Dan Jewett
Am I a stupid, silly man?
Would I add my desires to the weight of her struggles?
Would I hold her a pixie, a sprite I conjure to relieve my lonely hours?
But yes.
I would have her fall into me and
feel what strength remains in my arms and
I would lift her up and kiss her eyes.
What is it to anyone else if I am a stupid, silly man?
—d.j.
It was the birthday of Mary Oliver two days ago. Oliver passed in 2019. I am just now discovering the wealth of poetry she left for us.
This meditation on beauty, the natural world, and the wonder of the human mind and body is a gift; a respite from our current ‘meme world.’
1.
Where do I live? If I had no address, as many people
do not, I could nevertheless say that I lived in the
same town as the lilies of the field, and the still
waters.
Spring, and all through the neighborhood now there are
strong men tending flowers.
Beauty without purpose is beauty without virtue. But
all beautiful things, inherently, have this function –
to excite the viewers toward sublime thought. Glory
to the world, that good teacher.
Among the swans there is none called the least, or
the greatest.
I believe in kindness. Also in mischief. Also in
singing, especially when singing is not necessarily
prescribed.
As for the body, it is solid and strong and curious
and full of detail; it wants to polish itself; it
wants to love another body; it is the only vessel in
the world that can hold, in a mix of power and
sweetness: words, song, gesture, passion, ideas,
ingenuity, devotion, merriment, vanity, and virtue.
Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.
2.
There are many ways to perish, or to flourish.
How old pain, for example, can stall us at the threshold of function….
Still friends, consider stone, that is without the fret of gravity, and water that is without anxiety.
And the pine trees that never forget their recipe for renewal.
And the female wood duck who is looking this way and that way for her children. And the snapping turtle who is looking this way and that way also. This is the world.
And consider, always, every day, the determination of the grass to grow despite the unending obstacles.
3.
I ask you again: if you have not been enchanted by this adventure—your life—what would do for you?
And, where are you, with your ears bagged down as if with packets of sand? Listen. We all have much more listening to do. Tear the sand away. And listen. The river is singing. …
For myself, I have walked in these woods for
More than forty years, and I am the only
thing, it seems, that is about to be used up.
Or, to be less extravagant, will, in the
Foreseeable future, be used up.
First, though, I want to step out into some
fresh morning and look around and hear myself
crying out: “The house of money is falling! The house of money is falling! The weeds are rising! The weeds are rising!”
—Mary Oliver, from Evidence
To give mind to machines, they are calling it
out of the world, out of the neighborhood, out of the body.
They have bound it in the brain, in the hard shell
of the skull, in order to bind it in a machine.
From the heron flying home at dusk,
from the misty hollows at sunrise,
from the stories told at the row’s end,
they are calling the mind into exile
in the dry circuits of machines.
—Wendell Berry, collected in The Peace of Wild Things and other Poems
… the rest “The Mower”The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed. It had been in the long grass.I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world
Unmendably.
I called her beautiful, although I don’t believe she heard it.
But others did, and so began, a little trial with a verdict.
Please demonstrate you understand her journey and her dreams.
And did you consult this 12 point list of all that beauty means?
I was called out I must admit, I spoke before I thought.
I stand corrected once again, as often as is not.
I hemmed, I hawed, I dropped my gaze, I was really on the spot.
Let me re-phrase, I begged the court, I meant to say, “She’s hot.”
d.j.-2021-03-18
Between here and her are rolling hills where
wind-weathered peoples once cornered game.
They walked and hunted and walked and lived.
You can save money crossing those hills if you have a K-Tag on your windshield.
Then great flats we … the rest “Here and Her”
Today’s arrival.
I’ve mentioned Nanao Sakaki before and I continue to enjoy reading his work.
This collection of poems is one I’ve been looking for for a while. I finally found a reasonably priced new copy on AbeBooks.com.
“I love you” feels the darkening window dummy’s rough powder-snow mixed with a white wink, passing under seven-waterfalled-breast with—in the night—the spreading sound of all-or-nothing rapids, following charred rockskin scarring fingertips, Mary’s lover leads a suffering ass and opening tobacco-reeking fly YAHOO!
—from Bellyfulls, Part 1, How to Live on the Planet Earth, Nanao Sakaki
Here again is Sakaki’s most famous short verse:
If you have time to chatter
Read books
If you have time to read
Walk into mountains, desert and ocean
If you have time to walk
Sing songs and dance
If you have time to dance
Sit quietly, you Happy Lucky Idiot
—Nanao Sakaki
I turned on the lights, the TV and the radio
Still, I can’t escape the ghost of you
What has happened to it all?
Crazy, some would say
Where is the life that I recognize?
Gone awayBut I won’t cry for yesterday, there’s an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find
And, as I try to make my way to the ordinary world
I will learn to surviveEvery World
Is my World
… the rest “Housekeeping”We mourn the broken things, chair legs
wrenched from their seats, chipped plates,
the threadbare clothes. We work the magic
of glue, drive the nails, mend the holes.
We save what we can, melt small pieces
of soap, gather fallen
As a way to live a life and leave it, one could do worse.
Autobiography
Born of a humble & poor family,
Received minimum education,
Learnt how to live by himself at fourteen,
Survived storms, one after another:
Bullets, starvation … the rest “Autobiography”
Forgot to check the mail yesterday, and this morning a nice surprise.
Break the Mirror: The Poems of Nanao Sakaki, 1986. I ordered another volume, Let’s Eat Stars, which will hopefully arrive on Monday. How to Live on the Planet Earth: Collected Poems is probably next.
The poems date from 1966 and they are translated into English by the author.
Some people like their books to be in pristine condition but I have become less picky over the years. There is an inscription in this book that puts a smile on my face.
“To Another World Citizen…”
—Chris Iverson, Clara Dugan, Shannon & Meghan
I posted the untitled first poem from this collection the other day. I repeat it again here.
If you have time to chatter
Read books
If you have time to read
Walk into mountain, desert and ocean
If you have time to walk
sing songs and dance
If you have time to dance
Sit quietly, you Happy Lucky Idiot
And a random selection:
Sharpening a Knife
Nanao, keep your knife clean
Nanao, keep your mind cleanSea breeze is bad for a knife they say
Sea breeze is good for a m mind they saySea Breeze not bad for a knife
Sharpen your knife, that’s allSea breeze neither bad nor good
The ocean a whetstone for mindA clean knife mind
—Iriomote, Japan, Under the Tropic of Cancer, February 1976
A clean mind ocean
Nanao, sleep well tonight
Blossoming crinum lily as a shelter
The coral sand beach as a bed
The Southern Cross as a pillow.
Line three of Sharpening a Knife is typed here as it appears in the print version but I suspect a possible editing mistake. Perhaps it should read “Sea breeze is good for the mind they say.”
By the way, I ordered this book from AbeBooks which I recommend if you are looking for something out of print.
My friend Rex Siegler uses old-school tools. Visit “…and my typewriter too.“
Walt Whitman’s poetry frames scenes from 1920s New York in this film classic.
Billed as ‘a study of the modern Babylon-on-the-Hudson’, the short film Manhatta (1921) captures the rapidly developing cityscape of New York in the early 1920s. Made in … the rest “Manhatta (1921)”
… the rest “Portrait in Summer”Portrait in Summer
You wander in and out of rain.
The city encloses you. You feel
the darkening of its metals, above ground
and below. Every night
you touch a boundary you don’t understand.
Even asleep you crave sleep,
you
Emma Lazarus was born on this date in 1849. Her verse was once a celebration and a welcome. Now it has become nostalgic lament. Please re-awaken Mother of Exiles.
… the rest “The New Colossus”The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
If you have time to chatter,
Read books.If you have time to read,
Walk into mountain, desert and ocean.If you have time to walk,
Sing songs and dance.If you have time to dance,
—excerpted from How To Live on the Planet Earth: Collected Poems
Sit quietly, you Happy Lucky Idiot.
Learn these guidelines and practice them.
This poem by Lynna Odel is used as an epigraph for Eric Holthaus’s new book on climate change. Beautiful.
If I can’t save us
then let me feel you
happy and safe
under my chin.If this will drown
or burnthen let us drink starlight
nap under trees
sing on beaches—the morning rush to sit indoors is for
what, again?If we are dying
then let me rip open
and bleed Love,
spill it, spend it
see how much
there isthe reward for misers is
what, again?If this life is ending
then let me begin
—Lynna Odel (2019)
a new one
Lynna’s personal take on fighting climate change has wisdom.
There’s something I should tell you
Before I take your blindfold off
I’ve been twisted and turned
By what I have learned
I’m superdeformed
But my blood is warm
A dear friend of mine and I were recently discussing some of the surprising educational blessings we received in high school in Hutchinson, Kansas. The music program was exceptional, with some truly dedicated teachers. (Thank you Jim Swiggart and Mike … the rest “Reciting The Hollow Men”