What if we look at poetry through the lens of human becoming? What if we wonder together about the human mode of being (i.e. the structure of consciousness) from whence poetry comes? We might even wonder what our inner poetics are up to in these present uncertain times, giving to poetics a broader meaning than creative human expression . . . or giving to creative human expression a broader meaning as a mode of life.
Thank you so much Renee for opening the door for us to study this poet and his work. To look at poetry through the lens of human becoming is...perfect. It resonates deeply for me so I read on with an excitement I haven't felt in my reading in a while.
First, I enjoyed meeting a poet who is new to me and my enjoyment increased when I could listen to him read his own work! Next was leaning into Ars Poetica!
I felt a palpable lightness and depth at the same time, with my attention fixing on:
A poem should be wordless
As a flight of birds
This descriptor goes beyond sensation, which may have been his reason for choosing it, calling us to feel poetry from a different place within, from the space between everything. I look forward to continued exploration.
Lastly, I love the refreshed look and why you chose the dandelion. It's beautiful and perfect.
Thank you for sharing your excitement about this month's series! The idea came and sort of swept me away! So, it's good to read I'm not the only one.
The stanza that spoke to you is the one that especially stirs me, too. We do feel this wordless flight of birds, don't we, in the body: at once a "lightness" of being stirred in the depths. You say it is "beyond sensation," yes, and at the same time so deeply felt and understood by the fact that we, like the birds, are bodies moving through the world.
I'm so glad the refreshed look and dandelion speaks to you, too, Donna. Thank you for sharing!
Renee, once again - thank you for some subtle awakening: I do apologize beforehand for being self-promotional - yet, as reflective as the times seem - somehow, a dandelion awakening occurred for me... unexpected... yet, I'm sure the reading here 'carried the seed' of thought...
Dearest Renée, first you beguile me with the magical breath of dandelion wings and all the secrets held within, and, surely this alone is the sweetest gift on a day which has been a hard grind, nose to the floor, don’t look up til it’s done kind and then with the stealth and agility of word that I have come to know so well from your letters, you guide me to a poet whose words I don’t know.
A poet who wrote
“Not that we love death | Not truly, not the fluttering breath | The obscene shudder of the finished act…”
and then
“A poem should be equal to:
Not true.
For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf.”
I am enlivened with agitation in the wanting of more… I will look forward greatly to making the acquaintance Mr Archibald MacLeish - thank you.
You are beguiled. I am enchanted that you are beguiled. And all of that through the sweet hush of the written word from Mr. Archibald MacLeish who is no longer here (of physical body). This is beauty.
Thank you for sharing. And I hope the hard grind, nose to the floor, don't look up til it's done day was just one and that kind of day can be behind you for a little while!
Sending love across the big pond to you on your hill,
Oh I love a good dive into poetry. But first I love the dandelion. Originally taught to see it as a weed, I have since seen its magical ways. Natures tenacity to express itself in places that have been cemented. The sunshine of the blooming, the mystical dispersing of its seed, the nutritional value of their leaves. I no longer pull them up, but just let them bring a smile to my face. Looking forward to future posts. MacLeish's poem is beautiful.
Magic is a beautiful descriptor, and especially as you describe it here . . . sunshine blooming, mystical dispersing. It is a wonder that they came to be thought a weed.
As is quite normal for me these days Renee, I think I’m focusing on the wrong thing! The dandelion really spoke to me, indeed I’ve connected with it myself. The hope, the dreams, the wishes and the idea that we get to look at things differently when we don’t perceive them as weeds, but bringers of change, perception and resilience to go even where we are not wanted, but are so needed. A rambling plant that spreads seeds of change, a bit like my note. The rambling, rather than the change! 😂 Can you tell I’m days away from moving house and under the influence of radical energy, which may be replaced by red wine soon. All my love Louise x
Moving is so disorienting ungrounding discombobulating where's my toothbrush CHANGE! Ramble here all you're inclined. The dandelion, soft and gentle, is a good place to sit inbetween boxes.
Sending all manner of goodness and wishes for an easy move your way.
Thank you for dropping by, having a read, and commenting.
…just went back to read the poem again and I think this is my favorite part:
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs,
Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,
Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,
…I sense with this section, he is saying a poem should strip us of past and future, pulling us like the gravitational force of a moon into the present moment.
I wish you could see the smile on my face. Yours and Donna's sensing into these sections of the poem enchants me as I write this series. In brief, you're onto something, re: "he is saying a poem should strip us of past and future" per this little exploration we're up to. More on Sunday and with thanks for playing along!
Wow. Thank you for introducing me to MacLeish! The poem in its entirety moved through me like a silent, arcing moon witnessing not the events below her but the space between. And the last stanza, I mean… I want that to be my motto for life too!
Firstly, I LOVE the dandelion! And then, thank you for introducing me to Ars Poetica. What I kept hearing as I read it was your voice saying the words: Naked intent. This is one of the many profound things you've taught me. To come to something and drop all my knowing of it so that we can intimately be. It feels, in my heart, like this poem is Macleish's way of coming to that same wisdom. I also particularly liked his words: "Dumb As old medallions to the thumb". I saw the ancestors here. Their rubbing of medallions out of habit that no longer means anything. And yet it holds the chord that if awareness awakens, even just a tiny bit, there is in that habitual medallion rubbing lifetimes of connection. I'm not sure I'm explaining this well. That phrase felt to me as one that means both nothing and everything.
Thank you so much Renee for opening the door for us to study this poet and his work. To look at poetry through the lens of human becoming is...perfect. It resonates deeply for me so I read on with an excitement I haven't felt in my reading in a while.
First, I enjoyed meeting a poet who is new to me and my enjoyment increased when I could listen to him read his own work! Next was leaning into Ars Poetica!
I felt a palpable lightness and depth at the same time, with my attention fixing on:
A poem should be wordless
As a flight of birds
This descriptor goes beyond sensation, which may have been his reason for choosing it, calling us to feel poetry from a different place within, from the space between everything. I look forward to continued exploration.
Lastly, I love the refreshed look and why you chose the dandelion. It's beautiful and perfect.
Donna,
Thank you for sharing your excitement about this month's series! The idea came and sort of swept me away! So, it's good to read I'm not the only one.
The stanza that spoke to you is the one that especially stirs me, too. We do feel this wordless flight of birds, don't we, in the body: at once a "lightness" of being stirred in the depths. You say it is "beyond sensation," yes, and at the same time so deeply felt and understood by the fact that we, like the birds, are bodies moving through the world.
I'm so glad the refreshed look and dandelion speaks to you, too, Donna. Thank you for sharing!
With love,
Renée
I felt the same way Donna!
Thank you, Kimberly!
Renee, once again - thank you for some subtle awakening: I do apologize beforehand for being self-promotional - yet, as reflective as the times seem - somehow, a dandelion awakening occurred for me... unexpected... yet, I'm sure the reading here 'carried the seed' of thought...
https://substack.com/@onthejourney/note/c-54258767?utm_source=notes-share-action&r=17fww4
Jacob,
Thank you for sharing your inter-communion with the dandelion! I just commented on your post and am delighted you shared.
seeds of dandelion exaltation. . . carried on human word.
With love,
Renée
Dearest Renée, first you beguile me with the magical breath of dandelion wings and all the secrets held within, and, surely this alone is the sweetest gift on a day which has been a hard grind, nose to the floor, don’t look up til it’s done kind and then with the stealth and agility of word that I have come to know so well from your letters, you guide me to a poet whose words I don’t know.
A poet who wrote
“Not that we love death | Not truly, not the fluttering breath | The obscene shudder of the finished act…”
and then
“A poem should be equal to:
Not true.
For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf.”
I am enlivened with agitation in the wanting of more… I will look forward greatly to making the acquaintance Mr Archibald MacLeish - thank you.
With love xxx
Dearest Susie,
You are beguiled. I am enchanted that you are beguiled. And all of that through the sweet hush of the written word from Mr. Archibald MacLeish who is no longer here (of physical body). This is beauty.
Thank you for sharing. And I hope the hard grind, nose to the floor, don't look up til it's done day was just one and that kind of day can be behind you for a little while!
Sending love across the big pond to you on your hill,
Renée
Oh I love a good dive into poetry. But first I love the dandelion. Originally taught to see it as a weed, I have since seen its magical ways. Natures tenacity to express itself in places that have been cemented. The sunshine of the blooming, the mystical dispersing of its seed, the nutritional value of their leaves. I no longer pull them up, but just let them bring a smile to my face. Looking forward to future posts. MacLeish's poem is beautiful.
Julie,
Magic is a beautiful descriptor, and especially as you describe it here . . . sunshine blooming, mystical dispersing. It is a wonder that they came to be thought a weed.
Deeper we go into poetry this Sunday. . .
With love,
Renée
I’m looking forward to this series Renee!
Thank you, Emily!
As is quite normal for me these days Renee, I think I’m focusing on the wrong thing! The dandelion really spoke to me, indeed I’ve connected with it myself. The hope, the dreams, the wishes and the idea that we get to look at things differently when we don’t perceive them as weeds, but bringers of change, perception and resilience to go even where we are not wanted, but are so needed. A rambling plant that spreads seeds of change, a bit like my note. The rambling, rather than the change! 😂 Can you tell I’m days away from moving house and under the influence of radical energy, which may be replaced by red wine soon. All my love Louise x
Dear Louise,
Moving is so disorienting ungrounding discombobulating where's my toothbrush CHANGE! Ramble here all you're inclined. The dandelion, soft and gentle, is a good place to sit inbetween boxes.
Sending all manner of goodness and wishes for an easy move your way.
Thank you for dropping by, having a read, and commenting.
With love,
Renée
Thanks Renee, your gentle kindness, it is very much appreciated. x
❤️🤗
…just went back to read the poem again and I think this is my favorite part:
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs,
Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,
Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,
…I sense with this section, he is saying a poem should strip us of past and future, pulling us like the gravitational force of a moon into the present moment.
Kimberly,
I wish you could see the smile on my face. Yours and Donna's sensing into these sections of the poem enchants me as I write this series. In brief, you're onto something, re: "he is saying a poem should strip us of past and future" per this little exploration we're up to. More on Sunday and with thanks for playing along!
r.
Wow. Thank you for introducing me to MacLeish! The poem in its entirety moved through me like a silent, arcing moon witnessing not the events below her but the space between. And the last stanza, I mean… I want that to be my motto for life too!
Oh, to be! The poem is exquisitely simple and so, evocative of being. Is it not?
I'm so glad you're enchanted with MacLeish.
Firstly, I LOVE the dandelion! And then, thank you for introducing me to Ars Poetica. What I kept hearing as I read it was your voice saying the words: Naked intent. This is one of the many profound things you've taught me. To come to something and drop all my knowing of it so that we can intimately be. It feels, in my heart, like this poem is Macleish's way of coming to that same wisdom. I also particularly liked his words: "Dumb As old medallions to the thumb". I saw the ancestors here. Their rubbing of medallions out of habit that no longer means anything. And yet it holds the chord that if awareness awakens, even just a tiny bit, there is in that habitual medallion rubbing lifetimes of connection. I'm not sure I'm explaining this well. That phrase felt to me as one that means both nothing and everything.