Here is the poetry I've been promising!
Wanting Sumptuous Heavens
by Robert Bly
No one grumbles among the oyster clans,
And lobsters play their bone guitars all summer.
Only we, with our opposable thumbs, want
Heaven to be, and God to come, again.
There is no end to our grumbling; we want
comfortable earth and sumptuous Heaven.
But the heron standing on one leg in the bog
drinks his dark rum all day and is content.
—Robert Bly
from the New Yorker
reprinted in Best American Poetry 2008, p. 17
This is Bly's note about this poem in the back of the anthology:
‘Wanting Sumptuous Heavens’ is written in a form
called the ramage. This form requires eight lines of roughly ten syllables each. The poem is held together, so to speak, by certain particular sounds that are repeated in the course of the poem. In this case, the sound um, as in ‘grumbles’ and ‘summer’ appears in each of the couplets twice and sometimes more, so that even though the poem does not offer any end rhymes, it is built on a number of interior rhymes. “I like the delicious flavor of the small sounds reappearing like raisins in a muffin.”
This is definitely something that I am currently trying. I think it makes the poem a little (but not TOO) mysterious, and introduces fresh images that are very thought-provoking. And the whole poem would be worth it for only the heron's dark rum. Good night.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
San Jose's Light Tower
This tower was a civic project to light downtown San Jose from above. Due to the physics of light, it didn't work well, but it has been relocated to San Jose History Park with a lot of other outdated civic structures of interest. The light was so seeing people, also known as most of us, could see when the sun went down.
Here is a passage from Eavesdropping, a book by a poet and essayist who is blind, The new Georgia Review came today just after my three young granddaughters and their mother left from a two day visit. So I treated myself to a quick lie-on-the-couch to read an interview with Stephen Kuusisto, of whom I had not previously heard, He has been talking about experience, even travel, when you cannot see. Mostly we are looking, looking, looking.
But he is listening: "The music says we are still in love with our tentative thoughts; the heart's arousal is a kindness--nothing more. Outside, sleet strikes at the window, a crow calls from a neighbor's yard. This is the early hour when I can still hear. All feelings are first feelings: the world is not yet constructed. The poplars in fresh snow sway in the January wind."
Notice the movement from interior and subjective thought to description relying on audio input, not visual. It makes the reader snap awake. I haven't read the book yet, but I will.
Here is a passage from Eavesdropping, a book by a poet and essayist who is blind, The new Georgia Review came today just after my three young granddaughters and their mother left from a two day visit. So I treated myself to a quick lie-on-the-couch to read an interview with Stephen Kuusisto, of whom I had not previously heard, He has been talking about experience, even travel, when you cannot see. Mostly we are looking, looking, looking.
But he is listening: "The music says we are still in love with our tentative thoughts; the heart's arousal is a kindness--nothing more. Outside, sleet strikes at the window, a crow calls from a neighbor's yard. This is the early hour when I can still hear. All feelings are first feelings: the world is not yet constructed. The poplars in fresh snow sway in the January wind."
Notice the movement from interior and subjective thought to description relying on audio input, not visual. It makes the reader snap awake. I haven't read the book yet, but I will.
Leonardo's big horse
This is a replica of the big bronze horse commissioned to honor the Duke of Milan, Francisco Sforza. Leonardo spent lots of time in drawing, study, engineering plans and calculation over some 16 years; he had gathered together a lot of bronze preparatory to casting. The leadership of Milan was overthrown by war and the bronze was taken to make cannons. So this great project--to cast a 24 foot tall horse in one piece--was never completed. The replica seen here is of fiberglass and stood in front of the Tech Museum in San Jose during the run of two exhibits from Italy on Leonardo and his times. This horse is made of fibreglass and is wearing a wreath in honor of the Christmas Season. He is really a spectacular beauty,
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Buster, the feral girl
This is Buster and this is my only photo of her. She went her entire life without being petted. When called, she did come in to our garage with Miss Bianca, her mother, to dine and sleep. I took the picture one day when I was experimenting with a roll of black-and-white film. I have always thought it was interesting not only because of her suspicious look, but also because it so clearly demonstrates how the figure can become the ground. You still know which is the white part of the cat, but you cannot really see the line where the whites divide. I had read about this in art books, but I think I really understood it only after I saw this picture. Now I think I am through with posting about cats for a while. Tomorrow, poetry, for sure.
Goodbye, Miss Bianca
One last picture of Miss Bianca, her story is below in several posts. Her eyes were truly this yellow. She was a small cat, but very smart and very courageous.
This picture is the worse for wear for having been made into a refigerator magnet years ago. My grandchildren like to get all the old pets off the fridge and play with them when they visit.
Today's weather in a haiku might be represented by the phrase "winter drizzle." The sky was that uniform very pale gray. Sometimes, I think January is the month when this part of California is the least beautiful. Good night.
This picture is the worse for wear for having been made into a refigerator magnet years ago. My grandchildren like to get all the old pets off the fridge and play with them when they visit.
Today's weather in a haiku might be represented by the phrase "winter drizzle." The sky was that uniform very pale gray. Sometimes, I think January is the month when this part of California is the least beautiful. Good night.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
End of the Story
By now we always called her Miss B, instead of the full Miss Bianca. Our earless beauty lived for many years. She came in every night for a dish of dry cat food. . I never saw any evidence that she was a hunter. She liked us to stroke when we met her outdoors. W e got a better quality of cat food now that she was an eldercat. She took to sleeping on the hood of the car, and then found places atop boxes to hide and daytime-sleep in the garage. She slept and slept and slept and got thinner and thinner. Our vet said she had nothing treatable, “Old cats can sleep a lot,” she said. Miss B didn’t keep herself quite as cleanly white, but she still looked fine and her yellow eyes were gemlike. So things went on until the day she didn’t come in. For several days we looked and called, but we never saw her again. Our hope was that she hadn’t come to some sort of violent end by teeth of dog or tire of car. And gradually we stopped calling and went on. A couple of years later as S was trimming some ivy near the house, he found a little bit of white fur and curled up skeletal remnants. He came inside and got me. She had gone to sleep in a favored spot, under the dryer vent where she sometimes enjoyed the warm air. She was resting there still, dessicated and odorless, yet undisturbed. She is there yet, deeply quiet, and known, under the ivy.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Unfinished Business: the tale, continued, of Miss Bianca
Unfinished Business: the tale, continued of Miss Bianca
The beginning of this tale is told in three recent posts. In this picture, see the blackness that is beginning to develop at the tips of Miss Bianca’s ears? This often happens to white cats, we are told, and is a type of slow-growing skin cancer caused by the sun. Since she was an outdoor cat in California that was probably inevitable, but we didn’t know anything in time to prevent it. The vet said nothing needed to be done for awhile and then we could have her ears removed. S came home with the news the estimate of the cost. $1100. It seemed like a lot to pay for an old free garage cat, but of course we had to do it. We waited until her ears got worse, and were just about to charge it when someone at work told me about a vet in East San Jose who had done her cat’s ears for $300. I got the name, an appointment was made and off S went with Miss Bianca. The deed was done. We could pick her up later. At first, they had told S it would cost almost $900. When he picked her up to leave, they recalculated and eliminated some expensive tests that could be dispensed with. I hadn’t figured in the part about Bev being cute, flirtacious and very competative. It wound up costing about $550. Having no ears gave her a sly look, like she had a devious and interesting personality. Several times people asked us what breed of cat she was. We should have faked some exotic name. I hope I can find a picture of her in that state; I am not sure I have one. There is only one more Miss B story, and I’ll tell it to you tomorrow. After which the New Year can fully commence. Happy New Year!
The beginning of this tale is told in three recent posts. In this picture, see the blackness that is beginning to develop at the tips of Miss Bianca’s ears? This often happens to white cats, we are told, and is a type of slow-growing skin cancer caused by the sun. Since she was an outdoor cat in California that was probably inevitable, but we didn’t know anything in time to prevent it. The vet said nothing needed to be done for awhile and then we could have her ears removed. S came home with the news the estimate of the cost. $1100. It seemed like a lot to pay for an old free garage cat, but of course we had to do it. We waited until her ears got worse, and were just about to charge it when someone at work told me about a vet in East San Jose who had done her cat’s ears for $300. I got the name, an appointment was made and off S went with Miss Bianca. The deed was done. We could pick her up later. At first, they had told S it would cost almost $900. When he picked her up to leave, they recalculated and eliminated some expensive tests that could be dispensed with. I hadn’t figured in the part about Bev being cute, flirtacious and very competative. It wound up costing about $550. Having no ears gave her a sly look, like she had a devious and interesting personality. Several times people asked us what breed of cat she was. We should have faked some exotic name. I hope I can find a picture of her in that state; I am not sure I have one. There is only one more Miss B story, and I’ll tell it to you tomorrow. After which the New Year can fully commence. Happy New Year!
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