Friday, October 11, 2002
Man from Nantucket Kicks the Bucket....[via bnf]
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Humberto Ak'abal
I had the privilege of hearing the amazing K'iche' Maya poet Humberto Ak'abal a few days ago. He has several books in his native language and in Spanish, but only one in English. Find it if you can. His last poem was a symphony of bird songs.
It is very good for a poet to listen to poetry in other languages, especially those which are very unfamilliar. Then the music and rhythm can be heard, sometimes meaning very clearly gleaned from the sound, the intonation. At this reading, Ak'abl spoke in K'iche, then the poem was recited in Spanish, and finally in English. By the time it got to English, I'd know there was a grandmother, a moon, eyes. That's already a poem.
early hours
In the high hours of the night
stars get naked
and bathe in the rivers.
Owls desire them,
the little feathers on their heads
stand up.
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Susan Donnelley's words in "Harpo" seem appropriate after our elected officials stayed up late last night.....
That's right. When words don't say it,
stop talking.
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Thursday, October 10, 2002
More on the Baraka controversy. "The poem was never saying anything else, i.e., why didn't the other slaughtered Americans know? I WAS NOT SAYING ISRAEL WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE ATTACK, BUT THAT THEY KNEW AND OUR OWN COUNTERFEIT PRESIDENT DID TOO!" Word. Also, I love how he cites his sources.
I'm also down with his vision: "We say this because we feel that this state and indeed this nation and this world is desperately in need of the deepest and most profound human values that poetry can teach. That is what Keats and Du Bois called for the poet to do, to bring Truth and Beauty. To be like the most ancient paradigmythic image of the poet. To be like Osiris and Orpheus, whose job it was to raise the Sun each morning with song and story. To illuminate the human mind, and bring light into the world. POET ON!"
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A thousand syllables for peace
Day-ku.
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Wednesday, October 09, 2002
Fantastic, thoughtful, crafty poems by Miho Nonako. (Tip: keep scrolling, there's lots of lovely stuff here.)
"When the world is wet, I smell distant things
As if they were part of my body all this time.
The artist next door makes glass eyes that blink
At a marble's click, puts a lilac flame in each iris."
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Poetry or Penis Enlargement?
I realize this is becoming the 'i heart caterina' blog, but what she has to say about memorized poetrty and the potential for smittenness is most excellent.
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Sunday, October 06, 2002
Paint Chip Poems
Damn, my artist neighbor gave me this idea just a few weeks ago, but it's already been done....[via caterina again...maybe I should write to this woman.]
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