- I chose Lin Benedek’s poem because she so deftly illustrates how poems happen; how we have to open ourselves to receive what is given. And how could I, an “okay poet,” not select this poem when the author, at the very end, invokes “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” by Wallace Stevens?
—Linda Blaskey
Lin Benedek
Musings of an Okay Poet of the Twenty-First Century
1.
Lady and the Tramp introduced me to love.
My love is three weeks older, four inches taller.
I admit I am a bit like Glinda. I discovered boys
before they discovered me.
2.
How to make guests feel comfortable in your poem: Give them something to pluck.
My literary companions: the Jabberwocky, some rough beast, dappled things, little red feet of the pigeons.
3.
Dreams are common property, someone said.
And something resembling sorrow.
One friend sends me peacocks; another, butterflies.
And here is my pantheon of old boyfriends, gods all.
See how the scars define me.
4.
Stars can’t be all bad. Nor flowers, trees, birds and bees. And anyway,
most of us are mutts.
5.
Turn on the radio and never turn it off. Listen with eyes that hear,
hands that breathe, taste that deciphers smell.
6.
Meanwhile, another rattlesnake dream, empty and holy. And
an experience which shall remain nameless. To the poet in me,
hereinafter called the artist: What shall I write about today?
Culinary banquet? Prurient debauch? Pastoral tableau? Nautical
voyage? Surefire tearjerker? Unfettered joy?
7.
Moonday through Aphrodite Day:
Coax the inchoate from its cloak of invisibility.
Did someone else say this, or did I?
8.
Fall poem: fall in line, fall of man, fall asleep, fall in love
9.
Be free. Be strong. Be Beautiful. (Buzz words on FM 98.1)
10.
Eros and Thanatos?
11.
I was always a character actor, just born with the looks of Little Red Riding Hood, said Paul
Newman. I had a brush with greatness as a waitress at Viva Zapata in Westport, Connecticut, when
I showed Paul Newman the way to the men’s room. The sky was cornflower blue and cloudless, like his eyes, no hint of artifice.
12.
O, rueful moon! I have reached my dew point. Japanese scientists have created a mutant mouse that does not fear cats. But can they make a man with no enemies? There’s always the endearing curve of the duck’s head in profile, the duck’s back, his sense of comedy. The dog keeping time with his
tongue and tail. And a 1500 year old Byzantine church with a well-preserved mosaic floor and
images of lions, foxes, fish and peacock.
13.
Does it hurt when the leaves begin to turn?
14.
Notes for a poem with sparrows: Light Plight Bright Height Might Flight
15.
To be continued. The blackbirds whistling, or just after.
൪
This poem was inspired by beloved teacher Marvin Bell, who advocated for keeping a poetry scroll, a running document recording daily writing in progress. Most often I write a stand-alone poem. This one brings together disparate pieces—from different writing sessions—guilty by association, accessories to the act of meaning-making. Our brains like to synthesize and we find connections in the oddest of ways.
Here I make homage to so many of my influences. Lady and the Tramp, The Wizard of Oz, Wallace Stevens’ “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” and poets I read in school, things I heard on the radio, dreams, bits of conversation, chance meetings, rhyming words, nature, love.
One of my favorite things about poetry is that there’s room for everything. We get to choose what to keep, towards the end of creating satisfying work. But in the writing process our raw material is life itself, no subject too high or too low. I find that intoxicating.
—Lin Benedek