I may never understand why some people hurt other people without reason. Every one of us has the power, with very little effort, to make the people around us at least a little bit happier or a little bit worse off. Sometimes it just means being respectful and polite to people you will never see again. Why would anyone spread strife? It makes life more miserable for all of us. And it can fester and grow until a pot somewhere boils over. Until people don’t just feel a little worse; they get permanently hurt. They get killed. At some point, people will fight back. And as much pride as there may be in fighting back, in becoming some kind of a hero, it is horrifying to think that the whole fight could have been avoided if people had just shown each other respect all along. Err on the side of respect. Fight back when justice requires it. But, please, err on the side of respect. Our lead poet this month, one of my favorites, a true powerhouse, speaks to a situation in which people fought back. I got chills from reading this work. Associate Editor Julie Brooks Barbour introduces her and her brilliant poetry:
Claudia Serea’s poems examine the horror and honesty of living with war, and the power of healing from what has been torn apart. The use of anaphora in “December song” drives the poem towards its powerful ending, and the natural imagery in “After the storm” gathers us into the reality of how the nonhuman world continues after disaster. Slow down and spend some time with these poems.
Also, this month, we are saying good-bye to Associate Editor JP Reese. Thank you, Ms Reese, for your years of dedication to Connotation Press: An Online Artifact, and best of luck to you. In an impressive farewell, JP introduces the work of quite a few strong poets this month:
Merrill Oliver Douglas’ poems intrigue and delight. Her images are sometimes strangely juxtaposed yet they create a lovely music I’ve never quite heard before. Douglas quit writing for a couple decades, and I, for one, am glad she decided to begin again. She captures so much of life in one or two lines: “See how August lopes / downhill toward the river, / the tune on her lips as sweet / and quick as a paper cut?”
I walk past copies of Mark Rothko’s paintings almost every day. They hang with their mates in the college library’s upper hallway. I enjoy abstract art, its lack of inhibition, its granting viewers the freedom to imagine what the artist intended, but Elizabeth McLagan’s study of Rothko’s Number 14 1960 brings readers a new appreciation for Rothko’s work. McLagan sees the painting; she captures pain and wonder, life and death. Her poem explores the many layers of spirit competing for dominance inside an artist’s sensibility. Wonderful poem, a “Feather-flash invention.”
Can human beings intuit their fate? Is there some energy that tries to infiltrate our subconscious to warn us of impending disaster? Do we act on our intuition, or do we deny that which we feel but cannot see exists and go about our daily business? Mary-Alice Daniel’s intelligent exploration of this idea in “Slipstream” asks us to consider whether life directs us or we direct life.
Robin Carstensen gives us a smart, lovely poem this month, “Voyeurs,” is about longing and dreams, about the human ability to imagine bliss, worlds away from the real here and now. After all, “ It’s not too much to ask. We all need saving / from beds we’ve made, in or out of our heads…”
Dave Nielsen’s poems are written in a matter-of-fact voice, as if the speaker has seen or heard it all. His ars poetica, “Demonstration in the Study” captures the pressure writers feel to make it new, to write something no one else has ever written or at least something better in the same vein. We figuratively jump through hoops to get the words down perfectly. His poem “Sentimental” uses irony in the most in-your-face way. Both poems share a unique worldview that tickled me as they also made me a bit uncomfortable. I like that in poetry.
Agnes Marton leads a fascinating life. She translates her life into dream-like poetry. The word-sparing compositions are full of music, and they leave enough space for the imagination. They are never predictable, they keep surprising you in a thought-provoking way. I hope everyone enjoys Agnes’ wonderful poem “Next” as much as I do.
I give you the greeting I heard most often when I was in Jamaica, a beautiful sentiment and reminder: Respect.