New Poem by Michael S. Begnal

Eyewear is pleased to offer readers a new poem by Michael S. Begnal on this important day. Begnal’s collections are Ancestor Worship (Salmon Poetry, 2007), Mercury, the Dime (Six Gallery Press, 2005), and The Lakes of Coma (Six Gallery Press, 2003). His new book, Future Blues, is forthcoming from Salmon in 2011. Since his time in Ireland, where among other things he was editor of The Burning Bush literary magazine, he has received an MFA from North Carolina State University and presently lives in Pittsburgh.

Dithyramb

The more things change

the more they change, they change:

immortal impossible but

to live long enough

to revolve in the woods, a clearing,

eyes burning with pollen,

the birds enplumed in their trees

will fledge, one after another

night of cars’ bass vibrating, dopplerizing,

sirens screaming, fading,

a black cat there certainly crouching

under a bush

/ then I enter the poem,

and am immediately strong-armed

into a dark garage

where there are no shining mirrors,

no strains of deathless song,

and leering toughs make gestures

hierarchical and lost,

they claim they can define

everyone, that I’m this or a that,

a maker of cloudy cadence, couth—

but of course it’s bullshit

and I’m out along the leaves,

olive-green under the

streetlight lampglow,

the leaves, wet and slick

and always

moving

Comments

IQ AND THE POETS - ARE YOU SMART?

When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart? A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional. Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were. For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ? Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets. But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ? How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular. John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se....

Poetry vs. Literature

Poetry is, of course, a part of literature. But, increasingly, over the 20th century, it has become marginalised - and, famously, has less of an audience than "before". I think that, when one considers the sort of criticism levelled against Seamus Heaney and "mainstream poetry", by poet-critics like Jeffrey Side , one ought to see the wider context for poetry in the "Anglo-Saxon" world. This phrase was used by one of the UK's leading literary cultural figures, in a private conversation recently, when they spoke eloquently about the supremacy of "Anglo-Saxon novels" and their impressive command of narrative. My heart sank as I listened, for what became clear to me, in a flash, is that nothing has changed since Victorian England (for some in the literary establishment). Britain (now allied to America) and the English language with its marvellous fiction machine, still rule the waves. I personally find this an uncomfortable position - but when ...

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you..."

In terms of great films about, and of, love, we have Vertigo, In The Mood for Love , and Casablanca , Doctor Zhivago , An Officer and a Gentleman , at the apex; as well as odder, more troubling versions, such as Sophie's Choice and Silence of the Lambs . I think my favourite remains Bram Stoker's Dracula , with the great immortal line "I have crossed oceans of time to find you...".

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