National Poetry Month card #13

National Poetry Month greeting card with Billy Collins

I’m doing one of these a day until the end of April. To send it, copy the permalink or the image file link into an email, tweet, Facebook DM, etc. — or just download and make free with the image.

Filed in Greatest Hits, Humor, NaPoMo cards. Bookmark the permalink. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.Print Print

10 Responses to National Poetry Month card #13

  1. Dave says:

    The alert reader will notice that the card shortens the quote from Collins’ “Introduction to Poetry” a little, omitting the words “with rope,” which I find utterly superfluous.

    By the way, here’s the best response to Collins’ dictums I’ve seen: “Poetry for Dummies.”

  2. Deb says:

    You’re a funny, mad poet. With a good point. Rope is superfluous. Linguine would not have been.

  3. Even telephone cord would be a little bit unexpected.

    A little S&M might add a touch of something — ambiguity? excitement?

    Love the postcard. Love the article at the link.

  4. JMartin says:

    Art withstands scrutiny: amen.

    Collins is not an S&M enthusiast, but rather an enthusiast’s device.

    If only Louise Bogan could be unearthed for one last round of New Yorker poetry reviews.

    • Dave says:

      Louise Bogan! There’s a poet’s poet. The only dispeptic observation of hers that has stuck with me was the one about the pressure to produce that she felt most of her fellow poets had succumbed to. As I recall, she maintained that there was nothing wrong — and a lot right — with spending a year writing a single poem. One wonders what she would’ve made of NaPoWriMo.

  5. robin andrea says:

    The rope wouldn’t be superfluous if it had been a noose. Now that’s strangling a poem out of every nuance.

  6. JMartin says:

    Miss Bogan from the grave hones her sharp knife, and dreams of NaPoWriMo’s neck. But surely it would be an honor to be the subject of her vivisection.

    Feh on those who dismiss her as a minor poet, particularly as that judgment surely rests in part upon her refusal to publish less than her best. Although I do gather that her relatively pauce output was due not only to a perfectionist personality as tightly wound as the lyrics, but also to being often tight.

    Do people no longer read her? Say, those editors at the New York Times Book Review who published Katha Pollitt’s Forwarding Address: “old postcards/rave in their box like the sea.” Compare Bogan’s Packet of Letters: “In the shut drawer, even now, they rave and grieve”.

    • Dave says:

      Other people’s critical judgements about who’s major and whose minor don’t trouble me in the least — though I admit I was taken aback the other week when someone on the Women’s Poetry (WOMPO) listserv said her doctoral advisors steered her away from writing a PhD on Sylvia Plath because “she’s not considered a major poet.” There are so many problems with that attitude…

      I haven’t read Bogan in a long time, and now I’m thinking I should, as soon as I’m done the book I’m re-reading right now (Patricia Fargnoli’s Necessary Light — highly recommended).

Leave a Reply

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

*
*

URLs are converted to links, and three or more links in one comment will cause it to be sent to the moderation queue. Constructive criticism is always welcome. You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>

  • Smorgasblog

    • Metaphors for the Moon
      Early marriage is a wetland, a marsh
      of co-mingling reeds, breeding birds.

    • Cleaning My Attic
      Cast-iron Royal, weighty and not regal at all but seriously proletarian, ostensibly portable in your anonymous black case: my secret unmusical instrument, which I lugged to cafes before they were wireless or even wired...

    • Clumps and Voids
      The program description, however, devolves into the fey. "The lingam (or linga) is a cylindrical votary object that represents the Hindu god Shiva, and a dispute about its meaning has been going on for many centuries." When a phallus is tagged with the museum label of "cylindrical votary object," I lose hope that the speaker will be introduced as Professor Wendy Doniger: don of dongs.

    • botanizing
      On calm days, the soil swirls and rises in isolated twisters. On a windy day when the wheat is being harvested — a day like today — the soil lifts like a yellow curtain, obliterating the sky.

    • The Twitching Line
      My uncle, gutting a fish:
      removing the fins from either side,
      tipping the knife below

      the little anus, pointing the tail-
      end away, slitting it to the gills,
      then plunging in a hand

      to scoop the organs out, soft
      and scarlet as a litter of kittens.

    • The Ordinary and the Wild
      I had a dream the other night about a tall machine, like a crane or an android giraffe, lanky with angles of metal that reach up to the sky when they should somehow be digging. When I woke I felt taller for a moment, and also deeper, as if the soles of my feet had met up with some spilled honey or errant tar while I walked in my sleep.

    • Busily Seeking... Continual Change
      So the mountain was steep? I threw a couple of windbreakers, yogurts and miscellaneous snacks (really, whatever I could lay my hands on at the last minute), wallet, phone, bottles of water--yes, just the things I thought to grab into a new REI bright yellow daypack--and off we went. That was it. Toss things in a bag and go.

    • Chatoyance
      And on the other side, what I
      set in motion: the open field, the low hill,
      a crease scored in bent blades of grass
      where I forgot the wall stood,
      my footsteps blurring as the
      grass unbends.

    • Velveteen Rabbi
      There are trade-offs: in the womb we knew perfect intimacy, but couldn't meet. Now we are separate, which is at once the source of loneliness (especially for him, I'm guessing) and the source of our ability to connect.

    • Will Buckingham
      My small guide and I then did our double-act of worshipping at the shrine, at which point the monk then declared that, once again, I was not doing it right. There followed another twenty minute lesson in proper bowing -- different from the previous lesson, in fact -- and if I have retained anything it is that one’s feet must be aligned like the lines in the number 8 -- an auspicious number in China.

  • "On the whole I concentrated on things and people that I found charming and splendid; my notes are also full of poems and observations on trees and plants, birds and insects."
    — Sei Shonagon, 994 A.D.

`