
Poetry Slam: Whitman vs Dickinson
Emily Dickinson was good but Walt Whitman would have kicked her ass in a poetry slam. Read more →
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. / I learn by going where I have to go. — Theodore Roethke
Thoroughly Smug and Thoroughly Uncomfortable
O generation of the thoroughly smug and thoroughly uncomfortable, I have seen fishermen picnicking in the sun, I have seen them with untidy families, I have seen their smiles full of teeth and heard ungainly laughter. And I am happier than you are, And they were happier than I am; And the fish swim in the lake and do not even own clothing. — Ezra Pound, “Salutation” Read more →
Reading Emily Dickinson
I’ll read one [Emily Dickinson] poem every few months — and if it’s one of those baffling ones, that’s all it takes to humble me into putting reason back in the tool box, and sitting still until a more appropriate tool presents itself. — Bonnie Nadzam Read more →
My Favorite Poem
Five little monkeys jumping on the bed. One fell off and bumped his head. Mama called the Doctor and the Doctor said, “No more monkeys jumping on the bed!” Read more →
Because You Asked about the Line between Prose and Poetry
Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle That while you watched turned into pieces of snow Riding a gradient invisible From silver aslant to random, white, and slow. There came a moment that you couldn’t tell. And then they clearly flew instead of fell. — Howard Nemerov Read more →
An Old Man
At the noisy end of the café, head bent over the table, an old man sits alone, a newspaper in front of him. And in the miserable banality of old age he thinks how little he enjoyed the years when he had strength, eloquence, and looks. He knows he’s aged a lot: he sees it, feels it. Yet it seems he was young just yesterday. So brief an interval, so very brief. And he thinks of Prudence, how it fooled him, how he always believed—what madness— that cheat who said: “Tomorrow. You have plenty of time.” He remembers impulses bridled, the joy he sacrificed. Every chance he lost now mocks his senseless caution. But so much thinking, so much remembering makes the old man dizzy. He falls asleep, his head resting on the café table. — C.P. Cavafy, “An Old Man” Read more →
Aimilianos Monai, Alexandrian, A.D. 628-655
Out of talk, appearance, and manners I will make an excellent suit of armor; and in this way I will face malicious people without feeling the slightest fear or weakness. They will try to injure me. But of those who come near me none will know where to find my wounds, my vulnerable places, under the deceptions that will cover me. So boasted Aimilianos Monai. One wonders if he ever made that suit of armor. In any case, he did not wear it long. At the age of twenty-seven, he died in Sicily. — C.P. Cavafy, “Aimilianos Monai, Alexandrian, A.D. 628-655” Read more →
Aside
He in his madness prays for storms
And dreams that storms will bring him peace.
Epilogue
The floods, the flames, the questions– till the ashes tell you one day: “Life is the building of bridges over rivers that seep away.” — Gottfried Benn, “Epilogue” Read more →
East Coker
Shall I say it again? In order to arrive there, To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not, You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy. In order to arrive at what you do not know You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance. In order to possess what you do not possess You must go by the way of dispossession. In order to arrive at what you are not You must go through the way in which you are not. And what you do not know is the only thing you know And what you own is what you do not own And where you are is where you are not. — T.S. Eliot, “East Coker” Read more →
We Who Are Your Closest Friends
We who are your closest friends feel the time has come to tell you that every Thursday we have been meeting, as a group, to devise ways to keep you in perpetual uncertainty frustration discontent and torture by neither loving you as much as you want nor cutting you adrift. Your analyst is in on it, plus your boyfriend and your ex-husband; and we have pledged to disappoint you as long as you need us. In announcing our association we realize we have placed in your hands a possible antidote against uncertainty indeed against ourselves. But since our Thursday nights have brought us to a community of purpose rare in itself with you as the natural center, we feel hopeful you will continue to make unreasonable demands for affection if not as a consequence of your disastrous personality then for the good of the collective. — Phillip Lopate Read more →