Blog Archives

"Hell No" vs. "Oh No"

6/30/2024

I did not watch the debate last week between President Biden and Imperial Grand Wizard Trump, but yes -- I did hear about it. I saw today that the election is now characterized as "Hell No" vs. "Oh No" because the debate was not a shining moment for Dark Brandon. However, I will say that Biden could be lying in a hospital bed on a ventilator, and I will still cast my vote for him (as a matter of fact, I donated money to his campaign this past week -- $34.00 to be exact -- $1.00 for each of Trump's felony convictions). Plus, I understand that Trump -- true to form -- spewed lie after lie after lie after lie after lie after lie.

In response to Trump's lies, I have posted below two different versions of Emmett Lee Dickinson's poem "listen my children and you shall fear" which inspired E. E. Cummings to pen his poem "'next to of course god america i."

By Emmett Lee Dickinson (Original Version):

“listen my children and you shall fear
is the only thing we have to give
to our country is fear itself which
points to the ballot or the bulletin just in
time to lockandload no time for splitting
crosshairs or march hares or march scares of a
mad tea party and i’ll cry if i want to
by hook or by crook (which i am not) for
fools Rush in at his Beck and call to arms
Hannity bo Bannity banana go insanity with
balanced and fairly breaking noise to
hail to the chief mission accomplished to
still the voice of liberty so froth and so on.”

Thus spoke. And drank rapidly a half empty glass.

By Emmett Lee Dickinson (Updated Version):

“listen my children and you shall fear
caravans of illegals and so forth oh
say can you see ten thousand more votes my
country ‘tis of wind cancer comes and go
and our water pressure pressures us no more
in every witch hunt just to trickandtreat
my tourists reclaim my glorious reign by gum
by gorry covfefe by bigly by MAGA
why talk of borders without a most beaut-
iful door and suckers who are dead
who rushed liked losers to their perfect
slaughter
I will not stop to think they died instead
I shall be the voice of liberty’s mute!”

He lied. And the press gulped from his well.

By E. E. Cummings:

"next to of course god america i
love you land of the pilgrims' and so forth oh
say can you see by the dawn's early my
country 'tis of centuries come and go
and are no more what of it we should worry
in every language even deafanddumb
thy sons acclaim your glorious name by gorry
by jingo by gee by gosh by gum
why talk of beauty what could be more beaut-
iful than these heroic happy dead
who rushed like lions to the roaring slaughter
they did not stop to think they died instead
then shall the voice of liberty be mute?"

He spoke. And drank rapidly a glass of water

POE-etry

6/30/2024

Did Emily Dickinson ever meet Edgar Allan Poe? All signs point to no.

Did Emily Dickinson ever read Edgar Allan Poe? It’s certainly possible.

I checked info on the Dickinson family library held at the Houghton Library at Harvard – plus I checked on portions of their family library NOT held at Houghton – and I couldn’t find any books or works by Poe; however, works by Poe could have been included in various books of collections of poems or stories and/or she could have read Poe in books owned by others.

I did find an article on one site which went as far as to say, “Dickinson was undoubtedly influenced by Poe. Everyone read him, after all” -- HEREI\

I also discovered that the Apple TV show on Dickinson had an episode where the two poets met. Info is HERE and HERE.

Turns out someone even wrote a play about Edgar and Emily; info is HERE.

In a note from the playwright (HERE), he said this was “a story that I think is true even if none of it ever happened.”

More on Edgar Allan Poe tomorrow!

CONTINUED...
Yesterday I posted a bit of info on Edgar Allan Poe because I’m reading a book by Christopher Semtner called “The Poe Shrine: Building the World’s Finest Edgar Allan Poe Collection.”

Poe lived from 1809 to 1849, so he would have been 21 years old when Dickinson was born, and he published “The Raven” (to instant success) in 1845 when Dickinson was 15.

I wonder if she ever read it.

From February to December 1826, Poe attended the University of Virginia. An interesting article about his time there is HERE.

AND – what has been called the “rarest book in all of American literature” ended up in the special collections of UVA’s Alderman Library; here’s info on it:

“‘Tamerlane and Other Poems,’ Poe’s first published work, comprises 40 pages of his boyhood verse. In 1827, the year after he left UVA and struck out on his own in Boston, the 18-year-old Poe had a local printer turn out a limited run for him, by one account only 40 copies. UVA’s copy was one of 12 known to remain, and one of only eight with their paper covers intact.”

BUT – in 1973, “The rarest book in all of American literature walked out of the McGregor Room. So did more than 50 other treasures from the University of Virginia library’s world-renowned collection.
It’s the biggest crime in the history of Alderman Library. Yet, little has ever been reported on it, and little has come to light in the nearly 50-year wait for a solution to the mystery. None of the works has ever resurfaced.”

YEP -- that info is from the article “NEVERMORE, The Stolen Treasures of Alderman Library,” linked HERE. It’s quite an interesting read.

Sign Here

6/29/2024

And now for something completely different -- I stumbled upon these three videos last night while exploring a completely unrelated topic -- three poems by Dickinson translated into American Sign Language. Click the images to access the videos.

"Hope" if the thing with feathers:

Because I could not stop for Death:

A narrow fellow in the grass:

Busboys and Poets

6/28/2024

My mental meanderings (HERE) have taken me down various paths recently, and portions of my recent posts have focused on creative artists (in poetry, visual arts, music) who are agents of change and who “push the boundaries.”

Of course, one must consider whether they push the boundaries forward; are the changes thoughtful and meaningful; do the changes have staying power?

Interestingly – as in the case I mentioned yesterday of Arthur Wesley Dow and Georgia O’Keefe – there are cases where the agents of change influence those in the next generation – and then they themselves are forgotten.

At the end of yesterday’s post, I mentioned Vachel LIndsay and Langston Hughes. Of the two, which name do you recognize?

In the 1920s, Hughes was working as a busboy at a hotel’s restaurant in Washington, DC, and one day he recognized a customer at the restaurant, poet Vachel Lindsay – a very well-known poet at the time who is considered a founder of modern “singing poetry,” as he referred to it, in which verses were meant to be sung or chanted.

Hughes handed some of his poems to Lindsay, and Lindsay was so impressed, he publicized his discovery of a new poet and helped establish Hughes’ career.

Today there’s a chain of restaurants in the DC area called “Busboys and Poets,” named for that encounter between Lindsay and Hughes.

Mental Meanderings

6/27/2024

The other day I posted E. E. Cummings’ poem “old age sticks" (HERE), a poem about generational conflict, and I’ve been talking about how creative souls push the boundaries in various fields of fine arts, like poetry and art – people like E. E. Cummings (and just BTW, one thing I LOVE about “old age sticks” is how the two final words, “growing old,” are split so that they also say “owing old” – as one generation owes the previous one for being “agents of change”).

This morning I ran a Google-search on “who pushed the boundaries in the field of poetry.” I just wanted to see what names might pop up – but I got a whole mix of responses, none of which (at least at first glance) had much to do with what I was looking for.

One article called, “Re-cognition and Re-vision: Pushing the Boundaries of Poems” turned out to be a solicitation for an online poetry writing class. However, it began with this statement:

“Writers often place a hard line between the acts of writing and revising. While the first is seen as an act of joyful inspiration, the second is generally viewed as drudging perspiration.”

I mention this because as I sit here this morning typing on all of these topics (poetry, art, boundary pushing – “growing old,” “owing old” – agents of change, etc.) my brain is shooting off in many directions, so what you are reading is entirely the result of mental meanderings vs. any “drudging perspiration.”

Yesterday I gave a homework assignment (HERE): Listen to John Cage’s piano piece, 4’ 33”. Plus at some point these past few days, I mentioned R. Mutt’s (aka Marcel Duchamp’s) sculpture “Fountain.”

I cited those two works to make the point that some who push boundaries do so to make a point. Others (like Dickinson) push boundaries because it’s within them – it’s who they are.

Look at this info about Georgia O’Keefe:

“Georgia knew from the age of 12 that she wanted to be an artist. She went to art school but what she was taught there didn’t seem relevant to the way she wanted to paint. Then in 1912 she discovered the revolutionary ideas of an artist and designer called Arthur Wesley Dow.

As O’Keeffe explained: ‘His idea was, to put it simply, fill a space in a beautiful way’. This was a light-bulb moment for her and from then on she began to experiment with shapes, colours and marks.”

And this story of O’Keeffe and Dow (with which name are you familiar?) reminded me of Vachel Lindsay and Langston Hughes (with which name are you familiar?). I’ll get into that tomorrow.

4' 33"

6/26/2024

With my daily posts lately I’ve been discussing what makes a poem a poem and what defines art.

It all started when I posted William Carlos Williams’ poem about the red wheelbarrow, plus I posted E. E. Cummings’ poem “l(a” followed by Cummings’ poem “old age sticks. With that particular poem I discussed the idea of artists pushing boundaries, setting the stage for change, and then I posted pictures of contemporary artworks currently being shown at the Guggenheim Museum in New York City. You can view them all HERE.

My wife and I were talking about artists who pushed boundaries – from writers, poets, visual artists and more – and in the conversation I mentioned John Cage from the field of music. Have you ever heard his work entitled 4’33”? The title refers to the length of the piece – it is four minutes and thirty-three seconds long.

If you’ve never heard it, take a listen now – and then let me know your thoughts.

To listen to the piece, click the image below -- or click HERE.

I'll Be Art In A Minute

6/25/2024

What makes a poem a poem? What defines art?

I’ve been posting info related to those questions, and it all began a few days ago when I shared William Carlos Williams’ poem about the red wheelbarrow – but is that really a poem?

PART 1 is HERE. PART 2 is HERE.

I suppose it’s easy to dismiss the lines as nothing more than a stagy and meretricious statement; however, if you completed your homework and read Sharon Creech’s book “Love That Dog,” you might sit back and think, “Hmm – maybe there’s more to that sentence (i.e., WCW’s) than just sixteen precisely placed words.”

Same with E. E. Cummings’ “l(a.” When I post that poem on the board in classrooms, students are quick to dismiss it – except that I employ an abundant use of wait-time until someone (or some ones) begin to decipher the lines – “A leaf falls; loneliness” – and we discuss why Cummings split the words up like that. Suddenly, their opionions take a complete one-eighty.

Another Cummings’ work I love is “old age sticks,” a poem about generational conflict – and I LOVE the fact that the final two words, “growing old,” is split so that the actual final words are “owing old” – as one generation owes the previous one for how they pushed the boundaries.

Okay, so that brings me back to those artworks from the Guggenheim Museum I posted yesterday – and yesterday I posted them without any information. This morning, I’ll post the statements that were included on the museum’s walls – and see if (like Creech’s book for WCW’s poem) the inside dope does anything to change your initial reactions to the pieces.

They may or may not – but at least one can begin to appreciate how the artists in these examples ventured to push boundaries – and, of course, we can then consider whether or not they pushed the boundaries forward – or sideways? Did they push them thoughtfully? Haphazardly?

CLICK THE IMAGES BELOW TO ENLARGE.

You know, Dickinson was quite a boundary-pusher herself with her errant punctuation, discommodious syntax, and deviant capitalization and rhyme – so much so that early publishers tried to revise and repair her works to make them more palatable for the public.

BTW: I found a little more info on those jeans -- see the info pictured at the right.

Also, I found info on the artist -- quite a "boundary pusher" himself; click HERE.

AND -- a few years ago, one pair of those jeans sold for $25,000.00. Click HERE.

Aye Yi Yi of the Beholder

6/24/2024

Recently I posted William Carlos Williams’ poem about the red wheelbarrow and various quotes about what makes poetry poetry (HERE).

@grayman (on Counter Social) responded, “My second year of college, one of my instructors stated: ‘What makes a poem a poem? The poet says it is a poem.’”

LOL – that reminded me of a discussion I participated in from a college class on poetry, what makes a poem a poem, individual interpretations of poems, etc.

We examined and discussed this poem:

There’s a bug on the rug –
Smack him dead.
Smack him dead.
There’s a bug on the rug –
Smack him dead.

You would not have believed the wild interpretations we ended up with after we considered (mostly tongue in cheek) who “the bug” represented; what did “the rug” symbolize; the suggestion that “smack” was an allusion to dangerous drugs – and the effect of addiction in society – and who was responsible for ever increasing overdoses, etc.

It definitely brought home the point that when reading (or hearing or viewing) a creative work, “you see what you see” based on your own knowledge, understandings, and experiences as your brain attempts to make sense of it all – AND – if you determine a work is nonsense (like E. E. Cummings’ “l(a”) or meaningless (like WCW’s “so much depends”), then you’re likely to regard the work as nonsense or meaningless without putting much time or effort into exploring what was the purpose of the poet (or artist or composer).

It’s easy to laugh off, discount, and brush aside works we don’t understand.

My wife and I recently visited the Guggenheim Museum of Art in New York. Take a look at these works presented in some of their galleries (click the images to enlarge).

These three pics are from the same work of art:

What are your initial thoughts?

I’ll post info about these works tomorrow – and a poem by E. E. Cummings.

It Depends

6/22/2024

A quote I’m going to share later in this post reminded me of an incident I had to deal with as a middle school principal. A student had caused a significant problem when I was away from the building one afternoon, so to manage the situation at the time, the assistant principal assigned the student to our In School Suspension program for the final block of the day and told him he’d have to meet with me at the start of the next day.

The following day when I met with him and he sensed that he was going to receive further consequences for his transgressions, he became agitated and tried to argue “but I served a block of in school suspension.”

I stopped him and acknowledged his perspective, but I asked him what would happen if students who did what he did were to receive just one block of in school suspension.

He listened to what I had to say, thought about it for a minute or so, and then said, “We’d go hard.”

‘Yeah,” I said, “And we’re not going to “go hard” here at this school.”

LOL – and what does all of this have to do with my Dickinson plog (poetry blog)?

Well, I came across a Reels video recently about William Carlos Williams’ poem about the red wheelbarrow, and the person in the video states, “One of the funniest and most true things I heard about poetry was from meme that my brother sent me and it was someone who said poetry made so much more sense when I realized that it's just sentences that go hard – and yeah, that is what poetry is” – and later, poetry is “language from which we have no defense.”

The video is HERE.

I also found a second video where the poem is read by WCW himself, HERE.

More on this poem tomorrow!

CONTINUED...

Yesterday I posted William Carlos Williams’ poem about the red wheelbarrow and the quote that “poetry made so much more sense when I realized that it's just sentences that go hard” – and also that poetry is “language from which we have no defense.”

So what is poetry?

Emily Dickinson said, ““If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?”

Back to WCW’s poem about the red wheelbarrow. That reminded me of a poem called “Remember” – shown at the right – attributed here to a dude named “Dave.”

Dave’s poem is certainly akin to William Carlos Williams’ poem, no?

On the one hand, could one argue that the purpose behind WCW’s poem is in some way relatable to R. Mutt’s (i.e. Marcel Duchamp’s) now-classic sculpture “Fountain”? (I just saw this artwork at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.)

In for on R. Mutt's "Fountain" is HERE.

Here’s some food for thought – the link found HERE is to SparkNotes’ analysis of WCW's poem.

What do you think? Do you agree with that summation – or do you have other thoughts on the poem? Is it “language that goes hard”? Does it make you feel as if the top of your head were taken off!

Before you answer those questions, I have an assignment for you:

o to a bookstore or library and get Sharon Creech’s book “Love that Dog.” Read it (it will take 30 minutes or so) and report back to me on your feelings on the red wheelbarrow.

More on all of this tomorrow.

FOR MORE ON THESE TOPICS, CLICK HERE.

What Rhymes With Solstice?

6/20/2024

I’ve been writing about Dickinson’s Civil War poems (HERE) – specifically three which, in the early 1980s, were discovered to have been published in a pro-Union magazine called “The Drum Beat” – and I’ll get back to that tomorrow.

Since today marks the summer solstice, I thought I’d post one of Dickinson’s (many) poems about the summer.

Summer is definitely the favored season when it comes to Dickinson’s poetry. She used the term “summer” in 103 poems – compared to spring & winter, each used in 28 different poems, and autumn, used in 11 poems (and then “fall” to signify autumn in one other poem).

Today’s poem is very short – just three lines – but it certainly conveys her love of the season:

To see the Summer Sky
Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie --
True Poems flee --

We’re going up to Skyline Drive later today, so I’ll get a close up look at today’s “Summer Sky.” I’ll post pics later; however, it’s supposed to be cloudy today – so I’m not sure what I’ll be able to see!

Stay tuned!