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Month: April 2009

The Center is Everywhere

The Center is Everywhere

Three Musicians, by Pablo Picasso. 1921
Three Musicians, by Pablo Picasso. 1921

Having just finished another Bart Ehrman book, Jesus, Interrupted, I can’t help but ponder the human need to remain in the distant past. The human need to remake that past to fit the present. Square pegs and all of that. The round hole of now. The miserably archaic square peg of then. This need is both puzzling and understandable, given how difficult and complex life is in the present, in our modern world. Understandable, in that because of those difficulties and complexities, people want to hold on to (their perception of) simpler times, more basic constructions and instructions, a binary system or two or three. . . . Read more. “The Center is Everywhere”

The Seeds of Labor

The Seeds of Labor

The Sower, by Van Gogh. 1888
The Sower, by Van Gogh. 1888

Sometimes, poetry is like a mystery, like a detective story put to song. Sometimes similes and metaphors string bits of life (like notes) into a song, a symphony, or a collage of chords never heard together. The point. Yes, that’s often the point. The bridge works for visuals as well. And for tactiles. The bridges work between humans, between nature, between humans and nature and beyond. Inside, outside, vertically, horizontally, depth and foreground, finding all dimensions, incorporating disparate elements. Harmonizing. Even atonally. Even off key to form new strings of keys washing into larger lakes, rivers, oceans of meaning.

The poet Jill Magi works some metaphorical magic on a seemingly unlikely topic below: Labor. . . . Read more. “The Seeds of Labor”

Jill Magi: Labor Lost and Found

Jill Magi: Labor Lost and Found

 

LABOR
LABOR

 

by Jill Magi

 

Last fall I found myself at the gate of an archive. Remembering something from my labor and union past and thinking about my work life at present, I came across the on-line finding guides for the Wagner Labor Archive at New York University. The writings here are a warm-up to my trip into that archive. As of this spring, I’ve been inside, but that writing—is it poetry?—is slow to come along. For now, I’m using exposition to trace the outline of a shape I do not yet know.

 

November 4, 2008

On the day of an historical election, after weeks of hearing the word “socialism” used as a weapon (as they bail out the banks), I am anxious. . . . Read more. “Jill Magi: Labor Lost and Found”

No Time to Wait: The Secrets

No Time to Wait: The Secrets

Another aspect of The Secrets is generational conflict and resolution. This is most obvious in the battle between Naomi and her father, Rabbi Hess. Not only does her father see Naomi as rash in her desire to break with tradition and forgo the arranged marriage, he also feels she does not understand his role within the family, or the true role of his departed wife. Naomi says very little about her mother, but makes a powerful insinuation that Rabbi Hess treated her badly and caused her great pain. We don’t know how she died, but it’s clear from Naomi’s comment about her weeping in the kitchen that she was not happy. . . . Read more. “No Time to Wait: The Secrets”

Ancient Barriers: The Secrets

Ancient Barriers: The Secrets

Ancient obstacles, barriers, walls. Ancient stereotypes, prejudices, forced inequalities. Continue to the present day. Continue around the world. A fine Israeli film, The Secrets, explores those barriers and shows the conflicts within traditions, between traditions, in a fresh, often moving way.

The story is not complex, but there are surprises, and those surprises break down walls. A brilliant young Israeli woman, Naomi (played by Ania Bukstein), wants desperately to become a Rabbi someday, like her father. She knows that this is next to impossible, given the ancient strictures of her ultra-orthodox faith. But she also knows that she has studied harder than her male peers, knows the Torah and the Talmud better than they do, and appears to be far more serious about enlightenment. . . . Read more. “Ancient Barriers: The Secrets”

Pleasant Stay Big Apple

Pleasant Stay Big Apple

[Guest blogging today, Robert Mueller]

Vanessa Boyd
Vanessa Boyd

In high-temperature mellow Vanessa Boyd sings and quizzes and spells, coaxing a super-planing frisson and still more touchy thrill for her audiences in local New York City establishments. I recently heard a dynamite (truly!) performance at a box of a Bengalese food counter way downtown. There was no highlighting, no shadowing, just good acoustical and a capella reaction. Offering song, spoken word and an intriguing assertiveness drama (bordering on the unique), her performing had every bit of that true and unaccountable magnificence that you might not believe coming from her all-at-once sleek and purple and dazzling ukulele accompaniment. These are tonalities to behold, splendors even in their undoing of their “desperate sexuality.” . . . Read more. “Pleasant Stay Big Apple”

New Poetry Anthology

New Poetry Anthology

The Poetry of Iranian Women. Edited by Sheema Kalbasi
The Poetry of Iranian Women. Edited by Sheema Kalbasi

 Celebrated poet and activist, Sheema Kalbasi, has brought out a new anthology of Persian poetry. You can sample a few poems from this collection below.

*     *     *     *     *

The Arts know no national boundaries. The Republic of Arts and Letters encompasses the entire world. For too long, those in power across the globe have benefited mightily, cynically from pitting group against group, nation against nation, and we all suffer as a result. We suffer in the lack of understanding that acompanies a parochial vision, a narrow vision, a limited range of experiences. We suffer from the loss of genius and innovation. . . . Read more. “New Poetry Anthology”

The Secret

The Secret

 

IT’S A MAN’S WORLD TO THE END OF THE END—



I am a woman. Simply.

To look at me is a sin —
I must be veiled.

To hear my voice is a temptation
that must be hushed.

For me to think is a crime
so I must not be schooled.

I am to bear it all
and die quietly, without complaint.

Only then can I be admitted to the court of God
where I must repose naked on a marble cloud
feed virtuous men succulent grapes
pour them wine from golden vats
and murmur songs of love…

 

Sholeh Wolpé

 


 

Time

That old man sitting on the bench
is you, a little boy biking around
Your hair is now white, spread
by the traces of age
and I? . . . Read more. “The Secret”

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