Koi Pond, Oakland Museum by Susan Kolodny

Been saving this one for awhile~ hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

American Life in Poetry: Column 403
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006

Among the most ancient uses for language are descriptions of places, when a person has experienced something he or she wants to tell somebody else about. Some of these get condensed and transformed into poetry, and here’s a good example, by Susan Kolodny, a poet from the Bay Area of California.

Koi Pond, Oakland Museum

Our shadows bring them from the shadows:
a yolk-yellow one with a navy pattern
like a Japanese woodblock print of fish scales.
A fat 18-karat one splashed with gaudy purple
and a patch of gray. One with a gold head,
a body skim-milk-white, trailing ventral fins
like half-folded fans of lace.
A poppy-red, faintly disheveled one,
and one, compact, all indigo in faint green water.
They wear comical whiskers and gather beneath us
as we lean on the cement railing
in indecisive late-December light,
and because we do not feed them, they pass,
then they loop and circle back. Loop and circle. Loop.
“Look,” you say, “beneath them.” Beneath them,
like a subplot or a motive, is a school
of uniformly dark ones, smaller, unadorned,
perhaps another species, living in the shadow
of the gold, purple, yellow, indigo, and white,
seeking the mired roots and dusky grasses,
unliveried, the quieter beneath the quiet.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2011 by Susan Kolodny from her first book of poems, After the Firestorm, Mayapple Press, 2011. Poem first appeared in the New England Review, Vol. 18, no. 1, 1997. Reprinted by permission of Susan Kolodny and the publisher. Introduction copyright 2012 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

American Life in Poetry ©2006 The Poetry Foundation
Contact: alp@poetryfoundation.org
This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.

twice my age

Shaded eyes
soulful,
under hot lights and sweating.

There, in the midst of Zeppelin blues and the crowd,
the ageless anticipation, the complicated thought of:
Screams from bodies trembling, hear those
soft six string moans,
microphone inhales and stifled words,
fevered hands grasping air
harmonica in crescendo
until the volume is unbearable, consumed.

We are so far; I know nothing of him.
We are so close; I see him there
leaning darkly beside the stairs.

[written when i was 20. revised here]

"The Cranes, Texas January" by Mark Sanders (Guest Post)

American Life in Poetry: Column 412
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006

Mark Sanders, who lives in Texas, is not only a good poet, but he’s an old friend to the poetry of my home ground, working hard as teacher, editor, and publisher to bring Great Plains poetry to the attention of readers across the country. Here’s an example of one of his poems.

The Cranes, Texas January

I call my wife outdoors to have her listen,
to turn her ears upward, beyond the cloud-veiled
sky where the moon dances thin light,
to tell her, “Don’t hear the cars on the freeway—

it’s not the truck-rumble. It is and is not
the sirens.” She stands there, on deck
a rocking boat, wanting to please the captain
who would have her hear the inaudible.

Her eyes, so blue the day sky is envious,
fix blackly on me, her mouth poised on question
like a stone. But, she hears, after all.
                                                 January on the Gulf,
warm wind washing over us,
we stand chilled in the winter of those voices.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2011 by Mark Sanders from his most recent book of poems, Conditions of Grace: New and Selected Poems, Stephen F. Austin State University Press, 2011. Poem reprinted by permission of Mark Sanders and the publisher. Introduction copyright 2012 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

American Life in Poetry ©2006 The Poetry Foundation
Contact: alp@poetryfoundation.org
This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.

Congrats to my hometown heroes: The Baltimore Ravens

I just want to relive the moment again.
Ravens win!
Streets filling, dancing and chanting in a flurry of snowy excitement,
beads bouncing around my shoulders,
a beer here, a purple shot there…

and every time they mention Baltimore from that confetti-filled dome
a swell of noise …

Relive the highs of every touchdown and anxiety of
“don’t let this slip away, man don’t let it slip away”

Relive 4 seconds giving way to
strangers high fiving, hugging,
all of us family in a city
known for grit and determination and connectedness as much as violence,
yes, we have a chip on our shoulder, yes we think the world is out to get us,
and yes,
last night… we were ON TOP OF THE WORLD.

believe in yourself
is the lesson

all drenched in a beautiful sea of purple.

(author is in the middle – we’re number 1!)

full moon hidden by unseasonsal January haze

full moon, we shall have no w o r d s

tonight, all inhibitions obfuscated by your
veiled threats of rain

don’t brush them off

keep certain eyes off long legs clicking on heels down the cracked city
sidewalk, look past
all these unforgivable glances
between us shadowy figures swapping sips behind the
loading dock, us strangers
stretching by a brick wall
new hands tingling under a cloak of
hazed obscurity

The Connection between Business and Poetry: Interview with Dana Goia

For those of us living in both worlds of business and art~ check out the following interview! I think you’ll really enjoy it. 

The Connection Between Business & Poetry

–by Interview with Dana Goia by Knowledge@Wharton, Original Story, Jan 28, 2013
SELECTED PASSAGE:
Useem: Let me reverse the question. From your own experience, can business managers themselves benefit the other way around from poetry?

Gioia: Oh absolutely, but I think that my own theory on it may surprise people. I think that if you come into the business, with an arts background, you have a tremendously difficult time initially. This is because it’s a very different world, it looks at problems differently and by and large, they don’t necessarily respect your background.

For that reason, I did not let anyone I worked with know that I was a poet. This is because, let me ask you a question, if you had a poet working for you, wouldn’t you check his or her addition? So privately I went through a very difficult time. That being said, as you rise in business, as you get out of the lower level staff jobs and the quantitative analysis, and you get into the higher level of problems, I felt that I had an enormous advantage over my colleagues because I had a background in the imagination, in language and in literature.

This is because once you get into middle and upper management, the decisions that you make are largely qualitative and creative. And, most people who do really well in the early quantitative stages are grossly unprepared for the real challenges of upper management, at least in marketing which was the industry that I was working in, marketing and product management.

Read the full piece.

But Only For Now (or now that i have a window)

Now that I have a window
I age faster.
I am a family member who
is already dead.
Sun sets: I watch the drop
to dirt grow faster every day.

I imagine it is me. I am the sun,
scorching orange fingernails
scratching at a dusky sky
trying to remain relevant and
sinking.

[What if, this time, there is no morning?]

Blushing hints of light. I am my great aunt reborn.
I am a promise that
the universe crackles at its tips
into yet another big bang.

Look at the man walking, cold breath rising.
Look at the trees bare to their necks.

It is winter…
but only for now.

on unemployment (revised)

I slide low down into my chair.

Looking at the phone Looking at the phone Looking at the phone …

              Out my window, rain drops jump the asphalt alive, rain
              Pours so hard my world greys into one large cloud
              Shimmer and sliding freely. Trees shake and shudder.

Phone lies so still. I am
Waiting on the call Waiting on the call Waiting on the call Waiting on the call Waiting