The Internal Journey: Two Books - Part 2 Fasting for Ramadan

Fasting for Ramadan, a book by Kazim Ali
that explores the rites of the Arab ritual

In the last post, we discussed artist Anne Truitt's Daybook, a journal that takes a critical look at self and meaning through language. 

Another book that's landed on my desk recently is Fasting for Ramadan (newly released from Tupelo Press). This book is also a chronicle of time passing and daily activity, but it is written by an accomplished poet, Kazim Ali, and focuses on religious ritual and abstinence. 

More structured than Daybook, Fasting for Ramadan takes the reader through each day of the 30-day rite, often reporting morning and night. Because this journal (or essays, as it's called) was originally written as individual blog posts, it has the feel of being spoken to a reader, the feel of a dialogue, the feel of currency, a sharing of thoughts.

Again, the work is a pleasure to read. Ali says,"my fast today is entirely personal... the moon is in the sky…" and "To eat is a gift. Hunger points you to it." I appreciate how he tells me so simply, and how true it is.

I want to read the book because I have never experienced such an extended fast. I want to read to know where the mind goes when you cut off the body's nourishment. I want to read for the imagery and the stillness, for the uncertainty and the power. 

And I want to extrapolate from his experience to my own. How would I manage this ritual, this hunger, this time?

The Internal Journey: Two Books - Part 1 Daybook

Pith, 1969 — a minimalist sculpture by Anne Truitt,
who shared her process and her worries in a glorious book, Daybook.

Daybook chronicles Anne Truitt's journey as an artist over a period of seven years -- beginning in June, 1974. She had just been honored with two retrospective exhibits of her work at major institutions: the Whitney Museum in Manhattan and the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. 

Suddenly cast in the public eye, she lost track of herself. This book is a journal of her reactions to the attention, and of using writing as a way to deal with the anguish of self.

How Herb and Dorothy Find the Best

Adorable, huh? Indeed,
but these two have an internal sense of trust that is enviable.
Now if we can just translate their message to poetry…

The other night I watched a documentary on Herbie and Dorothy Vogel, a couple who have amassed a stellar collection of minimalist and conceptual artworks on a very small budget. What did it take? Dedication. Passion. Belief. They look and look. They never give up.


That little Herb, cute as a button, studies each artist's work with ferocity. He wants only the pieces that speak directly to him. It's heartening to see that sometimes he prefers the rejects to pieces with monetary value. And Dorothy, too, enters each studio, gallery, exhibit, with her own eagle eye. These two are sharp with color, and brave about concepts. No one tells them what to like, or what's worthwhile. They know what they want.


The movie is about art as a force of expression with human value, rather than art collected as a commodity with economic value.


And this is true of poetry.

Poetry Prompt 2 - Begin with a Quote

Using a quote can help open up your focus.
Poet Margaret Randall, also a sensitive photographer and world traveler,
has practice looking through other lenses. 

My friend, the poet and activist Margaret Randall, created a stunning book several years ago using quotes as prompts. Where They Left You for Dead includes the words of Adrienne Rich, Joy Harjo, Paul Monette, Audre Lorde, Eduardo Galeano, Linda Hogan and many others. 

After the quote and attribution, Randall springboards off, moving us out of the quote. Each quote helps her to find the deep ends of life. 

Let's consider this quote by Audre Lorde, included toward the beginning of the book, "I could slip anchor and wander / to the end of the jetty / uncoil into the waters / a vessel of light." 


Randall shoots off from those words into a poem about watching her partner suffering in pain, "You say you are / leaving yourself behind. A sort of death (you watch / my face) but not in this dimension, a different recipe / for dying. Pay attention now. ..."


What a wonderful approach to the blank page, and what a way to honor words you love! Find a  beautiful quote (or one that disgusts you, even... this, too, could lead to some intriguing writing..). Then, jump off. Don't worry about landing for a while; just swim around in the words — yours and the other writer. See where you can travel, how far from shore you can swim. 

John Cage, Noise and the Spaces for Poetry

The sheet music for this notorious composition
is basically blank white space, but Cage
"composed" those empty sounds.

"Wherever we are, what we hear is mostly noise. When we ignore it, it disturbs us. When we listen to it, we find it fascinating."

— American experimental composer John Cage 

(from The Future of Music: Credo) 

By the end of each week, the noise of our lives can often accumulate to an absolute din. The rushing about, the 9 to 5 schedule, appointments, traffic, news headlines, television, the endless emails, the shoulds. 


John Cage knew a thing or two about finding inspiration in the spaces and chances around him. Best known for a 3-movement noteless composition called 4'33"- which sounds almost exactly like 4 minutes and 33 seconds of silence, Cage knew that even silence has fascinating messages to impart. 


In that "performed" composition, the silence is not just silence, it is silence about sound. It includes the noise of our lives, the sounds of which John Cage carved out for us to hear in a quieter place. 


Listen as you go about your days and weeks, and you'll find intriguing bits of poems all around you. This is how I end up with poems based on news stories, tutoring poems, persona poems.


When you pay attention to someone else, you're being given a new story to tell, another perspective. You get to step outside of yourself.


So, listen at a doctor's office, the subway stop, the dog park, the grocery store, or as you're walking through the neighborhood in the early morning. What you hear is so much more than noise. It's an opening, and could make a wonderful poem.