Agave in the West
Donald Davie
…I think of Agave,
Queen of the maenads…
Come buy our architect-designed home in Mano Prieto in Far West Texas, just about midway between Marfa and Fort Davis.
280 + days of deep blue skies and glorious sunshine. Enjoy the cultural activities of Marfa plus the majestic scenery of the Davis Mountains year round.
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A Lizard in Spanish Valley
BY WENDY VIDELOCK
A lizard does not make a sound,
it has no song,
it does not share my love affairs
with flannel sheets,
bearded men,…
The lizards are out in my neighborhood—on footpaths, sidewalks and in the garage. I kind of like them—the way they scurry to and fro…
From Professor Wikipedia I have learned that “many lizards have highly acute color vision. Most lizards rely heavily on body language, using specific postures, gestures, and movements to define territory, resolve disputes, and entice mates.”
Now I watch my lizards more closely to see what they are up to. Mine are, of course, not so brightly defined as the Jackson’s chameleon. They are only little brown squamate reptiles yet they are no less charming.
But sitting here the afternoon,
I’ve come to believe
we do share a love affair
and a belief —
in wink, blink, stone,
#mylifeisabestiary
“Sophomores” by Meghan O’Rourke
From Halflife,
W.W. Norton & Company, 2007
It’s America, 1993, and the malls
are cool and clean. Don’t you know,
like me, no one gets out alive.
For my last “Poetry at the Post” this cycle, I decided—after 18 worldwide poets— to return home with a writer who has ties to this part of Texas.
I read O’Rourke’s Halftime several years ago and several of the poems touched me deeply. Yesterday afternoon, while dusting (so much endless dusting in the desert…) and rearranging books, I rediscovered Halflife. I flipped through it at random and settled on “Sophomores.”
As we know, a poet’s poem becomes something else in the hands of each reader. Shaped by personal experiences, we see things in them that perhaps were never meant to be.
Last fall, I spent a few months living in Medellin,Colombia in a high rise apartment within walking distance of an upscale mall. It was super: swank pool, tropical landscape and two large patios with views of the Andes and the city below. However, if I just wanted to step out for a walk and grab a bite to eat, pick up some milk, etc. I had to go to the mall.
The little I knew before hand about Medellin did not prepare me for the locals’ love of Malls. Everything is in the malls, including the supermarkets.
“Weren’t you scared in Colombia?” I’m often asked. Not necessarily but I was careful. However, I did have a fear that I would never “get out of the malls.”
Of course, O’Rourke’s poetry is so much more than malls and my musings on my past.
My favorite line from “Sophomores” is “I’m the princess with a hole in my heart.” I’ve felt like that before. Perhaps not a princess, but a woman with a “hole in her heart.”
I look forward to reading O’Rourke’s newest book The Long Goodbye, A Memoir.
“Five Matryoskas”by Gennady Aygi, as translated by Sarah Valentine
3
with an idea
You surround us
as with silk
When I was a child I had a set of Russian Matryoshka Dolls. I’m not sure who gave them to me, or whatever happened to them but I used to love playing with these wooden dolls, nesting and un-nesting them. Who knows? Perhaps these little dolls were the spark that guided me to major in Russian.
“Gennady Aygi (1934-2006) is widely considered to be one of the great avant-garde poets from the former Soviet Union.” The starkness of his poetry attracts me. In “Five Matryoshkas, a poem inspired by the birth of Aygi’s son, we begin in the center of the nest and move outward—in a series of five fragmentary moments. Each section is like each doll in itself—complete.
Here’s a video of Sarah Valentine reading a selection of Aygi’s poems:
Into The Snow, Selected Poems of Gennady Aygi, Translated by Sarah Valentine, Wave Books, 2011
And, an interview with Sarah Valentine by Tim Johnson on Marfa Public Radio:
http://marfapublicradio.org/blog/talk-at-ten/a-conversation-with-poet-and-translator-sarah-valentine/
Some great photos of the people of the Chuvash Republic:
“The Search” by Kwesi Brewe
The past
Is but the cinders
Of the present;
The future
The smoke
That escaped
Into the cloud-bound sky.
Ghanaian poet, Kwesi Brewe (1928 – 2007), was a poet-diplomat in the tradition of a long line of poets from Chaucer to Octavio Paz.
“The Search” suggests for me life’s journey on the pathway for truth and wisdom. I find interest in this intersection of philosophy and religion, the East and the West:
When wise men become silent,
It is because they have read
The palms of Christ
In the face of Buddha.
Yes, there is “rain” in this poem. It’s as if my subconscious is witching for water. It is hot and dry in the West Texas desert. We await the rain.
http://www.poetryfoundationghana.org/index.php/en/miscellanous-poems/item/265-the-search
Here’s some Sunday inspiration: “Fefeefe” by Gifty Osei
Today’s post is dedicated to my friends who will be teaching in Ghana next year.
“Thus Bare Shoulder’d” by Gülseli İnal, as translated by Sebnem Susam
Pale and forgetful I was
returning from the lands of rain on my wings raindrops…
which had fought with Zephyr
Yes, I am dreaming about rain in the hot desert and in this poem I found myself in the middle of a myth, a dream, the fairies. I could sense the wind—from the west, the raindrops. I felt the magic, the story.
…be it yours
these crystal fingers thus bare shoulder’d be it yours this this rose-
leaved temple.
You can read the poem here: http://www.turkishpoetry.net/gulseliinal.htm
#instanbul2014thiswillbegrand
“On weakened legs I walked around the town the whole day. I took photographs” by Katerina Iliopoulou, as translated by John O’Kane
Photo courtesy of Simm 1CC BY-SA 3.0
The Hungarian photographer André Kertész with his walking (during thirty years) wore out the network of streets of at least three cities. Eighty-five now, confined (by grief) to his apartment…
Katerina Iliopoulou is a poet, artist and translator, who lives and works in Athens.
What I like this poem is the convergence of so many places that have personal meaning. The stream of images leading to an unexpected ending is quite wonderful too.
In Paris he photographed himself double closing his eyes and a crumpled half-opened white door reflecting in the mirror.
You can read more about Iliopoulou and the entire poem here: http://iliopoulou.wordpress.com/bio/
Poetry at the Post, Day 14: Bulgaria Anyone? да, Bulgaria!
“Noah, The Carrier” by Kristin Dimitrova, as translated by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer
To Gilgamesh*, however, he’d spoken like this:
I freed a pigeon, but it returned.
I freed a swallow—same thing.
I was going to head next to Greece at The Post but decided to stop in Bulgaria along the way. Today’s poem is by Kristin Dimitrova, a Bulgarian poet whose work appears in the 2014 Anthology of Contemporary Bulgarian Poetry The Season of Delicate Hunger, edited by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer .
Lake Pancharevo in southern Sofia
I like this poem because thematically it explores myth & legend and truth. We all have those friends who only tell you what you want to hear and then again, many times folks only hear what they want to hear. How much of religion or history is truth? As, we know, history is always written from the viewpoint of the victor, or dominant culture.
There is no way
Truth does not make a good legend
Yet legend is truth’s only carrier.
In an interview Dimitrova says, “I’d like American readers to know that Bulgarian poetry exists.” I must admit I know little about Bulgaria, well, okay, almost nothing.
You can read more about Dimitrova as well as the entire poem “Noah, the Carrier” here. There’s a fun twist at the end.
http://accents-publishing.com/blog/2013/12/10/meet-a-bulgarian-poet-kristin-dimitrova
#spaldingmfa
*The Gilgamesh is one of my favorite epics and we’ll be reading it in the Global Reading Group, a virtual literary salon.
Ingeborg Bachmann stirbt in Rom/Ingeborg Bachmann Dies in Rome BY BARBARA KÖHLER, as TRANSLATED BY ANDREW SHIELDS
And the borders of the German language
are mined with murderous accidents.
I began reading Barbara Köhler yesterday and I was completely taken in by her work. A contemporary poet born in the former East Germany, she creates new ways of exploring cultural cues in language. She’s precise but also ambiguous. Anyone who has studied a foreign language and lived an expat life understands this ambiguity.. you think you know but do you really?
Sometimes it feels like “breath and smoke.”
The full “Ingeborg Brachmann Dies in Rome” can be found here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/29583
Ingeborg Bachmann was an Austrian poet and writer who also explored the potential of language. A member of the post-WW II literary group, Group 47, Bachmann moved to Rome in 1953. She died in 1973 at the age of 47 following a fire in her apartment in Rome. According to the police, the fire was due to a burning cigarette.
But back to Barbara Kohler. While Kohler was an artist-in-residence”with Cornell’s Institute for German Cultural Studies, she presented the IGCS Cornell Lecture on Contemporary Aesthetics April 16, 2013. “Some Possibilities For Sailing In A Friendship: Und Weitere Weitere MöglichkeitenBarbara” is a multi media presentation that is unlike anything I have ever experienced before. “The performance pivots on what this prize-winning author cultivates poetically as ‘precision in ambiguity.'”
http://www.cornell.edu/video/german-poet-barbara-kohler-gives-contemporary-aesthetics-lecture
Now if I could just get a copy of her book of poetry Niemands Frau Gesange , or Nobody’s Wife Cantos, a retelling of The Odyssey. This is a must-read for any epic junkie like me—or at least so I’ve heard.
“Yes, I live inside the piano” by Katerina Rudcenkova, as translated by Alexandra Büchler
Continuing my travels to the Czech Republic, I found the young Czech poet, playwright and photographer, Katerina Rudcenkova. What I’ve read of her work so far, I really like. It is fresh, yet powerful.
“Yes, I live inside the piano” is a short—3-line poem. For a quick poetry fix, you can read it here. It is fun with a twist at the end.
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/246336
If you want to know more, you can listen to this interview with Rudcenkova on Radio Czech.
http://www.radio.cz/en/section/books/visitors-invisible-through-treetops-the-poetry-of-katerina-rudcenkova
Nowhere
Covered by purple leaves
I’ll leave my roots under water…
http://www.npcs.cz/en
I am looking forward to visiting the Czech Republic. How great that its first president Vaclav Havel was a poet!
In googling everything Czech this morning, I discovered Czech Switzerland—a National Park in northwestern Czech Republic. A fairly new National Park, it looks like a good place to visit.
#spaldingmfaprague2014
Alice-Catherine 