.
House Finch (Carpodacus mexicanus), Male, Lost Dutchman State Park, Apache Junction, Arizona: photo by Alan D. Wilson, 2007
between the cat and the tree
must be our country
and the finch
singing above us
to the world
that suffers
and yearns
must be our country
and the finch
singing above us
to the world
that suffers
and yearns
House Finch (Carpodacus mexicanus), Male, Reifel Bird Sanctuary, Ladner, British Columbia: photo by Elaine R. Wilson, 2006
Cat dancing in snow: photo by Matthias Zirngibl, 2006
Somewhere: Anselm Hollo, from a holiday e-card, 2010
13 comments:
Anselm: Nice poem. That cat is enjoying life. Happy Boxing Day.
And what beautiful finch pictures. Just amazing, so detailed.
Artur.
Tom,
Yes, thanks -- Anselm ("finch/ singing") --
12.26
pink cloud in pale blue sky above black
trees, song sparrow calling from branch
in foreground, sound of wave in channel
volume, not that it becomes
therefore linear form
or point, in space distance
from each, two bodies
grey-white clouds reflected in channel,
shadowed green pine on tip of sandspit
Tom, it's nice to read this the day after that strangest day of the year.
A few years ago, when Anselm Hollo experienced some heart problems, I sent him the following letter:
Yesterday, while visiting Tom Raworth’s web site, I saw that you have suffered a health crisis. It seems possible you might stand some cheering up, and that a gushy fan letter might do the trick.
In the late 60s I was still in my teens. A sequence of events too tedious to rehearse here brought me to what Anne Waldman has called a vow to poetry (little did I know how completely great and crazy would be the consequences …). I showed my early poems to Jack Shoemaker, who at the time worked at Serendipity Books (my father was a book collector; that was my in). Jack’s words: you haven’t read much, have you? Here’s some Pound, here’s some Olson … I walked out of the shop with your The Coherences.
That was the beginning of a lifelong Hollo-habit. Its latest manifestation: just last week we were in San Francisco. While in the poetry room at City Lights, I came across your translation of Saarikoski’s Trilogy, which of course I had to have. In addition, while I was deciding whether to pick up some Andrew Schelling (whose name I’ve known but whose work I haven’t read) I saw a quote from you on the back of his Old Growth, which swayed me towards purchase.
O, you have much for which to answer …
It’s undoubtedly true that I have internalized aspects of your poetics (as I’ve under- and misunderstood and twisted them) and brought them over into my own work. But every so often my debt rises to the surface where I’m conscious of it. I will take advantage of your current state to force one poem upon you, where the debt (and homage) is explicit:
[Dear reader of this review, I will not take advantage of your “present state” to force the poem on you … that would be really tacky, methinks … as it was probably tacky to force it on Hollo … but what’s done is done … ah, well …]
Thank you for everything, and best wishes for a speedy and full recovery.
Sincerely,
Sorry for leaving the in the bit about "this review", but I cutnpasted from a review of two of AH's books I wrote a couple years ago.
Beautiful, beautiful ... such a fine poem. I should say poems, loved the holiday card also. (and photos, too)
You've sent me scurrying to my too dusty copy of Sojourner Microcosms:
black elk speaks
black elk speaks & speaks
earth
heaven
walk away
black elk goes on speaking
--- Anselm Hollo
Don, I can still hear their mighty cosmic footsteps, getting fainter and fainter.
Artur, I thought of you in picking those two finches out of my final "shortlist" of twenty-three finches.
Madame Beyond, in the charming (chilly, that is) hours before dawn, shot down the other twenty-one finches, one by one, with helpful running commentary on the insane obsessiveness of my nocturnal photosearches. She is the Nimrod of finches. (But of course she is also, almost always, right... and I'm terrible at defending my finches.)
At any rate... Alan and Elaine Wilson are perhaps my favourite bird photographers, though at the same time time I would not wish to take anything away from, for example, Noodle snacks, who photographed the birds in Born-Again Christmas (two posts down).
thanks:
"I needed that!"
&
my first 'taste' of (anything Hollo via a Microbook
(American Mirrors) included in ATHANOR 5 , Winter, 1973
&
here we are yet with Anselm Hollo Winter, 2010!
Beautiful
a finch/a poet
"singing"
kokoro
ain't no computer ever gonna be able to
so do ...... ever.
The song sparrow finds its finch, as the grove finds its altar.
For a year or so there were cynical doubts in my mind as to the spontaneity of the cat photo; I feared set-up, staging, dangled treats.
Then a wave of innocence (or shall one say naïveté) swept through.
I am currently convinced that the cat is leaping to catch the uncatchable all over treat factory of the snow (oh happy day).
I wanted to wish you a merry Xmas and a wonderful new year, dont think I do not come here to read your blog, I enjoy it a lot, I became just too lazy to write.
Be well my friend
Don't hear much from Anselm anymore.
Does he blog?
well
he most likely yet
writes letters or sends post cards
or picks up his rotary Ameche!
I expect a call ...
at
any moment
I have as he so does
nothing to say
&
will get back to him
& y'all
when I have even less to say
come visit when you have
less time
All one can say on this subject is that if, as appears to be the case, blogging is any part of the fuel that keeps up Ed's energy levels, then the medium certainly ought to be recommended to anyone, and, in particular, anyone who would wish to put off dying yet awhile.
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