Thanks. I think it is more a matter of stylistics, and your comment about inaccessibility is probably right on. It it depressing to think that such a great art form is becoming so insular. I’d like to think there is still a place for the classical poet in today’s cultural millieu, but it would be tough. Though I don’t think attention span is neccessarily the problem, since Harry Potter books seem to sell well. My theory about it is that those who are more gifted in versifying presently are more likely to be found in the music business, and some song-writers have pretty incredible lyrics.
What counts as modern? Within the last ten years? Twenty? A hundred?
As the film critic in the New Yorker said about Yoda’s irritating syntax: “Break me a freakin’ give!”
But really, wouldn’t it be
“A freakin’ break, me you will please give.”
?
Good question. I think of it as the last 75 years or so, but that’s entirely arbitrary.
Dale
So Sylvia Plath counts. I like her poetry.
“A freakin’ break, give me you will.”
6/09/2005
Xin Chao
Greetings to all from Ho Chi Minh City!!
I have been in Saigon for just about a week now and it has been
amazing to say the least. I am staying in a nice guesthouse about ten
minutes from the cookhouse I work in. The first challenge I faced
was adjusting to the traffic here. I have never seen so many
motorbikes in my life. The streets are very crowded and traffic rules
are loose. For every one car there are 40 or so motorbikes. People honk
their horns constantly here. This does not necessarily imply
aggression. It could simply mean “behind you,”“get out of
my way,” “I’m coming through–look out.”
Everyday I leave my guesthouse at 6:30 a.m (that’s right Mom!)
“Batman”, a very nice motorbike driver, takes me and my boyfriend Jim
to work everyday. The cookhouse is a very small two room store
front. The meals consist of rice (coom), soup (canh), and a meat and
vegetable mix (gan). We sit on the floor and bag small portions in to
little bags and send them off to the hospital. I am the Undisputed
Queen of Rice Bagging. After about an hour of this Jim and I move on
to our next assignment. Five of us sit out side on the sidewalk and
cut vegetables. I must admit I need practice. Often the men and
women will stop and stare unable to understand how I could not know
how to cut vegetables. They get very frustrated and take the knife and
show me how it is done. Ten minutes later another will come and show
me how he does it. I admire their dedication to their work.
The next two hours are spent at another location. A block from
Columbia hospital I help distribute food. Here instead of individual
bags we use garbage cans. The people in line are patients and some
are just locals who need something to eat. Each person walks up with
his pass and a lunch pail or plastic containers. Here I learned that
the money I spent for the program actually goes directly towards the
soup kitchen. That is why they are so eager to take Western
volunteers. That–and they like to laugh at us. That’s fine by me.
It is very difficult to communicate with most of the workers and it can
be frustrating.
Today they invited us to eat lunch with them before we left. As we
ate they kept loading more and more food on my plate. I could not
decide if they were being generous or if they assumed Americans needed
more food since we are so much larger.
Love
Angela
Poor Amar.
What a wonderful experience she’s having, Dale! I know some of it’s hard and frustrating, but I’m so glad she’s getting to do this kind of thing! All young people should have this kind of experience.
Redwolf
I certainly wish I had. (I tried to participate in an exchange program to France when I was in high school, but I couldn’t raise enough money.) The kind of experience Angela is gaining is priceless.