I don't know who Father Seraphim Rose is--I gather from the text he is a religious figure of some note in your part of California? Considering my ignorance, I am sure there is much I am missing in my reading of this majestic poem. What strikes me is the masculine vigor of the language, its almost hermetic strength. Read blindly, not knowing anything about the author, I could say with absolute confidence it was composed by a man. Less confidently, I would guess it was the work of someone of the Orthodox faith, rather than a Catholic (and certainly no Protestant). It has the militant, aggressive tone of some of Robert Lowell's religious works, too. In any event, I am glad to have come across it.
This was incredible! The reference to Keats and the word "verdurous" against this harsh desert background gave me the chills. I will have to give it another read (a few more!) I just looked at Father Seraphim Rose' wiki page-- really intriguing. Thanks for sharing this.
I'm happy this came up in my feed. I unsubscribed from you because I got sick of the surrealism, but you've obviously got power. Now please enough of the athwart, verdurous, etc, and the precious allusions. And listen to Bob Dylan every day for the next six months. He read his Keats, too, and used him, without being archaizing. -- Dr. Bronner.
I have never before read a poem that had the flavor of C.S. Lewis's conversion and a William Kent Krueger novel. I don't know how you pulled it off, but I so enjoyed this.
I came back to this poem and enjoyed it again. That's some powerful language there. Kudos. I critiqued it before, for which I have no regret. Your talent is such that your flaws paradoxically make me angry! This is the way I think you can become more powerful: your images and metaphors are great, you've mastered that. The progressions are there: a desolate land, negative theology and glimpses of transcendence, a predatory environment, arid masculinity, a predatory god, a sweet gentle god. It works well enough, though it could be tighter. But now I want your themes to be more explicit, and the struggles with your themes to be deeper. For instance, I've driven past Redding many times. It is no hellscape. It's beautiful in fact. So what is this place in your poem? Is it a desolate lonely family life? Are you embarrassed to be a sensitive college boy in a rural, conservative place? Obviously, you don't need to specify it in the poem, but I need to feel this is a single reality you are confronting directly in the poem. Which I don't feel. There's something evasive there, and the flowery language does not help. Do you know that, by the way, that the San Joaquin valley already has a poet haunting the landscape? You should read Frank Bidart. He's got quite a story. It's disturbing in many ways. His themes are actually simple. He has a way of sitting with the darkness in his life and just looking until it's profound. I highly recommend you read The Second Hour of the Night. I had the book for years and put it down many times. The short poems are bad. The serial killer stuff? Fuck. I hated it. But I grew to respect Bidart. I think you should write some Bidart poems and some Dylan songs before you write your you poems. That's one path in front of you at least. There are many, and I sincerely hope some will lead you to greatness.
A progression rejigger: a desolate land => predation => the strange emergence (in the way of desert religions) of god out of the desolation/predation i(in the boy's mind) => the strange emergence of the feminine god our of the masculine god (this one would be new, but better--the last stanza seems tacked on).
I don't know who Father Seraphim Rose is--I gather from the text he is a religious figure of some note in your part of California? Considering my ignorance, I am sure there is much I am missing in my reading of this majestic poem. What strikes me is the masculine vigor of the language, its almost hermetic strength. Read blindly, not knowing anything about the author, I could say with absolute confidence it was composed by a man. Less confidently, I would guess it was the work of someone of the Orthodox faith, rather than a Catholic (and certainly no Protestant). It has the militant, aggressive tone of some of Robert Lowell's religious works, too. In any event, I am glad to have come across it.
Thanks, Peter; you are kind.
This was incredible! The reference to Keats and the word "verdurous" against this harsh desert background gave me the chills. I will have to give it another read (a few more!) I just looked at Father Seraphim Rose' wiki page-- really intriguing. Thanks for sharing this.
Ah, the manzanita...
I'm happy this came up in my feed. I unsubscribed from you because I got sick of the surrealism, but you've obviously got power. Now please enough of the athwart, verdurous, etc, and the precious allusions. And listen to Bob Dylan every day for the next six months. He read his Keats, too, and used him, without being archaizing. -- Dr. Bronner.
Epic.
Beautiful, my dear.
I have never before read a poem that had the flavor of C.S. Lewis's conversion and a William Kent Krueger novel. I don't know how you pulled it off, but I so enjoyed this.
I have an icon of him. Should be sainted
I came back to this poem and enjoyed it again. That's some powerful language there. Kudos. I critiqued it before, for which I have no regret. Your talent is such that your flaws paradoxically make me angry! This is the way I think you can become more powerful: your images and metaphors are great, you've mastered that. The progressions are there: a desolate land, negative theology and glimpses of transcendence, a predatory environment, arid masculinity, a predatory god, a sweet gentle god. It works well enough, though it could be tighter. But now I want your themes to be more explicit, and the struggles with your themes to be deeper. For instance, I've driven past Redding many times. It is no hellscape. It's beautiful in fact. So what is this place in your poem? Is it a desolate lonely family life? Are you embarrassed to be a sensitive college boy in a rural, conservative place? Obviously, you don't need to specify it in the poem, but I need to feel this is a single reality you are confronting directly in the poem. Which I don't feel. There's something evasive there, and the flowery language does not help. Do you know that, by the way, that the San Joaquin valley already has a poet haunting the landscape? You should read Frank Bidart. He's got quite a story. It's disturbing in many ways. His themes are actually simple. He has a way of sitting with the darkness in his life and just looking until it's profound. I highly recommend you read The Second Hour of the Night. I had the book for years and put it down many times. The short poems are bad. The serial killer stuff? Fuck. I hated it. But I grew to respect Bidart. I think you should write some Bidart poems and some Dylan songs before you write your you poems. That's one path in front of you at least. There are many, and I sincerely hope some will lead you to greatness.
A progression rejigger: a desolate land => predation => the strange emergence (in the way of desert religions) of god out of the desolation/predation i(in the boy's mind) => the strange emergence of the feminine god our of the masculine god (this one would be new, but better--the last stanza seems tacked on).