Thursday, June 18, 2015

#169

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“Books drugs razor whiskey shirts / Henry lies ready for his Eastern tour”. Everything you need for a tour of poetry readings! The poem references his broken arm—no neckties because he can’t tie one with his cast, and while there are some fairly mundane details like that, they alternate with this: “there’s also the dough, to help out Vietnam” and “it’s doing what must be done, / helping them kill each other.” A poet has to make a living, and in his day as much as now, royalties from book sales weren’t going to cut it. There is teaching, and well-paid readings if the artist is of sufficient fame and stature, in one case where the attendees ponied up a $500 dollar fee to watch the famous poet do his act, and the money went to the war effort, to help the South Vietnamese kill the North Vietnamese, who by the way were trying to kill them as well, and isn’t war grand? Confessional poetry gets a bit sullied by such accounts, perhaps: “Warm / should everybody mouth a lawless tit.”

The poet and Zen philosopher, Gary Snyder, notes somewhere in The Practice of the Wild, I believe, that when times are out of joint you’re forced to make compromises. So, for example, I recognize the fossil fuel industry now for the thuggish, planet-devouring institutions they’ve become. Thuggish because they use their wealth and resultant power to further their ends, which is simply to mine and sell more fossil fuel—to the tune of almost 90 million barrels a day of oil alone—at the expense of the ecological integrity of communities, ecosystems and the planet as a whole. But I have to drive a car. I can buy a fuel-efficient car, advocate and vote for public transportation, alternative energy sources, but in the end I still drive to work. The world is out of joint, and if I am going to live and work in this particular community, my choices are constrained. So that’s partially what’s going on in this poem, a recognition of forced constraints and a snide response to the money that comes from supporting something that compromised his values.

I attended a literature and environment conference, which most of the attendees flew to. Bill McKibben, the outspoken activist who has worked, spoken and written for years about fossil fuels and climate change, was a speaker. He noted the discrepancy there as well—to fly somewhere in a jet airplane is a carbon-loaded activity. His advice: Make it count. Compromises loom everywhere. It doesn’t have to mean you’re a hypocrite. Just make it count.

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