what i loved about this week's poets is their choice to discuss identity, not necessarily declaring who they are now, but moreso snapshots of moments that shaped all they would become. i love their zeroing in on these moments, these nights, that "Autumn chill" in Sequoia Mercier's poem, the night Tito Trinidad KO'ed Fernando Vargas in Kevin Gonzalez' poem, the two girls from Juarez in Sheryl Luna's poem. All of us have portraits of moments in our lives that swim amongst each other in that sea we call a brain, but we as artists and creators were blessed with this ability to extract them, and magnify just how crucial these moments were in creating our identities. The beauty of these poets too is that the identity is not static; we can be transformed by something, or someone, at any given time.
To place them in a 2nd generation context, for example, Brian Komei Dempster has the liberty to write himself FREE of the moments that have troubled him for much of his life, or so it seems. I'll preface this by saying it's hard at times for me to not assume that the person at the center of these poems is not Dempster himself, given the tremendous amount of pain seeping from "The Pink House in Four Variations", and "The Burning". The fact that he was able to tell this from four points of view is astonishing, as he brings into light how everyone bears responsibility for his (and others') molestation. The Babysitter's mother "thread[s] their silence, needle sealing the holes" arrested me, as did every last line in each stanza (my stubble blossoming over them like thorns//my brother strangles in their throats//riveting. The throat shreds the heart into songbirds.) I must say, I wasn't at ALL ready for the topics Dempster engaged us in, and found it difficult to read, although the poems were so short; that's the beauty of amazing poetry though, right? You become so locked into the poem, and its sensory appraisal (or in this case, affliction).
I can see and feel that babysitter in "The Burning" using tabasco sauce, and the uncertainty of what sauce is even being used as the punishment continues. It also is the anchor to address the pain of molestation and silence accompanying it that's endured yet again, this time from the babysitter, and the haunting echo of "Come closer" from another male. This pink house has truly shaped Dempster's identity, everything from its "peeling white trim" to the "radiator...on its side". We all can attest, in dealing with trauma, to the things we do and don't remember; where is the line drawn? Does it matter what is fully truth and what isn't? Isn't the feeling, the sight, the miniature sounds, the harrowing taste, enough to shape you? You don't remember every moment play-by-play, but what stays with you are those objects, that burning of the sauce on your taste buds, pick a sauce, any sauce; the tomato quilts, and lastly, the songbird, wishing you could escape this. Not to mention, there is inherent beauty in the pain of "Measure", where he contrarily remembers every concrete detail. I was awestruck at his placement of numbers/figures throughout, and honestly haven't seen a poem yet that's able to incorporate these figures without it reading like a math problem. It is interesting that these are the poems anthologized for Dempster, ones working through traumatic experiences, whose short lines and form, even with the occasional space between, hold you captive. Between him and Kevin A. Gonzalez (who I'll elaborate further on in class), I am laid OUT to dry, honey. I need a moment.
i agree, it wasa a weirdly vilent week in these poems and while we have read about pain this was like the csi of poetry. i like how you talk about demptster writing himself free--and now we get the burden, that's how we carry the story on. take your time--we're ready
ReplyDeletee
"We all can attest, in dealing with trauma, to the things we do and don't remember; where is the line drawn? Does it matter what is fully truth and what isn't? Isn't the feeling, the sight, the miniature sounds, the harrowing taste, enough to shape you?"
ReplyDeletethank you for these questions that you pose, unique. i was drawn to the role of memory in this poem and its relationship to the sensory and also to shaping identity. he points to how these difficult memories have a landscape to them and a soundtrack to them and often those become emblazoned in our heads, echoing back to us when we see something, hear something or taste something, even in a completely different, unrelated context. and it's important to note how these details DO shape our experiences and identities.
i like what you said, too, about the "pink house" poem and how there is an element of accountability (and different levels of it) for everyone in the poem. in a similar way, everyone has their own particular relationship to silence in this poem: the children are forcibly silenced, the mother and sister are complacently silent, and the brother is enforcing silence.
i'm hella agreeing with elmaz here. i like how you talk about dempster writing himself free-i'm still doing this, or trying to, in my own writing, and i was able to appreciate dempster in this light.
ReplyDelete'like what you said, too, about the "pink house" poem and how there is an element of accountability (and different levels of it) for everyone in the poem. in a similar way, everyone has their own particular relationship to silence in this poem: the children are forcibly silenced, the mother and sister are complacently silent, and the brother is enforcing silence.'
love what you say here, rex, about silence. there's this power, a dangerous one, the comes from enforcing silence and i think you brought out these sentiments.
I COMPLETELY AGREE WITH YOU FEELING LAID OUT TO DRY.
ReplyDeleteDempster alone exhausted me in so many ways, most of which you've been able to express so clearly despite the difficulty reading through his work. I also struggled with separating Dempster from his work, trying to read through it as though he were not the center of it all. His work in the anthology was so well crafted, being able to contain so much imagery (both concrete and not) and emotion in so few words.
''ll preface this by saying it's hard at times for me to not assume that the person at the center of these poems is not Dempster himself, given the tremendous amount of pain seeping from "The Pink House in Four Variations", and "The Burning".'
ReplyDeleteThis statement is incredibly true, not just because of the evident pain in the poems but also because it's hard as the reader to separate any poet from their work. This leads to the question of whether it is possible for a poet to be separate from their work at all--even if the narrator is someone other than Dempster himself, the words are Dempster's and the emotions are depicted by Dempster and thus they seem to become a part of him simply through the process of creation.