Jose Angel Araguz's Blog, page 34

arte-ing with vicente huidobro

This week I’m happy to share a translation of a poem by Chilean poet Vicente Huidobro. What moves me about this week’s poem is how closely the logic of the lines play out some of Huidobro’s ideas on poetry. For Huidobro, the poet was a “maker” and creator of “new worlds that never existed before, that only the poet can discover.”*

An example of what this thinking looks like in a poem can be seen in the first two lines: Let the verse be like a key / that opens a thousand doors. Here, the logic and imagery come together with a stunning immediacy. My first reaction in reading these lines was a professional envy; I mean, were they my lines, I might have just stopped at these two lines and called it a poem!

But Huidobro (with better sense than me, obvs) forged ahead, delivering an ars poetica that enacts in poetry what it would have poetry do. Often an ars poetica will be lost in abstraction and an attempt at a grand statement. Here, Huidobro doubles down in grand statements, the effect being a poem that keeps creating its ideas before the reader.

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Arte Poetica – Vicente Huidobro

Que el verso sea como una llave

Que abra mil puertas.

Una hoja cae; algo pasa volando;

Cuanto miren los ojos creado sea,

Y el alma del oyente quede temblando.

Inventa mundos nuevos y cuida tu palabra;

El adjetivo, cuando no da vida, mata.

Estamos en el ciclo de los nervios.

El músculo cuelga,

Como recuerdo, en los museos;

Mas no por eso tenemos menos fuerza:

El vigor verdadero

Reside en la cabeza.

Por qué cantáis la rosa, ¡oh Poetas!

Hacedla florecer en el poema ;

Sólo para nosotros

Viven todas las cosas bajo el Sol.

El Poeta es un pequeño Dios.

*

Arte Poetica – Vicente Huidobro

translated by José Angel Araguz

Let the verse be like a key

that opens a thousand doors.

A leaf falls; something passes in flight;

whatever the eyes see, let it be created,

and the soul of the listener be shaken.

Invent new worlds and take care of your word;

the adjective, failing to give life, kills.

We are in the age of nerves.

The muscle hangs,

like a memory, in the museums;

but that is not why we have less strength:

true vigor

resides in the mind.

Why do you sing the rose, oh Poets!

make it flower in a poem;

just for us

all things live under the sun.

The poet is a little God.

*

Happy arte-ing!

José

*These quotes are from the introduction to The Selected Poetry of Vicente Huidobro (New Directions).

* remembering judith ortiz cofer

The Purpose of Nuns – Judith Ortiz Cofer

As a young girl attending Sunday mass,

I’d watch them float down the nave

in their medieval somberness, the calm

of salvation on the pink oval of their faces

framed by tight-fitting coifs. They seemed above

the tedious cycle of confession, penance

and absolution they supervised: of weekday dreams

told to a stranger on a Saturday; of Sunday sermons long

as a sickroom visit, and the paranoia of God always

watching you — that made me hide under my blanket

to read forbidden fictions.

Some of us were singled out for our plainness,

our inclination to solitude, or perhaps —

as our mothers hoped in their secret hearts —

our auras of spiritual light only these brides

of quietness could see in us. We were led to retreats,

where our uninitiated footsteps were softened,

and our heartbeats synchronized, becoming one

with the sisters’. In their midst, we sensed freedom

from the worry of flesh — the bodies of nuns

being merely spirit slips under their thick garments.

There was also the appeal of sanctuary in a spotless mansion

permeated with the smells of baked bread, polished wood

and leather-bound volumes of only good words.

And in the evenings, the choral mystery of vespers

in Latin, casting the final spell of community over us.

The purpose of nuns was to remind us

of monochrome peace in a world splashed in violent colors.

And sometimes, exhausted by the pounding demands

of adolescence, I’d let my soul alight

on the possibility of cloistered life, but once the sky

cleared, opening up like a blue highway to anywhere,

I’d resume my flight back to the world.

*

This week I am proud to feature the above poem by Puerto Rican American writer, Judith Ortiz Cofer, who recently passed away. Her work in prose and poetry helped to pave the way for a culturally infused and aware literary tradition that continues today.

The above poem works a subtle magic through the speaker’s impression of the nun figure. The stakes of the poem lie not in accurately portraying nuns, but rather in giving a sense of the strict world the speaker lived in growing up (first stanza), and then exploring how the perceived idea of the nun’s life offered relief from that strictness. There is a power to lines like: The purpose of nuns was to remind us / of monochrome peace in a world splashed in violent colors that works via contrast; if the nun is the idealized figure, then the speaker themselves lives in the world of “violent colors.” So much of life is looking for hope wherever we can find it, and sometimes a poem or a community can open up something inside you “like a blue highway to anywhere,” until you find yourself able to move, and dream, forward. Cofer’s work, here and elsewhere, made possible such empowered dreaming to happen for myself and others.

Reading the poem above the first time years ago inspired my own poem, “The Nun’s Lament,” which is included in my chapbook, Reasons (not) to Dance. I remember being stunned into a new revision of what became the poem below after reading Cofer.

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The Nun’s Lament – José Angel Araguz

after Judith Ortiz Cofer

One night, I saw the figure of a man making his way towards my window. I had been looking across the roof of the chapel, stark in white moonlight. I closed my eyes, stood still, how long, I cannot say. The figure of the man, there behind my eyelids, flashed from shadow arms swinging, clambering across the roof, to a shadow flock of birds stirring in the air in unison, all but one taking off away from me. The one shot straight to me, past me, left me heavy, my pulse beating like wings inside. What I heard was not coming closer, was not hurting me, what I heard was restless. I had become a cloister for the heart, a space where the heart waited, idle, mid-flight. When I opened my eyes, there was the roof, clear, and a train in the distance, its whistle bursting.

*

Happy dreaming!

José

* new naos poem at Right Hand Pointing!

Just a quick post to announce the release of the latest issue of Right Hand Pointing which includes my poem “Naos Explains Lying.”

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* naos to be here *

This poem is another in a new series of poems in the persona of Naos, a character I explored originally in my digital chapbook Naos: an introduction which can be read online.

Special thanks to Guest Editor Brad Rose for selecting my poem and to everyone at Right Hand Pointing for letting Naos hang out for awhile more.

See you Friday!

José

 

* the 2016 End of Year Reading!

Time once again for my end of year reading here on the Influence! This year has left me with much to be grateful for, from readings in my hometown of Corpus Christi, Texas (Del Mar, TAMUCC, & Moody High – órale!) to getting to be the Visiting Writer at Adelphi University’s Alice Hoffman Young Writers Retreat as well as participate in my second CantoMundo.

I am especially grateful for the journals and presses and their respective editors that have worked with me this year and helped bring more of my work out into the world. Lastly, I want to say thanks to everyone who reads this blog as well as to the community of writers, readers, and friends (three words for the same thing, no?) that have reached out to me regarding my work. When things get dark, as they often did in 2016, community and words bring me back to light.

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For this end of year reading, I have chosen selections from my two chapbook publications of 2016, The Book of Flight (Essay Press) and The Divorce Suite (Red Bird Chapbooks).

From The Book of Flight (which can be read for free on the Essay Press site) I am reading pages 2 through 5. From The Divorce Suite (available for purchase from Red Bird Chapbooks), I am reading the poems below. I learned a lot working with both presses bringing these projects to fruition. Special thanks especially to Andy Fitch, Aimee Harrison, and Maria Anderson of Essay Press, and Eric Hove and Sarah Hayes of Red Bird Chapbooks. And a warm thanks to Pam Dick for writing the intro essay to Flight and selecting it for publication!

 

*

The Particular Life – José Angel Araguz

The oak chest holds the scent

of the tree it was made from,

everything placed inside

comes out thick with the smell:

traces on blankets, letters,

notebooks that even closed

show at the edge of the pages

the blot and blurring

of fine lines, a photo

I’d neglected to

rip up with the rest

after the divorce, a shot

where I stand younger

than I am now, smiling,

and then only half-way,

the rest of my face pulled in

as if inhaling deep,

taking in the particular

life that passes

no matter the effort

to shut it away.

*

Rose Song – José Angel Araguz

“…the rose is out of town” – E. Dickinson

The rose is out of town,

and the wine has moved away.

The wedding ring won’t glint,

the river won’t let it.

Perfumes won’t call me back.

The candle’s on a walk,

lets shadow fill the shelves.

Our secrets tell themselves,

while worries stay to talk.

The wedding dress is slack.

The coat hooks comfort it.

Lost buttons try to hint,

there is no other way.

The rose is out of town.

*

Happy flighting and suiteing!

José

* excerpts from a new anthology!

I Collected Dead Things As A Child – Nita Penfold

starting with insects, variegated and delicate,

pinned carefully into the cigar box —

iridescent Tiger beetle, round striped bumble bee,

green stick figure of a praying mantis —

my whispers to them went unanswered.

Then a pheasant wing with my feathers like intricate lace

in the wild thrush colors of earth;

turtle shell green and mosaic-patterned,

raw fleshy part inside rotted away;

small skull I could cradle in my hand,

its bone tarnished with a dark shine.

Each one a message from something large

that beat against my eyelids at dusk

dusting them with mystery.

*

[image error]This week I am sharing excerpts from a new anthology offering variations on the theme of drought entitled The Absence of Something Specified which features a strong range of poets including Emily Rose Cole, Carrie Etter, John Sibley Williams, and Laura Madeline Wiseman among others. The editors have collected poems that range from a direct treatment of the subject of drought to how it plays out as a metaphor in people’s intellectual and physical lives.

The poem above navigates its meanings through both the mind and body. I’m moved by the way each stanza of the poem knocks on imagery and physicality for something beyond. Whether it is “whispers…unanswered” or the “dark shine” of bone, the absence of the anthology’s title is engaged with a near-spiritual directness and fascination. The poem ends with a turn: the speaker senses their interrogation “beat against my eyelids at dusk,” and the analytical world becomes mysterious again via physical means.

I share my own contribution to the anthology below. My poem, “Reading Hunger” (originally published in Gulf Coast), comes from my experience of reading Knut Hamsun’s stark and stoic novel, Hunger.

Special thanks to the editors – Quinton Hallet, Colette Jonopulos, Laura LeHew, and Cheryl Loetscher – for putting together such a fine collection of poems!

*

Reading Hunger – José Angel Araguz

after Knut Hamsun

He calls it: the festival of what is not eternal,

then goes on describing

an old man’s eyes

as being made of dry horn,

and you can see it,

the almost animal beauty in each person

when unaware of anyone around.

Each person’s solitude bubbles up

like a spring,

a short-lived light

over rocks.

As the rock dries,

the dark gives

more and more gray.

Soon, you will be like this: rock, no water.

*

Happy bubbling!

José

* new work & nomination!

Just a quick post to share that my poem, “Cazar Means to Hunt Not to Marry,” has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize by December Magazine. This poem is part of my second collection, Small Fires, forthcoming from FutureCycle Press.

This poem can be read at December Magazine’s site along with the other stellar nominees here.

Thank you to December Magazine for the support and community!

See you Friday!

José

* in solitudarity with dulce maría loynaz

LXV

Pasaste por mi corazón como el temblor de luz por la colmada red del pescador.

LXV*

You poured through my heart like the shimmering light that streams through the fisherman’s loaded net.

*

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This week I have been spending time with the work of Cuban poet Dulce María Loynaz. As can be noted above, the conciseness of imagery and sensibility in her prose make for stunning moments of lyrical insight. Haiku-like, Loynaz’s prose captures a fleeting moment in language, and grounds it in human immediacy.

In the poem below, one can see Loynaz engage with the concept of solitude, one of the major themes of her work. Solitude becomes its own presence and antagonist in her work; in many ways, solitude is the medium through which Loynaz understands the world and channels the work of her poems. In poems charged with its pangs, Loynaz provides the reader the experience of what it feels like to engage with solitude on a level where it imbues the world with its color and meaning.

*

XLIII

Tuve por tanto tiempo que alimentar la soledad con mi sangre, que tengo miedo ahora de encontrarme sin sangre entre tus brazos… O de encontrarte a ti menos en ellos que lo que te encontraba en mi ardorosa y viva soledad.

De tal modo te he fundido en ella y yo contigo, de tal modo le he ido traspasando anhelos, sueños gestos y señales, que tal vez nuestro encuentro sólo sea el de dos nubes en el cielo o dos desconocidos en la tierra.

XLIII

I have fed my solitude so much blood that I’m afraid of feeling nothing when you hold me in your arms. Or maybe I’m scared of finding you less in your embrace than I did in my fierce and fervent solitude.

I have dissolved you into my solitude, and myself into you, in such a way that I have given my solitude my desires and my dreams, my gestures and my traits, and now I wonder if our meeting has been anything more than two clouds passing in the sky, or two strangers passing on earth.

*

Happy solituding!

José

P.S. Should anyone else be interested in receiving a monopoem, feel free to send me an email [ thefridayinfluence@gmail.com ] between now and next Monday, and I’ll have one sent your way.

*All English translations are from James O’Connor’s book of Loynaz translations, Absolute Solitude: Selected Poems (archipelago books).

* monopoem giveaway winners!

[image error]Just a quick post to announce the winners of the current Mosca Dragón monopoem giveaway: Laura Kaminski & Jennifer Met!

Both Laura and Jennifer were kind enough to share some poetry in their comments:

Laura shared these lines filled with stunning imagery:

the wing patterns of white-tailed dragonflies are tai chi fish

in flight: where his wings are burnished brown, hers are

transparent and in the spaces where his are so clear they’ve

become invisible all that he is missing can be found in her

And Jennifer shared the following haiku whose imagery becomes technical and personal in a short amount of time:

mating dragonflies—

my overuse

of dashes



(Aubrie Cox, Muncie, Indiana, Frogpond 35:2)

Both winners have been contacted and will have a monopoem sent their way shortly.

Should anyone else be interested in receiving a monopoem, feel free to send me an email [ thefridayinfluence@gmail.com ] between now and next Monday, and I’ll have one sent your way.

See you Friday!

José

* new work online & monopoem giveaway!

Just a quick post to announce some recent publications available online & to give a small reminder of my current Monopoem Giveaway:

!) I’m happy to announce that my poems “On Being Called Jorge” and “Freckles” are featured in the current issue of The Indianola Review! This issue features work by Angela Morales, E. Kristin Anderson, & Lena Khalaf Tuffaha among other great writers. Check out the rest of the issue here.

@) I’m also happy to share that Crab Creek Review was kind enough to feature my poem “Alien” on their blog! This poem along with “On Being Called Jorge” are both in my upcoming collection, Small Fires, forthcoming from FutureCycle Press.

#) Lastly, I am doing a MONOPOEM GIVEAWAY as a thank you to all of you who read my blog. In order to participate, simply leave a comment below stating your interest in receiving a monopoem. I will keep track of who comments and will pick winners at random. The announcement of winners will be on Wednesday, December 14th! Feel free to comment on this post for a chance to win.

A monopoem is a poem and a drawing on a folded sheet of paper. Essentially one of the most mini of self publications. This is the second I’m doing in this series. Here’s a peek at this season’s cover:

Be sure to comment  below and enter by Wednesday!

Abrazos,

José

* haiku & new monopoem giveaway!

I lay down

all the heavy packages —

autumn moon.

Patricia Donegan

*

reaching the top

of the mountain

losing the mountain

Michael Fessler

*

losing its name

a river

enters the sea

John Sandbach

*

say no words

time is collapsing

in the woods

Sonia Sanchez

*

The above haiku are drawn from Haiku in English: The First Hundred Years, an anthology I spent time with this week as I wrapped up work at the CR for the semester. The editors provide a great sense of the many paths haiku has been taken on in the English language. I like returning to short lyric forms as seasons change. Helps me pay attention to the details.

Before I share more excerpts from this great anthology, I wanted to thank everyone who entered the Goodreads giveaway for Everything We Think We Hear! Winners have been chosen and will have books sent their way next week. The ten winners will also be receiving copies of the latest Mosca Dragón, my monopoem series. This issue features another poem from my forthcoming collection Small Fires.

Additionally, I am doing a MONOPOEM GIVEAWAY as a thank you to all of you who follow my blog. In order to participate, simply leave a comment below stating your interest in receiving a monopoem. I will keep track of who comments and will pick winners at random. The announcement of winners will be on Wednesday, December 14th! Feel free to comment on this post for a chance to win (on Monday, I’ll give folks another chance).

Here are a few more excerpts from the haiku anthology:

rising river

a shadow still wedged

between the rocks

Susan Constable

*

In the falling snow

A laughing boy holds out his palms

Until they are white.

Richard Wright

*

whittling

till there’s nothing left

of the light

Jim Kacian

*

mother’s day

a nurse unties

the restraints

Roberta Beary

*

Happy detailing!

José