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Poetry Month 2016: Heather McHugh
After Su Tung P’o On the birth of a son When a child is born, the parents say they hope it’s healthy and intelligent. But as for me— well, vigor and intelligence have wrecked my life. I pray this baby we are seeing walloped, wiped and winningly anointed, turns out dumb as oakum—and more sinister. That way he can crown a tranquil life by being appointed a cabinet minister. [From Eyeshot] ~ From the publisher’s Web site: Heather McHugh’s new book, Eyeshot, is a brooding, visionary work that takes aim at the big questions—those of love and death.Read More
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Poetry Month 2016: Su Tung-P’o
Reading the Poetry of Meng Chiao Night: reading Meng Chiao’s poems, Characters fine as cow’s hair. By the cold lamp, my eyes blur and swim. Good passages I rarely fine— Lone flowers poking up from the mud— But more hard words than the Odes or Li sao— Jumbled rocks clogging the clear stream, Making rapids too swift for poling. My first impression is of eating little fishes— What you get’s not worth the trouble; Or of boiling tiny mud crabs And ending up with some empty claws.Read More
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In Praise of Serendipity (UPDATED)
A couple of weeks ago I was visiting family in Eugene, Oregon, a small city with several excellent used book stores. In my favorite store, Tsunami Books, I picked up Linda Hamalian‘s A Life of Kenneth Rexroth for a mere six bucks. The picture she paints of Rexroth isn’t pretty—a tale of paranoia, sexist behavior, personal violence, egotism; serial infidelity on the one hand and pie-eyed romanticism on the other—but through it all Rexroth’s powerful intellect and creative energy radiate.Read More