April 12, 2008
In lieu of a poem
Today, in lieu of a poem, I’ve written all about Poetic April over at the Descant Blog.
April 11, 2008
Everybody's Birthday
It might as well be everybody’s birthday
today, passing people clutching
balloon strings in their fists. The air is ripe
for a a stampede of pogo-sticks.
April 10, 2008
I cannot
I cannot write a poem tonight,
it pains me now to say.
One could not have had a less inspiring
day than I’ve had today.
I could sit here and wrack my brain
and further ache my shoulders.
But I hope you don’t mind if ditch this for
a snack of yogurt and granola.
April 9, 2008
Rational Conscience
When a poet told me he knew suffering
because he suffered from ‘imposter syndrome,’
a psychoanalytic term assigned
to those who feel unworthy of any praise,
I never suggested to the poet
in his case, perhaps ‘imposter syndrome’
was better called ‘rational conscience.’
–from David McGimpsey’s “Irresistible”
April 9, 2008
Spring
There was never snow
here and I know naught
about all these scarves and hats.
Mittens stuffed into my pockets
must have been planted,
the coat too warm to be mine
anyway; where did it even come from?
April 8, 2008
On poetry, and Sitcom by David McGimpsey
Yesterday I read my husband “Summerland” and “Invitation” from David McGimpsey’s Sitcom, published in 2007 by Coach House Books. From the latter poem I was particularly fond of a reference to “the summer I said I would ‘concentrate/ on my portfolio’ and ended up/ taking extra shifts at a frozen-yogurt stand”. Or the last line of “Summerland”, “The future will be full of shiny new books/ and I promise to skim at least one of them.”
I read these poems aloud, and realized that such a reading made McGimpsey’s poetry come to life. That my voice could not help but take on new inflections, hang on certain tones, take up a rhythm that’s not altogether apparent on the page.
“That’s good,” said my husband when I was finished, and then he said, “but those sound like stories.” We thought about it for a moment. “What makes a poem anyway?” he asked. We were both quiet, and then I flipped through the book a bit. “Line breaks, I suppose,” I said in a small voice, but it was clear that I wasn’t sure.
What does make a poem anyway? The best I can get is that I’d know one if I saw it. And I certainly know that David McGimpsey’s work is poetry, but it’s why I’m not sure of. It must be something more than line breaks, though they were the most obvious clue. It was also something my voice took on when I read it, the rhythm. But his poems aren’t poetry as I’ve always known it– he’s short on rhyming couplets, his poems stretch on for pages and pages. And while his allusion are classical as one might expect, they’re coupled with just as many allusions to Mary Tyler Moore, Elvis, Hawaii Five-O, and Gilligan’s Island. Also to Suddenly Susan and Judging Amy, just so you don’t think he’s stuck in a ’70s rut.
I bought this book last fall after hearing about it on the radio, intrigued about whether or not pop culture was worth making art about. That was also about the same time I learned that Kimmy Gibbler had become an academic, and so I’d decided that anything was possible. Though now I realize that it’s only possible because David McGimpsey knows all the rules he is breaking– this made clear by his broad allusions, by his control of language. And while his collection is fun, is funny, it’s in no way frothy. Instead, underlined by a caustic bitterness and certain sadness which makes the humour all the more remarkable, actually. And that 60% of the jokes went over my head didn’t mean I wasn’t enjoying myself.
I would wonder about any culture one couldn’t make art of, but I wonder still if McGimpsey ever thinks he might have availed himself of tools lacking in richness. Is their lack of richness the point, or is McGimpsey to show that this stuff is rich after all? I could make an argument for either side. And what then of the nature of poetry anyway? Heady questions, all of these, which– even short of answers– must mean that Sitcom is doing something right.
April 8, 2008
Inspired by Kimmy Gibbler
I know of one poem
inspired by Kimmy Gibbler
and now here is another.
If there are two
there may be others.
Anthological opportunities
in multiple volumes,
or a doctoral thesis.
A wikipedia article
at the very least, because
here is a cultural phenomenon.
The girl next door,
whose side ponytail threw her
off-balance. She was familiar
but not with knocking.
April 6, 2008
Bad Habits
Picking my nails, staying up late,
compiling lists of things that I hate.
Bumping my head, stomping the floor,
opening the cupboard and not closing the door.
Rolling my eyes, playing with my hair,
hollering orders up or down stairs.
Shrugging, “Whatever”. Quoting with “like”.
Being too cheap to tune up my bike.
Teabags tossed in the sink, not fixing things when they break.
Coming up with any excuse to go out for some cake.
April 5, 2008
It is easy
It is easy to feel inadequate
at Home Depot, where ceilings stretch
so high, we might as well be crawling.
I want to carry two-by-fours out
hoisted on my shoulders too,
but I can’t– I have a backache.
