Photographic and poetic meanderings along the countryside or while flying an airplane.
Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .
Thursday, February 7, 2008
New Yorker Gnome
I have long made staying at the Algonquin one of the highlights of my visits to Manhattan. Last week, Galway Kinnell's visit with Lee Quinn embellished my experience. Among many clever things, he said that "to tell the truth, I was getting sick of rhymes and meter, just plain sick of it, and I quit writing rhyme and meter forever." He is a memorizer and recited Yeats' Innisfree poem; later he recited Dylan Thomas' work. To answer another of Lee's questions he said he was influenced by Edgar Allan Poe, and that he felt, as a young man, that no one had written poetry after Poe. Then, and this one went over most people's heads, that he "fell upon Emily Dickinson with great joy." Upon saying that, he looked out into the audience with a grin, a mischevious grin that prompted people to laugh. He told about the time he was asked to teach a year of Walt Whitman's work. The book they sent him lay "around the house for a while and then picked it up and read it and realized why he [Whitman] was so unpopular. His poems were awful." But the sixteenth poem he read was beautiful." He added that "Whitman is appealing because of the music in his poetry" and "Whitman had shown himself to be an adventurer close to Dickinson" an observation that echoes remarks I've heard my dear professor of poetry say during lecture. Lee asked him if there was a poet he considered risky. I do not know what she meant by "risky," but Kinnell thought for a moment and began to say Dylan Thomas, but folks in the audience had to remind him of the name. He said Thomas's work was so beautiful that he read him only once per week to give himself time to forget his style. Hold on and don't follow someone else's music, he implied. It was at this point that he began to recite one of Dylan's poems. Afterwards, he said he "felt thrilled when one of my students wrote a great poem . . . and properly morose when they did not." What is something to tell an emerging poet asked Lee: Keep your senses alert; maintain sense power and facilities, the alertness that you were born with.
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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin
JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On
Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.
Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.
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