The Revolution Will Not Be Televised (Go with God, Gil Scott-Heron)

According to the NYT obit: "Gil Scott-Heron, the poet and recording artist whose syncopated spoken style and mordant critiques of politics, racism and mass media in pieces like “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” made him a notable voice of black protest culture in the 1970s and an important early influence on hip-hop, died on Friday at a hospital in Manhattan. He was 62 and had been a longtime resident of Harlem."

His death was announced in a Twitter message. The revolution continues.

NaPoMo QOTD The Last Best Quote to Read. Ok, Not Really, but the Last One I'm Blogging About.

"Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry."
 - Eating Poetry by Mark Strand* (PoLau '90-'91)

Finding snippets and reading poems for these blogs has been so enjoyable for me. I am a bit embarrassed to say that I hadn't heard of about half of these poets. Now I can't imagine not having this book sitting by my bed. I can't speak highly enough of this collection. The pictures of the PoLaus and the extra biographical information adds to the experience of the poetry. If you haven't bought this book yet, do it! Seriously, it's awesome.

Thank you so much for eating poetry with me.

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Mark Strand.

NaPoMo QOTD Nearing the End and Starting Again

"I must hurry, I must go somewhere...
Pronounce its name.    Oh, driver!
For God's sake catch that light, for

There comes a time for us all when we want to begin a new life."
 - The World Is a Parable by Robert Penn Warren* (PoLau '44-'45, '86-'87)

My mom says I'm always in a hurry. I say I have a lot to do. Either way, I've never really operated on the standard timeline. From being premature to graduating early to exploring new countries, I'm always ready to turn over a new leaf before the person next to me. I just love adventure and the sooner I can get to one, the better.

Today's adventure (and consequently today's shameless blog plug) is heading up Team Starbucks for my college's Relay for Life. I have a hard enough time wrangling folks when they're paid to listen to me, now I get to coerce them for free. yesss. All in all, though, I impressed my boss with fundraising ideas and I get a cool t-shirt, so I think it will work out well. I'm happy to make management happy and I'm ecstatic to help the American Cancer Society.

In addition to being NaPoMo and and NaHuMo, April is also National Volunteer Month. I've thoroughly enjoyed sharing poetry with you and I'm glad that you've all humored me enough to read it everyday. Please help me one last time by donating. (Told ya. shameless.)

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Robert Penn Warren.

NaPoMo QOTD This Poem is for the Little Old Man that Dances at Don Vicente.

"When tunes jigged nimbler than the blood
And quick and high the bows would prance...
I saw the old come out to dance.
The heart is not so light at first..."
 - Song from a Country Fair by Léonie Adams* (PoLau '48-'49)

I used to go swing dancing at these two clubs, The Zendah Grotto and the Don Vicente Hotel. These dances would draw such an incredible range of people. From high schoolers to great-grandparents. There was always this little old man there, in his saddle shoes and suspenders or, on occasion updated to a t-shirt and orthopedic shoes. He definitely knew all the dances from back in the day and loved that people still wanted to do them. When you danced with him, it was just the simple steps, but there was always a story that started with "back in my day..." and for three minutes you'd be transported back to the days of cool, dark bars with hot jazz pianos and vets still in their fresh Class As. Even though this poem is about a country fair, it makes me think of him. Not so spry anymore, but I bet he was quite the dancer back in the day.

I couldn't help it. Michael McCoy is always there with a camera taking pictures, so I grabbed one. I think if this picture had a poem, it would be "Song from a Country Fair".

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Léonie Adams.

NaPoMo QOTD Because America Loves Miniature Things. Seriously, Look at Sliders and Keira Knightley.

"to be miniature is to be swallowed
by a miniature whale."
 - This Life by Kay Ryan* (PoLau '07-'10)

This whole poem is so great, but this quote just gets me every time. I love it. I think we've all felt that way.

I am also hella impressed by Kay Ryan because she's a phenomenal poet and she has never taken a creative writing class. I, for one, could cause physical harm with how bad my poetry was before I really intensely studied the art of writing it. Even now it can go either way most of the time. Ryan just does it. And she's awesome.

I think another reason I like her poetry is because she also embodies the humorous poet. Everything she writes reveals its purpose with a wry smile. It makes you shake your head a bit and say, "I see what you did there." The meaning and message isn't forced (ironically enough one of her other poems in this anthology is "Force") it's right there with a sly rhyme and a wink.

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Kay Ryan.

NaPoMo QOTD Because This Sounds Like An Actual Reason I Wouldn't Keep A Gun In My House AND Because Humor is Serious Business

"while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius."
 - Another Reason Why I Don't Keep a Gun in the House by Billy Collins* (PoLau '01-'03)

First and foremost, this poem is hilarious. If you have ever had that neighbor with that dog, the breed that can't breathe without barking, yeah THAT dog. This poem is for you. I have that neighbor. With that dog. With walls thin enough to hear when she microwaves lunch (It's an unhealthy amount). This poem is for me.

I love funny poetry, and this poem had me in stitches. April is, in addition to NaPoMo, National Humor Month. So, I wanted to include something that really shows that poetry is not just stuffy and formal. It's also hilarious. I think, in general (or at least in public schools/state universities) poetry that isn't stuffy and serious is overlooked as some lesser descendant of actual poetry. Billy Collins used his terms as PoLau to try to turn that stereotype around. His online anthology Poetry 180 brought together 180 poems, one for each day of the high school year. He just didn't want people to rip them to shreds to find the hidden meaning. Just listen to them. I love that plan.


*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Billy Collins.

NaPoMo QOTD The Wreck of the Thresher...and of the Lesser Known Sir Ichabus the Scion XB

"As the night turns brackish with morning, and mourn the drowned.
Here the sea is diluted with river; I watch it slaver
Like a dog curing of rabies. Its ravening over,
Lickspittle ocean nuzzles the dry ground."
 - The Wreck of the Thresher by William Meredith* (PoLau '78-'80)

Sir Ichabus the Scion XB, Lil Icky for short, was so named for Ichabod Crane and Icarus...and the giant crack in the windshield that perfectly formed a mustache. In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have named my car after a foolhardy dude with too many feathers and a superstitious dude who is thought to be spirited away by an angry ghost. It was bound to turn out poorly. Just like naming my fish Gatsby. I should have foreseen his watery death. Poor Lil Icky was doomed from the moment my best friend and I came up with that name.  Likewise, they should have known not to name a ship after a shark that likes to be alone. Of course it was going to be lost at sea.  I think the moral of the story is that some people just shouldn't be allowed to name things. Homekid who named the Thresher and I are vying for the number one spot on that list. That being said, I feel that my next car's name will be El Jefe.

At least they got a sweet poem to commemorate their loss. I just got a sweet pair of Reeboks and some bills.


*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright William Meredith.

NaPoMo QOTD Easter Edition: Coming Home Different Physically, Mentally, and Poetically

"I step on shadows gliding through the grass
       And feel the night lean cool against my face:
       And challenged by the sentinel of space  
I pass."
 - "Home-Bound" by Joseph Auslander* (PoLau '37-'41)

Auslander was pretty spiffy dude. He worked in a sweatshop as a child and rose to study at Harvard and the Sorbonne (swoon) and teach at Columbia. His poetry was used to sell war bonds and he is responsible for many of the rare poetry manuscripts in the Library Congress. Much of his poetry is about war and reflects an older style of writing. This particular poem struck me because it was different from the others included in this anthology. The writing is simple, austere. The lines aren't terribly long or esoteric. It's just easy so you can fill it with all your own meaning.

I think today this poem is about a journey that changes us. We go on some grand, or not so grand, adventure and when we come back to the start, we find that we don't fit there anymore. During Lent, we cut something unhealthy out of our lives or add in something that we wouldn't otherwise but really should. When we get to Easter, are we the same person? Do we still crave that thing we cut out, or grumble at the thing we added in? Do we have the same feelings and understanding about the world around us? Or, for one day, do we become keenly aware of time and our place in the universe?

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Joseph Auslander.

NaPoMo QOTD What The Heck Is This Awesome Poem?

"night is a dream you know
an old love in the dark
around you as you go
without end as you know"
- Good Night by W.S. Merwin* (PoLau '10- , Special Bicentenial Consultant '99-'00)

Merwin is a pretty awesome guy. Not only does he write great poetry, he lives on a pineapple farm in Hawaii. That is one rockin' poet. Not to mention the fact that he made money straight out of college by moving to Europe and tutoring rich kids and translating poetry at the suggestion of Ezra Pound. I think he'd be a cool old dude to sit down with and talk to.

I was hoping someone could help me out with this poem. When I first read it, I immediately felt like I recognized the form, but now I'm not sure. I've googled it and flipped through three semesters worth of notes from poetry classes, but I still can't decide if this poem fits the description. So, Is W.S. Merwin's Good Night a free verse poem or a pantoum?

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright W.S. Merwin.

NaPoMo QOTD This Poem Takes Place In The Liminal Space Between Here And There.

"The Good casts out the Bad...

The warty giant and witch
Get sealed in doorless jails
And the match-girl strikes it rich."
 - "It Out-Herods Herod. Pray You, Avoid It."

I think, a lot of times, poetry defies description. (which makes blogging about it kind of difficult.) It hits something baser than our lexicon. It is understood through something more human than language, even though its mode is words. The balance of emotion and purpose and experience and accessibility and gravity and a million other things is so precarious. Part of the wonder of poetry, for me, is how overwhelming solving that impossible equation is.

You should buy this book just to read this poem. It is haunting and beautiful and solves the equation perfectly.

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Anthony Hecht.

NaPoMo QOTD This Poem IS America. And This Video Is Awesome.

"When I had no roof I made
Audacity my roof.When I had
No supper my eyes dined."
 - Samurai Song by Robert Pinsky* (PoLau '97-'00)

I love this poem because it's basically the American dream, but it sounds prettier. The idea that audacity can be my roof is such a lovely invitation to go out and create fearlessly. And let's be honest, who doesn't dine with their eyes on a daily basis? The whole poem is beautiful and Robert Pinsky is such an admirable poet. He served three terms, more than anyone else, and did more than any other PoLau as far as grassroots get-up-and-go type stuff. We're talking consistently holding a schedule of three readings a day all over the country. I would love to see what a PoLau with his drive and 2011's technology could do.

And now for something COMPLETELY different:

I was thinking about cool ways that poetry sneaks into our lives. Be it Robert Frost's poem Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening making an appearance in the grindhouse film "Death Proof" or learning rhymes to remember multiplication tables or seeing quotes on inspirational posters with pictures of wild animals and landscapes you'll never see.

This one is my favorite, though. Levi's Go Forth ad campaign is phenomenal. They captured the feeling of Walt Whitman's Pioneers! O Pioneers! and didn't try to undermine its power with ridiculousness. And, no lies, it totally made me go out and buy a pair of Levi's. They're super comfy. And they make me feel adventurous.

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Robert Pinsky.

NaPoMo QOTD Poetry Proving That Children and Snowmen Have Been Creepy Since The 20s

"The pale-faced figure with bitumen eyes
Returns him such a god-forsaken stare
As outcast Adam gave to Paradise.

The man of snow is, nonetheless, content"
 - Boy at the Window by Richard Wilbur* (PoLau '87-'88)

So, I know we're all wordy people here, but I promised in the title that this proved something, so I'm going to bust out my rusty, but well-intentioned, math skills and write a proof for all of you.

Given: Children and Snowmen are creepy (ex, Campbell's Soup commercials, Pet Cemetery, this qotd)

Wilbur's poem (I assume) = his childhood
His childhood = in the 20s
Wilbur's poem = creepy kiddo and a snowman
Therefore,
Kids and snowmen = creepy since the 20s

That, my internet friends, is math. It can't be wrong. For the most part.

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Richard Wilbur.

NaPoMo QOTD If You Could Only Ask One Question, Would It Be This One?

"What was it like? I can tell you what it was like...
We banished the sky from the heavens and it was like death."
 - What Was It Like? by Reed Whittemore* (PoLau '64-'65, '84-'85)

I think think this would be my one question. For pretty much any situation. For pretty much any person. People have their lips clasped around the most incredible stories, even the boring ones are beautiful.

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Reed Whittemore.

NaPoMo QOTD Special Guest Star Robert Frost. You're Going To Read It, Don't Pretend You Won't

"The woods are lovely dark and deep
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."
 - Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost* (PoLau '58-'59)

Who doesn't love some Bobby Frost? I thought it would be nice to see a few lines that we all know and recognize. Plus, I've been up since 4am and, honestly, I don't have the energy to do much of anything today. And I, too, have miles to go before I sleep. Well, just one mile, but it's really hot and I have to walk with my laptop, so it feels like miles. Don't judge me.

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Robert Frost.

NaPoMo QOTD PoLaus GONE WILD! But Seriously, James Dickey Ain't Yo Mama's Poet

"...    and someone is always checking

A wrist watch by the bed to see how much
Longer we have left. Nothing can come
Of this    nothing can come..."
 - Adultery by James Dickey* (PoLau '66-'68)

Let me preface this by saying, James Dickey is effin' weird. With a capital eff. He might say he was disappointed in LSD, but his writing makes me disinclined to believe that.

I wanted to quote his lesser known poem "The Sheep Child," but I couldn't find four lines, consecutive or otherwise, that weren't too inappropriate (even for the internet). Just know that it's about EXACTLY what you think it's about. You should buy this book for the singular purpose of reading that poem. It gives you that weird feeling where you don't know if you should laugh or be horrified. Which is fitting because I kind of get that feeling about Dickey being the PoLau at all. I mean, the man wrote Deliverance. 'nuff said.

The real point about Dickey is that he doesn't shy away from any topic. In fact, he is drawn to the grime between wheel treads and the much in the sewer. He upturns rocks with his writing and examines what's wriggling underneath. I think a lot of the time, poetry makes you stop and smell the roses, but Dickey writes to remind you that at the bottom of every flowerbed is dirt. And I kinda like that.

So many poets throughout time

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright James Dickey.

NaPoMo QOTD Elizabeth Bishop is Yes. endofstory.

"Time to plant tears, says the almanac...
and the child draws another inscrutable house."
 - Sestina by Elizabeth Bishop* (PoLau '49-'50)

Bishop's poetry is iconic and celebrated, so I tried to find one that you probably didn't read in at least five classes. She was one of the youngest PoLaus at 38 and pretty sickly woman. Her health and writing suffered as a result of being the PoLau, but she managed to get through the year being otherwise productive. I think my favorite thing that she did was throw a 75th birthday party for Robert Frost at the White House...the year Frost would have turned 76. For. The. Win.

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Elizabeth Bishop.

NaPoMo QOTD Because Some Things Aren't Extraordinary. They're Just Nice, And That's Good Enough.

"When she went into the gazebo with her black pen and yellow pad
to coax an inquisitive soul...
and the notebook, turned to a new page,...
I wrote: happiness! it is December, very cold"
 - Happiness by Robert Hass* (PoLau '95-'97)

I love this poem because this is how I want to feel about every single day. Not so much the very cold part, but the rest of the poem. It isn't spectacular in some earth shattering way; it's just nice. And honestly, common life is pretty extraordinary and wonderful.

Hass said that "poets have a moral responsibility to make and refresh...images of common life." I think that's incredibly accurate. Poetry has the ability to do this is a way that no other artistic medium can. A pretty sunset, a kid's ice cream smudged face, a house on fire, a hooker. Everything has something beautiful about it that poets need to point out to everyone else because not everyone sees it right away.

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Robert Hass.

NaPoMo QOTD This Poem Is About The Sixties, But Poetry Repeats Itself. Well, It's Societal Significance Anyway.

"All autumn, the chafe and jar
of nuclear war;
we have talked our extinction to death."
- Fall 1961 by Robert Lowell* (PoLau '47-'48)

Robert Lowell spent six months in jail because he was a conscientious objector to World War II. I must say, I dig the fact that he's a pacifist, but that war was definitely worth fighting. Turns out Lowell was kind of crazy, though, so maybe it's best that he didn't go warring. I wonder what he would think of the current state of things. This is really a beautiful poem that is as relevant today as it was in the '60s. I love that lingering presence of poetry. Or maybe it's just proof that history repeats itself. I'm not sure, but I hope I hope it's the former.

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Robert Lowell.

NaPoMo QOTD Rita Dove's Rules of How to Keep the Ground In Place and Yourself In Line

"(Remember: go straight to school
this is important, stop fooling around!
Don't answer to strangers. Stick
with your playmates. Keep your eyes down.)
 - Persephone, Falling by Rita Dove* (PoLau '93-'95, special Bicentennial Consultant '99-'00)

As someone who isn't too adept at following all the rules, I love this poem. It reminds me that there are some that I really do need to follow, and some that will just never work because, well, they just don't fit for everyone.

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Rita Dove.

NaPoMo QOTD What's In A Name? For Me, 22 Years Of "Oh, I Thought You Were Black...Are You Jewish?"

"Old Four Eyes fled
to safety in the danger zones
Tom Swift and Kubla Khan traversed."
- Names by Robert Hayden* (PoLau '76-'78)

My name is Jerusha Isabelle Rodgers and I'm not going to say that people have certain stereotypes in their mind before they meet me, but in college I was roomed with girls named Baby Gomez and Chinesta. Hayden's poem beautifully illustrates the importance of names, not just the ones our parents give us, but the ones our peers give us, too. And as an African-American man born in 1913, I feel like Robert Hayden knows alot about that.

I must admit, though not proudly, I had a less than polite nickname for Ms. Gomez. She had this deviated septum or post-nasal drip problem or something. She snorted. And she hid candy everywhere in our room. Seriously. It was gross. In a fit of frustration I declared that she sounded like a pig searching for truffles. My brother heard Sgt. Truffles. It stuck. At first I thought it was hilarious (a part of me still does), but when I see her on campus, I feel a twinge of guilt. Of stupidity.

Be kind. Keep in mind that there's alot in a name. History and love, ignorance and hate, indifference and title.

*From The Poets Laureate Anthology, published by W.W. Norton in association with the Library of Congress. Poem copyright Robert Hayden.