Posts Tagged ‘Michael Brownstein Why We Gave Our Tree A Name’

The first poem in this issue of  Convergence, Viola Weinberg’s poem, “Yes, This Day,” is a fresh and honest look at the difficulty of moving around after some health issues. “Once was, you walked across / Countries, down steep steps // In secret cities…” Maybe it’s the vistas presented by this opening, or maybe it’s due to a time when I had such limitations myself, but I really identified with and enjoyed this poem. Or maybe it’s just that there are many delightful lines: ” let your rods and screws / Ring like bells and bang like hammers / On fragile jigging skeletons…”

Holly Day gives us a post-apocalyptic poem, “In Patience.” “the birds circle the tallest skyscrapers as if knowing / each tiny room is filled with dying or dead meat.” Very creepy. The images are satisfyingly disturbing. “wild dogs and feral cats / pace… back and forth / as if they think the electric sensors will…
give in, let them in… one final flicker of electricity… to open the doors.” Don’t know that I like considering myself as just part of a potential meat market. Great fun.

A.J. Huffman considers confetti in “Confetti Palace.” “Seven billion pieces of folded foil fall inside /
walls made of glass.” A meditation on how confetti enhances a celebration. And how quickly both celebration and confetti go. Quick but good.

I also liked “Why We Gave Our Tree A Name,” by Michael Brownstein, the story of the slow death of a beloved tree. “We knew the old black walnut was ready to walk away from its earth.” Trees can often take years to die, and the author notes that here. But the end, after a weakening, can still happen via outside agency: “Then: a sharp slap to the air, the ground vibrated, and we watched it lift itself up, /
Throw dirt and roots to the side of our hill, hollow out a cave of bark and wood” Beautiful language.

Finally, let me mention “Fog Trunks,” by Diane Webster, just because it’s fun. “In the fog / tree trunks pretend / they’re elephant legs…” a short poem, a quick conceit. It raised a smile for me.

Peace in poetry,

P M F Johnson

My eBook of poems, Against The Night, a sweet, rueful look at love in a long marriage, is available on Amazon, and at other fine e-retailers.

Related blog posts:

The New Yorker – March 19 2018

Rattle 59 – Spring 2018

Blue Collar Review – Fall 2017




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