[net.books] Recent Poetry

wfi@unc.UUCP (William F. Ingogly) (02/28/85)

Here are excerpts from four books of poetry published in 1983 and
1984 that I thought readers of this newsgroup might be interested in.
Two are by newcomers, and two by 'established' poets. They are
short excerpts from longer works and I refer you to the published
books for the complete poems. I've found the Clampitt and Kenney books
(the newcomers) to be the most surprising and enjoyable of the lot.
They reveal a maturity and technique that's rare in a first book in
any genre. The Hughes book is, I think, the best thing he's done since 
'Crow.' I don't feel Merwin is writing powerful stuff as consistently as 
he did back when 'The Lice' and 'The Carrier Of Ladders' came out, but 
there are several gems that make its purchase worthwhile. In each
case, I've supplied a list of poems that I particularly enjoy. Enjoy.  
And if you like these samples, support the writers by buying their 
books!

[To legal beagles: this is a short review or critique. I've clearly 
stated in the above paragraph how I feel about these books, and have 
recommended their purchase to the readers of this note. The short 
excerpts below convey the sense of the poems and are intended to support 
my positive comments about the books containing them; the longer poems 
that contain them can only be appreciated in full by going back to the
sources]

------------------------
  "The Kingfisher," by Amy Clampitt. Alfred A. Knopf, NY: 1983. $6.95

   I'm particularly impressed by: Fog, Beach Glass, A Procession At 
   Candlemas, The Quarry, Imago, Good Friday, Or Consider Prometheus. 
   This excerpt is from the poem 'Good Friday:' 
      
        Think of the Serengeti lions looking up,
        their bloody faces no more culpable
        than the acacia's claw on the horizon
        of those yellow plains: think with what
        concerted expertise the red-necked,
        down-ruffed vultures take their turn,
        how after them the feasting maggots
        hone the flayed wildebeest's ribcage
        clean as a crucifix -- a thrift tricked out
        in ribboned rags, that looks like waste --
        and wonder what barbed whimper, what embryo
        of compunction, first unsealed the long
        compact with a limb-from-limb outrage.

------------------------
   "River," by Ted Hughes. Harper & Row, NY: 1983.  $6.95

    I especially like these poems: Flesh Of Light, The Morning Before 
    Christmas, Four March Watercolours, The Merry Mink, That Morning, 
    The Gulkana, October Salmon, Salmon Eggs. This from a poem called 
    'Four March Watercolours:'

        The river-epic
        Rehearses itself. Embellishes afresh and afresh
        Each detail. Baroque superabundance.
        Earth-mouth brimming. But the snow-melt
        Is an invisible restraint. If there are salmon
        Under it all, they are in coma. They are stones
        Lodged among stones, sealed as fossils
        Under the grained pressure. I look down onto the pour
        Of melted chocolate. They look up
        At a guttering lamp
        Through a sand-storm boil of silt
        That scratches their lidless eyes,
        Fumes from their gill-petals. They have to toil,
        Trapped face-workers, in their holes of position
        Under the mountain of water.

----------------------
   "The Evolution Of The Flightless Bird," by Richard Kenney. Yale
    University Press, New Haven: 1984.  $4.95 (?)

    These poems impressed me most: The Hours Of The Day, In April,
    Five Grotesques, The Evolution Of The Flightless Bird, The Battle
    Of Valcour Island. This from a poem called 'In April:'

        We stand, imagining the strobe of afternoons
        since earth began, the unregenerate gray
        ground slacking weight all around us, once
        more unfreezing, to be frozen again and thrown
        back again in twigs and slag snow, and nowhere grace
        or quick or leaf, the least flush or fragrance --
        Then in some cold bedroom -- as finely dreamt
        as riffling cotton sleeves, and all the plant stems
        like new copper by the road -- a seine, a spill
        of hair will fall and touch the face to simple
        recognition, then: that blind instant caught,
        in the absence of desire, out of the confusing sun,
        when two of our species reach thoughtlessly
        to groom one another, to smooth the other's skin.

----------------------
   "Opening The Hand," by W. S. Merwin. Atheneum, NY: 1983. $6.95

    I liked best: The Houses, Birdie, The Cow, Late Wonders, The
    Shore, Berryman, Ali, What Is Modern, Hearing. And finally, 
    this from a poem called 'Berryman:'

        as for publishing he advised me
        to paper my wall with rejection slips
        his lips and the bones of his long fingers trembled
        with the vehemence of his view about poetry
        
        he said the great presence
        that permitted everything and transmuted it
        in poetry was passion
        passion was genius and he praised movement and invention
        
        I had hardly begun to read
        I asked how can you ever be sure
        that what you write is really
        any good at all and he said you can't
        
        you can't you can never be sure
        you die without knowing
        whether anything you wrote was any good
        if you have to be sure don't write
        
                                            W. Ingogly
                                            Univ. of North Carolina

jcp@osiris.UUCP (Jody Patilla) (03/01/85)

Another recent book of poetry that may interest the group is "Henry
Purcell in Japan", by Mary Jo Salter.  She's originally from Towson,
Md, and has been published in the New Yorker, among other places.
-- 
 

jcpatilla


"'Get stuffed !', the Harlequin replied ..."