But fortunately I also found a copy of Good Poems, an anthology of poems selected by Garrison Keillor, at the book sale.[1] In his introduction, Keillor says that he read a "truckload" of poems to find the few thousand he's read on air for The Writer's Almanac, his daily five-minute radio broadcast. Keillor's research was an education, finding that most of the poems he read made "no impression at all" and were sorta "like condoms on the beach, evidence that somebody was here once and had an experience but not of great interest to the passersby." Keillor's conclusion is reflected in one of the poems included in the book, "The Iceberg Theory," in which Gerald Locklin bemoaned that "literary critics / purport to find interesting / so much contemporary poetry / that just bores the shit out of me."
For Keillor, good poems "offer a truer account than what we're used to getting. They surprise us with clear pictures of the familiar. The soft arc of an afternoon in a few lines." But good poems also have a narrative line, incorporating a story or at least "some cadence or shadow of a story." There is no reason the poem's overall effect has to be a puzzle; Keillor quotes Charles Bukowski, a writer Keillor formerly "cocked a snoot at" but later came to appreciate, as saying "There is nothing wrong with poetry that is entertaining and easy to understand. Genius could be the ability to say a profound thing in a simple way." [2] That is why Keillor extols Kenneth Rexroth—whom one critic derided as a "bearshit-on-the-trail nature poet"—over T.S. Eliot—"the great stuffed owl whose glossy eyes mesmerized the English profs of" Keillor's day—and Anne Sexton and Maxine Kumin—"writers you can take anywhere ... and your attention would not drift"—to Marianne Moore—"a nice lady, but definitely a plodder."
Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate from 2004 to 2006, shared some similar thoughts in his Poetry Home Repair Manual, writing that "[p]oetry is communication," the purpose of which is "to reach other people and to touch their hearts. If a poem doesn’t make sense to anybody but its author, nobody but its author will care one whit about it." For that reason, he favors poems that keep the obstacles between poet and reader to a minimum. [3] In short, as Locklin concluded in "The Iceberg Theory," I don't have to feel guilty that "the poems I enjoy are those I don't have / to pretend that I'm enjoying."
All of which makes me feel better about reading and appreciating Mary Oliver, because I can follow her narrative line and understand the message I think she is trying to convey, without breaking out my thesaurus or doing any internet research. And the same goes for Grandma Judy. One of my favorite poems is "What Is Not Right in Your Life," which I can read to revel in the simple story of weeding a garden, while still getting the message that some pruning in the rest of one's life is a good idea too ("Deadhead the didn’t-get-to dos."). Besides, how can I not appreciate poetry written about you and your cousins?
If you want to go a little deeper, How to Read a Poem (1999) by Edward Hirsch is a great place to start. (I picked that up at the book sale, too.) The first chapter includes a lucid introduction to Hirsch's idea that poetry involves a relationship between the poet, who "enlists the reader's intellectual and emotional involvement," and the reader, who "actively participates in making meaning in poetry." The first chapter has been reprinted online by the Poetry Foundation, with links to examples of poems to illustrate the points. I especially like the section on "Metaphor: A Poet is a Nightingale."
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[1] For wildly divergent takes on the value of Keillor's anthology, compare "No Antonin Artaud with the Flapjacks, Please" by August Klenzahler, and "Title Tells All" by Dana Gioia, two reviews of Good Poems that appeared on successive days in Poetry magazine.
[2] According to Adam Kirsch, Bukowski also "rejected on principle the notion of poetry as a craft, a matter of labor and revision." Instead, "it has to come out like hot turds the morning after a good beer drunk."
[3] On the other hand, Kooser doesn't think there are "good" and "bad" poems, just poems that people like and don't like, for personal reasons.
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More mushrooms, why? Because this is the simplest mushroom recipe yet—just slice, roast, and feast on the mushrooms in their simple, earthy goodness. Also, you can make a lot of mushrooms (up to 2½ pounds) this way, whether you're feeding a crowd or just really like mushrooms and want to have leftovers.
A plate full of roasted veggies |
Roasted Mushrooms
Adapted from Vegetables Every Day (2001) by Jack Bishop
Time from start to finish: 30 minutes
You can double the recipe and still make it in the same baking sheet, so this is an easy way to make a lot of mushrooms at once.
1¼ pounds/20 ounces cremini or white button mushrooms
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper
1. Place a rack in the center of the oven, and heat to 400 degrees. Line an 18-by-13-inch baking sheet with aluminum foil, dull side up. Spray the foil lightly with nonstick cooking spray.
2. Wash the mushrooms. Trim a small slice off the end of each stem. Slice the mushrooms in half, if small, or in quarters, if large. Transfer the mushrooms to the baking sheet. Drizzle with the oil and toss to coat with your hands. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
3. Roast until the mushrooms are golden brown and delicious, about 20 to 25 minutes, stirring once after 10 minutes. Taste for seasoning. Serve promptly. Serves 4.
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