which you say
that rug out
the online process of Matt Slaybaugh
which you say
that rug out
When the rest of you
Were being children
I became a monk
To my own listing
– Frank Stanford
This book is righteous.
It’s been a rough couple of months for readers of poetry, my friends. Today we lost Adrienne Rich, last month, Wislawa Szymborska died at the age of 88.
Here’s one of my favorites from each of these amazing women. Do yourself a favor, take a few moments, get inspired. Maybe read these to someone you love.
by Adrienne Rich, from Twenty-One Love Poems…
The rules break like a thermometer,
quicksilver spills across the charted systems,
we’re out in a country that has no language
no laws, we’re chasing the raven and the wren
through gorges unexplored since dawn
whatever we do together is pure invention
the maps they gave us were out of date
by years… we’re driving through the desert
wondering if the water will hold out
the hallucinations turn to simple villages
the music on the radio comes clear—
neither Rosenkavalier nor Götterdämmerung
but a woman’s voice singing old songs
with new words, with a quiet bass, a flute
plucked and fingered by women outside the law.
Possibilities by Wislawa Szymborska
I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the river.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
I prefer myself liking people
to myself loving mankind.
I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case.
I prefer the color green.
I prefer not to maintain
that reason is to blame for everything.
I prefer exceptions.
I prefer to leave early.
I prefer talking to doctors about something else.
I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I prefer, where love’s concerned, nonspecific anniversaries
that can be celebrated every day.
I prefer moralists
who promise me nothing.
I prefer cunning kindness to the over-trustful kind.
I prefer the earth in civvies.
I prefer conquered to conquering countries.
I prefer having some reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
I prefer Grimms’ fairy tales to the newspapers’ front pages.
I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.
I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.
I prefer desk drawers.
I prefer many things that I haven’t mentioned here
to many things I’ve also left unsaid.
I prefer zeroes on the loose
to those lined up behind a cipher.
I prefer the time of insects to the time of stars.
I prefer to knock on wood.
I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.
I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility
that existence has its own reason for being.
[box_red]”They want me to give up this poetry life, but I don’t know another way to pray.”[/box_red]
I saw Barb’s performance at TEDxColumbus this year. There are two pieces and the second, starting at 2:30, shook me to my soul. I remember throwing my hat on the ground and shouting “DAMN” when she was done. People around me must have thought I was crazy.”
On the way to see Radiohead and Grizzly Bear.
April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
In other news, we saw The Whiles last night. Their new album is great, here’s a sample.
“32 Statements About Writing Poetry”
by Marvin Bell
1. Every poet is an experimentalist.
2. Learning to write is a simple process: read something, then write something; read something else, then write something else. And show in your writing what you have read.
The list continues if you read on.
Thanks, Mssr. B., for a wonderful hour or so this morning.
Oh my god, this is my favorite. I didn’t originally find this in the internet, I watched it on DVD. But I’m so glad it’s on YouTube now!