Friday, December 8, 2017

The Garden of Verse: My Poem in a Beautiful Book; A Memory of Spring



I have an Easter poem, titled "A Certain Day in Spring," in the recently published final edition of Vine Leaves Literary Journal, a journal closing its six-year run with a beautifully designed coffee table hardcover issue. 
The book is over 200 pages and includes literally hundreds of full-color illustrations, plus something over 200 poems and "vignettes." 
           I'm very happy to have a poem of mine included in his hardcover book. The only downside is that the book, given its size and lavish use of color and art has a high price, at $60.
            The full title is "Vine leaves Literary Journal: A Collection of Vignettes From Across the Globe," compiled and edited by Jessica Bell. Here's a link to the publisher's site:
http://www.vineleavespress.com/vine-leaves-literary-journal-a-collection-of-vignettes-from-across-the-globe.html 

           Since the contents of the book are not available online, I'll post my poem here:




A Certain Day In Spring

I cry in the same place every year
I remember to bring tissues, but I don't remember why
We are called upon to respect others
The minister, recalling an incident involving her wife and their child
explodes the canon of pronouns
We breathe the fragrance of potted pink hyacinths
People older than us shamelessly singing
choruses of 'Hallelujah!'

At night I strive to recall
the wisest of all her sayings.
'the sacrament of tears'
I listen to songs named 'Two Souls,' 'Sacred Nature,' 'My Brother's Keeper.'
Isaac turns in a slow circle, expectantly for the ram
Now we will live forever




            The minister referred to here is Rev. Pamela L. Werntz, Rector at Emmanuel Church, an Episcopal church in Boston. Her Easter sermons are a revelation.





Tuesday, December 5, 2017

The Garden of Verse: The Way We Were -- At Least in Our Poems


Living alone in Boston in the virtually prehistoric decade of the seventies, working lousy jobs, or no jobs, and writing poetry as a sure way to stay poor, I joined up in a “co-op” publishing venture consisting of similar types based in Cambridge. We published a slim poetry tabloid called “Dark Horse” and sold copies on the street for next to nothing. A favorite venue was the sidewalk on Huntington Avenue in front of Boston's Museum of Fine Arts -- especially on Sunday mornings, when they opened the doors for free. 
        I think my favorite pitch was something like "Get your news about the state of the universe." I think the price was a quarter. I think it really was. 
         I doubt we sold many copies. But we were pleasantly surprised when we sold some. 
          Anyway the monthly online poetry journal Verse-Virtual, of which I am regular contributor, asked poets to submit "early poems" for the now current December 2017 issue. 
           Remarkably, I put my hands on a few (I hoard paper) and three of these are currently up on Verse Virtual at http://www.verse-virtual.com/robert-c-knox-2017-december.html
            The first of these, posted below, "Background," is a fairly paranoid sounding piece I don't really remember writing, though the words felt familiar as I read them. I don't recall the 'brief encounter' that appears to have provoked this account, but I think I was attracted to the various different meanings of the common term "background." Something is always, in one sense or another, going on in the 'background," even if it's just a bird making a noise in a tree.



BACKGROUND


Our paths cross by accident,
and each is a little nervous.
I have a good excuse to be somewhere else,
but miss too much
and life goes to pieces.

We meet between post office and library.
I would like to postpone the conversation,
like all my chores –
but these few words
may make us allies.

Behind us a tree and a crow
are talking,
and I would really like
to know what they are saying.  



The other two poems published in this December issue, "False Spring" and "November Firsts" have seasonal themes. In my memories of those days it is almost always autumn, except when it's winter.  

Verse-Virtual editor Firestone Feinberg asked us also to supply a photo of ourselves from the time when our early poems were written. The photo at the top here is a black and white snapshot my wife Anne (we met around the time these poems were written) helped me find. I don't really remember it, but it must be me because I still dress that way. 

Firestone himself supplied one of his own first poems, a very personal and meaningful record of meeting his wife in his first year of college. You can read that at http://www.verse-virtual.com/firestone-feinberg-2017-december.html

Saturday, December 2, 2017

The Garden of History: The Real "Game of Thrones" -- England's War of the Roses and Why Empires Never Last



 
         For a period of years early in the 15th century, England was on top of the Western world.
            After Henry V's great victory over the French at Agincourt in 1415 (during a conflict known as The Hundred Years War) and his successful dynastic marriage to Catherine, daughter of the King of France, the heroic English warrior-king became heir to the throne of France. He was accorded the title "King of England and Heir of France."
            In volume one, "The Birth of Britain," of his three-volume "The History of the English-Speaking Peoples," Winston Churchill quotes the judgment of historian Leopold von Ranke:
            "It was a very extraordinary position which Henry V now occupied. The two great kingdoms, each of which by itself has earlier or later claimed to sway the world, were to remain united for ever under his successors."

            No prince in Europe could compare with him in territorial possessions or reputation. Churchill writes: "This was the boldest bid the Island ever made in Europe... Henry stood, and with him his country, at the summit of the world."
            So how long did this English domination of Europe last? Not long at all. 
            Henry made the mistake of dying young and things fell apart immediately. Churchill describes the fate of the son of Henry V and Catherine (crowned as Henry VI) as "long to reign over impending English miseries."
            What happened to England during much of the remainder of the 15th century still serves as a prime example of the absolute rivalry that takes place between powerful dynastic families (or ruling cliques, clans, secret governments, or rival elites) whenever the prize is something close to the absolute power traditionally granted to "kings"... those who sit upon thrones.
            "The Game of Thrones," the title of the wildly popular TV dramatic series, is aptly chosen. During the Western world's long era of government by royal sovereigns, all of the 'houses' of Europe, big and small, engaged in a continual contest of influence, domination, and hegemony through dynastic force of arms,
marriage, alliance and betrayal, pretty much all of the time.
            When Europe's World War I broke out, pitting England against Germany, some members of Britain's royal Windsor family expressed surprise, because Germany's Kaiser William was a cousin. Another cousin was the czar of all Russians.
            After the First World War put an end to Russia's House of Romanov, Marxist Russia was temporarily out of the traditional dynastic game. But twenty years later the Soviet Union's Communist czar Stalin was playing footsie with Hitler. The two tyrants signed a non-aggression pact in 1939. Two years later Hitler sent his armies in a surprise attack into Russia -- a classic Game of Thrones stab in the back. 
            Today we have the internecine rivalry in the royal family of Saudi Arabia as members of the younger generation strive for the throne and contenders prove how tough they are by destroying neighboring Yemen. A dynastic family belonging to a minority religious sect in Syria bombed hospitals and turned half the country into ruins to hold onto power. In the world of so-called Constitutional government the dynastic Bush family caused a million deaths in an unnecessary American war in Iraq. The struggle to deny power to the Clinton dynasty ended up putting a dangerous maniac on the throne of the world's greatest power, just in time to confront the lunatic, now-nuclear dynasty of North Korea.

             For all such dangerous contests of gaining state power, England's internecine "game of thrones," known as The War of the Roses, provides a chilling precedent.
            Churchill, a student of history and widely experienced practitioner in the arts of power himself, follows the twists and turns of loyalties, pledges, promises, betrayals, back and forth victories and defeats of a two-generation struggle between contenders for the English throne in the houses of York and Lancaster.
            The root cause appears to me to lie in the nature of state or 'national' power itself. The problem is aggravated by the whole notion of hereditary succession. In fact, the first cause of England's disastrous game of thrones was Henry V's overreaching success. As Churchill puts it: "When Henry V revived the English claims to France he opened the greatest tragedy in our medieval history... The miserable, destroying century that ensued casts its black shadow upon Henry's heroic triumph."
            In short, though Henry won on the battlefield the 'right' to the French throne, England was never meant to govern France. Though deeply divided in the medieval centuries, France is a big country. England is an island, with its own internal divisions, facing a significant transportation barrier between its borders and the continent of Europe -- a piece of treacherous ocean.
            If the French were not content to be ruled by an English king, in any prolonged ensuing conflict all the advantages of numbers, resources, and ease of supply lay on their side. What caused English hegemony over France to fall apart so quickly reveals another flaw in the "throne" system: Henry's son, who 'succeeded' to the throne on his father's death, was never cut out to rule anything. Pious, humble, and unworldly, he had no interest or ability in governance. His incapacity created a power vacuum, and various English barons and ambitious 'operatives' rushed to fill it.
            An even deeper problem in hereditary succession was uncovered when the most powerful (and power-hungry) nobles fell to quarreling over who should take over the reins of power as their country's hold over France collapsed and their 'king' proved incompetent. Henry VI's direct descent went back to Henry IV, who deposed a ruling king (Richard II) for incompetence, favoritism, and various other pretexts... and mostly because he played "the game of thrones" better than the vainglorious Richard.
            However, if Henry IV's 'pretext' for legitimate accession to power is exposed as a fig leaf for a power grab, then some other high-born noble possessed a better, more legitimate claim to the throne -- all of these calculations were based on the 'divine right' belief that God somehow was delivering the baby he wanted to be king to the right family.
            This was exactly the position taken by the Duke of York: I should be king; I should have been king all along. If I were king, God wouldn't be punishing us.
            But he was not the only contender to play the play the game. The current dynastic head of the House of Lancaster threw his hat in the ring as well. York took the white rose as its heraldic symbol; Lancaster the red. Hence the War of the Roses. Churchill describes the conflict this way: "We are in the presence of the most ferocious and implacable quarrel of which there is factual record. The individual actors were bred by generations of privilege and war, into which the feudal theme had brought its peculiar sense of honor... The ups and downs of fortune were numerous and startling, the family feuds so complicated, the impact of national feeling in moments of crisis so difficult to measure."
            Only Shakespeare, Churchill remarks, attempted to tell the story, though Shakespeare "telescopes" events for dramatic purposes. In his own book Churchill determines to spell the whole bloody thing out in detail.
            While I admire and respect the statesman-historian's grasp of the ins and outs and the who's who among a large cast of players, I look to history more for meaning than for a full recital of facts. What makes a story "heroic," as Greek tragedy taught the world millennia ago, is the 'greatness' of the protagonist, even though he or she dies in the end.
            It's easy to see why the English public preferred the dramatic concision of Shakespeare's history plays to the full recital. As the recently televised version of the three parts of "Henry VI," covering the origin and core period of the dynastic wars, demonstrated, the plays still make for riveting theater. But the meaning and value for the English of the whole sequence of Shakespeare's history plays, culminating in "Richard III" when the civil strife ends with a new dynasty (the Tudors) in control, is "Thank God this is all behind us now. Now we have a steady hand governing the nation in the person of Queen Elizabeth. Whew! Glad those bad days are over!"
            Of course they're not; they never are.
            In Shakespeare's own times, audiences were well aware that Catholics murdered Protestants in Paris, Catholic priests were hunted and burned at the stake in England, and the Emperor of Spain (the current top guy in Europe, though no Henry V) first tried unsuccessfully to marry Elizabeth and then prepared to conquer her country by launching the Spanish Armada.
            And in our own day, entertainments such as "Game of Thrones" and "House of Cards" grab audiences because people know deep down that the desire for power is still what rules us. And both the conduct of our government and our private sectors daily inform us of what people will do for power. Basically, anything. We watch these stories about power "games" because they show much that is true about our own societies. About us.
             These reflections leave me with the question of how do we get to the place -- to the way of life -- in which the mass of human beings no longer need to be ruled by those with an outsized appetite for power. When we're not simply hoping for 'stable,' 'sensible,' 'realistic' governance of our society; while fearing -- with good reason -- that the current pretender to throne is not the guy or gal to give it to us?
            To put it another way: When do human beings get to the place where we can to govern ourselves and live in charity with our neighbors without rulers, rules, and wielders of power?
            One name for this place is anarchy. A word that literally means "without rulers."





Tuesday, November 28, 2017

The Garden of the Seasons: 2017, An Outlier Autumn

 
The photos to the left were taken in November of 2016, just a year ago, on our property in a residential neighborhood in Quincy. They're typical of other autumns -- not only here, but everywhere in New England. 
Orange, yellow, red -- the colors of the autumn leaves. New England's claim to fame. It's New England brand name autumn foliage. 
Where is it -- was it? -- this year. 
We went to the Berkshires in October. The color was muted. We went back two weeks later. Some trees were bare; some were partially turned. Even then the color was spotty, hit and miss, muted even when present. The trees did not act in concert this year.
The trees were confused. 
Always we turn to the weather for explanations. The weather was too wet, or not wet enough. Last year, the year these photos were taken, the summer weather was so dry it reached  severe drought in most places. But still the Japanese maple, at left, turned red.
The maple tree below it, a native variety planted along the street in front of our house by the city, turned orange. 
The fourth photo down, our Japanese weeping cherry turned yellow, though as memory has it, some years the color was more pale yellow and uniformly sublime. 
This year spring rain removed the region from drought status and the rain continued in early summer. But from mid-summer on, the rain failed. Perhaps the trees are still suffering from a long period of insufficient water.
I could not help noticing that among the 'street trees' in our city neighborhood leaves began drying up early, in late August and September. They didn't turn colors, they simply dried up, turned brown at the edges and fell into the gutters. These trees had few leaves left to change colors in the true fall of the year
The explanation for this year's poor foliage season that I have heard mentions the absence of a proper 'signal' to the trees to stop sending chlorophyll to their leaves -- the signal is a couple of cold, below-freezing nights. When the chlorophyll pipeline is turned off, other chemicals present in leaves (such as carotin) dominate the color of the leaves as they dry out and fall off their branches. 
I think the cold temperatures came with unusual abruptness in November. Now the season felt too late for the staged withdrawal of 'food' from the leaves. No elegant turning. Simply dry up and fall. 
I don't have photos similar to these from the autumn of 2017. I didn't photograph the trees in their majestic autumn tints, because those colors weren't there. 
I am really hoping that this is truly an outlier year for a set of conditions that robbed the trees (and us autumn-lovers) of their customary treat for the eyes. 
And not a trend. 
   



Monday, November 27, 2017

The Garden of Art: Painter Frederic Church Built His House Above the Scenery That Build His Reputation








The Hudson River School of American painters owed their name, and much of their popularity, to a pioneering artist who moved to Catskill, NY in the 1820s and began sketching the landscape. A figure of the Romantic movement that included the great composers of Beethoven's era and the English poets such as Wordsworth and Shelley, Thomas Cole turned the Catskills into some combination of the unexplored Rockies and the landscape of myth, offering dramatic sweeps of wild scenery in which the works of nature loomed very large and human figures very small. 
             The works of Cole and a few others formed the first American school of painting that owed less to European models than to the New World -- emphasizing the size, the remoteness and wildness of a country still largely unexplored and likely to create a national character different from Europe.
             Following in Cole's footsteps the second generation of the Hudson River School took the romantic landscape approach to paintings executed all over the world. Among these artists was Connecticut-born Frederic Church. His big paintings of big subject proved popular and profitable. Influenced by the great naturalist and explorer Humboldt, along with the old masters of Europe and the new American Hudson River landscape painters, Church traveled to both the Old World and South America to portray subjects such as volcanoes in the Andes and rain forests. He uses rainbows and sunsets to add emotional color to realistic settings.  

           Aware of the public's appetite for views of earthly wonders, he put paintings of subjects such as Niagara and icebergs on tour for the genera public, who (in the pre-film era) paid money to step inside a hall and look at them. 
 
             Though he moved on from New England and the Hudson Valley to painting the Andes, Church built his own home amid the spawning grounds of the Hudson River School, building a highly idiosyncratic mansion, called Olana, in the town of Hudson, NY. As the tour guide explained on our visit last weekend, after traveling widely, Church based most of the house's design on his appreciation for Persian art. The Persian arch features prominently. 
            Equally impressive as the house itself is the place where he put it. As you can see in the photos the structure is sited up on a summit, with an unobstructed view of the long slope down to the Hudson River. The river divides here around a large island. While the lower Hudson was a major transportation route in the early 19th century, today the river is beautiful but largely untrafficked. From the summit you can also see the iron bridge that carries vehicular traffic across the river in two stages; first to the island and then to the other side. People come here just to walk the grounds and take in the view. 
            The mansion, Olana, houses the Churches' art collection, gathered over several continents. He has sculptural pieces from India, likely copies of ancient pieces. He has a room with its walls tightly packed with his "old masters'' collection, including many oils that have gone dark over time. He has table full of tightly woven Mexican hats. 
          Another suite of rooms embraces the Middle-Eastern motifs in design and furnishings that he saw in his travels. 
          Only a few of Church's own paintings are exhibited in the house; and those came back to him after being sold. The painter could afford to travel widely and build a house like this because in the first decades of his career his art was popular, sold well, and his reputation drew commissions. 
           Church worked closely with prominent architect Calvert Vaux on on the house's individualistic design. Here's how the Olana Historic Site website describes the architecture:  
Stylistically, the building is a villa with asymmetrical massing of towers and block masonry punctuated by fanciful windows and porches. The irregular silhouette of the exterior contrasts with the more regular rhythm of rooms arranged around a central hall. On the exterior, Middle Eastern motifs are carried out in colored brick, wood, slate, ceramic tile and especially stenciling. Together, the various motifs and themes create a unique artistic unity, one that is difficult to categorize.[http://www.olana.org/]

          After the family moved into the house (1872), Church continued to work on unfinished rooms and make improvements for the next 20 years.  
           A visiting to Olana is well worth the trouble. Between what's inside the house and what's outside it, there's plenty of beauty to look at.