Interpreting a Poem - Part 1

A photograph by Michael Nichols of a Bengal tiger and cubs. 

See more at National Geographic's website.

Aunt Jennifer's Tigers

by Adrienne Rich

Aunt Jennifer's tigers prance across a screen,
Bright topaz denizens of a world of green.
They do not fear the men beneath the tree;
They pace in sleek chivalric certainty.

Aunt Jennifer's fingers fluttering through her wool
Find even the ivory needle hard to pull.
The massive weight of Uncle's wedding band
Sits heavily upon Aunt Jennifer's hand.

When Aunt is dead, her terrified hands will lie
Still ringed with ordeals she was mastered by.
The tigers in the panel that she made
Will go on prancing, proud and unafraid.

Next post - how to make sense of a poem

Writing thoughts

Gentle waves at a wetland sanctuary in Florida.
Can you see the poems written where the water crests and falls?
You have to really study the darks and lights, and this takes time.
Then, you'll realize the words are your own.

I've been trying to write in the little spaces between the excitement of iris bulbs poking up and the occasional jazz concert, mounds of laundry and hours of work.

I find poetry easier to come and go from than my visual art. I am more apt to pick it up and put it down again, much as someone else might with knitting, but even so, lately there's a frustration with not having a long steady run of "considering."

Sometimes that's all you can do - look at a poem in its various states of undress and hope that a solution will come forth and cover it elegantly. That kind of thinking takes time - the time of exploring the closet of your mind, seeing what's available, trying things on, checking the fit.

I catch myself staring out the window or standing in the shower with the water off, still wet. At those moments, I am visualizing the poem, the way it could be, the words forming a shape, and the shape becoming something more than what I had created on the paper.

And it is only when I have figured out where the poem might go that I step away from the water or the window. It is as if I was given a space, momentarily cleared of everything else, and on it wrote a new poem.

Alternative Places for Poetry: How a Truck Got Interested in Haiku

Axle Contemporary is a retrofitted truck - and an art gallery. It moves daily between the Farmer's Market and various grocery stores and restaurants. It carts art around and shares it with the public. The two visionary men behind Axle's metaphorical and actual wheel keep looking for new ways to allow others to be expressive. They actively bring art where it needs to go.

Yes, the truck is in Santa Fe, capital of all things creative. I realize not every town in the country or world has as much artistic support from its regular denizens as we do. (I am NOT talking about financial support here, but rather emotional). Even so, every place has creative energy that needs to be shared.

Here are details from Axle's website about their Haiku Roadsign Project:

We found a charming old roadside sign in need of a new purpose.…We will present 2 new poems (one on each side of the sign) each week for four months during the summer of 2011. Automobile passengers, bike riders, and pedestrians will enjoy poetry in consistently unexpected places throughout Santa Fe.  2 poems x 16 weeks = 32 poems, liberated from the page and set free to infiltrate the consciousness of the people:  ¡Que Viva La Poesia!

Santa Fe’s Poet Laureate, Joan Logghe will jury the entries. We’ll take professional photos of each poem on the sign and at the end we’ll publish a beautiful book of the poems, photos, and an essay about the project. We’ll also put the photos and poems up on a special bloglike section of our website to share it all with the wide world. We encourage and expect interactivity both in our local community and in our world wide virtual community. From the website we hope to expand the sense of community created by the haiku emblazoned road sign. We will encourage artists, musicians, filmmakers, and writers to respond on our website.

So, go on .... if you're a New Mexican, submit your littlest darlins' to them. 


And whether you are or aren't, write in with your best poetry story. What's the weirdest, most unexpected, most exhilarating site or situation where you've found poetry? Tell me about it.

"Word Play / Word Power" - The Series You Didn't Know You Need

I love this photo, which seems to me both internal and external.
This was from a class I taught with the O'Keeffe Museum.
We spent the day exploring Georgia O'Keeffe's glorious Abiquiu,
hiking and writing to various prompts I offered the group.
After lunch, students relaxed and wrote more in the lush garden of the restaurant.

In the last post, we were talking about "Word Play" classes. They are intimate groups, authentic talk, and definitely unexpected exercises. I volunteer every last bit of information about process and expression that I think students want, and leave lots of space for writing, questions, thought-provoking discussions and laughter.


We laugh a lot.


One of the students said of the last series: “Thank you for a great time!  It’s good therapy for me and I feel somehow more than I was before.”


Would I be bragging if I said everyone feels good leaving class? I hope not. I think it's true.


I miss the classes when they aren't happening. They are the weirdest mash-up of poetry, memoir, story-telling, humor, imagination and surprise. There are no grades. Doesn't matter to me if you spell well, or put your periods and commas in the right place. That's not what this is about.


It's about finding beginnings. It's about finding your voice.


"Word Play / Word Power" Writing Series
Where: Southwest Literary Center, Santa Fe, NM
Monday evenings --  April 4th through May 2nd (5 weeks), 7-9 PM

People Need to Write

I'm getting ready to teach another series of creative writing classes. I call them "Word Play / Word Power." Even though the name never changes, the classes are different each time.

I try to meet students where they are -- and they are many places. Currently I have a student interested in mysteries, another one swimming through the waves of spirituality, a former MFA student who writes exquisitely but wants the steadiness of exercises... and on and on.

How critical it is for all of them, every single person, to have a chance for expression. These are not necessarily students that would define themselves as writers, so many don't even know they have something to say. Most don't realize that their stories are, in some way, universal.

For the first class, people are often shy... or maybe it is better defined as "careful." I ask for volunteers to read and everyone holds back. If I've learned names, I call on someone. I gently pull the words from them into the room.

But by class two... wow! completely different scenario. They are now, hands raised, ready....  desperate, even.

It's wonderful to watch the transformation - and to provide the place to make it possible.

Next post - more on "Word Play"