mother of exiles

Mother of Exiles

Eight-hundred. Their open mouths
Similarly sing songs we all know
Though know not: their tongues — they show
No face cards. Nimble, demure, go ghosts
Of the Mind of God, mad sod made sad,
Triangle eyelids, squares and trundle sides,
But they’re still eyes, you know. Stopping together
They see as one. Smell as one though
Misshapen besides, share the same tastes,
Touching race to race. Liberty Regal —
My crimes are crude forms of your name!
Languages languish, lampposts made fenceposts,
Made into metal pikes masked by barbs
And whatever the shipyard itemizes
For cordoning cows. Killing clouds and
Roosting with pigeons unrich and sundry,
Your overture oxidized, olive and sickened
Remembering tyrant, Napoleon moneyed
Whose citizens ceded céleste to us
In the form of a figure with flair for the gracious
His Frenchmen entrusted freedom to U.S.
As a strike at his reign, as a slap on his chin.
And the chauvanists of Chauvin? They chaffed cause they ruled.

Perhaps it is time we handed the torch
To some budding statehood of freedom?
To places now warming, their playboys deserted
To United States, knighted for evils
Done in her name. Dead are the ways
Hospitable Yanks hosted each other
In the wake of the voyage.  We opened borders
At the start so we’d found this state of migrant
Pilgrims who had dreams. Pilfered dreams
Of mixed-race babies and the peace they imply.
We did it at the start. Will we do it again?
Can we become a nation on pilgrimage
And leave our little bit of land?


:: 58 poems written at 29 years ::

This year, for the 58 @ 29, I plan to focus on alliterative meter such as in the guantanamera poem above. It’s the meter used by Middle English and Old English poets as well as Latin and Greek poets. Basically all epic poets use some form of alliterative meter and it hasn’t been used in English for a thousand years. I will be pulling from the rules offered in Lewis’ article on The Alliterative Meter:

In the general reaction which has set in against the long reign of foreign, syllabic meters in English, it is a little remarkable that few have yet suggested a return to our own ancient system, the alliterative line…. Alliteration is no more the whole secret of this verse than rhyme is the whole secret of syllabic verse. It has, in addition, a metrical structure, which could stand alone, and which would then be to this system as blank verse is the syllabic….

A few successful specimens of alliterative meter would be an excellent answer to the type of critic (by no means extinct) who accuses the moderns of choosing vers libre because they are not men enough for meter. For if syllabic verse is like carving in wood and verse libre like working with a brush, alliterative meter is like carving in granite.

“Vers Libre” for those who don’t know is Latin for “free verse.” Lewis has, ultimately, offered for my poetry just the kind of reaction I prefer in all of my life: a reaction that is, deep down, orthodoxy. A reaction to dead leaves as radical as the radish itself: radical because it is the living root of the thing.

READ NEXT:  Two Pear Trees

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cover image by Roger W


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Well, see, your comments & sharing whisper a few things to those who come after you:

The first is that this site is a safe place to speak up & stay curious. That it's civil. That discussion is encouraged. That there's no such thing as a stupid question (being a student of Socrates, I really and truly believe this). That talking to one another and growing together is more important than anything we could possibly publish. That the point is growing in virtue and growing together and growing wise. That discovery is invention, deference is originality, that we all can rise together. The only folks I'm going to take comments down from are obvious jerks who argue in bad faith, don't stay curious, or actively make personal attacks. And, frankly, I'd rather we talk here than on some social media farm — I will never show ads and the only thing I'm selling anywhere on the site or my mailing list is just the stuff I make.

You're also helping folks realize that anything you & they build together is far more important than anything you come to me to read. I take the things I write about seriously, but I don't take myself seriously: I play the fool, I hate cults of personality, and I also don't really like being the center of attention (believe it or not). I would much rather folks connect because of an introduction I've made or because they commented with one another back and forth and then build something beautiful together. My favorite contributions have been lifelong business and love partnerships from two people who have forgotten I introduced them. Some of my closest friends NOW I literally met on another blog's comment section fifteen years ago. I would love for that to happen here — let two of you meet and let me fade into the background.

Last, you help me revise. I'm wrong. Often. I'm not embarrassed to admit it or worried about being cancelled or publicly shamed. I make a fool out of myself (that's sort of the point). So as I get feedback, I can say, "I was wrong about that" and set a model for curious, consistent learning, and growing in wisdom. I'm blind to what I don't know and as grows the island of my knowledge so grows the shoreline of my ignorance. It's the recovery of innocence on the far end of experience: a child is in a permanent state of wonder. So are the wise: they aren't afraid of saying, "I don't know. That's new: please teach me." That's my goal, comments help. And I read all reviews: my skin's tough, but that's not license to be needlessly cruel. We teach one another our habits and there's a way to civilly demolish an idea without demolishing another person: just because I personally can take the world's meanest 1-star review doesn't mean we should teach one another how to be crueler on the internet.

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