…the moment you take for granted that a metaphor is the equivalent of the thing it describes or points to, is the moment when that metaphor is effectively dead. It’s worse than useless for thinking with. But usually people go on using such metaphors long after they’ve ceased to generate any new ideas–which is one of the things a metaphor is supposed to help us do. People will just keep walking on in the resulting conceptual daze, because to think about it is like looking at the end of the world. Some will invest heavily in re-animating the corpse and blame the demise on the usual suspects: the all-powerful and infinitely devious upstart poor and other outsiders.  Kia in comments at the Gift Hub

via wood s lot

cross-posted at mirabile dictu

 

 
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dd_litcity_map

Literary Map of San Francisco

Based on a similar map of St Petersburg by Vera Evstafieva and Andrew Biliter (**), this one places city-relevant quotes on a San Francisco map, where possible on the district the quote relates to. San Francisco Bay, cable cars, the Mission, the Tenderloin District and Chinatown are all name-checked in this map, which quotes following authors:

  • Alice Adams (Second Chances – 1988)
  • Isabel Allende (Daughter of Fortune – 1999)
  • Maya Angelou (I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings – 1969)
  • Gertrude Atherton (The House of Lee – 1940)
  • Albert Benard de Russailh (Last Adventure – 1851)
  • Ambrose Bierce (The Death of Halpin Frayser – 1891)
  • Herb Caen (Herb Caen’s San Francisco – 1957)
  • Philip K. Dick (Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? – 1968)
  • Dave Eggers (A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius – 2000)
  • Lawrence Ferlinghetti (Dog – 1958)
  • Allen Ginsberg (Sunflower Sutra – 1956)
  • Andrew Sean Greer (The Confessions of Max Tivoli – 2004)
  • Dashiell Hammett (The Maltese Falcon – 1930)
  • Robert Hass (Bookbuying in the Tenderloin – 1967)
  • Bob Kaufman (No More Jazz at Alcatraz)
  • Maxine Hong Kingston (China Men – 1980)
  • Jack Kerouac (On the Road – 1957)
  • Gus Lee (China Boy – 1991)
  • Armistead Maupin (Tales of the City – 1978)
  • Czeslaw Milosz (Visions From San Francisco Bay – 1975)
  • Alejandro Murguia (The Medicine of Memory – 2002)
  • Frank Norris (McTeague – 1899)
  • Thomas Pynchon (The Crying of Lot 49 – 1968)
  • Ishmael Reed (Earthquake Blues – 1988)
  • William Saroyan (The Living and the Dead – 1936)
  • John Steinbeck (Travels with Charley – 1961)
  • George Sterling (The Cool, Grey City of Love – 1920)
  • Robert Louis Stevenson (Arriving in San Francisco – 1879)
  • Amy Tan (The Joy Luck Club – 1989)
  • Michelle Tea (Valencia – 2000)
  • Hunter S. Thompson (The Great Shark Hunt – 1964)
  • Mark Twain (Early Rising, As Regards Excursions to the Cliff House – 1864)
  • Sean Wilsley (On the Glory of It All – 2005)

crossposted at mirabilu dictu

Ideology
Tom Clark

Ideology dates back to the veldt,
Blood in the dust, the lion’s rage against
The antelope it’s about to have for lunch.
For the luckless prey prayer’s all that’s left,
No ideology’s yet been known to incorporate
Mercy as a feature. But of course all this is irony.
No lion’s yet been known to subscribe to a noble lie.

From Tom Clark’s blog:Rousseau-Hungry-Lion

 

 

via wood s lot

Odds and Ends

An evil swamp meadow, burnt and sawed.
Invisibly small lives hum and rummage in fearful humidity.  Among the stumps
lean six pine saplings, the bare slender trunks
tipped with cone-shaped tufts of needled twigs:
greenery arrowheads.  What made these arrow-trees
fall here notch first and sink their feathers
under the lava flow of golden weed —
what, beyond some whim and power of nature
and ideal of the painter, inexpressible in words?

I was glad as always to leave the museum
and regain the town and again be living
in a picture, restored to our nature as pilgrims
for the ideal law.  But when the walk did not turn
and open on the sea, as map misreading had told me,
my eyes settled on a fallen rhododendron flower.
Its petals, intact and perfect, were in fact
not petals but five rays of a single disc,
shadowy rose, with a circular hole at center.
It was a skirt for a dead Romantic waist:
the upturned, golden, hammer-headed pistil
had fit there, with its garden of ten stamens waving
ovular flecks, and these remained above
on their bush withering, while the shed pink dirndl
was put away in the grass.

                                            O clothes she wore
and we put them away for her to wear again
someday, and today they lie there still.

A. F. Moritz

from The Best Canadian Poetry in English, 2008
published by Tightrope Books

Moritz‘s poem is taken from The Best American Poetry blog and from a post by Canadian poet Molly Peacock.  Peacock takes on the task of trying to articulate the differences between Canadian and American poetry.  Her thesis is interesting and pretty good fun.  I can even see the ways her metaphor for the differences is accurate, though no attempt to theorize the differences can really do the job imo.  I find Moritz an interesting choice since he was born and educated in Ohio.  Peacock doesn’t take note of this.  Although Moritz has been a Canadian citizen for years, I wonder if a “more” Canadian poet would have been a better choice, or if Moritz’s “Canadian” style can be attributed to a “Canadian” personality?

In a second post on a different subject – the connections between BritPo and CanPo – Peacock includes Moritz’s comment on the making of this poem:

“Odds and Ends” describes a painting by Emily Carr in the city art gallery of Victoria, and, more particularly, the experience in which my viewing of the painting was set.  Leaving the gallery, I walked through the surrounding neighborhoods, thinking to come out soon on the ocean, but it turned out to be a long walk on a hot humid day:  I’d misunderstood my map.  And in a front yard I saw a rhododendron petal . . .

For American readers Peacock adds that Emily Carr is an iconic Canadian painter, similar to Georgia O’Keefe for Americans.  (Though I find it rather sad that it’s assumed that American readers won’t be familiar with the wonderful Emily Carr! – is that assumption based on the infamous Canadian inferior complex?  or is it just true?) Yup, there are some similarities between Carr and O’Keefe.  In fact, Sharon Udall wrote a book on Carr, O’Keefe and Frida Kahlo that lead to a wonderful exhibition of their work – I saw it three times – and included fascinating archival photos of the artists at work along with 60 exhibits:

Carr Forest

There is much we can never know about the inner workings of an artist’s mind, but there is much we can learn-much that emerges in the process of comparing creative lives and achievements. The exhibition will invite comparison without imposing it. In their searches for identity, for example, Carr, Kahlo and O’Keeffe shared a number of important concerns. How was each artist’s self consciousness reflected? How did these women relate to an art world in which the masculine is privileged? And how did they respond to the feminine in themselves?

Carr, O’Keeffe and Kahlo each rooted herself in a part of the Americas, and reinvented the image of that place in her paintings. This exhibition probes the unique, sometimes conflicted identities developed within lives imprinted with courage, passion and integrity.

Udall’s book, Carr, Kahlo and O’Keefe: Places of their Own includes beautiful colour plates of the artists’ work and a fascinating exploration of gender, place and identity in the creative process.

You can see Emily Carr’s Odds and Ends at the ARTBase online gallery here.  Molly Peacock’s poems are at Canadian Poets.

NOTE:  Poet David Cavanagh, a dual citizen of Canada and the US, is at work on a collection of poems that explore the “perils and possibilities” of living on borders.

It’s not poetry folks but I can’t possibly resist.  Kate Miller-Heidke:

 

Inspired by the new Read Write Poem website, I’m setting up this new blog to mark the beginning of my participation there.  Who knows where it will go.  For now, I’m just collecting links but ya never know when something will show up here.  Or what it will be!  I love the poets I’ve met already.  Huzzah!

hysperia