Fire and Ice by Robert Frost (blog 1)

 In “Fire and Ice” by Robert Frost I view fire and ice as metaphors representing both destructive emotions and the downfall that they represent. Fire is outward and loud; it’s anger, jealous passion, extroverted anxiety, greed and righteousness. Fire can lead to division through violence and war, causing chaos. Ice is inward, repressed and still very destructive. It can lead to self-destructive fermented hate, sadness, bitterness and introverted anxiety. Ice being “cold” as it is and more static than fire represents the harshness of slowly growing distant, an implosion of sorts. Meanwhile, fire being dynamic and running only while it’s fueled represents a relationship in turmoil. That makes it an explosion as it is a burst of destructive energy outward. From Robert Frost’s poem you can tell he’s talking about relationships because he mentions “desire.”  From what I've tasted of desire/I hold with those who favor fire. These 3^rd and 4^th lines are a narrowing down of the 1^st and 2^nd which generalize “relationships.” Some say the world will end in fire,/Some say in ice. This going from general to specific as it is going from result or effect to cause. It leaves us in a moment of suspense before we are led to the expected cause and we are reminded that we ourselves as a group of individuals are in control of whether we cause the world to end.

We real cool by Gwendolyn brooks (wk 10)

           “We Real Cool” by Gwendolyn Brooks is simple yet devastating, comic yet tragic and rebellious yet fearful. The parallel structure of the repeated “we” complements the simplicity of the two-word rhyme and the illiterate ignorance of the phrasing “we real cool”. This poem by virtue of its simplicity and shortness seems to speak in code. This code was the code of the dropout pool players. They had their own secret-coded nonconformist crowd in which each dropout pool player’s sole identity was simply as part of the group and amounted to nothing else. The code shows their lack of individual identity and misunderstanding of how to get ahead in life. Much like the poem, life was a puzzle to them. It is only when the subject of the “We Real Cool” is established by Brooks to be the pool-player dropouts that the poem makes sense: “We real cool. We /Left school. We / Lurk late. We / Strike straight. We / Sing sin. We / Thin gin. We / Jazz June. We / Die soon.” “Strike straight” becomes “hit the pool balls.” “Sing sin thin gin” becomes “get drunk and (perhaps) hustle.” “We jazz june. We die soon” means “we make life jazzy (entertaining) this month (i.e. for now)” but die before we have a chance at a future.” As I’ve done in a previous poem, I bring up the period position because they show the inferiority of the weakly said “we” and place all authority in the lines that come before them. “We real cool” is definitely a work of social activism and Gwendolyn Brooks was a virtuous writer revolutionary at the very least in her writing.

Blackberry Eating by Galway Kinnell (wk. 9)

In week nines reading the poem blackberry eating by Galway Kinnell stands out with its vivid imagery. The author enjoys the voyeuristic feeling of being herself alone amongst these sensual blackberries. You can tell because she describes them so avidly, so viscerally it’s almost like your there with her indulging in a peaceful mornings blackberry feast. “I love to go out in late September/among the fat, overripe, icy, black blackberries/to eat blackberries for breakfast.” It’s still warm but the air is getting cooler and the blackberries are icy with morning dew. Now she feels a welcoming atmosphere being here to chew on overripe blackberries. They are there for her enjoyment and she loves them. These blackberries are an art to her, majestic once in their own right and twice so in her interpretation. You can see this when she says the words she thinks to describe them: “strengths, squinched, squeeze and splurge. “like strengths or squinched,/any-lettered, one-syllabled lumps,/which I squeeze, squinch open, and splurge well.” You can tell by her emphasis on the blackberries being one syllable that she’s enveloped in their intricacies.

She connects her identity as a poet who’s fond of words to that of a blackberry eater. “Fall almost unbidden to my tongue,/as words sometimes do, certain peculiar words.” She finds something dark about eating blackberries in the morning silently by herself. The darkness is both in setting and in the art of the blackberries growth itself. They grow so sweet so unbidden and yet are lovely to enjoy. “Lifting the stalks to my mouth, the ripest berries/fall almost unbidden to my tongue.” She’s not just a voyeur, “in the silent, startled, icy, black language/of blackberry -- eating in late September” but also an enthusiast who truly appreciates the appeal of an icy, fat, overripe blackberry, a sentiment I empathize with but will now be able to especially engender next time I have blackberries with my yogurt.

I am waiting by Lawrence Ferlinghetti (wk.7)

      In week sevens reading Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s poem “I Am Waiting” stood out to me because at heart it is about the American dream but in it’s idealistic sense it also goes one step forever envisioning an America where there is no need for government. To create an anarchist world as he calls it. “and I am waiting/for the war to be fought/which will make the world safe for anarchy/and I am waiting for the final withering away of all governments.” He wants what John Lennon wanted in his song “imagine”, a utopiac wonderland. He also has reached the epiphany that with a brave world the good wins out. This I completely agree with as I believe laziness and anxiety are the cause of all problems in the world. The other things like greed, jealousy, anger, sorrow and worry all stem from these two characteristics. “And I am waiting/for the American Eagle/to really spread its wings/and straighten up and fly right/and I am waiting for the Age of Anxiety/to drop dead.” Drop dead he says with finality, making the verdict there shall be no more fear. It’s a powerful sentiment. Yet while he writes all this he himself feels jaded and doubtful. If anything will save him it will be his patience. “and I am waiting to write/the great indelible poem/and I am waiting/for the last long rapture/and I am perpetually waiting” Lawrence dreams of being remembered when he says indelible poem. He also wants to be inspired to write spontaneously by his early childhood and thus become immortal or remembered. “I am waiting/to get some intimations of immortality/by recollecting my early childhood/and I am waiting/for the green mornings to come again/for some strains of unpremeditated art/to shake my typewriter.” This is a monumental even epic work in scope because of the value of all the core points it covers. It truly asks for the freedom of a more ideal world. What I have to tell Lawrence is in searching for your masterpiece; your inspiration, you have written your masterpiece and have even inspired me.

CIA dope Calypso (the power players that held the dope as they held the trenches) wk. 6

In week 6’s reading Allen Ginsberg’s poem “CIA Dope Calypso” is a historical narrative that flows like a song due to its style of rhythmical rhyme and descriptive narrative. Ginsberg is citing the dubious activities of the CIA, poking at the way they raised money. He is listing the events and everybody involved in a sing-song style that can only be described as ‘acceptingly playful’. As this characteristic is the realization of art.

The humoristic sing-song style simultaneously belies the negative connotations of the CIA’s activities as it seeks to accept them. He’s saying so it happened, so that was the Vietnam War but isn’t the CIA’s “funny (funding) business” funny. Ginsberg’s narrative runs like a history book, only it’s more interesting to read because of its tongue in cheek verse. Ginsberg lists the power players which he explicitly mentions he is doing “All them Princes in a power play/But Phoumi was the man for the CIA.”  These players are

Mao Tse-tung(leader of communist China) , Chiang Kai Shek's (leader of the democratic republic)- “China was won by Mao Tse-tung/Chiang Kai Shek's army ran away” , Meo Tribes “First they stole from the Meo Tribes/Up in the hills they started taking bribes” , The Man (CIA)- “Collecting opium to send to The Man” Mr. Phao- “The policeman's name was Mr. Phao/He peddled dope grand scale and how”, Touby Lyfong- “Communists came and chased the French away/So Touby took a job with the CIA”, Phoumi Nosavan- “I'll tell you no lie I'm a true American/Our big pusher there was Phoumi Nosavan”, “General Vang Pao- And his best friend General Vang Pao/Ran the Meo army like a sacred cow” Marshall Ky, Theodore Roosevelt(Thieu) All through the “Sixties the dope flew free/Thru Tan Son Nhut Saigon to Marshall Ky/Air America followed through/Transporting comfiture for President Thieu and Colby “Subsidizing the traffickers to drive the Reds away/Till Colby was the head of the CIA.” Who exactly all these players where the poem doesn’t specify but it does mention them, illustrate the complexity of their illicit ventures and the dirty money that was involved saying Kei Shek’s army gave bribes to the Meo tribes and Theodore (thieu) took comfiture(candy) as a bribe to look the other way. The poems intriguing facetious style accepts the CIA’S position as something understood.  It ends with the new chief Colby putting a halt to trafficking. This poem’s simplistic style reminds me of my early rhyme schemes yet stands out with its great wit. It’s a beautiful piece of: narrative, history, poetic wit and playful verse. It will be remembered.

Brooklyn Narcissus by Paul Blackburn (wk5)

As an Open Form poem, Paul Blackburn takes “Brooklyn Narcissus” to the extreme, jumping from one thought to the next and with utterances that were not very articulate. There were some things I liked though. One was when he said “My trouble. Is.” Even though this bold statement felt like it was just stuck in, it was direct and funny. In fact, it may have even obviated most of the rest of the poem. It is only because Blackburn is troubled that the scenery outside of his window seems so haunting, but compelling. Blackburn would rather look outside than inward. With this interpretation, the last two lines make sense. “We enter the tunnel / The dirty windows give me back my face.” Once inside the tunnel, Blackburn’s source of distraction – the window – only reminds him that he must look at his own face rather than that of the outside world. Once he resolves his own problem perhaps there won’t be screaming, struggling Christmas trees any more. He would see the lights as things that are indeed lovely  and wouldn’t be prepared to exchange his flesh (i.e. switch places with) a lover. He would be able to love in his own skin and would no longer think of death.

I think it is interesting that Blackburn brings up the bridge several times. As he outrightly says in the poem, the bridge may symbolize “a bridge between we state one life and the next.” Blackburn doesn’t seem to finish this thought, but nonetheless the bridge must symbolize hope. How ominous is it then that the poem ends with him entering, not a bridge, but a tunnel?

a boy grows:a stories told

The poem a story pays homage to the dynamics of the family unit. The boy has recieved a holy spark, like ET's glowing finger touching him; The finger being the father, the glow being the nurturing warm emotion of the stories and ET being the "body" of their relationship. Similiarly to ET himself both characters, father and son, are curious how far they can push their relationship. The father has given him life sparking him with his sperm (after lighting a match with his mother) and now he sends sparks his way and fans the flames in order to do what he can to rear the boy emotionally stable. That is why even though the boy is a tender five the father realizes he has run out of stories and the boy regardless of what they share will have to grow up. He will have to loosen the ties that bind to find his own identity. That day is still far off but will start when he enters the first grade next year, formally beggining his schooling. The son will rebel and through finding his independence he might impact the paternal bond.
The son as nature gives us will have a metaphorical oedipus complex. He will want to do better emotionally in terms of pleasure and be more succesful professionally and socially than his father. The father is passing on his heritage by giving. He is recieving only what he values in the wholesomeness of the giving. As the boy grows he will move on to giving and taking simultaneously which is the natural next step for the boy in the order of things. The father wants to stay close to his son and like ET he thinks about "phoning home." Will the boy stay in touch. These kind of thoughts are not the mindset a father should have as it is dangerous to his well-being. From the fathers brooding we reach a catharsis. This is natural; it follows an ordered pattern. The father gives his stories to the son. In the end he gives ultimately by letting his son go form his individual story. This is the ultimate love as he has ket his son up emotionally telling him stories so that the son can tell his own.