‘Selected Poems’ By Bernard O’Donoghue


6f403dc9bef7d3cf2a89108927edeb22I finished the Selected Poems by Bernard O’Donoghue. Actually, I finished it something like a week ago, but life and work and stuff has kept me from writing about it. And now that I’m finally writing about it, I don’t have it in front of me, so I won’t be quoting from it. But, trust me. It’s good.

He writes about a life he left behind (according to his talk at the Folger). It’s mostly about a taciturn and unromanticized rural Ireland. Or, actually, it is romanticized. He actually has a poem about watching the great John Wayne movie, The Quiet One, which takes place in rural Ireland. I’m not a John Wayne fan, but I love this movie. Anyway, that movie romanticizes rural Ireland. Sometimes, O’Donoghue romanticizes it by explicitly unromanticizing it. The romance of gritty, poverty-inspired DIY and old fashioned sod busters.

The writing is dense on the page, too. Thick, dense stanzas, with lines being medium long (but not going beyond the available length, so it has to drop down like Whitman or Ginsberg) and mostly the same length, creating a sort of visual square, many times. There is a good deal of mid-sentence enjambment and sentences ending in the middle of a line, but he doesn’t break up the steady meter and it reads smoothly.

I want to right more, but I’m pressed for time.

His work isn’t easy to find, but worth seeking out. So, read it, okay? That’s all.

Weekend Reading – Don’t Feed The Poet


Poet. Fascist. Teacher. Crazy dude. Maybe.

I only knew him as Flann. I had no idea it was pseudonym, until now.

What would the Futurists think of this future?

Brains! Brains! Brains!

For theology, read poetry.

Jeremiad, Or, Steve Jobs was A Shill For Consumerism


1378579728I bought George Moore’s Confessions of a Young Man at the Lantern, thinking that it was by G.E. Moore. Not so. But this Moore is a lively, if inconsistent writer. At something over a quarter of the way through, after Moore has abandoned painting for lack of talent and determined to take up poetry, he writes about Mallarmé.

Moore had been educating himself in French poetry, starting with Victor Hugo and working his way up to contemporary French poets (contemporary, in this case, meaning the 1870s) in a process of (somewhat) calculated autodidacticism.

He writes about ‘Mallarmé’s Tuesday evening, a few friends sitting round the hearth, the lamp on the table.’

I kept reading for another half dozen sentences before pulling up short and going back to that sentence and finally comprehending that he had been attending weekly literary salons at the home of Stéphane Mallarmé. My mind was blown by the reality of what I have missed by being born too late.

And yes, it is different now. It’s worse.

Our cultural heroes and leaders are not writers and poets and dramatists, nor essayists and philosophers, but libertarian technophiles who see the latest app as part of an inexorable process that magically culminates in the alleviation of suffering or hunger or some other global ill. The whole shebang is a self deluded shell games, like the South Park underwear gnomes, they convinced that they have embarked on the first step of a messianic journey that leads inexorably, inexplicably – magically! – to some greater end.

At the same time, we have not yet completely thrown off our adulation of pirating financiers nor the revelation of the fast descent into madness, pain, and suicide of Lord only knows how many former college and NFL players much diminished our fawning love athletes playing dangerous games of brute force.

I’m not claiming that Baudelaire’s debaucheries are to be emulated nor Shelley’s private (as opposed to public) morals modeled, but for fuck’s sake, can we stop calling Steve Jobs a great man? He was a megalomaniacal marketer. For fuck’s sake, people! I have an iPhone, but the building of a fief-like cult of consumption within a consumer addled culture has not broadened our minds, lifted our souls, nor made the world an appreciably better place. Indeed, it can be argued that Steve Jobs most lasting legacy will the impact of a spate of Chinese suicides on the families they left behind.

So… for fuck’s sake, people, shape up!

I know it’s hard, because it’s all so seductive. I used to work for a couple of tech forward firms, including a semi-early adopter of using emails to ‘activate’ activists and, later, a company that managed text messages for nonprofits and political campaigns. I wrote texts and copy for smartphone apps and social media and told their clients how these new strategies that I developed, these new technologies that I was selling would change everything! The people who signed my checks, they absolutely believed it. And, in some small, meaningless, tactical way, they were right, but in a larger, more important way, they were dead wrong and all the world’s souls will ultimately suffer for not seeing it.

 

Mid-Week Staff Meeting – Do We Still Have To Ask?


You’re darn right it matters!

We are still not over Adrienne Rich.

The first time, I got Elizabeth Bishop and the second time, Robert Lowell, which is rather cool, on account of their long (most epistolary) relationship. Suggests that maybe I’ll have a long relationship with myself. Not sure I’m off to a good start though. Whatever. Piss off.

Celebrating National Poetry Month in the schools.

Ask a poet.

Midweek Staff Meeting – Pago En Especie


Despite the fact that I couldn’t benefit, this is the sort tax reform I could get behind here in the US.

Prayers from an atheist.

A lot, gosh darn it. A heckuva lot.

Lover, painter, poet, thief. That last one, apparently, bothered his friends the most.

Why aren’t you reading science fiction?

Which Poets Should You Read?


So, here’s this list of recommended poetry collections for seven different types of readers.

Kudos to the listicle author for opening up with Kay Ryan. I think that Ryan is amazing, but it’s a bold move to place her front and center as the suggested poet for the reader of general fiction. And Anne Carson’s Autobiography of Red is an inspired choice for YA book readers. Actually, it might be a great way to introduce contemporary teens to contemporary poetry – and via a poet who is also a well regarded classicist. Two birds, one stone, that kind of thing.

I used to like the idea of a bookstore that, when you entered, the staff would size you up, ask a few questions and give you your book. A book you would not only enjoy, but which would be a truly good book. Not good like ‘John Grisham is a comparatively good writer because so much out there is crap,’ but for goodness real good writing. If you like action, what about Wind, Sand and Stars about the being a pilot when planes were still new and dangerous. Written by the dude who wrote The Little Prince, no less!

But he’s not a poet. Or not primarily. Maybe he wrote tons of poetry, but that’s not what we know him for.

So what poets does the coffee philosopher think you should read?

Autobiography of Red is probably the best introduction to the novel in verse I could recommend. Not that it’s better than The Odyssey or Paradise Lost because that’s just not the case. But it’s a coming of age tale that captures very well all the awkwardness of growing up different, the flush and subsequent crushing betrayal of first love, struggling to find one’s path… that sort of thing.

I’m going to pitch for Wordsworth. Some of his mid length poems, like The Excursion tell a moving and compact tale in clear, yet beautiful language. The Prelude is too long and some of the shorter poems are too specific to the time (poems urging Englishmen to stand fast in the event Napoleon invades). But I think The Excursion, while not my favorite, could really strike a certain kind of someone who thought they didn’t like poetry in a very particular and good way.

So those are both narrative poems. Do I think that’s the best way to pull readers into poetry? Maybe. I wouldn’t have said that if asked, but it looks that way.

At The Folger Shakespeare Library – The Legacy Of Seamus Heaney


Without going into the two books I purchased and got signed (Matter of Fact by Eamon Grennan and Selected Poems by Bernard O’Donoghue), I’ll just write about my impressions of the Monday night’s event.

Originally, Heaney himself was scheduled to appears. But, of course, he died.

So, with some help from the Irish embassy, a collection of three prominent Irish poets (Paula Meehan and the two aforementioned poets whose books I purchased) and two American (Frank Bidart and Jane Hirschfield).

I feel like I have Hirschfield’s collection, After, somewhere in my library but didn’t find it nor, consequently, bring it for a signature. Which is okay. Because one of my takeaways from the evening is that she rubs me the wrong. It’s entirely personal. I feel like that if I were younger (let’s say, late teens or early twenties), I would gladly be here willing disciple and nurture a secret crush on her. At this point in my life, she strikes me as a name dropping caricature of the poet as spiritual shaman. The outfit, the attitude… I feel like she is villain in made for Christian television movie, where the young girl is almost led astray by the wild and probably atheist poet-professor, but is saved by… I don’t know, maybe a pastor the youthful heroine used to think boring and staid or a wise old gardener who never finished college. Something like that. She also dropped a lot of names and locations that made her seem very cool. Did you know that she hung out with Heaney in Rome, at the American school? After he left the boring others behind, he and and his wife drank wine and ate awesome Italian things with Hirschfield in an apartment, probably overlooking somewhere romantic and historical. Having attended the lecture, variations on this incident were drilled into my head. Repeatedly. But, it has to be said and cannot be ignored: Jane Hirschfield is a very, very, very good poet. Not completely my cup of tea, but that doesn’t mean I can’t recognize quality when I see it (or hear it).

Bidart, who is a poet I greatly admire, was the most interesting speaker, because he actually took the time to not to just read his own poetry (in fact, he read very little of his own), but to almost give a lecture on a particular aspect of Heaney’s oeuvre, namely, political poetry in Heaney’s canon. Bidart also had the longest line of people looking for autographs, which made me feel bad, so I was happy that I went for some of the lesser known poets.

Paula Meehan has one of those great reading voices that seem tailor made for poetry. I’m not sure how if I’d buy a collection of her poetry (I didn’t that night), but I would definitely buy an album of her reading her poetry. She spoke melodically and at length about Heaney’s place in Ireland’s history, literary or otherwise. More than any other poet, she gave a feel for Heaney as a larger than life figure.

Eamon Grennan, besides having a wondrous, Amish style beard, spoke movingly about Heaney’s poetic influence on his work (which is great – I’ll write more about it at a later date, I’m sure).

Finally, Bernard O’Donoghue. A nervous speaker, but also the most knowledgeable about Heaney (as one might expect from someone who has written a book about Heaney’s poetry). He is probably the one I would have most enjoyed hearing more from (though I wish, in the time that he did have, he had taken a page from Bidart’s approach). Again, I’ll write about the book I bought from him later.

At the signing period, I was waiting in line, before realizing that everyone was waiting for Bidart, so I just skipped around and got to chat with both Grennan and O’Donoghue. Of course, one also can’t help but feel bad for the non-superstar poets (at least, non-superstars to the Folger attending, poetry reading public of the DC metropolitan area) and I hope more folks made their way over to the other parts of the table, not being bum rushed by Bidart aficionados.

Monday Morning Staff Meeting


The future was then!

Still remembering Amiri Baraka.

Being an author (wordsmith) in Asheville, North Carolina is awesome. Too bad the right wing government in Raleigh is so transparently abhorrent.

Probably.

Don’t cry. Or, actually, do.

Midweek Staff Meeting – Naptime


Rizzoli-BookstoreThis article contains the most useful map of Washington, DC that you will ever encounter.

This is a fantastic bookstore and I’ve found some incredibly interesting books there and it’s always on my list of places to visit when I’m in NYC, so it would be a terrible shame if were to close.

Some great ways to celebrate National Poetry Month that will also make your more employable. I’m not kidding.

How is this not blowing people’s minds? Or is it? It’s blowing my mind, I know that. The BLACK PLAGUE OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY WAS NOT THE BUBONIC PLAGUE BUT SOMETHING ELSE. That’s right. It was some kind of pneumonia thing spread by sneezing and not something with pus filled pustules spread by rats and fleas. Holy cow, Batman! I’m not kidding. This upends a lot of what I used to think I knew. And what about Camus’ novel, La Peste? How do you say sneeze in French? Le Sneeze? Should that be the new title? OMG!

Happy National Poetry Month!


I was on vacation for a good chunk of March and got some good poetry reading in – finishing a collection by William Carlos Williams and dipping heavily into Wordsworth (who has become my standby in the last several years, replacing folks like Eliot).

So how will I celebrate?

I’ll buy some poetry, I think that’s a given. For a small investment, anyone can do a great deal to support poetry simply by buying a brand new book of poetry. There is an argument for buying directly from the publisher, so that the poet gets a larger share of the proceeds. I actually prefer to buy from a bookstore, so that I can support bookstores, but also, by buying at one, I am doing some small part to make stocking poets more profitable for them, thereby encouraging that store to invest in poetry.

I suppose that I’ll find some poetry readings to attend (check out the Library of Congress’ poetry schedule here)

And, I’m going to read some more Cantos. I started to make some progress again this year after a more than one year hiatus and I’m ready to dive in some more.

What do you say?