Robert Creeley died. I’m not familiar with his work.
There are lots of poets whose work I don’t know as well as I should, of course. But I’m always surprised by how little poetry crosses the Atlantic. You’d think it would be a quite naturally international activity.
No, really, that’s what the exhibition was called.
I suspect a few Caravaggio-related poems will turn up during napowrimo, because I can’t afford to waste material. It had me thinking, though, what would the poetry version of chiaroscuro be? The effect of chiaroscuro in a painting – to highlight a few points and draw the eye to them – is of course something that language does very naturally. But would there be a way of writing that be analogous to the contrasting areas of light and dark? And what would the effect be?
‘A Lesson Unlearnt’
There is some stupid part of me
that still expects
a cigarette
to be a cool blue draught
curling past teeth and tongue
so after a few pints
I sometimes scrounge one
and surprise myself again
with the nauseating tang of them.
‘House’
Above the hall of dancing horses
windows rattle in their frames
and bishops wager the resources
of the Church on parlour games.
The rats that scurry in the chapel
gnaw the walls to make their nests;
as Eve is reaching for the apple
babies squirm behind her breasts.
the hall of dancing horses
the windows rattle in the frames
I was just going to post the food reference from today’s entry at Pepys’ Diary, which tickled my fancy, but actually the whole thing is great. It completely sums up why Pepys is such a joy – the combination of frankness, interesting historical detail, and lively prose style.
“Up early. This being, by God