Wednesday, November 19, 2008

"Rain" by Frances Horovitz

Rain

I stand under a leafless tree
more still, in this mouse-pattering
thrum of rain,
than cattle shifting in the field.
It is more dark than light.
A Chinese painter's brush of deepening grey
moves in a subtle tide.

The beasts are darker islands now.
Wet-stained and silvered by the rain
they suffer night,
marooned as still as stone or tree.
We sense each other's quiet.

Almost, death could come
inevitable, unstrange
as is this dusk and rain,
and I should be no more
myself, than raindrops
glimmering in last light
on black ash buds

or night beasts in a winter field. 

Thursday, June 19, 2008

You Tube Rose Cousins and Anne Heaton

I've browsed YouTube about three times in my life, today being one of those times. I stumbled upon Rose Cousin's cover of Slowly Falling as well as some other "bathroom shower videos," like the fabulous Where Your Scar Is, which she and the talented Anne Heaton did. I am so fascinated by these women and delighted to find real people making good music.
Very inspiring - I never know when I'm going to be inspired to be creative any more - not often. These performances have made me feel optimistic.

I also saw U2's video All I Want is You, which I've never seen before. It had all the elements that someone like me is drawn to. Excellent.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Every Other Weekend

My daughter climbs inside the car
with her "been away" persona

distant and matter-of-fact inflected.
I play it cool, heart fibrillating under

a breast that once bled and blistered: her sucking
broke the blood vessels under her fine, translucent cheeks.

My kisses--thrown off-course by a turned shoulder;
like a grave rubbing, her tiny spine imprints itself

on her nylon tank top. My finger plays the bumps.
She wiggles away as if to perch on the window's edge.

She watches the trees whiz by, clasping her daughterly loyalty
to the man who tired of my yelps as she fed.

Silence fills up the interior like water.
I fix my gaze on the rising crescent moon.


published in the 2006 Albion Review

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Jung Has Got It Going On



"Collective thinking and feeling and collective effort are far less of a strain than individual functioning and effort; hence there is always a great temptation to allow collective funcitoning to take the place of individual differentiation of personality...This disregard for individuality obviously means the suffocation of the single individual, as a consequence of which the element of differentiation is obliterated from the community."

- Jung

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Frank Bidart's Ironic Poem

Edith Piaf and a friend


The Soldier Who Guards The Frontier

On the surface of the earth
despite all effort I continued
the life I had led in its depths.

So when you said cuckoo
hello and my heart
leapt up imagine my surprise.

From the depths some mouth
drawn by your refusals of love
fastened on them and fattened.

It's 2004; now the creature
born of our union in 1983
attains maturity.

He guards the frontier.
As he guards the frontier he listens
all day to the records of Edith Piaf.

Heroic risk, Piaf sings. Love
is heroic risk, for what you are impelled
to risk but do not

kills you; as does, of course this voice
knows, risk. He is addicted
to the records of Edith Piaf.

He lives on the aroma, the intoxications
of what he has been spared.
He is grateful, he says, not to exist.


It is ironic that some are willing to risk their lives, but not their heart, because loving deeply is perceived as a greater risk than a bullet or a bomb. Yes, love has the potential to kill the spirit -- even the flesh, as I know well. Some hide from life in the most dangerous of physical pursuits i.e., combative front lines. Some view these as less risky than loving another deeply. I suppose were it not so, poetry might be less popular -- and Edith Piaf's voice. I think divorce made me more passionate about love; more optimistic, as the young can be, about life. Of course, I know that no matter what my environment would have been, I have no choice but to be flesh and blood - in the best sense.

Biological Surivival vs. Cultural Survival

In The Vanishing, Malcolm Gladwell's book review of "Collapse," by Jared Diamond, there are several sections which struck a cord in me:

"Why did the Norse choose not to eat fish? Because they weren't thinking about their biological survival. They were thinking about their cultural survival. Food taboos are one of the idiosyncrasies that define a community. Not eating fish served the same function as building lavish churches, and doggedly replicating the untenable agricultural practices of their land of origin. It was part of what it meant to be Norse, and if you are going to establish a community in a harsh and forbidding environment all those little idiosyncrasies which define and cement a culture are of paramount importance. "The Norse were undone by the same social glue that had enabled them to master Greenland's difficulties," Diamond writes. "The values to which people cling most stubbornly under inappropriate conditions are those values that were previously the source of their greatest triumphs over adversity." He goes on:

To us in our secular modern society, the predicament in which the Greenlanders found themselves is difficult to fathom. To them, however, concerned with their social survival as much as their biological survival, it was out of the question to invest less in churches , to imitate or intermarry with the Inuit, and thereby to face an eternity in Hell just in order to survive another winter on Earth.

Diamond's distinction between social and biological survival is a critical one, because too often we blur the two, or assume that biological survival is contingent on the strength of our civilizational values. That was the lesson taken from the two world wars and the nuclear age that followed: we would survive as a species only if we learned to get along and resolve our disputes peacefully. The fact is, though, that we can be law-abiding and peace-loving and tolerant and inventive and committed to freedom and true to our own values and still behave in ways that are biologically suicidal. The two kinds of survival are separate. "

Malcolm, according to Diamond, uses the example of the war in Rwanda. "The Hutu didn't just kill the Tutsi, he points out. The Hutu also killed other Hutu." Diamond attributes much of this to land erosion, deforestation leading to irregular rainfall, subsequent famine..."This was a society on the brink of ecological disaster, and if there is anything that is clear from the study of such societies it is that they inevitable descend into genocidal chaos."

"And when the archaeologists looked at the animal bones left in the debris, they found the bones of newborn calves, meaning that the Norse, in that final winter, had given up on the future. They found toe bones from cows, equal to the number of cow spaces in the barn, meaning that the Norse ate their cattle down to the hoofs, and they found bones of dogs covered with knife marks, meaning that, in the end, they had to eat their pets. But not fish bones, of course. Right up until they starved to death, the Norse never lost sight of what they stood for."

The New Yorker, January 3, 2005

So many current social and political systems come to mind after reading this. For one, human beings remain as stubborn as dust. We can easily transpose the Norse's sociocultural arrogance with the arrogance of today's suburbanite sprawl, social malice, beauty obsessed, phobia-ridden behaviors. Including the "red" half of the country, who deem it unpatriotic to acknowledge global warming, and the probability of their own biological extinction, preferring to blindly align themselves with a government which sends their children to war for oil, thus securing their great grand children's legacies -- or so the power's that be doggedly imagine.

Also, I can't help but feel a little like the Inuit, who the Norse called skraelings, "wretches," and whose practical wisdom and general humanity was treated with malicious hostility.

Are we so blinded by cultural survival that we are willing to be so cavalier as to pick and choose whom we are open to learning from and including -- to the detriment of our biological survival? I mean, what this implies is that, diversity, or lack thereof, will kill us all in the end; the marginal, such as myself, will be the first to go.

Any Colour You Like