Diane Wakoski and the Hitchhikers

Seeing the hitchhikers on the side of the road reminded Wakoski that she “once had what she wanted, and lost it.” She compares the relationship she is mourning to being trapped under her own good fortune, like a mountain of diamonds of being rendered immobile by being turned in to gold; someone who has everything they want but cannot realize it until it is too late.
Sometimes comfort and security can foster guilt. Her car separates her from the plight of the hitchhikers who rely on people like her to sacrifice some of their comfort zone. But her car is full of her own needs and regrets; she seems to need her space and guilt. Perhaps accepting a stranger into her comfort zone would symbolize moving past the past, which she is not ready for.

Joy Harjo; Perhaps the World Ends Here

Harjo writes of the value of family-centered life in a era where tv dinners are beginning to replace rigid family rituals. If the value of family can be compared to a religious observance, the kitchen table, where a family receives physical and spiritual nourishment, can be considered the central and most holy of places; an alter. The architect Frank Llyod Wright designed his house to centered around the hearth/fire place to enable families to see their meeting point as the center of their lives, their home.

john giorno; an unemployed machinist

The repetition seems random and yet intentional at the same time. The first two stanzas are repeated as a whole after they were broken at first; as are the last two. This seems to be the main motif from which he varies a bit. It's almost as if he wants you to hear the words within the words. There is emphasis, but not just repetition, there is something else. More than one meaning to a line; a line can be understood two ways. Depending on how it breaks, the emphasis is on a different word. When he reads in person, in a way it seems lie the lines repeated are the same, repeated for effect. but he stresses not on the same word exactly each time.

Incident by Amiri Baraka

The imagery here is interesting. Beginning the poem with imagery using many verbs and non-noun words such as back, shot (twice, emphasizing "He came back"; as if to say the killer returning to shoot was like twice intentional), fell, stumbling, down, shot (again), dying, dead. Perhaps the lack of nouns and metaphor project a more literal feeling.

Only in the second paragraph do we get introduced to the nouns: speeding bullet, tearing his face, "blood sprayed fine over the killer and the grey light". Now we have the characters missing in the first stanza, and "the grey light"; perhaps even a pseudo-metaphor. As seen in the third stanza, the light is only a metaphor, the darkness both literal and metaphorical, as is the tumbling.

The journey from literal to abstract is gradual: the first metaphor of light so commonly (over)used and familiar, it can almost "feel" real to the reader. This sets up the metaphor of tumbling down the stairs, more thoughtful and insightful.

The unusual break in the middle signifies an end and a beginning in middle of the poem; perhaps because we return to the literal.

Langston Hughes; Sylvester’s Dying Bed

In Sylvester’s Dying Bed, the vernacular familiar to Hughes from childhood is paramount. In other poems, Standard English is used, but here, the speaker’s story is unique to its organic roots. The words dont just tell the story, they are the story. Of course, this gives the poem a tune of its own, we hear the voice of an immigrant, the mourning of loss is not just any mourning, it is unique to the customs/wailings/tune of its culture, which gives the poem its melodic quality; swayin’ an’ chantin’.

Hughes seems to be telling a story that he does not want lost in translation. It is the story of life, death, love. Perhaps for Hughes they are inseparable from their ethnic roots; for once they are cut off/ integrated to the faceless melting pot, these fundamentals can be rendered meaningless; general concepts perceived by the general population instead of the unique individual interacting the irreplaceable family.

Li Young-Lee; Early in the Morning

Early in the Morning seeps with nostalgia; a common setting for childhood memories, but also common for immigrants. Many images in the poem are conducive for nostalgia; the time of day, especially morning, especially early. Foods of childhood, especially local foods and customs. Birds remind us of time. Common or even mundane practices such as combing hair are anchors that remind us how special it was to be a child within the predictable stability of family. Her mother repeats the motion every day, her father like it just so. The poem flows with continuity; first we imagine the long grain, then the long hair. We begin with the light of early morning, and end behind the dark shroud of the unknown evening. The hair like curtains, the imagery hiding our imagery, left to wonder as a child might.

Marge Piercy; Barbie Doll

Barbie Doll is a strong poem. I could feel the rhythm, hard and prodding; challenging at every turn our conscience, our utopian hopes for society. Perhaps this is a characteristic of a Beat poet. With the quickening pace, the imagery finds uncomfortable corners of our mind; the words are relentless and carefully chosen, from the title, to the stark details of death. Barbie Doll hurts; you don’t want to face the reality of the next line, but you must, like a tragic scene unfolding in front of you, you want to turn away, but you can’t.

Getting Divorced

In "People Getting Divorced" Lawrence Ferlingehtti uses the Analogy to connect actual events and objects with indirectly related happenings. A person forced to live in his car is forced to take all of his possessions with them; uprooted, without the comfort once had of knowing where their belongings belong, and where they will always be. A divorced person is without roots, without confidence and stability. One begins to see themselves no more grounded then an errant shoe, so easily lost. "Wondering what happened, to everyone and everything.." Suddenly nothing is certain, nothing is in its place. You question your values and choices.
He compares a pair of shoes to a married couple; one cannot be independent of the other. He wonders if the lost shoe can find a mate, sounds a bit weird, how likely is that? Perhaps when we got married we too were so; like a pair of shoes, compatible for non other. But now the shoe is on the wrong foot. Irreversible differences render the couple as compatible as two random shoes.

Ginsberg's America

The poem America by Alen Ginsberg is a strange work of art. It can appear as random thoughts jotted down (perhaps even in preparation for a poem) as opposed to an actual poem. He even dates the poem within the poem. Although the rhythm is there -the poem is a chant and a cry- it is perhaps more apparent to the trained eye as rather to my own.
As I read Ginsberg’s poem it seemed as though almost every line was displaying another side of character from a writer with an obvious complex personality. His strong statements are dark and laced with disgust and apathy, yet always coming back/tying in humor and wit.

One thing is certain, the speaker/writer is disenchanted, strongly. He speaks as a member of a sub-society/culture, disconnected from society at large and the reality they choose to see. A period in America’s history that is remembered as a time of growth and optimism.

The Day Lady Died

Some poems are timeless. In Facing It Yusef Komunyakaa uses imagery and references to his a specific time and place, regarding specific people. Yet, years later, I can relate as a civilian. On the other hand, Frank O'Hara's poem is so personal, I feel like an outsider, if not an intruder. He begins with a precise loctaion and time, and proceeds to report in great detail seemingly mundane (yet to him meaningful because of what happened that day) activities. Yet I am lost. What is the significance of his Friday afternoon routine? Who is Lady? How do I relate to all that went through his mind as he saw the everyday things he did through a new light when I don't even know what happened!?

Yusef Komunyakaa; Facing It

In Facing It Yusef Komunyakaa describes his experience at the Vietnam Memorial. A war memorial can evoke strong feelings for anyone, but for the speaker of the poem, a vet himself, the visit is painful struggle between many conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he must move on, not let the pain keep its paralyzing hold on him forever: “I said I wouldn't, dammit: No tears.” On the other hand, he is besieged with survivor’s guilt lest he forget those who died in his stead: “I go down the 58,022 names, half-expecting to find my own in letters like smoke. I touch the name Andrew Johnson; I see the booby trap's white flash”. Thirdly, he struggles to deal with the fact that a mere slab of granite can attempt to pay respects to a real life lost, to 58,022 lives lost: “Names shimmer on a woman's blouse but when she walks away the names stay on the wall.” We get to walk away, content with seeing the names, but they remain as they were, just a name to represent a whole life lost.
Komunyakaa uses strong imagery and contrast to reflect on his inner turmoil. He compares his face to the black granite, fighting to be cold and emotionless as the wall. From black he sees white; the flash of the booby trap, a white vet who lost his arm. (I wonder how the color of his friend is relevant.) He seems to describe the reflections on the wall as deceiving, his imagination and guilt (?) playing charades on his mind; his own reflection suspiciously becomes a bird of prey; a woman brushing a boy’s hair appears to be erasing the names; the black wall represents a mirror. Perhaps this mirror represents an alternative reality: In this real world, all there is is a cold, lifeless wall, but in the mind, the wall lives with the painful memories, a more just memorial perhaps. Perhaps the speaker is caught in between his painful conscience and his will to see things in better light. Life must go on. A mother brushing her son’s hair may seem indifferent to his pain, not having seen the war up close as he did, but in the simple maternal gesture also lies great beauty of life, perhaps reason to move on.

The Fish by Elizabeth Bishop; Who Caught The Fish?

In class last week, the general understanding was that Bishop is writing a poem about a fishing experience she had.
Yet, the contributing writers on the Bedford-St. Martin’s Virtualit site (Quentin Miller and Margaret Wald respectively) seem to take a very different approach. They refer to the fisher who's experience is recounted as a fictional second party. i.e. "the speaker" in the poem. As the first sample essay begins: "Elizabeth Bishop’s “The Fish” is a seemingly simple poem about a speaker who catches a fish, scrutinizes it, and lets it go."

http://bcs.bedfordstmartins.com/virtualit/poetry/fish_elements/fish_essay.pdf

http://bcs.bedfordstmartins.com/virtualit/poetry/critical_define/psychoessay.pdf

So is this poem based on fact or fiction? Did she catch a fish that looked as described (at least the literal parts of the description) who's usual appearance and hooks in his mouth inspired the symbolisms and the moral struggle described in the poem? Or did she create a story of a fictional fisher only to inspire them?