Illyria
At dawn a charm
of finches fighting
in the
privet, swooping low over spilled seed,
wings
tazzing the grass, rustling like folding
newspaper, like time. All morning the rowdy
newspaper, like time. All morning the rowdy
flutter and
chirp, both presence and absence.
Ask, who can command this coming? They flash
over the
roofs of thought, twittering into
the
emptiness, the weather of what’s gone.
You think,
one more small thing could break you.
And what
would that look like? Relinquishment,
spent under
the covers while all else continues:
dawn pales over
and over, and with it the birds
argue bitterly,
scritching at the sill. Each month
building an
edifice in the body, a sculpture of hope.
I thought when finished it would break into flight.
The radio
calmly lists losses: houses, lovers,
glaciers,
coins. Impossible to hold everything.
Outside the
magnolias burst their velvet buds,
cluster in
thick pink clouds then fall
and slick
the ground with sweet rot. Tomorrow,
let it
happen: shipwreck, crumpling, sink.
Could you be
brought back to yourself
by the journey
of the ordinary missing? After the storm,
sit up
against the pillows in the doomed light
and look
outside. See the parcel of brown linnets
visited by an
exotic, her breast snow white,
head
splashed with yellow and blue. She is
washed up, unrecognized
as herself. She knows
nothing of the
posters on every tarred
telephone
pole searching for the lost cockatiel,
please call if you have seen Edmund. Best bird ever.
She asks, what country, friends, is this? She
whistles
a new world,
sings a snatch of jingle, a jazz lick.
She alights
in the thicket and speaks her name.
italics: Nancy Willard, Larry Levis, poster in my neighborhood, Shakespeare
Hello there, Charlotte! This is a sophisticated and enigmatic poem :) First, to confess my ignorance: I've never heard of the word 'tazzed' nor of the author/poet Nancy Willard. I love the thrilling mash-up of abstract nouns and very specific, sensual observations of nature. Terrific: *The radio calmly lists losses: houses, lovers,/glaciers, coins.* I'm interested in the movement of pronouns in this poem from /you/ to /I/ to /she/. (Pronouns: a topic I'd like to talk about more with everyone.) I read the title of the poem "Illyria" as a classical reference, but I'm not sure why that is. I do like the fact that it sounds like a woman's name and also contains the word 'ill.' This poem is capacious and thought-provoking.
ReplyDeleteHi Charlotte,
ReplyDeleteThis poem is lush and I love getting kind of lost in it--in layers of thought, feeling, and meaning. As a nice counterpoint, the italics as speech work well to reel me back in. I too am interested in the switch in pronouns, and after reading the poem several times, I think that I understand the narrative of the "she" as the speaker and lost bird, though perhaps that switch could be clarified somehow. Or perhaps this is my misreading! In any case, I wouldn't suggest changing much because it's a fantastic poem.
I love the diction of the first few lines: a _charm_ of finches in the _privet_, _tazzing_ the grass. Almost an English countryside ambiance - sort of civilized, "high" language that sounds great and is just fun to read. Interesting contrast between the sophistication of so much of the language, including the title, and "best bird ever," though I think it works. For awhile I was wondering if the exotic _was_ Edmund, but on further reading thinking that is not your intention. The poem seems to be getting at the lushness of everyday, the grave losses that paradoxically inhabit that same lush everyday, and, in the appearance of the exotic at the end, the way the world will take you by surprise. Loved reading it.
ReplyDeleteCharlotte, "lush" is a perfect word for this one - it's so lovely. So much about its form is embodying lushness to me: the density and gorgeousness of the diction, the single stanza which somehow feels like a hedge or a thicket. I didn't have trouble with the switch from "you" to "her/she" (and like Vasiliki, I'd be interested in a convo about pronouns) and I feel entranced by the use of quotations - another sort of lushness, this pulling from the vast world of words. I also feel like Illyria is a classical reference - probably one I should know - it doesn't bother me that I don't, though, and the word has a particular type of beauty that feels fitting for the poem. I only had one wondering - or, more of a desire - which is to feel a more specific sense of the speaker and where her emotional geography fits into this world which is both rich and full of losses, as Dargie said. I'm hesitant to write this because I'm not suggesting the poem become terribly confessional - but I wanted to know a little bit more about the speaker, why her interest and deep feeling in/about loss, why the "sculpture of hope" (a phrase I love). I know I read in part to feel connected to other souls in the world - so this is my bias - and again, I'm not suggesting major confessional-ness or autobiography. But I did want to know the speaker better. Like Ethel, I don't suggest changing much - this feels very realized.
ReplyDeleteYes, lush is the word for this poem! So much to savor in this poem -- which seems to have its roots in loss/sorrow but somehow manages to soar and be beauty-full. I enjoy that the italicized lines come from sources from Shakespeare to a neighborhood poster! Such great sounds: razzing, scritching...Relinquishment/spent...shipwreck, crumpling, sink. A masterful control of language all the way through! For me, it is pretty clear what the loss could be -- "Each month/building an edifice in the body, a sculpture of hope." -- and it is brilliantly encapsulated in 12 words! The speaker in the beginning of the poem claims her new status/world in the last three lines, with hope. There is life after the storm. I wonder what this gorgeous poem would look like in couplets -- would extra air heighten the lushness? Otherwise, I would not change a thing!
ReplyDeleteCharlotte, This poem is wonderful and kaleidoscopic. It immediately reminded me of the poem below by B.P. Kelly. One of my favorites, so I just have to share (forgive the numbered lines. I just taught this poem and had to number the lines for the class):
ReplyDelete“A Live Dog Being Better Than a Dead Lion”
1. Rain. Rain from Baltimore. The ballroom floor
2. Is lit. See the gold sheen on the over-
3. Whelmed grasses? See the starched ruff of the hedgerow?
4. And the dancers are dressing. They tease
5. Their toes into shoes. Tease their breath into stays:
6. Stay the moment. Stay the luck. Stay, stay, the fields
7. Are full of rain and baby's breath. These will
8. Fashion the heart, and the heart fastened to the sleeve
9. Will break fire as the redbird did this morning
10. Bursting his small buttons against the glass. The glass
11. Was not black-hearted. It was an innocent pretender.
12. It took to itself the idea of sky and the bird bought
13. It, played his brave swan dive into our palms.
14. So let us wear it. Let us wear the bird like
15. A boutonniere to remind us that caution snares
16. Nothing. O the cautious are caught in the net
17. Of their cares: Stop, No Turn, Leave Your Shoes
18. At the Door. Please Don't Spit on the Statue and
19. Tokens Go Here. But the bird rode his cheer up.
20. Rode the high wire of his cheer up. Left
21. Without counting the cost his spittle-bright snail
22. Trail for the rain to erase, for the wind to wash
23. Out. Booted his small body beyond the Beyond.
24. Now the wrecked grace of the morning trails
25. Its tattered clouds. But they are flowers.
26. The pink flowers of Maryland turn softly above us.
Charlotte,
ReplyDeleteThis poem is breathtaking! I love the images and movement from scene to scene. As a reader, I feel totally swept into the poem and want to keep reading. There are so many stellar lines, such as “You think, one more small thing could break you.” I also love this bit of dialogue: “She asks, what country, friends, is this?” While I don’t think that this poem requires much work and I agree that it’s nearly fully realized, I have a few questions that might be helpful (I hope). Like others, I was curious about the pronouns shifts. I was especially curious about the use of the “you” and whether the “you” is being used as to connote “one” (and therefore implicate the reader) or if the “you” captures a more specific person. I’m not suggesting that I need to know THE answer to this question (not at all!), but there was some slippage there for me that made it harder for me to understand the narrative (to echo what others have said a bit).
If you’re looking to revise this a bit, I wonder if structure might be something to experiment with (again, not upending the poem but thinking about how the release of information (moving one line up slightly, the other back) would shift our sense of the narrative)). Someone said that the dialog is a wonderful aspect of this poem and I agree. I really found myself latching onto these moments. Would you consider ending with: “She asks, what country, friends, is this?” This might be the wrong effect, but it might be interesting to see how this and similar slight shifts change the poem. Thanks so much for this lovely poem!