So if poems are time-travel devices, they ought to travel sideways and forward as well as backwards. I recently hosted a reading by Natasha Trethewey, who definitely points her universal remote towards the past in Bellocq’s Ophelia, Native Guard, and Beyond Katrina. I’m teaching the latter two books in various courses and our conversations focus on memory and monuments. Her poems about Louisiana’s Native Guard, Gulfport, and her mother offer various ways of honoring history. Sometimes she reinhabits, recreates lost moments; sometimes she considers how impossible it is to do so.
Beyond Katrina also demonstrates concern and commitment to the present and future, especially to survivors of Katrina’s devastation and to the damaged, disrespected natural environment of the Gulf Coast. Trethewey does not, however, project herself into the future as constantly and vividly as she does into the past. I’ve been rereading Native Guard looking for tomorrowland and even instances of future tense are entangled with history as fate (“my native land, this place they’ll bury me”). Dreaming conjures alternate timelines in a few poems, but generally Trethewey is concerned with how the past inhabits the present. She voyages constantly between the two like the obsessed historians in Connie Willis’ time-travel novels.
I’m trying to read poetry as speculative fiction, a genre closely associated with the future. If poetry looks mainly backward, where does that put my argument? There is a fair amount of poetry addressed to the future through children. Some poets prophesy revolution (Langston Hughes), their own deaths (Emily Dickinson), or environmental apocalypse (W.S. Merwin just for starters). And the sort of remembering Trethewey does is very much about the future, though indirectly.
The most uncanny, haunting lyric projection I can think of is in Walt Whitman’s “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry”: “And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose…Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt.” Here’s the spaceship/ TARDIS (n.b. Eric)/ multidirectional time travel device I’m looking for, and it’s an incredibly powerful one. Whitman’s ferry as De Lorean.
How else do lyric poets speculate? What am I not thinking of?
(because compost happens)
The work wants to be made
Writing from both sides of the brain
"This work is unlike any other, in its range of rich, conjuring imagery and its dexterity, its smart voice. Carroll-Hackett doesn’t spare us—but doesn’t save us—she draws a blueprint of power and class with her unflinching pivot: matter-of-fact and tender." —Jan Beatty
a poetry page with reviews, interviews and other things
Mundane musings from a collector of the quotidian
Writer. Editor. Throwback Surrealist.
The Parlando Project - Where Music and Words Meet
Poet, Writer, Instructor
Low-Residency Graduate Programs – MFA, MA, Certificate
Thoughts on writing and reading
poetry. observations. words. stuff.
breathing through our bones
(The poetry blog of Grant Clauser)
Into one's life a little poetry must fall