Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ category

National Poetry Month – Day 10 (?!) – “Into Porter”

April 10, 2011

 

It seems impossibly soon to be April 10th.  It is still cold here in Manhattan!   (I am wearing silk long  johns and a wool sweater as I write.)

On the other hand, the beginning of National Poetry Month seems very far away.

I have to confess that I spent all day working on a separate graphic design project, which is something I’m not very good at.   My slowness depressed me enough that a great deal of dancing was required afterwards.  Not Fred Astaire this time, but pure Cole Porter:

 

Into Porter

The trick of Cole Porter,
other than the high order
of wit, is the double rhyme.
Yes, he writes of bubble time–
champagne and effervescence,
an age’s evanescence–
which he crams into a lexicon
where every single word’s spot on.
(It’s huge!  It holds the steppes of Russia
and the pants of a Roxy usher;
Mahatma Gandhi, Mickey Mouse–
all take hands in Porter’s house.)
But, to me, that word cabal’s so cunning,
the terribly banal’s so stunning,
because of the double-barreled rhymes
that punctuate all Porter’s lines.
Alack a day, what can I say,
he’s still the top of all Broadway.

As always, all rights reserved and suggestions welcomed.

 

 

National Poetry Month – Day 6 – “If I could be”

April 6, 2011

Another day of National Poetry Month, another draft poem!  I have to say that when I wrote this one I was not (for a change) thinking of any kind of digital device.

If I could be

If I could be myself,
I would stand up straight as a stalk,
my arms flowing
from my breastbone like
the wings of a heron
sweeping the sky.

I would dance across
sanded planks, mornings, eating
blackberry jam,
flavoring the lips you’d kiss
with blackberries.

Afternoons, I’d write
novels, which would be
great the very first draft.
When their movies were made, I’d
play cameos; the directors
would get everything else
right too.

None of my loved ones, nor
their loved ones,
would ever grow ill, and when time
presented its bill,
I (who was myself) would still
stand straight as a stalk, my arms
flowing from my breastbone,
my lips tasting
of you
and blackberries.

All rights reserved.

P.S. if you are interested in blackberries (not digital) and poetry, check out my book of poetry “Going on Somewhere” on Amazon.

Day 2 of National Poetry Month

April 2, 2011

Father with child and important package

Draft poem of the day.

Overheard in NYC

Man, breaking from snatches
of Hebrew song, to daughter
in arms (and pink),
“Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ve got
the ukelele.”

(All rights reserved.)

Blogging – what is to be done?

March 30, 2011

“Scribbling Women” – Marthe Jocelyn – Tales of Extraordinary Women Before the Age of the Blog

March 28, 2011

“Don’t know much about history,” sings Sam Cooke at the beginning of his 1959 song, “Wonderful World.”

My admirable friend and Canadian author, Marthe Jocelyn, in contrast, knows quite a lot about history, and, in her new book “Scribbling WomenTrue Tales From Astonishing Lives, does her best to  impart its wonders.

“Scribbling Women,” published by Tundra Books, outlines the lives of eleven extremely different yet remarkable women, each of whom set pen to paper (or fingers to typewriter) in ways that literally made history–their lives defying the boundaries of their circumstances, their writings serving as actual historical records of their times.  In this series of  short and insightful biographies, Jocelyn includes hefty, but digestible, chunks of these records–that is, the actual writing of each of her subjects–allowing readers to savor each woman’s unique voice.

The “scribbles”–ranging fromThe Pillow Book of Sei Shonagan, written in Imperial Japan, to Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management, a 1112 page tome by Isabella Beeton of Victorian England, to the diary of Ada Blackjack, written on Wrangel Island, in the Eastern Cape of Siberia, in 1923–cover a vast range of time, geography, and style. Some of the texts were originally intended for publication, others, such as the diary of South Vietnamese physician, Dr. Dong Thuy Tram, seem to have been written simply to relieve an overburdened heart.  To accommodate this range, Jocelyn deftly provides a context for each tale, inserting brief and friendly asides that explain important bits of political and social history, and also past cultural norms and vocabulary.  In an age in which some would opt to bowdlerize Mark Twain rather than deal with historic complexity, her matter-of-fact approach to difficult and outmoded tags is incredibly refreshing.

Jocelyn writes primarily for the young adult reader, but the book is great for anyone  interested in writing, women and writing women.   Despite their “astonishing lives”, many of these women have received little popular attention (at least I hadn’t heard much of them):  there is Margaret Catchpole, transported from England to New South Wales for horsestealing and prison escape; her letters now provide one of the few written records of early colony life; Harriet Ann Jacobs, author of Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, who spent seven years living in an attic cupboard at the edge of her master’s plantation; Nelly Bly, American jounalist, who, with (dare I say it?) crazy bravura, arranged a confinement an 1880‘s women’s insane asylum in order to get the inside story.  (Nelly’s findings were reported in two articles in Joseph Pultizer’s The World, and later in the book, Ten Days in a Madhouse.)

Some of the women are more directly involved with the act of writing than others.  (Sei Shonagon, for example, worries terribly about coming up with quick poetic responses.)  The life of each, however, is fundamentally marked by her womanhood, in terms of both the dangers that threaten her and the opportunities that may avail.  The particularly feminine suffering of some of the women, such as slave Harriet Jacobs, and aborigine Doris Pilkington Garimara, is sobering.  But Scribbling Women offers lighter moments too, as when Mary Kingsley, English adventurer of the mid-19th century, writes of walking through West Africa:

“…the next news was I was in a heap, on a lot of spikes, some fifteen feet or so below ground level, at the bottom of a bag-shaped game pit.  It is at these times you realize the blessing of a good thick skirt.  Had I paid heed to the advice of many people in England…and adopted masculine garments, I should have been spiked to the bone and done for.  Whereas, save for a good many bruises, here I was with the fullness of my skirt tucked under me, sitting on nine ebony spikes some twelve inches long, in comparative comfort, howling lustily to be hauled out.”  From Mary Kingsley, author of Travels in West Africa, as quoted by Marthe Jocelyn, a scribbling woman.

Get your copy today!

Mary Kingsley, 1862-1900

(For more about Scribbling Women, Martha Jocelyn, the blog tour for Scribbling Women, and Tundra Books, check out Tundra’s website and Marthe’s website. )

Ongoing Nuclear Disaster Draws Fear (Japan)

March 17, 2011

Fear Continues To Spread.

Workers at Fukushima.

March 16, 2011

Heart, thoughts, prayers, go out tonight to the brave and selfless workers at the Fukushima nuclear power plant.

Dear Japan

March 11, 2011

Thinking of you.

Dancing in the Dark (Pink Elephants)

March 10, 2011

Followers of this blog may notice that I’ve descended into the world of elephants and iPhone art over the last few months.  (Those who disagree with my views on art and politics may consider this an ascension.)

I genuinely like elephants!  (I’m guessing you’ve noticed.)

I’m also having a hard time writing blogs lately.  Part of the problem is that the news feels almost as grim to me as the weather.  The outbreaks of protest and democracy in the Middle East are pretty amazing, but there still seems to be a pall over much of the world, or, over this country at least–bifurcated clouds of threat and slog.

Of course, there’s always poetry!  Fiction!  Important loves (besides elephants.)  However, in the face of a world of publishing which seems increasingly fragmented –divided between an impossibly crowded field of micro-sellers and a few celebrity blockbusters–even these have, for the moment, lost some of their glint/promise/appeal.

I tell myself: change happens!  Transitions are messy!   Dispiriting confusion is part of the mix!

Yes.

And too, there are elephants.

Which, when they are not stampeding, have a certain timeless sweetness.

In my book;  on my iPhone screen; dancing, pinkly, through a (temporarily, I hope) darkened mind.

(PS – the elephant book is 1 Mississippi; the poetry is Going On Somewhere. Both are available on Amazon.  Check them out!)

Unexpected Harbingers of Spring

March 8, 2011

Not exactly Robin's egg.

 

Many wonders–as in bare sidewalks, sun, snowdrops(!)–now to be seen in Battery Park City, NYC.