“Poetry is a necessity of life. It is a function of
poetry
to locate those zones inside us that would be free, and declare them so.”
C.D. Wright, 1949-2016
to locate those zones inside us that would be free, and declare them so.”
C.D. Wright, 1949-2016
The intriguing and brilliant poet C.D. Wright died this last Tuesday, January 12th. She was only 67, born the same year I was born. That fact makes me feel vulnerable, reminds me that life is short. Enough said. I'm just going to post a poem in her honor - I puzzled over it for a long time and eventually learned to love it. Hoping the same for you.
[One tangential thought: I try to pick poetry for children on Poetry Fridays, but I don't always think that the category "child" means a young child. Teens can be offered poems written for adults (though when a poet writes a poem like this, is she thinking of audience?) Let's present more complicated and beautiful poems like this one to YA readers, in addition to the growing volume of verse novels (emphasis usually on "novel," not on "verse") which go only so far to kindle a passion for poetry, and which too often assume a limited desire on the part of teens to work hard at understanding something. This is a thick poem - a poem with weight - not much white space to it, which I feel can be a common flaw in verse novels. Here's a poem that can be read, then re-read, then discussed in a high school English class - discovering "the zones inside us that would be free" - oh, I'd like to hear that discussion. What an unexpected couple of lines this poem opens with, given its title. How wave-like it settles into the listing of moments in a life. What a last word to leave us with - "Instead."
I love a poem that makes us ask a question and does not, necessarily, provide the answer. A poem that sends us to bed wondering. Anyway, with no further opinion-pushing, here's C. D. Wright:
Everything Good Between Men and Women
has been written in mud and butter
and barbecue sauce. The walls and
the floors used to be gorgeous.
The socks off-white and a near match.
The quince with fire blight
but we get two pints of jelly
in the end. Long walks strengthen
the back. You with a fever blister
and myself with a sty. Eyes
have we and we are forever prey
to each other’s teeth. The torrents
go over us. Thunder has not harmed
anyone we know. The river coursing
through us is dirty and deep. The left
hand protects the rhythm. Watch
your head. No fires should be
unattended. Especially when wind. Each
receives a free swiss army knife.
The first few tongues are clearly
preparatory. The impression
made by yours I carry to my grave. It is
just so sad so creepy so beautiful.
Bless it. We have so little time
to learn, so much... The river
courses dirty and deep. Cover the lettuce.
Call it a night. O soul. Flow on. Instead.
_____________________
The Poetry Friday round-up this week is being hosted by Keri over at Keri Recommends. Head over there to see what other people have posted.
