Word: poems
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There is a poem by Adrienne Rich ’51 that I love, an excerpt from which seems an appropriate way of ending this column: “If the mind were clear/and if the mind were simple you could take this mind/this particular state and say/This is how I would live if I could choose/This is what is possible.” And so, perhaps taking leaps is a better prescription than slowing down, finding out not just what is, but what is possible...
There is a poem by Adrienne Rich ’51 that I love, an excerpt from which seems an appropriate way of ending this column: “If the mind were clear/and if the mind were simple you could take this mind/this particular state and say/This is how I would live if I could choose/This is what is possible.” And so, perhaps taking leaps is a better prescription than slowing down, finding out not just what is, but what is possible...
Though Erdogan is positioned to be the focus of power in the new government, under current laws he cannot become Prime Minister. At a rally in 1997, he read a poem: "The minarets are our bayonets. The faithful are our soldiers. God is great. God is great." For that flight of fancy, which he says was meant metaphorically, he was sentenced under laws designed to keep Islamic fundamentalism at bay. He served four months in prison and was barred for life from public office. Nonetheless, his party swept to victory, partly as a protest against Turkey's Old Guard politicians...
...taken as a ballad - a narrative poem - "Blood Song" becomes beautiful and expansive. Like a ballad, its story exits only as a thread for the reader to follow through the metaphors and themes. One way of reading it, for example, is a story about the transition from child to adult - moving from careless tranquility through tempestuous seas to the world of responsibility and childbirth...
...rather than draw them in. Over this he adds layers of slate-gray watercolor for tone and depth. Then, amidst this near-monochrome world, at sparingly particular moments, he adds a zap of color: a bird, a butterfly, or blood. It's a transcendent effect. The meter of the poem comes from the layout. Most pages are diptychs, with both sides of the book working as individual panels that form a larger image. Never one to dull the eye, Drooker occasionally breaks these up into smaller panels, most noticeably as the woman gets lost in the confinement of the city...