Lazy Fish

As far as blogging goes, I have been feeling deeply unmotivated. In my non-blogging life, I have been drifting with the current like a lazy little fish, though a fish who has a lot of papers to grade. I want to post something about the recent SLSA conference before it all becomes too hazy in my mind, but that’s going to have to wait till tomorrow at least. The essays I’ve been reading from my freshmen have not been universally awful, but they have been pretty awful. This late in the semester, that makes me depressed. Obviously, I’m a failure as a teacher. On the other hand, the creative writing portfolios I’ve been reading are fascinating, though not always for the right reasons. It’s a beginning class & the best students have been reluctant to present their best, most challenging work, preferring to workshop more superficial things. I take this as a reluctance to present oneself as intellectually or aesthetically ambitious. There are three or four students in the class who run counter to this trend & I’m grateful to them. They break the leaden weight of conformity & modesty. Most of the students are just lazy fish like me.

Eagle

As we were walking the dogs on the far side of the river this morning, Carole spotted a young bald eagle sitting in a birch snag on our property, back across the river. After a few moments, he flew off casually to the southeast, low along the river. Huge. I’ve seen eagles flying higher up, but because this one flew so low, with the trees as background, we had a better sense of scale. Huge.

An Exemplary Lyric by Jane Cooper

The poet Jane Cooper died in October of this year after a long life in poetry. Her first book came out the year I graduated from high school, I think, but I didn’t become aware of her work until about ten years ago. She was a “poet’s poet,” one supposes, who won prizes but didn’t have nearly so high a public profile — if American poets can be said to have a public profile at all — as many of her male teachers & contemporaries. She strikes me as a consummate artist. In my own work & as a teacher I love physical detail & plain speaking that “blossom” into emotion. Cooper’s poem “Rent” is exemplary:

If you want my apartment, sleep in it
but let’s have a clear understanding:
the books are still free agents.

If the rocking chair’s arms surround you
they can also let you go,
they can shape the air like a body.

I don’t want your rent, I want
a radiance of attention
like the candle’s flame when we eat,

I mean a kind of awe
attending the spaces between us–
Not a roof but a field of stars.

Both the James Wright poem I wrote about earlier (linked above) & Cooper’s poem have similar structures. Though genre boundaries are notoriously complex & contested, I think it’s fair to say that each poem employs a lyric structure, gathering details toward an insight delivered as a punchline. What I admire about Cooper’s poem is its lack of special pleading: it is dry, while Wright’s poem is unpleasantly moist.

First Snow

About a week later than usual. Overnight, some stuck to the lawn & fallen leaves, though it doesn’t seem to be accumulating now. The injured goose we were trying to rescue seems to have disappeared. Betty went tramping all over looking for him, but we’ve concluded an eagle, or maybe a coyote got him. His mate seems to have rejoined the flock that’s still hanging around.

Fall Birds

I started filling the bird feeders a couple of weeks ago — I’m not going to provide free board for the greedy little bastards during the summer when they can make their own living — & I’ve seen house finches, grosbeaks, hairy & downy woodpeckers, greater & lesser nuthatches, billions of chickadees, blue jays, juncos. I’m sure I’m forgetting one or two species. We haven’t had any snow yet, so there is plenty of foraging: the numbers will increase as the weather gets colder. Hail / sleet / rain this morning, highs in the forties.