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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
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Posted by kid_A on March 15, 2002, at 12:15:44
In reply to Re: another poem A SECRET HISTORY OF PRAYER AND SONG, posted by trouble on March 15, 2002, at 3:00:37
trouble,
first, thankyou for taking the interest in my work, believe it or not I do harbour quite a bit of self doubt when it concerns my writing and when someone takes the time to respond to something I've written I appreciate it very deeply...Regarding Robert Lowell, another 'confessional' poet if you will, He had quite nice things to say about the work of Plath in the introduction he gives to her book Ariel, the poems that would serve a a precursor to her unfortunate end. I think in that book alone, a book that by itself deserved to be awarded the Pulitzer (she was posthumously awarded one for her collected words), Plath, to borrow Lowell's words, "becomes herself, becomes something imaginary, newly, wildly and subtly created".
If I had to choose a poet to whom I owe a imense debt as far as influence goes, it would have to be Anne Sexton. Sexton's writing style is different than plaths in that at times it becomes more abstract, fanciful, In the end phases of her work there is a running theme of her relationship to what she can only grasp at being her idea of a "God" with a captial G...
You are correct about this poem being my epic, it is I think one I laboured over for well on two years now... I initially finished it in february of 2000, but have since made several amendments that I think help to better convey the poems theme, the dichotomy between sane and insane, between beautiful and wretched, between Caliban and Prospero, between rich and poor, between happy and sad. I modeled the poem as being spoken by the character of Caliban, from The Tempest, I instill in him the awe of his would be gods, I try to impart the feelings he has towards himself... This is not to say that my poem is in anyway a metaphor or relation to The Tempest, but Caliban serves as a reference point for me to best explain the narator...
In my work I strive to impart the most clear sense of emotion that I can. I try my best not to just compile a collection of 'pretty words'. I would hope, I think, that in some way, at least on some levels, someone can connect with what I say. I understand that not all passages will be as lucid as others, but overall I hope to impart a certain feeling.
I think writing in metaphor, that there is not always a garuntee that people will simply 'get' your writing. Plaths writing can be obtuse to the point of mystery... Take the poem "Cut", which deals with mental illness treatment, but reads much more about the fascination with a accidental severing of a finger... I think that poem alone has been misinterpreted on many levels, I myself have a hard time grasping it, but it, along with "The Applicant", are amoung my favourites of Plaths. They adorn my walls at home, as I walk through my appartment, sometimes I'll stop at a corner where I've taped an inspiring poem, and the sheer depth and impact it has on me is amazing, If I was asked for what I live for, it is these moments of connection I feel with these particular writers.
Im open to any discussion about my work, its obvious you have an interest in writing, and I might say could probably make quite a good poet if you gave it a chance, if you have not allready... Its not all black and white, so theres no need to feel as if you 'get it' or do not... The words in themselves cary some impact, which I hope is imparted, the best poetry achieves this in some ways, even if at times the meaning is obscured.
much thanks again,
kid_A
Posted by trouble on March 15, 2002, at 15:08:42
In reply to Re: another poem A SECRET HISTORY OF PRAYER AND SONG » trouble, posted by kid_A on March 15, 2002, at 12:15:44
Hi Kid_A,
I'm 4 hours late for work so I have to go fast. I haven't read the Tempest and don't know who Caliban is, which only makes me MORE interested in unlocking the mysteries of your epic, but I'm on a sort of pre-school level w/ it, just so you know. I guess I'm considered an accomplished poet in Austin, but I can't stand my work, it's too expository and simple. FACILE! You write the way I think real poets write, inscrutable! Demanding but intensely rewarding. I'm gonna ask you about an earlier poem, the first one I read, I'll get to that soon.Thanks for telling me the kind words Dr. Skunk Hour had to say about his former student. I've read 4 of her biographies and still barely understand a single poem, but the only framed portrait I have on my living room wall is of her.
My favorite modern poet is Sharon Olds, who I've heard described as Sylvia Plath on bad acid. I might post one of hers (or so) on PSB as the spirit moves.
Poetry, ah...this is the first time I've felt at ease around here in days.
take care,
trouble
Posted by Zo on March 16, 2002, at 1:05:12
In reply to Re: another poem A SECRET HISTORY OF PRAYER AND SONG, posted by trouble on March 15, 2002, at 15:08:42
trouble! recent Sharon Olds poem in New Yorker of curling up in her mother's arms "as she lay dying." Did you see it? I will post it, if not! I think she is dynamite, and don't find her acid-like at all, but very grounded in the stuff of life. . .
Zo
Posted by trouble on March 16, 2002, at 2:10:13
In reply to Re: another poem A SECRET HISTORY OF PRAYER AND S » trouble, posted by Zo on March 16, 2002, at 1:05:12
Posted by Zo on March 16, 2002, at 18:03:57
In reply to another poem A SECRET HISTORY OF PRAYER AND SONG, posted by kid_A on March 14, 2002, at 19:27:39
You realize that this is one of the great titles of all time.I'm quite serious. I just know there's a book behind it.
Literally. That's how I write, an interesting title comes to me first, and I tease out what's behind--within-- it.
(Have to d/l yr. poem to read more closely.)
Zo
Posted by kid_A on March 16, 2002, at 18:38:39
In reply to Re: A SECRET HISTORY OF PRAYER AND SONG » kid_A, posted by Zo on March 16, 2002, at 18:03:57
Zo,
Thank you very much for your kind words... I do often title my poems before I write them, sometimes the title changes, sometimes its left over and it's apt...I can see it now, the Psycho Babble poetry circle... again, thanks for reading. Please post some of your writing, even in exceprt if they are prose... Id like to foster an writer-friendly environment here...
as always,
A.
Posted by Zo on March 17, 2002, at 2:57:49
In reply to please please post it Zo, and thanks!!!! (nm), posted by trouble on March 16, 2002, at 2:10:13
Then we raised the top portion of the bed,
and her head was like a trillium, growing
up, out of the ground, in the woods,
eyes closed, mouth open,
and we put the Battle arias on, and when I
heard the first note, that was it, for me,
I excused myself from the death-room guests,
and went to my mother, and cleared a place
on the mattress, beside her, lifting
the tubes, oxygen, dextrose, morphine,
dipping in under them, and letting them
rest on my hair, as if burying myself
under a topsoil of roots, I pulled
the sheet up, over my head,
and touched my forehead and nose and mouth
to her arm, and then, against the warm
soloace of her skin, I sobbed full out,
unguarded, as I have not done near her;
and I could feel some barrier between us dissolving,
I could feel myself dissolving it,
moving ever closer to her through it, til I was
all there, I went to my mom
for comfort. And in her coma nothing
drew her away from giving me the basal
kindness of her presence, I took a long turn
as a child on earth. When the doctor came in,
he looked at her and said, "I'd say
hours, not days." When he left, I ate
a pear with her, talking us through it,
and walnuts--and crow, a whole bouquet
of crows came apart, outside the window.
I looked for the moon and said, I'll be right
back, and ran down the hospital hall,
and there, outside an eastern window,
was the waxing gibbous, like a swimmer's head
turned to the side half out of the water, mouth
pulled to the side and back, to take a breath,
I could see my young mother, slim
and strong in her navy one-piece, and see,
in memory's dark-blue corridor,
the beauty of her crawl, the hard, graceful
overhand motion, as someone who says
This way, to the others behind. And I went back,
and sat with her, alone, an hour,
in the quiet, and I felt, almost, not
afraid of losing her, I was so
content to have her beside me, unspeaking,
unseeing, alive.
Posted by kid_A on March 17, 2002, at 21:44:41
In reply to The Last Evening, by Sharon Olds, posted by Zo on March 17, 2002, at 2:57:49
First, are you our sort of a person?
Do you wear
A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch,
A brace or a hook,
Rubber breasts or a rubber crotch,Stitches to show something's missing? No, no? Then
How can we give you a thing?
Stop crying.
Open your hand.
Empty? Empty. Here is a handTo fill it and willing
To bring teacups and roll away headaches
And do whatever you tell it.
Will you marry it?
It is guaranteedTo thumb shut your eyes at the end
And dissolve of sorrow.
We make new stock from the salt.
I notice you are stark naked.
How about this suit----Black and stiff, but not a bad fit.
Will you marry it?
It is waterproof, shatterproof, proof
Against fire and bombs through the roof.
Believe me, they'll bury you in it.Now your head, excuse me, is empty.
I have the ticket for that.
Come here, sweetie, out of the closet.
Well, what do you think of that ?
Naked as paper to startBut in twenty-five years she'll be silver,
In fifty, gold.
A living doll, everywhere you look.
It can sew, it can cook,
It can talk, talk , talk.It works, there is nothing wrong with it.
You have a hole, it's a poultice.
You have an eye, it's an image.
My boy, it's your last resort.
Will you marry it, marry it, marry it.
Posted by Krazy Kat on March 18, 2002, at 8:26:57
In reply to The Applicant by Sylvia Plath, posted by kid_A on March 17, 2002, at 21:44:41
Posted by trouble on March 18, 2002, at 9:50:48
In reply to The Applicant by Sylvia Plath, posted by kid_A on March 17, 2002, at 21:44:41
Peter Laughner,
Rocket From The Tombs,
precursor of Dead Boys and Pere Ubu, Datapanik records, 1974 (Out of print, I've never heard the original, I'm taking liberties w/ the following half-forgotten lyrics from an old Death of Samantha LP)Sylvia Plath
Was never too good at math
But they tell me that she finished
At the head of her classAnd when she lost her virginity
She didn't lose it too fast
They wouldn't hold any dress rehearsals for
Sylvia PlathSylvia Plath
Came into Manhatten
She had crawled out of one
Cocoon where there was absolutely
Nothin happenin
And if I'm gonna be classless and crass
I'm gonna break up some glass
Nobody broke anything sharper than
Sylvia PlathThere's no vast excuses (?)
There's just the dance in the aftermathAnd when you check out of this hotel jack
Yer nothin but an autographThe desk clerk wakes her at seven
And he tosses it out w/the trash
But he'll keep around a couple of letters
Which were addressed to
Sylvia PlathSylvia Plath
Woke up and turned on the gas
Then she put her head down and completely
Forgot about lighting a matchThe rest of the details
Are too boring to attachLet's see you do one thing as graceful as
Sylvia Plath
Let's see you do one thing as graceful as
Sylvia PlathYeah, let's see you do one thing as senselessly cruel as
Sylvia Plath
It's unbeleievably beautiful if you ever come across a copy or cover by any band, I predict you will buy it stat.p.s. I like that last line, it must be one for her kids, ya think?
Posted by trouble on March 18, 2002, at 10:33:30
In reply to Sylvia Plath by gifted, reckless, dead, posted by trouble on March 18, 2002, at 9:50:48
A Portrait Of The Reader With A Bowl Of Cereal BILLY COLLINS
"A poet...never speaks directly,
as to someone at the breakfast table."
-yeatsEvery morning I sit across from you
at the same small table,
the sun all over the breakfast things-
curve of a blue-and-white pitcher,
a dish of berries-
me in a sweatshirt or robe,
you invisible.Most days, we are suspended
over a deep pool of silence.
I stare straight through you
or look out the window at the garden,
the powerful sky,
a cloud passing behind a tree.There is no need to pass the toast,
the pot of jam,
or pour you a cup of tea,
and I can hide behind the paper,
rotate in its drum of calamitous news.But some days I may notice
a little door swinging open
in the morning air,
and maybe the tea leaves
of some dream will be stuck
to the china slope of the hour-then I will lean forward,
elbows on the table,
with something to tell you,
and you will look up, as always
your spoon dripping milk, ready to listen.
Posted by beardedlady on March 18, 2002, at 11:35:49
In reply to Marry it! Marry it! Marry it!, posted by trouble on March 18, 2002, at 10:33:30
Excellent poem; thank you.
By the way, when I was in 9th grade, I'd listen to my 8-track tapes in his car sometimes and leave them there. I'll never forget my dad coming in from work once when I'd left my Dead Boys tape in his deck. "What the hell's this shit--'I don't wanna dance, I just wanna get in your pants'?"
"Duh, Dad. It's the Dead Boys."
In case you're interested, I'm good at the line break thing. I would love to swap poems and critiques, but I don't like the idea of doing it here. Will you put in an e-mail address?
: )>
Posted by kid_A on March 18, 2002, at 14:13:38
In reply to Re: Marry it! Marry it! Marry it! » trouble, posted by beardedlady on March 18, 2002, at 11:35:49
Posted by beardedlady on March 18, 2002, at 14:41:44
In reply to I've always prefered The Damned to the Dead Boys.. (nm), posted by kid_A on March 18, 2002, at 14:13:38
Ultravoxx (with John Foxx, not Midge) and the buzzies and Eddie and the Hot Rods. (I could take or leave the Dead Boys and Richard Hell.) I spent a good portion of my teens and twenties in our one punk club listening to these guys and hanging out with them. Made me what I am today!
; )>
Posted by kid_A on March 18, 2002, at 17:55:50
In reply to Oh, me too! And the Stranglers and... » kid_A, posted by beardedlady on March 18, 2002, at 14:41:44
Posted by trouble on March 18, 2002, at 21:23:40
In reply to I've always prefered The Damned to the Dead Boys.. (nm), posted by kid_A on March 18, 2002, at 14:13:38
Either/Or thinking, Kid, don't make me cite you for Borderline Tendencies!
psychocop
Posted by dove on March 19, 2002, at 14:37:06
In reply to Re: I've always prefered The Damned to the Dead Boys.., posted by trouble on March 18, 2002, at 21:23:40
What about Nick Cave, and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds?
He's not cut-clean or perfect in rhythm or rhyme, but so many of his songs have such a keen edge that it's hard to argue against the fact that he's truly a poet. However, I'm not a well-versed nor a well-read poetry lover, I do wish I had the time to become one as I love poetry and write scribbles myself when I feel unable to speak.
Nick Cave's writing hits me first at a gut-level kind of force. It has a punch, and can be a real discomposing or uncomfortable first read or listen.
However, when I desensitize my over-sensitive emotional control center (as best I can), I find so much more hidden beneath the crass or the slurred. After a little digging, I find a goldmine of sorrow, loss, anger, surrender, submission, murder.
Followed by an emotional pause of sorts--like after being assaulted, just stunned--and a dusting of soothing silver spreads across my smarting and slightly bruised consciousness. It is an image of hope, love, vitality, healing, and *not* giving in to the dark forces that beg me to visit them.
dove (rambling thoughts....)
Posted by kid_A on March 19, 2002, at 14:53:43
In reply to Re: I've always prefered Nick Cave-book/songwriter, posted by dove on March 19, 2002, at 14:37:06
I have the Birthday Party album Junk Yard, and the book "King Ink", my copy is published by
Henry Rollin's "213" publishing company...I like his writing more than I like the music of the Birthday Party... Though I like the Birthday Party better than I like his solo work... I guess I just dig the goth kitsch...
Posted by IsoM on March 19, 2002, at 15:06:09
In reply to Re: I've always prefered Nick Cave-book/songwriter, posted by dove on March 19, 2002, at 14:37:06
Posted by beardedlady on March 19, 2002, at 16:00:20
In reply to Finally! Someone who's heard of Nick Cave!!!! (nm) » dove, posted by IsoM on March 19, 2002, at 15:06:09
Posted by kid_A on March 19, 2002, at 16:30:10
In reply to Re: I've always prefered The Damned to the Dead Boys.., posted by trouble on March 18, 2002, at 21:23:40
> Either/Or thinking, Kid, don't make me cite you for Borderline Tendencies!
My inner child suggests you go listen to Outlandos D'amour by the Police...
Posted by Rach on March 19, 2002, at 20:58:33
In reply to Finally! Someone who's heard of Nick Cave!!!! (nm) » dove, posted by IsoM on March 19, 2002, at 15:06:09
I have a lot of family from the same area that Nick is from - Wangaratta in Australia. I attended the same Uni as he did, and live about 5mins from his high school.
I never knew all this until just now when I searched for him on the internet to check that he actually was Australian. I think one of the strangest things he's ever done is a duet with Kylie Minogue.
Posted by IsoM on March 19, 2002, at 22:22:26
In reply to Re: Finally! Someone who's heard of Nick Cave!!!!, posted by Rach on March 19, 2002, at 20:58:33
His Murder Ballads are something. He's taken a somewhat different path with his music lately but I really like it. I had a mental image of him & when I first saw him was thoroughly surprised - not like I expected at all. Now I can't imagine him any other way.
Posted by trouble on March 20, 2002, at 1:13:49
In reply to Re: Nick Cave!!!! » Rach, posted by IsoM on March 19, 2002, at 22:22:26
O My God. Nick Cave is the love of my secret life. I really have a found a home here. thank you thank you thank you
trouble
Posted by beardedlady on March 20, 2002, at 5:31:04
In reply to Re: Nick Cave!!!!, posted by trouble on March 20, 2002, at 1:13:49
Are we middle-agers? Nick Cave, the Stranglers, the Damned? We must all be what--38? 39? 4000000000000000? Aaargh!
Think I'll go put on a Green Day CD and pretend they're really Stiff Little Fingers.
: )>
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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
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