For Women Who Are Difficult to Love

I'm completely captivated by this piece from poet Warsan Shire, "For Women Who Are Difficult to Love". Full text under the photo and video (written and performed by Shire).

For Women Who Are Difficult to Love

You are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?

closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.

Video Poems

Just found this great site, Moving Poems: The best poetry videos on the web. Check 'em out--there are pages and pages of work by a variety of poets. Here's one below, by Rachel Eliza Griffiths, from the 2011 Mule & Pear (I actually got this from You Tube, as I can't figure out how to post individual vids from Moving Poems):

Awesome, huh? I've got to get back in there and watch more, once my internet connection speeds up (major issues, of late!). Cheers, Lauren

Dancing in the Park

Old-timers gather in the evenings after dinner,

at a square near the lotus pond, loudspeakers

spilling Classical music in the setting sun.

Couples form and begin twirling and dipping,

women in crisp skirts and heels, men in blazers,

the shy wallflowers with glittering eyes, waiting.

It’s Valentine’s Day, a first date, that awkward

high school dance, even the father-daughter

dance you shared at your first wedding

under a sparkling tent; but you never dance

anymore.  Now you watch.  Off to the side,

chattering grandmas are making deals, playing

matchmaker, trading photos of their marriageable

offspring like baseball cards, while divorced women

frown, lonely and ignored (this, a traditional city).

And you consider stepping to the sidelines, causing

a stir as the only foreign woman, a divorced one,

at that, but you don’t, and it grows dark.  Couples

are leaving hand in hand, soundmen joking over

cigarettes, packing up their equipment, as the

lotus blooms begin to wilt in the fading light.

~ Lauren Tivey

*Note: 2013 salvaged poem from my expansion drive crash

Year of the Snake

It slithers in, wet and black in the night,

bringing its bombs, guns, knives, wide

eye of the lunatic fringe, encouraging

the fanatical, and that’s no joke, no

cute astrological nonsense, now, is it?

This morning rain is cold, spotting

the windows, as I sit and worry

about loved ones near and far.

In a good Snake Year, business

deals, money-making (beware

of loopholes), but a Water Snake

year is the Satanic abyss, the void

of deep space, a hungry wolf

howling in the Arctic expanse,

humming on a full moon nerve.

In the blue light of the television,

I am sending electronic messages

of support, carrying on with both

hope and dread.  When it stops raining

later today, I will go out and look at all

the flowers of this mad, gone world.

~ Lauren Tivey

*Note: Salvaged poem from my expansion drive crash. This was written last year, in 2013, which was the Year of the Snake. Currently, we are in the Year of the Horse.

The Departure

for *Hai Zi (1964 – 1989)

Have you gone into the sunflower,

young brother of Van Gogh?

Have the ravens lovingly picked

your mangled body clean?

When you laid your life on the tracks,

that whistle to the void, calling, calling,

was it for the empty plains of Tibet,

the sea waving its flags by Fujian?

Perhaps the boyhood fields, lush

Anhui, the ancestral grass?  Land

of autumn, or the stars, the moon?

:  We trace your comet in the sky.

Rumors of love’s neglect, yet I see

you upon a beach, arms flung wide,

qi of your grin, your child’s love,

charms, faults, embracing the All.

That iron bearing down—your last

train out to the cosmic hinterlands,

the psychedelic sun, where the coin

is poetry, and all the gods are young. 

~ Lauren Tivey

  

*Hai Zi (Zha Haisheng), a young Chinese poet who wrote of nature, love, loneliness, and death. He was from a poor family in Anhui, and went on to study law at Peking University at 15, Later, he taught Philosophy and other subjects, and devoted much time to writing poetry. He committed suicide at the age of 25, by lying on the train tracks near Shanhaiguan. He left behind about 200 poems, and though never published much in his lifetime, he has become a cult figure in modern Chinese poetry. 

**Note: This is a salvaged poem from my expansion drive crash (written last year). 

Learning to Play

Digging through my usb files the other day, I was happy to find six poems that weren't lost in the Great Expansion Drive Crash of 2013. Cool! As I mentioned in an earlier post, I'd lost ALL of my work (writing, poetry manuscript, photos, teaching materials, etc.), and didn't think I'd ever recover any--I must've had these five poems in a different place. I don't think I'll submit these anywhere, as I've started over fresh, so I'll post the poems here over the next few days. Anyway...here's the first:

Learning to Play

The pale birds of her hands flutter

over the strings of the guzheng,

sound of the lotus, a bamboo forest,

a peaceful boat on water. Her fingers,

born for porcelain teapots, calligraphy,

silk, are plucking out High Mountain

Flowing Water, are conductors of dark

storms, confident upon the bridge, as in

Three Variations of Plum Blossom, or

mellowed with reflection, as in my favorite,

Song of Fishermen on a Homebound Boat

During Sunset, before the happy home port

of its coda. She places my awkward palms

upon the rosewood, guiding the unsure

attempt;  me, attuned to electric guitars,

heavy drums, afraid of something

so delicate. I’ve no talent here. Her laughter

lifts me though, like the chiming of bells.

~ Lauren Tivey

Postcard Poem Project

Now, here's a lovely idea, the Postcard Poem Project. I just joined the other day, wrote my two poems, and will mail them from China this week--one to the U.S. and one to Canada. Hopefully, they'll make it to their destinations (the Chinese postal service has a habit of losing things), and I'll receive two poems in return. How wonderful it'll be to get a handwritten poem in the mail, from someone on the other side of the globe! It'd be cool to connect, so if you're one of the people to receive a poem from me, or one of the senders, and want to stay in touch, look me up--either here or on Facebook--I'm always interested in meeting other poets and writers.

If you'd like to join the project, you can find the event page on Facebook, here:

https://www.facebook.com/events/1398401707051407/

Here's the deal, according to the event page:

Every few years, we poets who love sending and receiving snail mail engage in an enormous pen pal event called the Postcard Poem Project. Last time, in 2012, we swapped poetry and postcards between over 250 poets from 16 countries on four continents. This time, we're hoping for all seven continents. Here's how it works:

Poets who wish to participate have until Friday, September 19th, 2014 to email their address to the website. On that weekend, they will receive two randomly-picked mailing addresses; they could be from the other side of the world, or just down the street. Poets will buy (or make) two postcards, write a short poem on the back of each (preferably about the pictures on the front of each postcard), and send them to their mailing addresses before the end of September. Easy, right? Come October or November, you will hopefully receive two poems in your mailbox from two complete strangers... poems written just for you!

You probably have questions. We have answers. But first: Are you in, or out? If you're in, here's what you have to do:

Send an email to postcardpoemproject@gmail.com that includes your full mailing address, the way you would write it on a postcard yourself. It should look something like this:

Your Name

Your Street Address

The Rest Of Your Address

Your Country

(People often leave out either their name or their country. Please don't leave out your name or your country. Also, WE DID NOT KEEP ADDRESSES FROM THE LAST ROUND, so please send your address in even if you have before!) 

You will receive a reply email with all the details and an FAQ section. In the meantime, help make this project grander by passing this event on to any poets you know! Spread the word, and help spread good words in the mailboxes of the world!

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

...and balloons, and boats, and camels, and many other means of transport. That's what this summer was about--MOVEMENT. My fiance and I covered so much ground, I think we must've broken some sort of record. Check this out: Shanghai to Istanbul; Istanbul to Izmir; Izmir to Istanbul; Istanbul to Cappadocia; Cappadocia to Antalya; Antalya to Istanbul; Istanbul to Casablanca; Casablanca to Tangier; Tangier to Tarifa, Spain and back (x 2); Tangier to Chefchaouen; Chefchaouen to Fez; Fez to Marrakech; Marrakech to Essaouira; Essaouira to Casablanca; Casablanca to Istanbul; Istanbul to Shanghai; Shanghai to Tokyo; Tokyo to Kyoto; Kyoto to Osaka; Osaka to Shanghai. Whew! We did all that in less than two months! Talk about covering some ground, eh? And, all this in-and-out of Istanbul tells me something: The city's strategic location may be a factor in future employment considerations (but that's a topic for another day).

In spite of all the movement this summer (or, perhaps because of it), my creative juices were flowing, and I was able to take many incredible photos, and I also came back with a poetry notebook full of drafts. At each turn, something or other sparked my imagination, and that, I believe, is another reward of travel. Gerry and I saw and experienced some amazing things--some highlights were: Feasting on the culinary delights in Istanbul; the little mountain village of Sirince, Turkey; an anti-government protest that turned violent in Izmir; Ephesus; a sunrise cruise over Cappadocia in a hot air balloon; sailing the waters off Antalya in a schooner, plus the Umbrella Street, and the International Sand Sculpture Festival; train journeys through Morocco; wandering the medina on the trail of Beat writers in Tangier; the ferry across the Strait of Gibraltar to Spain; the Blue City of Chefchaouen; the ancient leather tanneries of Fez; the wild main square of Marrakech; a camel trek down the beach of Essaouira; Tokyo's Harajuku district; a Japanese love hotel stay; the Fushimi Inari Shrine in Kyoto; and the bowing deer of Nara, Japan. The whole summer was a dream! The Flickr albums are going to take a long time to upload and organize, but I'll post the links once I finish. In the meantime, here are some photos and videos:

Charming Sirince Village, nestled in the mountains, and surrounded by vineyards, orange groves, and peach orchards. Sirince is famous for its wine--we even stayed in the "Dionysos Pension".

Taking a break at Ephesus, in my trusty red kicks.

VIDEO: Sunrise cruise over Cappadocia in a hot air balloon. Absolutely fantastic! A must do!

Deflating the balloon after the cruise.

Pretty Antalya Harbor, home of sailors, pirates, and salty dogs!

Beautiful skies over Tangier

One of the locals, Tangier

Cafe Tingis, Burroughs' old haunt in the Petit Socco. Spent a couple of afternoons sipping coffee here, watching the world go by. I also visited the Librarie des Colonnes, an expat bookstore, and scored a copy of Naked Lunch. Found Hotel el Muniria, too, where he wrote the famous novel.

Southernmost tip of Europe, in Tarifa, Spain, taken after crossing the Strait of Gibraltar from Tangier.

Blue doors of Chefchaouen

Bohemian wanderings, Chefchaouen

VIDEO: Early morning through the streets of Chefchaouen

VIDEO: Chefchaouen waking up for the day

Light filtering through the streets of Chefchaouen

Ancient tanneries of Fez

VIDEO: Jemaa El Fnaa, main square of Marrakech. Gets downright WILD here at night, with organ grinders, snake charmers, henna artists, acrobats, musicians, even hypnotists!

Camel trek along the beach in Essaouira, a funky little town made famous by a visit from Jimi Hendrix back in the day.

VIDEO: Camel ride on a windy beach!

VIDEO: Gorgeous Essaouira Harbor

Moroccan train travel, premiere classe

Somewhere over Tunisia, waxing moon to the left

Istanbul, we meet again! 

And on to Japan. This is the insane Tokyo subway map. God help you.

Helloooooo Kitty, ha ha. Tokyo.

Pachinko parlor in Kamata.

Tokyo: Anime Capitol of the Universe

Murakamiland. Got my copy of his latest work in this Shinjuku bookstore.

Our wish, added to the sacred camphor tree at Meiji Shrine. Shinto priests will collect and pray over all the plaques--there were hundreds of thousands of them.

VIDEO: Shibuya Crossing, busiest pedestrian crossing in the world. You may remember a scene of this in the film, Lost in Translation.

Bullet train, Tokyo to Kyoto. Just like teleportation, baby!

Umbrella lights in the alleys of Pontocho, Kyoto

Fire eater in Pontocho, Kyoto

Cutenss! Pontocho, Kyoto

Sun setting through the torii gates at Fushimi Inari Shrine in Kyoto. After dark, lanterns come on, adding a whole other layer of magic to the place. 

VIDEO: Fushimi Inari casts its spell. Torii gates, babbling brooks, moss-covered stones, trilling birds, and kitsune (fox messenger) statues at dusk.

Bamboo Forest, Arashiyama (just outside Kyoto).

Curious little guy! One of the bowing deer of Nara, Japan.

So sweet. The residents of Nara adore the deer, which are allowed to wander at will, into shops, restaurants, etc. They are well-cared for and well-fed.

VIDEO: The bowing deer of Nara, Japan. Native sika deer, considered to be the messengers of Shinto gods, have been frequenting this park for the last thousand years or so. They're protected, and much loved by locals and visitors alike. Somewhere along the way, they learned to bow for their food. We spent an amazing day with them!

Well, sorry for such a long post. There were so many other things that happened along the way, so many other places visited, so many new friends made (both two-legged and four-legged!), but there's no way to relay all of these experiences here. I know I'll be busy for months, editing and organizing photos, revising poems, and just processing everything. I'm so grateful for these opportunities to travel, for what my life has become, and yes, I'm still completely in love with the world. Cheers, Lauren.

A Favorite Line

I love this line, from T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", one of my all-time favorite poems. I just covered it recently with my senior class. Not sure where this awesome photo came from, or I'd credit it.

Ariel Redux

This is an older Slate.com article from 2004, discussing Sylvia Plath's book, Ariel and Other Poems, and how the manuscript was altered before publication.  I knew some alteration took place, and was probably necessary, after her suicide in 1963 (the book was originally released in 1965), but I didn't realize the extent of the alteration. Anyway, this is a pretty level-headed (and fair to Hughes) comparison of the original with the restored edition by Meghan O'Rourke.  Link below, if you're interested.

http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/the_highbrow/2004/12/ariel_redux.html

Last Poems of Miklós Radnóti

Miklós Radnóti

I woke up thinking about Miklós Radnóti again this morning.  This happens every so often, though not as much as when I was completing my thesis on his last poems; his work has apparently seared itself into my psyche, and I guess there will always be a connection there.  Anyway, Miklós Radnóti, a Hungarian poet and translator, is considered to be one of the most important 20th-century poets of his country.  Radnóti was killed at the age of thirty-five on a forced march during World War II.  After the war, his last poems, written in a notebook during the march, were discovered on his body when he was exhumed from a mass grave near Abda, Hungary.  Here's an excerpt from "Eclogue VII", translated by Steven Polgár:

Without commas, one line touching the other
I write poems the way I live, in darkness,
blind, crossing the paper like a worm.
Flashlights, books - the guards took everything.
There’s no mail, only fog drifts over the barracks.

Haunting stuff, for sure.  You can read the rest of Radnóti's bio here:  http://www.kirjasto.sci.fi/radnoti.htm

Or, if you're interested, here's a link to my Master’s thesis, that I completed at Vermont College of Fine Arts in 2007, analyzing the last poems:

http://www.scribd.com/doc/46799340/Landscape-of-Death-The-Last-Poems-of-Miklos-Radnoti.

R.I.P.



Radnóti’s work has touched me more deeply than perhaps any other.  One day, I will make the journey to pay my respects at his grave in Budapest. 

A Dark Star Passes Through It

Just HAD to share this brilliant poetry essay, "A 'Dark Star' Passes Through It",  written by Leslie Ullman, which was just republished by Numero Cinq (it originally appeared in Southern Indiana Review, Spring 2001).  A deeply worthy read for any serious reader or writer of poetry.  Click the link below~trust me, you won't want to miss this:

http://dgvcfaspring10.wordpress.com/2011/09/19/a-dark-star-passes-through-it-an-essay-by-leslie-ullman/

New Chapbook Review

Link below to a new review of my chapbook, by Zack Kopp for the Denver Examiner.  A big thank you to Zack.  I'm really lucky to know some great people in the biz!

http://www.examiner.com/books-in-denver/the-sun-is-a-fast-fat-mandala-lauren-tivey-s-breakdown-atlas-review

"I love you, what star do you live on?"

One of my favorite poets, Conrad Aiken (1889~1973):  Link here for some of his poems, including "Chance Meetings", "The Dance of Life" (sexy!), "Discordants", "Evensong", "Miracles", "Morning Song of Senlin", "Red is the Color of Blood" (WOW!), and "Zudora":

http://www.poetry-archive.com/a/aiken_conrad.html

Also, here's a link to the complete epic, "The House of Dust" (just in case you have a couple of hours to kill):

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-house-of-dust-complete-long/