Local poet pal Michael Robbins brilliantly poses a new idea for jump the sharp in a recent review in Poetry magazine, some context excerpted below, drawing on some especially rancid work of Hass' own, which kind of embodies two of my least favorite things in poetry: basking in the woodlands and post-Portnoy penis biography of the mid-century man. Too much moon and too much dull weinering (or wistful rememberances of the weinering of his youth, save for a few Tony Hoagland poems and maybe like 2 other queer exceptions) can kill my interest in any poems. MEANWHILE:
"When discussing a poem in which the poet is so enamored of himself and his sincerity that he is rendered quite tone-deaf to the comic pseudo-profundity of his lines, one might say something like, “The third stanza really hates the cunt.” In the next section of the same poem, Hass is lying in bed listening to the mating cries of owls:
Slowly at first, I
made a solemn face
and tried the almost human wail
of owls, ecstatic
in the winter trees, twoo, twoo.
I drew long breaths.
My wife stirred in our bed.
Joy seized me.
So let’s see: you’re already trying to hate your wife’s, er, companionable hole, now she has to put up with you making owl noises in the middle of the night? Let the woman sleep!"
Also, un related to this, but a jumping-related item. Why do people say "after the jump" when you could just say below or continued or not explain or spoiler out what will happen in the next paragraph or photo that we cannot see. It seems sad, if you need a bait to lure people further into the internet item you've made for them.Posted by jessica hopper at September 26, 2010 12:38 AM | TrackBack