I was hesitant to go hear Robert Bly read at the Attic the other night. The whole Iron John, Iron Poet thing. The funny vest and huge mane of white hair. The whole he’s-more-than a-man-he’s-a-catalyst-for-a-sweeping-cultural-revolution thing. I get a little – okay a lot –judgmental, when a writer’s persona inflates to the size of a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade balloon. It becomes hard to hear the words in all the hot air.
But Bly turned out to be a real treat, messy hair, strong stage presence and all. He felt very present with the audience, with the musicians and with the words themselves. There was a kind of Middle Eastern beatnik feel to the event. I felt especially drawn to his ghazals, a form of poetry new to me, but then I’m pretty clueless when it comes to formal forms. Bly explained that the ghazal, based on the Urdu form, usually contains from three to fifteen stanzas, and the poet can change the landscape in each stanza, leaping from topic to topic. The same single word ending each stanza ties the poem together. The whole effect is playful and wicked, simple in its complexity, wild within strict formality-- my kind of writing. Actually, my kind of everything.
I want to post one of the poems he read. I will when I find it.
More on Bly by local book reviewer and pal Chris Watson:
But Bly turned out to be a real treat, messy hair, strong stage presence and all. He felt very present with the audience, with the musicians and with the words themselves. There was a kind of Middle Eastern beatnik feel to the event. I felt especially drawn to his ghazals, a form of poetry new to me, but then I’m pretty clueless when it comes to formal forms. Bly explained that the ghazal, based on the Urdu form, usually contains from three to fifteen stanzas, and the poet can change the landscape in each stanza, leaping from topic to topic. The same single word ending each stanza ties the poem together. The whole effect is playful and wicked, simple in its complexity, wild within strict formality-- my kind of writing. Actually, my kind of everything.
I want to post one of the poems he read. I will when I find it.
More on Bly by local book reviewer and pal Chris Watson:
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