Episode 130: Anthropomorphic Imagination

The natural world and human nature provide a variety of jumping off points for three poems that contrast the ego and experience of each poem’s speaker with other perspectives, both observed and imagined. The discussion touches on the use of a strong opening conceit, lineation that cannily reflects breathwork, and leaning into specificity as strong poetic moves. Let’s not forget the role that taste plays! Kathy’s internal sommelier springs to life twice to flag questionable taste in wine and a discussion of the third poem under discussion highlights the role that direct experience and cultural awareness can play in appreciating the landscape of a poem. The discussion also briefly lingers on the question of whether singer Dionne Warwick is still alive and well and performing. At the time of writing these notes, she most certainly is!   Some links we think you might like:    The Spin Doctors Dionne Warwick, Do You Know the Way to San Jose (YouTube)   At the table: Kathleen Volk Miller, Marion Wrenn, Lisa Zerkle, Jason Schneiderman, Manuel López, Isabel Petry, Vivian Liu (sound engineer) John Wojtowicz grew up working on his family’s azalea and rhododendron nursery and still lives in the backwoods of what Ginsberg dubbed “nowhere Zen New Jersey.” Currently, he teaches social work at Stockton University. He serves as the Local Lyrics contributor for the Mad Poet Society blog and has been featured on Rowan University’s Writer’s Roundtable on 89.7 WGLS-FM. Recent publications include: Rattle, Split Rock Review, Soundings East, West Trade Review, and The Ekphrastic Review. He is the author of the chapbook, Roadside Attractions: a poetic guide to American oddities. Find out more at: www.johnwojtowicz.com   Kolyuchin Island    Polar bears have taken up residence  within the marmalade walls of an abandoned weather station, the lone dwelling  on a small island in the Chukchi Sea. This unexpected sanctuary,  strategically located  between Russia and Alaska,  has a post-apocalyptic feel  like the Statue of Liberty scene  at the end of the first Planet of the Apes, but cuter. White-coated inhabitants  can be seen sunning themselves  on the front porch,  poking frosty heads from turquoise  window frames, wandering  their 2.8 mile yard littered with rusted tanks  and construction debris. Pierre Boulle never wrote  a sequel to the Planet of the Apes.  Man loses. The End.  And with earth’s history of ruling classes and our self-destructive tendencies, this is the likely scenario. If by some grace, we go out without taking  every living thing with us,  it gives me pleasure to picture  a sleuth of grizzly bears  as the heirs to Buckingham Palace.  As a whole, extraterrestrial  anthropologists will have to assume,  we cared very little  about the arctic fox, musk ox, and polar bear,  dooming these lifeforms  (and then ourselves). And even though I didn’t do much to stop it,  I hope they’ll find  the remains of my glacial wall calendar  and arctic-themed necktie  or better yet the yellowed receipt  from a donation I plan on making to the World Wildlife Fund and conclude that I was one of the good ones.      Wild    The rugs haven’t been cut in a long while and the shag is starting to tickle my chin. It’s up to my neck which is sometimes  how I feel navigating the jungle of my life  which germinated from the garden of my childhood and went mostly untended  for the first quarter or so. Yes, it’s been some time  since I backpacked through nightclubs, traversed the landscape of closing time, tossed the map on an LSD trip. Right now, I am dead-heading petunias  on my back deck. My two kids  are sleeping. The dog is chasing  lightning bugs. My wife is finishing a glass of Moscato and will soon be  waiting for me in our bed. Earlier today  I added boat-tailed grackle  to my backyard bird list. My zucchini is starting to flower and so is (for the first time)  the southern magnolia  planted a few springs back.  The groundhog I nicknamed Big Orange is on his hindlegs  taking in the evening news. And as the sun moves to give someone else a turn with the light, I consider that this might be the wildest I’ve ever been.