Huginn and Muninn

Louise Gluck was my poet of the day, brought to me by Simic's commentary. Simic is quite extreme with her writing, saying it's either brilliant or falling horribly flat: lacking in wisdom, wit, or even significant artistic merit. These are powerful words regarding a Pulitzer prize winning poet, and in the poems Simic describes as cliche and banal, I still see poetry far exceeding the quality of my own. I have no long-term desire to be a poet, but it provides a ready comparison that humbles my learning journey.

Yet it is heartening to hear that even the great poets of the last twenty years can falter and fall, writing poetry that lacks depth and direction. No one writes perfectly every time, and it leaves me wondering how many failed attempts great poets leave behind their successful endeavors. 

But Gluck writes some very interesting poetry, evoking powerful imagery in only a few concise phrases, such as this one:

It is coming back to me.

Pear tree. Apple tree. 

I used to sit there

pulling arrows out of my heart

(Louise Gluck)

It's a short poem, but it's beautiful, dreadful. 

Tomorrow (the 8th) is the day my little brother died. It's a day of Huginn and Muninn, those ravens that follow our wheel around us on our journeys through life. It is also Saturday, the Shabbat, and I hope to, if not finish, draw close to finishing the Renegade, by Simic. I'm glad it is the weekend, I'm glad the world is wrought anew in white, and I'm glad of friends.

The name of my little brother was Jonathan, which means the Lord has given. We often follow that phrase up with 'the Lord taketh away', and so God has. My parents could not conceive for years following that, and when they finally did, my little brother Samuel (God has listened) was born- appropriate in view of the story of Hannah. Good night - happy weekend. Enjoy the snow (if you have it)

Choices

I was reading Samuel today, and a little bit of Ruth, and I'm a bit intimidated by people with such clear vision and bold movements. Not that Ruth knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Boaz would redeem her (he was old, she young), or that staying with Naomi was the path God intended for her - but she boldly made her choices, and followed in faith Naomi's advice when offered. And Samuel, who served as Israel's judge for many years, and the wondrous signs that accompanied his life.
Maybe intimidated is the wrong word. Bewildered? Impressed? I'm not sure any of these adequately describe this, quite.
There are many choices to make in the upcoming year: where to live, with whom, what would God have me doing - is it this?, choices of love and the trapeze swinging of life.
I'm realizing more and more each day how much I must learn before writing is even plausible. I'm reading such fabulous authors and am ever inspired by their ribbon dance of phrasing, the northern lights of rolling words.
Have you seen the northern lights? If not, you must do so; if you have, do so again. There's a transcendence in the miracle of particles that makes infantile the most extravagant fireworks in light of this natural light show. Even understanding the physics and science behind the ionization of these charged particles streaming across the sky... it defies explanation - it is too magnificent for even the dreams of words.

"What mind," he said, "can conceive aright
The floods of uncreated light,
Which from eternity hath shone
Around the Everlasting's throne,
When such refulgent glories glow
Upon his footstool here below!"
~ David Veddar

Watch with me what glories be
written in rivers and sines
in ephemeral light - what can it say
in such fleeting time?
whipping colors on heavenly line
a ribbon dancer intimating the waves
of a vast intricate ocean
spinning webs of colored truth
when my eyes are closed
my dreams still see through you