February 22nd Poetic Ticker Clicking
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Liu Xia wrote to the friend in her post, according to the published transcript. "Don't go online. Otherwise my whole family is in danger."
are couplets--and they are as loud as they are sharp. The diwan of this revolt began to be written as soon as Ben Ali fled Tunis, in pithy lines like "Yâ Mubârak! Yâ Mubârak! Is-Sa'ûdiyya fi-ntizârak!," ("Mubarak, O Mubarak, Saudi Arabia awaits!"). In the streets themselves, there are scores of other verses, ranging from the caustic "Shurtat Masr, yâ shurtat Masr, intû ba'aytû kilâb al-'asr" ("Egypt's Police, Egypt's Police, You've become nothing but Palace dogs"), to the defiant "Idrab idrab yâ Habîb, mahma tadrab mish hansîb!" ("Hit us, beat us, O Habib [al-Adly, now-former minister of the Interior], hit all you want--we're not going to leave!").
revise the death sentence which was handed down by a Francoist tribunal to the Orihuela poet, Miguel Hernández, who died in prison in 1942 after his sentence was commuted to 30 years behind bars.
[Ezra] Pound's daughter and one of this collection's editors--confirms, his father, Homer, was the more sympathetic correspondent of the two "Reverend Progenitors". He is the addressee of an ambivalent long letter from London about the American entry into the war in 1917 and, later, an abashed defence of the fascistic views that would eventually get Pound arrested for treason in 1945 ("I hate SOME JEWS but I have greater contempt for Christians").
the divine model, adding to it the gift of his conscious appreciation of sanctified language and of his response to it. He speaks of plain and familiar things directly; his words do not get in the way. And as he does so, we sense the sacred present in those things, or yearning to be present though presently missing. He does not veer into either of the polarities that profane poetry. He does not engage in obscurities; and he does not fail to engage the challenge of numinous mystery.
unlike [Derek] Walcott's, is not in what direction to turn. She has turned her back on the path of ambivalence; choosing instead to embrace her twin "bloods." The first hint of this is to be found in the title of the collection. "Fiere," we are told, is a Scottish word that means "a companion, a mate, a spouse, an equal." The next hint is in the epigraphs that open the collection. Two lines from the Nigerian writer Chinua Achebe, (who, like Kay's birth father, is Igbo)--"Wherever someone stands,/something else will stand beside it"--sum the collection up. (The other epigraph, introducing the word "fiere", is by the Scottish poet Robert Burns)
and is influenced by poets from both European and Muslim traditions from Coleridge and Keats to Hafiz and Rumi. There is also a strong influence from the great poets of Muslim South Asia, Ghalib and Iqbal.
didn't care to be an American and loathed saluting the flag.) The girl never saw her mother again.
that the fridge, strictly speaking, was not invented in Sweden," Paul Muldoon, the magazine's current poetry editor, said, "then here we have one piece of information. If by the line 'the Swedes invented the fridge' you mean that storage of spoilable food in a cold climate might be said as invented in the frigid climate of Sweden, then that's also fine. It is and is not a fact."
by the anthology's editors, Greg Delanty and Michael Matto, are certainly distinguished. The roster includes Heaney himself ("Deor"), Paul Muldoon ("Wulf and Eadwacer"), David R. Slavitt ("The Battle of Maldon"), Derek Mahon ("Durham"), Robert Hass ("The Battle of Brunanburh") and Yusef Komunyakaa ("The Ruin"). Much Anglo-Saxon verse takes the form of riddles, charms, prayers and maxims, and scores of these are Englished by Billy Collins, Carol Muske-Dukes, Michael Collier, Molly Peacock, Dennis O'Driscoll, Jane Hirshfield and others equally notable. Many of the poets were assisted by Matto, who provided "cribs, glossaries, and interpretive direction." In an appendix, David Ferry, Eamon Grennan, Rachel Hadas and nine other contributors offer mini-essays on their experience of turning Anglo-Saxon into modern English.
so of course all of the objective conditions exist. And is it because Pakistan is a country reeling at the moment? We have the most disastrous natural disaster in our history, in 80 years; we hadn't seen anything like the floods that hit the country this fall and winter. Twenty million people were affected. We're also an international battleground; some 2,000 Pakistanis have been killed in drone attacks in the last two years, largely civilians. You know we have a government that takes great support and great strength from foreign power. Are these the factors that are keeping people from reacting as they are in Egypt and Tunisia? I don't know, but I certainly hope that they can be overturned.
ironically titled "A Major Work," that begins:
that gave him such a zest for life; he attended the University of Minnesota to be with her until she died, then transferred to Dartmouth. after graduating from Dartmouth he traveled the world--working on a tramp steamer--and pursued a second degree at Cambridge University. He served as a naval officer in World War II, worked for his wife's family at the Butcher Polish Company for several years, and taught at a number of universities, including his alma mater. He died in 2005 at his home in New Hampshire.
thanking "all who have loved me in their hearts." She then offers her own heart's love in return. Continuing, she expresses her gratitude as "deep thanks" to all those who have paid some attention to her, especially when they listened to her complaints.
by Nikki Giovanni
was small and beleaguered, the world of American Hebrew writing that Weingrad describes was practically non-existent. During World War I, Weingrad points out, "the Yiddish daily press in the United States reached a peak circulation . . . of more than six hundred thousand," whereas Hadoar, the leading Hebrew periodical in America, "had a circulation of about nine thousand to twelve thousand." By the end of World War II, the number of important Hebrew writers in America could be counted on the fingers of one hand; when the last of them, the poet Gabriel Preil, died in 1993, "the story of the immigrant Hebraists and the literature they created in America came to an end."
and here's a fine one by Joyce Sutphen of Minnesota, a poet who has written dozens of poems I'd like to publish in this column if there only were weeks enough for all of them.
how do we return to a sense of serenity? [George] MacDonald's poem may be the antidote we seek.
"Mysterious Neighbors" and a blog post, "Guns in Frail Hands."
by Grzegorz Wróblewski
full of art and culture where fairy tales, ghost stories, myth and music prevailed. Storytelling was a Wofford family tradition among the adults and children. The importance of listening and narration helped form Morrison's understanding of the world and inspired her love of reading. Her parents encouraged her intellectual curiosity and during her adolescence, Morrison became engrossed by classic literature including the works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Leo Tolstoy and Jane Austen.
would call an early example of concrete poetry, that is, poetry where meaning is conveyed not only through words, but also through the arrangement of the poem on the page.
by Alfred Brendel, with Richard Stokes
the reader into a sense of mutual understanding. His composure directs the composition: "Let us ask", "Let us see". Perhaps, then, it is not the lecturer's pedagogical tone that we hear, but that of a father, who, with inherited wisdom, gently encourages understanding. If [Jorge Luis] Borges is the father, he is also, on the other side of the coin, the son, still grappling with questions that beguiled him in his youth, because they are essential--and so they shall remain.
as a kind man who loved his family and who enjoyed writing poetry.
became increasingly involved in the literary magazine New Departures and in the annual Poetry Olympics festival established by my father, the poet Michael Horovitz. She eventually became the co-editor of New Departures.
of his enormous rusty creations, including animal figures.
playwright, translator, prominent public figure, academician Justinas Marcinkevicius passed away. The 80-year-old poet died in a hospital from a severe head injury he suffered in his home on December 7, informs LETA/ELTA.
the Writers Place. For nearly 30 years he taught creative writing and American literature at Kansas City Kansas Community College and coordinated its basic education program, which helps adults earn degrees
Pentecostal Church in Barrie for Jordan Morrison, who was remembered for standing up for what he believed in, even if it meant risking his life. A poem Morrison wrote in Grade 9 was read out at the service.
Assistant Secretary, Bureau of Public Affairs
most famous comedian--he is also a popular film actor and director, as well as a fierce critic. But for the last two years, the man who once entertained Burma's oppressed masses has only had an audience of fellow prisoners. For the "crime" of cracking wicked puns against the inept and corrupt junta while working as a volunteer providing disaster relief aid in areas of the Irrawaddy Delta that were ravaged by Cyclone Nargis, Zarganar was arrested, convicted of "public order offenses" and sentenced to 59 years in prison--later reduced to 35 years.
questions answered only with other questions. It dissects, in more than 30 segments, the problems of the ethics of poetry, living as a poet, making a living and living for poetry in the language of citizenship. What it means to have a job, hold a job one does not like (this connects quite naturally with the portions of the memoir recounting [Michael] Gottlieb's many day jobs), the kind of job a poet can do, must do and is "allowed" or "required" to do. Soberly, and with a hint of melancholy, the essay interrogates the young poet on how he will conduct his art and craft.
together for her when she was reading accounts by Antarctic explorer Ernest Shackleton.
for broader empathy linger even in the more coolheaded writing here, with the winding lines of "Road to Amaudo", a manifesto piece of sorts, describing a route "at times impassable:/but pass people do", "hefting the load/of hope on their backs". The loving detail, hypnotic rhythms and unflinching realism of such poems make for Fiere's most memorable moments, by turns affecting and cerebral.
night advances with startling speed to cancel out a summer scene. All the garden poems are wonderful and strange. The houses in this landscape haunt themselves. Rain is always on the cards. And the cards, when consulted, augur badly. There are many dawns, most of them false.
Amy Lowell Traveling Scholarship, which sent him back overseas, without a uniform.
at Pima Community College when his life started taking unexpected turns. In 2005, Wonderful found out he had prostate cancer. He retired from teaching and worked to beat the cancer. Meanwhile, he was struggling to balance a failing personal relationship and reluctantly turning to substances. He ran out of money and found himself homeless for almost two years.
a cardboard cutout of Langston Hughes snatched from Busboys & Poets last week--has turned into full-blown debate about the D.C. poetry scene.
holidays over, spring a long way off. Sometimes everything feels that way, suspended in sadness, waiting. The thought of waiting made me remember this poem by a friend, Margot Schlipp, who, like me, has published several books from Carnegie Mellon University Press.
"Why the Ships are She" and "Hams Beneath the Firmament." She was profiled in June of 2004 in the Minneapolis newspaper City Pages as one of five Minnesota poets who might be the state Poet Laureate if Minnesota had one. She currently lives in triumph in Minneapolis, Minnesota, where she hopes to change at least the lipstick on the face of Minnesota poetry.
Irving Layton (b. 1912), my mentor, teacher and lifelong loyal friend similarly afflicted by Alzheimer's who died two years after my mom. I got lucky. Thanks to the efforts of many, Musia Schwartz foremost among same, it came to pass I could say my goodbyes to this amazing man who had been nominated for the Nobel Prize for Literature whom I adored. Now, I'm glad I did. I could not go to the funeral. Funny, innit?