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Michael Parker's Journal
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Sunday, April 30, 2006 |
Gianmarc Manzione received an MFA in poetry from New School University in 2004. He currently teaches composition at USF. Poems from his first collection, This Brevity, are forthcoming in The Paris Review and Raritan. He works as a freelance journalist for Bowlers Journal as well as several music and literary magazines.
Watch and listen to Gianmarc Manzione read two wonderful poems, the last of which is strikingly poignant. Enjoy.
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Thursday, April 27, 2006 |
In Jack Gilbert's extraordinary book of poetry, Refusing Heaven, the death and ghost of his first wife haunts the lines of many of his poems. He's always thoughtful when he speaks of her; and it captivates me because of it. Here is one of my favorites, as an example:
BY SMALL AND SMALL: MIDNIGHT TO FOUR A.M.
For eleven years I have regretted it,
regretted that I did not do what
I wanted to do as I sat there those
four hours watching her die. I wanted
to crawl in among the machinery
and hold her in my arms, knowing
the elementary, leftover bit of her
mind would dimly recognize it was me
carrying her to where she was going.
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Wednesday, April 26, 2006 |
Awhile back, I shared with you the story and link to an online video clip of the autistic basketball player Jason McElwain, of Rochester, NY, who was allowed to go in for the last four minutes of the last basketball game of the season. Jason ended up dropping 6 three pointers. Today, Magic Johnson dropped by his school to meet the star and to announce that he is co-producing a film about Jason. Read the article here.
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CNN today revealed the results to their online poll that asked "what is your worst song ever and why?" Reading through the results, I completely agree with # 2 and #1. It's funny, I was in elementary school when #5 came out and I found the lyrics catchy and the melody very easy to sing along to. I have fond memories of that so I wouldn't have nominated it.
Here are the songs that made the top 5. Enjoy.
5. "Seasons in the Sun," Terry Jacks (No. 1 for three weeks, 1974): "A melody you couldn't play for your dog combined with inane lyrics" (Chris K.); "An all-time piece of dreck" (Darrell); "Having to listen to it is a season in hell" (Bonnie D.).
4. "I've Never Been to Me," Charlene (No. 3, 1982): "I want to punch out my radio when it comes on the air" (Larry W.); "Even the mush department at Hallmark would puke" (Eric and Linda); "I'm thinking that in her case, 'Me' probably wasn't such a fun place to go to" (Brenda K.).
3. "You Light Up My Life," Debby Boone (No. 1 for 10 weeks, 1977): "How can anything so insipidly slow light up anything?" (Bob B.); "[It] sounded like it was thrown together on a rainy afternoon by a lovestruck adolescent" (Jan R.); "The musical equivalent of being keel-hauled" (Michael R.).
2. "Muskrat Love," The Captain and Tennille (No. 4, 1976): "A song about aquatic rodents doin' the wild thing? Eeeeeew!" (Garland E.); "The name says it all" (Stacy D.); "I would pay good money to have its lyrics, tune, and even the fact of its existence erased from my memory" (Dave C.).
1. "(You're) Having My Baby," Paul Anka (No. 1 for three weeks, 1974): It wasn't even close; Anka's hit beat out "Muskrat" by more than 50 votes, a veritable landslide under the circumstances. As our correspondents raved: "How can a person not be annoyed by lyrics like, 'You're a woman in love and I love what it's doin' to ya'?" (Shauna M.); " 'What a lovely way of sayin' how much you love me' -- If that isn't the most egocentric solipsistic revolting line of all time" (Stu S. and Andi S.); "I don't know a woman alive who doesn't cringe when it comes on the radio. I'm sure it's banned in most countries around the world" (Gord P.).
Other songs that were nominated included:
Bo Donaldson & the Heywoods' "Billy, Don't Be a Hero," Paper Lace's "The Night Chicago Died," Starship's "We Built This City," Richard Harris' "MacArthur Park," Morris Albert's "Feelings," the Starland Vocal Band's "Afternoon Delight," the Archies' "Sugar, Sugar," Billy Ray Cyrus' "Achy Breaky Heart," Maria Muldaur's "Midnight at the Oasis," America's "A Horse with No Name," the Ohio Express' "Yummy Yummy Yummy," Los Del Rio's "The Macarena" and Don McLean's "American Pie
What songs would you have voted into this list? One of my votes would be Britney Spears' "Baby, Hit Me One More Time."
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Tuesday, April 18, 2006 |
Check out this hilarious Comedy Central skit starring Will Ferrell as President Bush filming a TV spot on Global Warming. Enjoy!
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Saturday, April 15, 2006 |
To my Christian friends: Happy Easter!
To my Jewish friends: Chag Pesach Kasher V’Sameach!
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Friday, April 14, 2006 |
In his poem "Beyond Pleasure," from his National Book Critics Circle Award-winning collection of poetry, Refusing Heaven, Jack Gilbert describes the worth of good poetry. He writes: "Poetry fishes us to find a world part by part.../to give us time to see each thing separate and enough./ The poem chooses part of our endless flowing forward/to know its merit with attention."
The poetry of Pris Campbell comes to mind when I read Gilbert’s thoughts. Indeed, her poetry is the embodiment of his meaning: she has a gentle awareness of the minute "parts" without neglecting the vision of the vast whole. Whether she writes about her visit with Eleanor Roosevelt, the ghosts of her dead soldier brother, the memories of lovers of year’s past, the ravaging effect of CFIDS, or the old woman across the street dancing alone in the night, Campbell’s insights hint toward a wise and humane soul who’s forever opening doors for us to walk through.
Campbell’s strength lies in relating the intricacies and impacts of relationships. Consider the poignant sense of abandonment and longing in her poem "Until Lilies Overpower."
When we made our pact,
lilies grew from my palms.
I laid them on the graves
of dead lovers.
You were to come in the spring,
wade with me in the seas
where Vikings once sailed,
kiss my breasts until the sun glinted
pink off the morning waters. but
I grow old waiting, love.
My legs are pillars of salt.
The lilies have dried up
and long blown away.
The sea snarls under my toes.
Only in my dreams
do I see you, bearing gifts
of pale luminous gowns
and bright bangles to spoil me.
You lay your body across
mine until an early tide
moans, and I wake suddenly,
alone in my bed, the scent
of lilies overpowering.
Copyright © Pris Campbell 2004
There is rarely a poem that does not affect me, move me forward, as Gilbert states. I believe it is her vivid imagery that captivates the reader, strikes you most where it hurts or is most recognizable. An example of this is displayed in these highly descriptive images of a grandfather after he finishes abusing her (from her poem "Night Dances"):
rage finally drained
from his face and
dragged off like foul
meat by mongrel ghost-dogs
to their secret hideaways.
Or consider the images employed to describe the stark and unkind realization of aging and losing health (from "Angels In Black Denim"):
Not a soul ever warned
me I'd walk into walls,
or that wind in the trees
would roar like Niagra
through hands cupped
like lifeboats to my ears,
that friends would
fly off like Monarchs,
and silence could
sound loud as a
junkman's parade.
Campbell’s skill does indeed keep the reader attentive, in awe of a soft and subtle mastery.
With this in mind, I’d like to introduce you to one of her latest poems, "The Trombone Angels" named for the men who followed the hearses through the streets of New Orleans. It’s another fine example of poetry that takes up residence in the back of your mind and stays indefinitely.
Trombone Angels
The trombone angels have no teeth.
No ears.
Lips like a frozen kiss.
Their last dance was in the air,
ghost band hovering over the flames
at Auschwitz, Cambodia, Iraq.
Dressed in black raincoats,
they shuffle to fresh graveyards
and bone laden ditches,
feet cut and dirty.
What did they think
when they once flew,
ground rushing beneath them so fast?
Did they see gods reach
out to snatch soul from body
before flesh died?
Is that too much to believe?
Too much to hope for?
They blow a sweet tune
for those who no longer buy lies
from bible-rumped matrons
about lesser gods
for those not washed in Christ's blood
or chained to a catholic sainthood.
Those matrons claim we're all sinners.
They cast the first stones to prove it.
The wail of the trombones rises
as night tosses its net of stars.
A cock cries three times.
The silence from the graves is deafening.
Copyright © Pris Campbell 2006
Pris is also technically-savvy. She’s created a masterful reading of this work, layering audio–vocal tracks over music. She begins the reading with the sound of whales. That’s right. Whales. You might question this until you listen to the haunting cries. You can see the ghostly trombone angels playing over the graves of the dead. Indeed, Campbell’s reading on top of the selected music is breathtaking. I’m captivated by it. Listen to the audio here.
Pris Campbell can be found at her blog "Songs to a Midnight Sky."
Additional Reading on Pris Campbell
I highlighted Pris last year for her birthday in this post.
Other Noteworthy Poems
Chats From Eleanor
Angels in Black Denim
Roses and Crucifixes
Keeper of the Heads
Of Things Unspoken
Revelations Two
A Different Tomorrow
Of You the Orcas Sing
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Thursday, April 13, 2006 |
Not that I'm dwelling on this at the moment. My friend John passed this on to me yesterday. You answer a few questions about your medical history and health and it calculates your expiration date. Purely nonsense but harmless fun. I'm going to expire in 2047, which would surpass any of my wildest estimations.
Find your date with fate here.
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Wednesday, April 12, 2006 |
I was at a trade show last week and didn't hear about this until my running friend, Brian, passed on the news this week. Wow! Kastor is a machine.
Deena Kastor breaks the American Record for the half-marathon in Berlin. Here is the news release:
Irvine, CA (April 4, 2006) - ASICS sponsored distance ace Deena Kastor (Mammoth Lakes, CA) broke her own American Record for the half-marathon on Sunday at the Vattenfall Berlin Half-Marathon with a time of 1:07:34. Kastor placed 2nd behind another ASICS athlete, Edith Masai of Kenya. Both Masai and Kastor ran under the former course record of 1:08:22.
Kastor, who is preparing for the Flora London Marathon on April 23, also broke three other national records en route. She passed through 12k in 38:24, 10 miles in 51:31 and 20k in 1:04:07. She now holds American Road Records at 5k, 12k, 15k, 10mi, 20k, half-marathon and marathon. She will stay in Europe to prepare for the London Marathon and will be signing autographs in the ASICS booth at the London Marathon Expo on Friday, April 21 between 2-4pm.
Read my comments about her amazing victory at the Greece Olympics in 2004.
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Tuesday, April 11, 2006 |
My reading of my poem "The Prelude to War" made it in Michelle Buchanan's The Goodnight Show, titled Mello Yello. If you are remotely interested in hearing me attempt waxing dramatic, now is your chance. If you ask me, I sound too shrill, especially compared to the studs, DQ and Luc, reading their poems at the beginning of the show. So, if I provoke laughter, so be it!
Listen Now.
(I'm approximately half-way to 2/3 of the way through the show.)
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Monday, April 10, 2006 |
The Daou Report from Salon pointed to this snipet of the White House's transcripts from a question and answer town hall meeting on April 6th. (Funny I didn't hear any of the major media outlets broadcasting this David vs. Goliath moment.) During the question and answer perions, 61 year-old Harry Taylor stood up and said the following:
You never stop talking about freedom, and I appreciate that. But while I listen to you talk about freedom, I see you assert your right to tap my telephone, to arrest me and hold me without charges, to try to preclude me from breathing clean air and drinking clean water and eating safe food. If I were a woman, you'd like to restrict my opportunity to make a choice and decision about whether I can abort a pregnancy on my own behalf...
Okay, I don't have a question. What I wanted to say to you is that I -- in my lifetime, I have never felt more ashamed of, nor more frightened by my leadership in Washington, including the presidency, by the Senate, and...I would hope -- I feel like despite your rhetoric, that compassion and common sense have been left far behind during your administration, and I would hope from time to time that you have the humility and the grace to be ashamed of yourself inside yourself. And I also want to say I really appreciate the courtesy of allowing me to speak what I'm saying to you right now. That is part of what this country is about.
I think these are eloquent remarks, especially in a pro-Bush environment. With Bush's approval at a mere 36%, Taylor's remarks may just be the voice of the new majority. And it is about high time.
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Sunday, April 02, 2006 |
I’ve been reading Jack Gilbert’s new book of poetry Refusing Heaven, which The American Poetry Review praised as being "Serious and unflinching." It is also last year’s winner of the National Book Critics Circle Award. I plan to review the book when my life becomes less hectic. But I am hooked with his style, themes, and subject matter.
Since April is poetry month, I wanted to start it all off with Jack Gilbert and his poetry from his previous works: Views of Jeopardy, winner of the Yale Younger Poets Prize (1962), Monolithos, winner of Stanley Kunitz Prize and the American Poetry Review Prize; and The Great Fires.
Today, I introduce you to one of my favorites from Gilbert, "The Abnormal is Not Courage," from Views of Jeopardy.
The Poles rode out from Warsaw against the German
Tanks on horses. Rode knowing, in sunlight, with sabers,
A magnitude of beauty that allows me no peace.
And yet this poem would lessen that day. Question
The bravery. Say it's not courage. Call it a passion.
Would say courage isn't that. Not at its best.
It was impossib1e, and with form. They rode in sunlight,
Were mangled. But I say courage is not the abnormal.
Not the marvelous act. Not Macbeth with fine speeches.
The worthless can manage in public, or for the moment.
It is too near the whore's heart: the bounty of impulse,
And the failure to sustain even small kindness.
Not the marvelous act, but the evident conclusion of being.
Not strangeness, but a leap forward of the same quality.
Accomplishment. The even loyalty. But fresh.
Not the Prodigal Son, nor Faustus. But Penelope.
The thing steady and clear. Then the crescendo.
The real form. The culmination. And the exceeding.
Not the surprise. The amazed understanding. The marriage,
Not the month's rapture. Not the exception. The beauty
That is of many days. Steady and clear.
It is the normal excellence, of long accomplishment.
Gilbert’s poetry has been featured in The American Poetry Review, The Quarterly, Poetry, Ironwood, The Kenyon Review, The New Yorker, and other journals. He’s been nominated for the Pulitzer Prize twice. Refusing Heaven is published by Knopf.
Additional Reading and Reviews for Jack Gilbert
Ploughshares Review of The Great Fires
Bio and selected works on American Poems
Bio from the Academy of American Poets
Bio on Wikipedia with links to articles and reviews
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