Archive for the ‘poetry’ Tag

RE: Itō Jetnil-Kijiner Niviana Pato

A lot of poetry stories get conveyed down my newsfeed. Here’re three of special http _upload.wikimedia.org_wikipedia_commons_thumb_1_12_Plato-4.png_200px-Plato-4significance from this week.

First is a short film of Hiromi Itō reading her poem “The Moon”. Itō is (in)famous in Japan, often credited with opening the space for a frank, fresh, new women’s writing. I discovered her in Rothenberg’s and Joris’ Poems for the Millenium, then her Killing Kanoko, a selection of poems translated by Jeffrey Angles, whose title poem recounts the common but no less hair-raising homicidal resentment mothers feel for their newborns. I still owe Action Books a review of her Wild Grass of the Riverbank—watch for it here….

Next is a short article by Bill McKibben concerning the poets Kathy Jetnil-Kijiner and Aka Niviana, two young women, one from the Marshall Islands, the other from Greenland, who grapple with the realities of climate change poetically, a topic often ventured here. I already knew of Jetnil-Kijiner:  I teach her poem “Dear Matafele Peinam” every year to my introductory English students.

Finally is an interview with a poet not too well known in Anglophone poetry circles (or so it seems to me), Chus Pato, arguably one of the most important poets writing in Galician.

 

A Minor Festschrift for Michael Heller

michael hellerIn Montreal, Concordia University’s Liberal Arts College sponsors an annual lecture. One year, it was Helen Vendler; another, a reading by Allen Ginsberg; and, once, poet Michael Heller, who riffed off Walter Benjamin’s reading of Paul Klee’s painting “Angelus Novus” (see the ninth of Benjamin’s Theses on the Philosophy of History), to develop what he termed a “phantomology.” The details of his argument are immaterial here, but, what’s to the point, of all the lectures I’d heard at this yearly event, his was the only one I hung on every word.

It’s been my luck to remain acquainted with the man and his poetry and criticism since, work that connects the present to the Objectivist tradition in poetry and poetics, especially Heller’s friend and mentor, George Oppen, and that develops an independent vision and practice of its own.

It’s therefore a great pleasure to see Heller’s work appreciated in a manner of micro-Festschrift at Jacket2, that features new poetic and critical work by Heller and himself along with a collection of appreciations. Read it all, here.

Ontario Election Results 2018 in real time

As the results of yesterday’s Ontario election came in and it became clear Doug Ford’s https _www.insauga.com_sites_default_files_imagecache_lead-image-full_article_2017_12_header_photo_0Progressive Conservative party had won a majority, I recorded the reactions of my friends and collated them as they appeared, in the poem (or text) below. Readers can draw their own inferences about the politics of my social circle!

 

Ontario Election Results 2018

 

This is the worst possible timeline

…This will be much worse then (sic) we even know.

Go fuck yourself, Ontario.

Well, I’ve been voting for governments in provincial and federal elections since 1993, and my 100% failure rate is still going strong. Grotesque, Ontario

Maybe compulsory voting and proportional representation?

Based on the predictions that are coming in, all I can say is FUUUUCCCKKKK!!

Wow… Feeling a lot of stunned for my pals in Ontario.

Nice work Ontario, you ding dongs.

That was dumb.

Congratulations Ontario!

… Best case scenario: NDP gets a 15 year mandate to fix things after Ford enacts another Mike Harris-style sack of the province. Some of us may even live to see it.

…Damn… just damn…

(a) Work on Myth

Dispatches from the Poetry Wars has shared a lively back and forth between, mainly, 800px-thumbnailBarrett Watten and Nathaniel Mackey, which, in turn, inspired some lively on-line discussion that turned, in part, around ‘myth’. Interested parties are encouraged to investigate the Dispatches site further for much related matter.

Before I sit down to work through Hans Blumenberg’s Work on Myth, I append the short poem below from Ladonian Magnitudes as a humble contribution to the communal deliberation!

 

Decay Pattern

 

When on earth

was myth a mouth

every head muttered

 

or is noys or

babble first what

 

articulate tongues

propagated on air

 

to ear empty

of echo of

familiar sound

One for Neil Rushton

Thanks to The Anomalist, I discovered this site administered by novelist Neil Rushton on Faerie lore. It resonates with some of my own concerns, an interest in the Celtic Twilight literary movement and the early work of William Butler Yeats, as well as with a parallel folklore, that around the UFO.

One aspect of said folklore is the Faery Light or Will o’ the Wisp, the topic of a poem fromsenathlight my first trade edition, Grand Gnostic Central, that links a sighting of Yeats’ recounted in his autobiography with tales told me by my great Uncle Peter and Aunt Julia on my father’s (Hungarian) side of their experiences in Saskatchewan.

 

Will of the Wisp

 

You say suddenly you saw

A light moving over the river

Just where the water rushes fastest

Brighter than any torch or lamp

 

Later a small light low down

Then over a slope seven miles off

You knew by hikes and your watch

No human pace could so quick

 

Here they trail wagons in blizzards

Swoop like owls to rap at windows

Come in view like oncoming engines

Over no tracks up to those waiting

Ye good old days

A friend brought to mind today his meeting a now-mutual friend, musician Zsolt Sőrés. I Trabant_P_601_S,_Bj._1986_(Foto_Sp_2016-06-05)had the luck to collaborate with Sőrés and his co-musician Zsolt Kovacs in Budapest, an aspect of which is memorialized in the first part of the poem I share below, from Ladonian Magnitudes. (As usual, the formatting here messes up the lineation: the original is written in tercets).

 

Pisces

“If our child is born in February or March it will be a Fish.”

 

Laszlo told us Tibor’d invited us to either his place or The Fish Restaurant

& Laszlo consistent with our unanimous consensus told him The Fish Restaurant

which miffed him a little but then why offer us the choice?—“You don’t do that!”

 

Besides he has a Stammtisch there

there’s always a table for him

“Of course, sir, just this way!”

 

So that day Kovács is supposed to arrive around five to record “Trabant” on DAT in his Trabant

because Tuesday after a solid three quarters of a litre of Tokaj, some beers before, innumerable Unicums, and even a little hash? then two big double vodkas

after the rehearsal for Wednesday night I spouted Marinneti glossolalia driving back to Laszlo’s in Kovàcs’s Trabant no one could stop me

 

So we went to the Tokaj bar Laszlo and I where they ladled half a deci of sweet and half a deci of dry into a glass for each of us drunk down in one go for the effect of a double martini

Then back up to Laszlo’s for a little more hash, no beer! vodka palinka Unicum whiskey two generic Gravol

Kovács an hour and a half late so I’m lying on the front balcony when the Two Zsolts arrive

 

Petra tells me she and Laszlo looked at each other knowingly as I swayed pale out the door

I remember raving the way I did the night before and arriving at The Fish Restaurant by surprise before seven

Sitting with Tibor and Laszlo who looked at each other and in Hungarian agreed I couldn’t eat with them

 

Ordering me a mineral water and putting me out on the balcony

Where I got up telling Petra I just need some air

And wander out into Buda’s streets looking for a bench

 

I remember Petra coming up and seeing how I was sitting tilting back and forth on a little wall over the Duna

The taxi arriving and Petra and Laszlo helping me up supporting me on each arm the taxi driver saying “Later.”

“Get up before they call the police!”

 

“Should I get an ambulance?”—“No, no, he’s just had too much to drink.”

And Kovács coming in his Trabant, me reeling beside him

Rolling down the window on the way and puking a great orange arc

 

Kovács tells me it was as if as he made the U-turn in front of The Fish Restaurant

everything I’d drunk sloshed out

One waiter pointed “Look! He’s doing it again!”

 


 

From Bremervörde we drove north to Otterndorf at the Elbe’s mouth

In the sun Matjes with raw onion on a bun and a plate of crispy gold Pommes with a big dab of mayonnaise

On the picnic table outside the strand café landside of the dike

 

Seaside a briny brown tide covered the sand and washed up cold over and drained through honeycombed red bricks enforcing the shore we walked on

Two black-suited windsurfers rode out fast crazy as the two boys splashing in the swimming pond just left of lunch

The sky painterly with grey-rain and sun-bleached clouds framing low sea daisy yellow mist and high blue

 

The Gasthaus we aimed at for an early supper closed so we drove in to Otterndorf

Brick houses cool sienna tomato rusted in early dusk

Even cobbled clean streets narrow as in Hamburg or Holland

 

A sample of Italian absinth and a flask of Grobmuter’s Apfelsaft in a gift shop just around the corner from the Ratskellar—“Danke, Mutti!” (Danke, Renate, for the absinthe spoon!)

A Norwegian acquavit before a litre of German beer and three rich Matjes filets Hausfrauen Art with a creamy apple onion celery relish and Bratkartoffeln punctuated by a bitter

A soft chocolate-dipped Eis eaten up quickly melting out the bottom of the cone

 

The way back musculature uncomfortable on bone-rack, aching joints, and threatening cramps

In bed sweat wet uncontrollable shivers chatter teeth and fingertips tingle numb

Every joint sore unable to lie still three seconds

 

Eyes rolling in a reeling lolling head

Delirious poetic prayers to Apollo in the name of his son Asclepius to shake from a leafy laurel branch drops blessed by Morpheus to cool my head and just let me sleep

Finally making myself puke three times about three in the morning

Toronto Spring 2018 Getaway Takeaways

You can’t have the sameHeraclitus_in_Thomas_Stanley_History_of_Philosophy

Royal York Library Bar

All Canadian Beef Burger

 

twice. Bunner’s Bake Shop

vegan, gluten-free cinnamon buns

don’t travel well.

NaPoMo leftovers: Six Rimes

Standard eyes I shunlandscape-window-wall-color-artwork-painting-art-mural-tourist-attraction-characters-modern-art-trompe-l-il-gates-canyon-of-the-verdon-gorges-1019273

 

Dada data

Marxian Martian

 

‘incarnation’ read

aloud as ‘incantation’

 

Little Read Book

Ill-read Herring

What’s on my desk / what I’m working on

In a conversation I was lucky enough to have had this week with a long-standing, younger poet-friend, I was asked, half out of curiosity and half in challenge, just what contemporary poets I’m reading these days.

In answer, I append the bibliography below, which lists all the books on my desk that I’mIMG_2890 presently reading, either as part of larger projects (a talk on Peter Dale Scott and the post-secular I’m giving at the end of the month, or research into modes of poetic political engagement, or the ways poetry brings itself into relation with philosophy), or toward writing notices and reviews, or just for the sake of maintaining some small idea of what’s going on in contemporary world poetry.

Of course, which writers might be said to alive is more a matter of their art than their pulse.

 

What I’m reading

Angles, Jeffrey, trans. Poems of Hiromi Itō, Toshiko Hirata, & Takako Arai. Newtown:  Vagabond Press, 2016.

Armantrout, Rae. Versed. Middletown:  Weseleyan University Press. 2009.

Arsenev, Pavel. Spasm of Accommodation. Oakland:  Commune Editions, 2017.

Badiou, Alain. Being and Event, trans. Feltham, Oliver. London:  Continuum, 2007.

Philosophy for Militants, trans. Bosteels, Bruno. London:  Verso, 2015.

The Age of the Poets And Other Writings on Twentieth-Century Poetry and Prose, ed. and trans. Bosteels, Bruno. London:  Verso, 2014.

The Communist Hypothesis, trans. Macey and Corcoran. Bosteels, Bruno. London:  Verso, 2015.

Balestrini, Nanni. Blackout, trans. Valente, Peter. Oakland:  Commune Editions, 2017.

Berg, Aase. With Deer, trans. Johannes Göransson. Boston:  Black Ocean, 2008.

Blandiana, Ana. My Native Land A4, trans. Derrick and Patea. Hexham:  Bloodaxe Books, 2014.

Bohinc, Katy. Dear Alain. New York:  Tender Buttons Press, 2014.

Borzutsky, Daniel. The Book of Interfering Bodies. Callicoon:  Nightboat Books, 2011.

Bradford, David. A Star is Boring. Montreal:  Self-published, 2016.

Call Out. Toronto:  Knife Fork Books, 2017.

Clover, Joshua. Red Epic.  Oakland:  Commune Editions, 2015.

Collis, Stephen. Once in Blockadia. Vancouver:  Talonbooks, 2016.

Copi, Irving M. Symbolic Logic, Fifth ed. New York:  Macmillan, 1979.

Derrida, Jacques and Vattimo, Gianni, eds. Religion. Standford:  Standford University Press, 1998.

Dick, Mina Pam. Delinquent. New York:  Futurepoems Books, 2009.

Eckerlin, Jesse. Thrush. Windsor:  Biblioasis, 2016.

We Are Not The Bereaved. Victoria:  Frog Hollow Press, 2012.

Gewanter, David.  The Sleep of Reason. Chicago:  University Press of Chicago, 2003.

Gilbert, Sandra M. Kissing the Bread:  New and Selected Poems 1969-1999. New York:  Norton, 2000.

Gleize, Jean-Marie. Tarnac, A Preparatory Act, trans. Clover, et al. Chicago:  Kenning Editions, 2014.

Golynko, Dmitry. As It Turned Out, ed. Ostashevsky, Eugene, trans. Ostashevsky, et al. New York:  Ugly Duckling Presse, 2008.

Goyette, Sue ed. The Griffin Poetry Prize Anthology 2017. Toronto:  House of Anansi Press, 2017.

Graham, Jorie. Fast. New York:  Harper Collins, 2017.

Habermas, Jürgen. Between Naturalism and Religion, trans. Ciaran Cronin. Cambridge:  Polity, 2008.

Postmetaphysical Thinking:  Philosophical Essays, trans. William Mark Hohengarten. Cambridge:  MIT, 1992.

Postmetaphysical Thinking II:  Essays and Replies, trans. Ciaran Cronin. Cambridge:  Polity, 2017.

—Religion and Rationality:  Essays on Reason, God, and Modernity, ed. Eduardo Mandieta. Cambridge:  MIT, 2002.

The Future of Human Nature. Cambridge:  Polity, 2003.

—et al. The Awareness of What is Missing. Cambridge:  Polity, 2010.

Hall, Phil. The Small Nouns Crying Faith. Toronto:  BookThug, 2013.

Hartnett, Stephen John. Incarceration Nation:  Investigative Prison Poems of Hope and Terror. Walnut Creek:  Altamira, 2003.

Hecht, Jamey. Limousine Midnight Blue. Los Angeles:  Red Hen Press, 2009.

Heighton, Steven. The Walking Comes Late. Toronto:  House of Anansi, 2016.

Heller, Michael. Dianoia. New York:  Nightboat Books, 2016.

Itō, Hiromi. Killing Kanoko:  Selected Poems of Hiromi Itō, trans. Angles, Jeffrey. Notre Dame:  Action Books, 2009.

Wild Grass on the Riverbank, trans. Angles, Jeffrey. Notre Dame:  Action Books, 2014.

Jäderlund, Ann. Which had once been a meadow, trans. Johannes Göransson. New York:  Black Square Press, 2017.

Johnson, Ronald. Ark. Chicago:  Flood Editions, 2013.

Jönson, Johan. Collobert Orbital, trans, Göransson, Johannes. Displaced Press, 2009.

Lachman, Gary. Lost Knowledge of the Imagination. Edinburgh:  Floris Books, 2017.

Lau, David. Still Dirty:  Poems 2009-15. Oakland:  Commune Editions, 2016.

Mackey, Nathaniel. School of Udhra. San Francisco:  City Lights Books, 1993.

McKinnon, Barry. I Wanted to Say Something. Red Deer:  Red Deer College Press, 1990.

Medvedev, Kirill. It’s No Good, trans. Gessen et al. New York:  n + 1 and Ugly Duckling Presse, 2012.

Mendieta and Vanantwerfepen, eds. The Power of Religion in the Public Sphere. New York:  Columbia University Press, 2011.

Mancini, Donato. SAME DIFF. Vancouver:  Talonbooks, 2017.

Moure, Erin. O Cadoiro. Toronto:  House of Anansi Press, 2007.

Neveau, Chantal. A Spectactular Influence, trans. Nathanaël. Toronto:  BookThug, 2015.

Parra, Nicanor. Antipoems:  How to look better & feel great, trans. Werner, Liz. New York:  New Directions Press, 2004.

Ed. Ray, David. From the Hungarian Revolution. Ithaca:  Cornell UP, 1966.

Rilke, Rainer Maria.  The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke, ed. & trans. Mitchell, Stephen. New York:  Vintage, 1984.

Eds. Rothenberg and Bloomberg-Rissman. Barbaric Vast & Wild:  A Gathering of Outside and Subterranean Poetry from Origins to the Present. Boston:  Black Widow Press, 2015.

Sartre, Jean Paul. What is Literature? Trans. Frechtman, Bernard. New York:  Routledge, 2001.

Scott, Peter Dale. Coming to Jakarta. Toronto:  M&S, 1988.

Coming to Jakarta. New York, New Directions Press, 1988.

Listening to the Candle. Toronto:  M&S, 1992.

Listening to the Candle. New York, New Directions Press, 1992.

Minding the Darkness. New York, New Directions Press, 2000.

Mosaic Orpheus. Montreal:  McGill-Queen’s UP, 2009.

Silliman, Ron. Revelator. Toronto:  BookThug, 2013.

The Alphabet. Tuscaloosa:  U of Alabama Press, 2008.

Smith, Dale. Sons. Toronto:  Knife Fork Books, 2017.

Sommer, Richard. Cancer Songs. Winnipeg:  Signature Editions, 2011.

Tremblay, Bill. Magician’s Hat:  Poems on the Life and Work of David Alfonso Siqueiros. Spokane:  Lynx House Press, 2013.

Vogelweide, Walther von. Gedichte, ed. Wapnewski, Peter. Frankfurt:  Fischer Taschenbuch Verlag, 2006.

Walsøe-Engel, Ingrid. German Poetry From The Beginnings to 1750. New York:  Continuum, 1992.

Wilderson III, Frank B. Sideways Between Stories. Oakland:  Commune Editions, 2016.

Williamson, Alan. Res Publica.  University Press of Chicago, 1998.

Xiaoyu, Qin. Iron Moon:  An Anthology of Chinese Migrant Worker Poetry, trans. Goodman, Eleanor. Buffalo:  White Pine Press, 2016.

Yépez, Heriberto. Transnational Battle Field. Oakland:  Commune Editions, 2017.

 

 

NaPoMo (5): Some Praises of the May King

What’s Lebendig’lightwaves-09

Welcher Lebendige, Sinnbegabte, liebt nicht vor allen Wundererscheiunungen des verbreiteten Raums um ihn, das allerfreuliche Licht—mit seinen Farben, seinen Strahlen und Wogen; seiner milden Allgegenwart, als weckender Tag. / What living person, gifted with any sense, doesn’t love, more than all the wonderful appearances of spread-out space around him, the all-joyful Light—with its colors, beams, waves; its gentle presence, as waking day.—Hymnen an die Nacht, trans. Dick Higgins

 

Marks in, walking home, looking

in the used book store,

stroking the one friendly, fluffy

cat, intervening in a theological

dispute at the cash quoting

 

Spinoza in Latin and Daisetz

Suzuki summing up an evening’s

philosophical chit-chat:   “That’s what

I like about metaphysics—nobody

wins!” —stopping by the last

 

independent English-language bookstore, browsing

the poetry and philosophy, weighing

whether to buy a volume

or two but resolving just

to get the book I

 

ordered, paying off the dentist

for the new gold crown,

noticing Spring’s first green lush

after two weeks rain now

in intense sun, shaking up

 

a double martini or two,

commenting cante jondo on Facebook

to buck up a heartbroken

friend, priming a new withering

blog post “our postmetaphysical age”

 

sending me to Metaphysica Alpha

One:  “the senses are loved

for themselves, especially sight,” reading

Hymnen an die Nacht aloud,

Du kommst, Geliebte—” as Petra

 

opens the door, parsing that

first sentence together (…who doesn’t

love over and above appearance

spread out light, its colours,

rays and waves, gently everywhere

 

like the dawn?), philologizing Lebendige,

he shewed himself to them

alive”, “Son of the ever-living,

the senses of Sinn in

Sinnbegabte, allgegenwart, (omnipresent) everywhere.