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Tuesday, January 1, 2019

Three Poems about the River – Analysis and Commentary

Many great civilizations originated along fertile riverbanks—Indian along the Indus and Ganges, Chinese along the Yellow and Yangtze, Sumerian along the Tigris and Euphrates, Egyptian along the Nile, or Roman along the Tiber—so that rivers naturally invoke mythic attributes. 

The river is a mythic archetype, specifically, a water archetype.

“Water represents life, cleansing, mystery, and even death. There are multiple ways the water archetype can appear, and its appearance can shape its purpose. Oceans often represent infinity and timelessness while a river could represent the flow of time, rebirth, or cycle of life.”

—“Water Archetype” (November 29, 2016) by Derrick Choy


“Almost any source of water will focus on the importance of life. Without water there is no life. A journey on or down a river is often a metaphor for life’s journey or a character’s journey, especially if the river is shown as a road or means of travel—pulling or pushing a character through changes. …Rivers can also be a metaphor for the passage of time…or the stages of a human life…. Since rivers are often used as political borders or boundaries, crossing one may be seen as‘passing over’ or a decision that cannot be taken back. In Africa and thus African literature, rivers are the largest sources of income and commerce and so have additional meaning leaning toward the source of life and morality and where the fight for good and evil happens.”

—Cabarrus County Schools


The river is a central symbol, and a major motif organizing the narrative in Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn (1884).

“For Huck and Jim, the Mississippi River is the ultimate symbol of freedom. Alone on their raft, they do not have to answer to anyone. The river carries them toward freedom: for Jim, toward the free states; for Huck, away from his abusive father and the restrictive ‘sivilizing’ of St. Petersburg. Much like the river itself, Huck and Jim are in flux, willing to change their attitudes about each other with little prompting. Despite their freedom, however, they soon find that they are not completely free from the evils and influences of the towns on the river’s banks. Even early on, the real world intrudes on the paradise of the raft: the river floods, bringing Huck and Jim into contact with criminals, wrecks, and stolen goods. Then, a thick fog causes them to miss the mouth of the Ohio River, which was to be their route to freedom.

“As the novel progresses, then, the river becomes something other than the inherently benevolent place Huck originally thought it was.”

—SparkNotes


This first poem is one of my favorites, if not my favorite. 

BRIMMING WATER by Tu Fu
Original language Chinese
Translated by Kenneth Roxroth

Under my feet the moon
Glides along the river.
Near midnight, a gusty lantern
Shines in the heart of the night.
Along the sandbars flocks
Of white egrets roost,
Each one clenched like a fist.
In the wake of my barge
The fish leap, cut the water,
And dive and splash.

This poem was originally published in One Hundred Poems from the Chinese, translated by Kenneth Roxroth (New York: New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1971), page 34.

The poem is concisely descriptive, vividly evoking an unusually lucid image of the scene. 

Evidently, it is the Chinese of the Tang dynasty, possibly earlier, who invented Imagism, not Ezra Pound in the 20th century.

Tenets of Pound’s Imagist manifesto:

- Direct treatment of the “thing," whether subjective or objective
- To use absolutely no word that does not contribute to the presentation
- As regarding rhythm, to compose in sequence of the musical phrase, not in sequence of the metronome

—“A Brief Guide to Imagism” (September 5, 2017) by Academy of American Poets

See: https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/brief-guide-imagism

Tu Fu’s beckoning image of a traveler sliding downriver conveys an almost magical reality.

Due credit must be given to the quality of the translation, which renders the original Chinese in precise poetical English.

EZEKIEL 47:1-12

Then he brought me back to the entrance of the temple, and I saw water flowing out from beneath the threshold of the temple toward the east, for the façade of the temple was toward the east. The water flowed down from the southern side of the temple, south of the altar.

He led me outside by the north gate and around to the outer gate facing the east, where I saw water trickling from the southern side.

Then when he had walked off to the east with a measuring cord in his hand, he measured off a thousand cubits and had me wade through the water, which was ankle-deep.

He measured off another thousand and once more had me wade through the water, which was now knee-deep. Again he measured off a thousand and had me wade, and the water was up to my waist.

Once more he measured off a thousand, but there was now a river through which I could not wade, for the water had risen so high it had become a river that could not be crossed except by swimming.

He asked me, “Have you seen this, son of man?” Then he brought me to the bank of the river, where he had me sit.

Along the bank of the river I saw very many trees on both sides.

He said to me, “This water flows into the eastern district down upon the Arabah and empties into the sea, the salt waters, which it makes fresh.

“Wherever the river flows, every sort of living creature that can multiply shall live, and there shall be abundant fish, for wherever this water comes the sea shall be made fresh.

“Fishermen shall be standing along it from En-gedi to En-eglaim, spreading their nets there. Its kinds of fish shall be like those of the Great Sea, very numerous.

“Only its marshes and swamps shall not be made fresh. They shall be left for salt.

“Along both banks of the river, fruit trees of every kind shall grow. Their leaves shall not fade or their fruit fail. Every month they shall bear fresh fruit, for they shall be watered by the flow from the sanctuary. Their fruit shall serve for food and their leaves for medicine.

—1970 New American Bible translation

The Bible teems with symbols, of which rivers, streams, and flowing water are among the most prominent and significant.

Symbolically, the river Jordan is one of the most significant. The Israelites enter the Promised Land by crossing the Jordan, which miraculously parts in two to expose a dry path between the waters (Joshua 3:9-17), a prodigy Elijah repeats when he strikes his rolled-up mantle upon the waters, allowing him and his successor, Elisha, to cross on dry ground to the other side (2 Kings 2:8).

Soon after the two traverse the Jordan, Elijah transfers his prophetic trust to Elisha, leaving the fifty guild prophets on the other side of the river. When Elijah is taken up to the heavens in a fiery chariot and horses, Elisha repeats the miracle and crosses back to the other side. It is a sign that Elijah’s mantle is now in Elisha’s possession, literally and metaphorically. “The spirit of Elijah rests on Elisha,” acknowledge the guild prophets, bowing to the ground.

The river Jordan is also where John conducts his ministry of baptism and where Jesus is baptized.

The river overflowing from the Temple in Ezekiel is the same as the “River of Life” in Revelation 22:1-2. Revelation was written 600 years after Ezekiel. Both books of prophecy share key motifs and allude to Psalm 1:3, an introductory psalm which precedes Ezekiel in composition by over 400 years.

Traditionally, the “River of Life” is identified with the rite of baptism and with the waters of divine grace pouring forth.

A RIVER by John Poch

God knows the law of life is death,
and you can feel it in your warbler neck,
your river-quick high stick wrist
at the end of day. But the trophies:
a goldfinch tearing up a pink thistle,
a magpie dipping her wing tips
in a white cloud, an ouzel barreling
hip-high upstream with a warning.
You wish you had a river. To make
a river, it takes some mountains.
Some rain to watershed. You wish
you had a steady meadow and pink thistles
bobbing at the border for your horizons,
pale robins bouncing their good postures
in the spruce shadows. Instead, the law
of life comes for you like three men
and a car. In your dreams, you win them over
with your dreams: a goldfinch tearing up
a pink thistle. A magpie so slow
she knows how to keep death at bay,
she takes her time with argument
and hides her royal blue in black.
Shy as a blue grouse, nevertheless God
doesn’t forget his green mountains.
You wish you had a river.

This poem was originally published in Poetry (July/August 2009).


Key to the interpretation of this poem is identifying the principal motifs—the river, yes, obviously, but also the meadow, the mountains, God, and death.

“The law of life is death,” says the poem, and it “comes for you like three men and a car.” Mysterious, the metaphor is foreboding.

Although repetitions occur throughout, only one line, the speaker’s response to death’s coming, is precisely reproduced: “You wish you had a river.”

If we look closely at what the poem says about the river and in its immediate vicinity, the meadow, both are understood in alluring terms, almost Edenic—“a goldfinch tearing up a pink thistle, / a magpie dipping her wing tips / in a white cloud,” “pale robins bouncing their good postures / in the spruce shadows.” They are the “trophies” of death.

Where does God fit in this picture? According to the poem, he is the intelligence, the author behind the “green mountains” that give rise to the watershed. Softly, the point is made that God creates the beautiful river and meadow that the poem associates with the time of death. 

The poem isn’t a prayer, but in expressing a heartfelt wish and acknowledging the role God plays at the time of death, it almost is.


Jordan River near Chorazin

Prime


PRIME

Morning is a swimming pool,
Deepest blue,
Newly replenished,
Chilled overnight,
Rippling gently.
Floating water molecules
Waft fragrant.

Ice cube splashing into a glass,
I dive, do six laps,
Six laps more,
This time backstroke,
Right arm, left arm,
Gazing upward at a cloudless sky,
Protective bubble
Swatting back
Solar radiation—
Stroke, stroke, stroke—
Glide forward, turn,
Push the wall,
Exhaling underwater
Necklaces, carbonated,
Feeling flushed, exhilarated.

No one else here,
I am first one in.

Only turbulence, spume generated by
Slashing arms, windmill,
Churning legs, waterwheel.
V-shaped wake, widening,
Tracks a streamlined hull, torpedo
Guided by black tiles, laser
Aimed at white tiles, target.

Beneath the surface tumult,
Water, transparent backwards, forwards,
Tranquil as a pipe
Fuming wispy aphorisms
Or dolphins wondrously examining
Mirror images of themselves
Slightly distorted
By visual deformations,
Akin to optical effects wrought by
Heat waves rising above
Desert stretches or
Asphalt roads, disappearing.

Deeper, stiller,
Clearer, cleaner,
Keener, wiser.

Touching the wall,
I stop, pop my head
Above water,
Bobbing ball,
Dripping like a dog,
Mermaid undulating
Sine waves, low amplitude,
Alive, lightning,
Thunderously huffing,
Euphoric, inflated,
Rising, happy balloon.

Life is water—
Cold, fresh, clean.


Rise Up by Samantha French

Friday, December 14, 2018

Wole Soyinka, African Literary Icon


Wole Soyinka, 2015

Adrienne Rich, American Skeptic


ADRIENNE RICH, AMERICAN SKEPTIC

Adrienne Rich has been recognized as one of the most influential poets in the U.S. the past several decades. She passed away in 2012. 

She came of age as a political activist during the turbulent counter-culture of the sixties. Her activism coincided with the rise in the U.S. of second wave feminism and the beginning of the modern gay liberation movement. The latter is usually dated to the Stonewall riots on June 28, 1969.

Poet and essayist, Rich is a very influential, articulate, and sophisticated literary voice advancing two major contemporary liberation movements, feminism and LGBT rights, or lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender rights. Her beacon, multi-awarded track record is documented, for example, in Poetry magazine:


Feminism and LGBT rights are each loci of complexly related issues with worldwide reach. They are international liberation movements centered in the U.S. and Western Europe mainly. Although Rich is known and celebrated in the U.S. primarily, as a contemporary leader of feminism and LGBT rights, her influence is global.

As a prominent feminist, Rich’s global influence is a given. After all, the varieties of contemporary feminism are a direct concern of a little less than half the world population.

As an advocate for LGBT rights, her influence is also substantial because the LGBT population worldwide is considerable. The cat is out of the closet, so to speak. Today, entire societies cannot but be majorly occupied with issues related to the treatment—legal, political, social, and economic—of this salient minority group.

One of the largest minority groups in any country is that of the LGBT population. It is difficult to estimate the actual count because as a rule acknowledging your LGBT identity, whether in surveys or elsewhere, is taboo. Besides, homosexual activity is illegal in 73 countries.

Still, we can go by the results of scientific and professional surveys. In 2017 a Gallup survey found that 4.5% of the total U.S. population or over 11 million Americans self-identified as LGBT. If the proportion of the total world population that self-identifies as LGBT is in this vicinity—a reasonable suggestion—then we can conclude that out of a total world population of 7.5 billion in 2017, up to 337.5 million people would probably self-identify as LGBT. The proportion may be small, but the number is considerable.

See:

—“This is the state of LGBTI rights around the world in 2018,” World Economic Forum (June 14, 2018) by Rosamond Hutt


—“In U.S., Estimate of LGBT Population Rises to 4.5%,” Gallup (May 22, 2018) by Frank Newport


Towards the end of her life, Rich described herself as an “American Skeptic.” The moniker is appropriate for someone, keenly intelligent, who sought to deconstruct the social structures that constrain the advancement of her two lifetime occupations, feminism and LGBT rights. Deconstruction is the province of the intellectual skeptic.

“I began as an American optimist, albeit a critical one, formed by our racial legacy and by the Vietnam War…I became an American Skeptic, not as to the long search for justice and dignity, which is part of all human history, but in the light of my nation's leading role in demoralizing and destabilizing that search, here at home and around the world. Perhaps just such a passionate skepticism, neither cynical nor nihilistic, is the ground for continuing.”

—Adrienne Rich, Los Angeles Times (March 11, 2001)


The above quote shows that Rich was critical of the reactionary exercise of global U.S. power and influence.

“Aunt Jennifer’s Tigers” appeared in Adrienne Rich’s first book of poetry, A Change of World (1951), published when she was only 22 years old. The collection of 40 poems won the Yale Series of Younger Poets Award.

AUNT JENNIFER’S TIGERS

Aunt Jennifer’s tigers prance across a screen,
Bright topaz denizens of a world of green.
They do not fear the men beneath the tree;
They pace in sleek chivalric certainty.

Aunt Jennifer’s finger fluttering through her wool
Find even the ivory needle hard to pull.
The massive weight of Uncle’s wedding band
Sits heavily upon Aunt Jennifer's hand.

When Aunt is dead, her terrified hands will lie
Still ringed with ordeals she was mastered by.
The tigers in the panel that she made
Will go on prancing, proud and unafraid.

The poem deals with the motif of feminism, which Rich would maintain in her poetry throughout her life.

The poem is understated, straightforward, and not especially difficult. Once the reader realizes that the “tigers” are embroidered designs in a woolen field, the overt meaning of the poem is readily apparent. The “massive weight” of Aunt Jennifer’s “wedding band” is a giveaway indicating that Aunt Jennifer’s marriage, and by extension the institution of marriage, is a type of social oppression. The poem describes her hands at death as still bound, “ringed” with “ordeals” and frozen in terror. They are the same hands that created the tigers that prance freely, “proud and unafraid” of the “men beneath the tree.” Manifestly, the tigers symbolize freedom from the oppression of patriarchy.

Published in 1957, “A Ball Is for Throwing” is occupied with feminist and gay liberation motifs. Key to its interpretation is getting a fix on what the ball stands for.

A BALL IS FOR THROWING

See it, the beautiful ball
Poised in the toyshop window,
Rounder than sun or moon.
Is it red? is it blue? is it violet?
It is everything we desire,
And it does not exist at all.

Non-existent and beautiful? Quite.
In the rounding leap of our hands,
In the longing hush of air,
We know what that ball could be,
How its blues and reds could spin
To a headier violet.

Beautiful in the mind,
Like a word we are waiting to hear,
That ball is construed, but lives
Only in flash of flight,
From the instant of release
To the catch in another’s hand.

And the toy withheld is a token
Of all who refrain from play—
The shopkeepers, the collectors
Like Queen Victoria,
In whose adorable doll’s house
Nothing was ever broken.

—“A Ball Is for Throwing,” Poetry (August 1957) by Adrienne Rich


The poem cites two toys: the ball and the doll’s house. The latter, a girl’s toy, is for those who, like shopkeepers and Queen Victoria, “refrain from play,” and the ball is the toy withheld” from them. In the last stanza it is apparent that the ball is a boy’s toy, so that it is a symbol of masculine identity, just as the doll’s house is a symbol of feminine identity.

Significantly, the ball is spoken of in positive, liberating terms. It represents many possibilities—it can spin its blues and reds into violet, it is “beautiful in the mind” when it is thrown, “it is everything we desire.”

Symbolically, the poem protests the assignment of sex-typed roles to males and females. By extension, it also critiques the male-female dichotomy qua social institution that is the basis for sex-typing.

“What Kind of Times Are These” is a protest poem, understated and allusive. At the time of publication in 1995 Rich was in her mid-sixties.

WHAT KIND OF TIMES ARE THESE

There’s a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill
and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows
near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted
who disappeared into those shadows.

I’ve walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don’t be fooled
this isn’t a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here,
our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,
its own ways of making people disappear.

I won’t tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods
meeting the unmarked strip of light—
ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise:
I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear.

And I won’t tell you where it is, so why do I tell you
anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these
to have you listen at all, it’s necessary
to talk about trees.

This poem was originally published in Dark Fields of the Republic: Poems, 1991-1995 (1995).


The poem is about a place, and when we examine this place closely, it is marked by disquiet and in some way cursed and threatened. It is “near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted who disappeared,” which suggests a political context. “Our country,” the speaker says, is moving in the direction of “truth and dread,” and because the speaker alludes to Russia, a country where people are made to disappear, the meaning of this statement is political. As people have been made to disappear, the speaker continues, the place risks the same fate. The poem is political but in an unassuming sort of way.

Why speak about this place, “about trees”? Because “to talk about trees” primes the audience to listen, and since the import of the poem is political, that about which the poem acts as a preparation is therefore of political significance—“because in times like these / to have you listen at all, it’s necessary / to talk about trees.”

Rich alludes to Bertolt Brecht’s “An die Nachgeborenen” or “To Those Who Follow in Our Wake,” published in 1939. Excerpt from the first stanza:

Wirklich, ich lebe in finsteren Zeiten!...

Was sind das für Zeiten, wo
Ein Gespräch über Bäume fast ein Verbrechen ist
Weil es ein Schweigen über so viele Untaten einschließt!

This poem was originally published in Svendborger Gedichte (1939).

English translation:

Truly, I live in dark times!...

What times are these, in which
A conversation about trees is almost a crime
For in doing so we maintain our silence about so much wrongdoing!

Translation was originally published in Gesammelte Werke, Volume 4, (1967), S.H. transl.


Brecht laments that in Nazi Germany, citizens maintain conversations about “trees” because they are constrained to keep silent about Nazi depravity. Their silence is “almost a crime.”

Once we recognize Rich’s allusion to Brecht, it is apparent that her poem is political. The poem protests the unavoidably indirect manner by which difficult issues must be presented to a resistant audience.


Adrienne Rich, undated photo