September 15: Bad News, Philip Levine, "Going Back"

Before I announce the poet of the week officially, I'd like to say a few words about poetry contests:

They suck.

Now that I have that off my chest, I am happy to announce that Philip Levine is the Poet of the Week.  Levine was born in Detroit and is what I would call an elder statesman in American poetry.  He's won just about every award available except the Nobel Prize.

The poem I chose for tonight comes from Levine's Unselected Poems.  It's about loss and memory.

Saint Marty lost a poetry contest today, and he hopes to put it out of his memory.

Going Back

by:  Philip Levine

I opened War and Peace to reread the scene
in which Natasha's brother Petya
falls in his first battle, and Denisov turns
from the boy's body to lean against a wattle fence.
In memory I heard a man so wracked the Cossacks
thought at first they heard the yelping of a dog.

Before I could locate the exact page I found
maple leaves I'd brought back from the East
in 1972, seven perfect blood red
pansies pressed for safekeeping, a dried thistle,
poppy or rose petals so dark and fragile
they glowed in the lamplight like shavings of oak.

Beneath them the author's words seemed frozen
in a common language no one understood.
"The cause of the delay was Natasha's skirt. . ."
Outside the sky darkened.  By the open window
with David Ber I sat, with Yenkl Tsipie,
Abraham, with all my lost, while the rain fell.

One of my heroes