Evening folks! It’s almost the end of the half term week – it’s my day off tomorrow so I’m not back at work quite yet. I’ve had quite a lazy week off – I’ve been doing lots of reading. I’ve been rereading Virginia Woolf’s novels alongside a biography written around the novels as well as various poetry books and magazines that have landed through the door. Sometimes I’ve only got out of my pyjamas to walk the dogs or because I was hungry.
However I did get out to Ambleside to the open mic at Zefferellis, organised by Andrew Forster from the Wordsworth Trust. This month’s guest poet was Jane Routh from Lancaster and there was a good turn out again. I dragged lovely friend Helen along and we scoffed pizza whilst listening to poetry. Very quietly I might add.
Jane read beautifully – about boats and animals and woods – and there were about ten or so readers on the open mic – all varied. I tried out a short sequence which I’ve just finished…I’ve always wanted to write a sequence, even though my heart sinks whenever anyone announces “I will now read a sequence…” it doesn’t stop me wanting to inflict MY sequence on people! Andrew Forster read a cracking poem about sheep on the road..so all in all a good night and worth getting out of my pyjamas for.
And then since very late on Thursday me and the hubby have been down in Leicester visiting my family – again I’ve been very lazy because the weather has been so good! It has been nothing but s the sunshine here. We brought the cat and the dogs with us and the cat has been having a great time in the back yard, rolling around in the grass and basically spending all his time out there – it has made us feel quite guilty about not having a garden for him…
We’ve been walking in fields around Leicester and the public foot paths are so much better marked down here! The hubby has been hiding his disappointment at not having to use his map and compass – there have been no nettle filled stiles to break our way through – it’s all very well kept and orderly. And of course the fields are all cultivated with crops which you don’t get so much of when walking on foot paths in Cumbria…
Today’s Sunday Poem is by Joshua Weiner, an American poet who I heard read at the Troubadour a couple of weeks ago. The poem I’ve chosen absolutely blew me away when I heard Joshua read it – it is the sort of poem that I wished I’d written, even after hearing only the first line.
Joshua Weiner is professor of English at the University of Maryland. He is the author of three books – the first is ‘The World’s Room’, the second is ‘From the Book of Giants’ and the third, which is the one he read from at the Troubadour is called ”The Figure of a Man Being Swallowed by a Fish’. Good titles aren’t they?
Joshua has been awarded the Amy Lowell Traveling Poetry Scholarship which has brought him to Berlin for a year.
I really enjoyed the rest of the book as well as the title poem, which remained my favourite – but listen to the first few lines of this poem, titled ‘The Winters’s Tale’
“It’s about jealousy without cause,
a king who thinks his queen deceives him;
or some truth that hides inside
Isn’t that beautiful? I don’t see how you could not want to read the rest of the poem after reading that.
However, I decided to ask Joshua if I could use the poem that struck me first of all on that Monday, the one that made me buy the book, which is the title poem of the book. If you would like to buy Joshua Weiner’s book go to www.press.uchicago.edu
If you would like to find out more about Joshua Weiner you can have a look at his website which is http://www.joshuaweiner.com/
So here is the poem – and I hope you enjoy!
“The Figure of a Man Being Swallowed by a Fish” – Joshua Weiner
is not a man being swallowed by a fish
with eyes like eight-pointed throwing stars
it’s a man being swallowed by a war
a man being taken into the mouth of a woman
or being swallowed by his work
it’s a man traveling far inside a book
a man being swallowed up in smoke
he swallows the smoke, that blends around him like a thought
it’s a man being swallowed by a sound
he shapes it so he lives inside a song
of a man being swallowed by his kin, his skin
a man being swallowed by the State
(Leviathan in 1948)
It’s a man being swallowed by another man
literally, eaten as a pathway to god
it’s a man being swallowed by a sight
he cannot reach, cannot touch, cannot trace
it’s a man who won’t recognize his face
who can’t fit the parts, or find the place
it’s a man in triumph over death
who laughs and beats the dust from his clothes
a man tasting dust inside the laugh
it’s a man who listens to the clock
a man with nothing to exchange
a rude man, his twin he leaves behind
it’s a man who wants to be a bride
a man being swallowed by his fault
with something old to show and new to hide
it’s a man who tries to haul the rope
a man who stooping can’t provide
a man who can’t forget his name
it’s a man who doesn’t know his worth
it’s a man being swallowed by his wrath
his youth, yield, luck, the law, his fear, the fog, his fame
it’s a man being swallowed by a coat
his father’s coat, he smells of the fit
a man being swallowed by his vows
it’s a man softly squeezing for the vein
he never finds it, he’s minding the road
it’s a man being swallowed by a room
in which he finds a man being swallowed by a fish
it’s a man who thinks what’s in a man
who exits into night at closing time
the figure of a man being swallowed by a fish.