March 10, 2024

Erin Murphy

MAN WITH BIRDS AND BREAD

a cento

On the edges of the afternoon
we lie on the beach, gray waves
 
the only language,
the gun-gray curlings of salt-tongue.
 
A man slogs through the soft sand
with an expired loaf of bread.
 
Look how he kneels,
holding out his palms as if catching snow.
 
Seagulls peep like Erinyes wearing
white linen suits, sky-jockeying
 
into a swinging web of flying sound
on their parameter of hunger.
 
A cacophony of needs—
synonym for human, perhaps.
 
His home is an ocean away.
 
There / the moon hangs like a golden mango.
There / the beach is the wind’s body
 
flecked with violet
where the light, aflame,
 
used to hum in the siesta’s honey,
donde la luz zumbaba enardecida
 
en la miel de la siesta,
There / a song curls inside you,
 
songs of children, songs of birds,
cantos de niños y de aves.
 
All of a sudden:
a call, loud and mean, while flashes of light
 
rise just over the beach grass at our backs.
A four-wheeler.
 
Birds scatter
like fireworks on el Cuatro de Julio.
 
Hatred glosses
in the cave of the mouth—
 
a mouth as a cold wind.
Above, in the yellow sky, a phrase drifts
 
to us like smoke from distant fires.
The breeze isn’t silent.
 
Look how he kneels,
face toward the light,
 
a man who tilts his bread in the sun,
the bag of bones:
 
I am I am still here still here.
How bitter is the bread of bitterness.
 
If I burn the world around me—
el mundo que me rodea—
 
until it shines beautiful and brown,
how does one undrown?
 

Cento credits: John Hoffman, Pia Täavila-Borsheim, Erin Coughlin Hollowell, Linda Bierds, Peter Makuck, Rodney Jones, Dana Levin, Jennifer Foerster, Garrett Hongo, John Ciardi, Eva Alice Counsell, Reginald Shepherd, Julie Marie Wade, Michael Broder, Lola Ridge, Huascar Medina, Jonathan Wells, H.D., Olga Orozco (trans. from Spanish by Mary Crow), BrandonLee Cruz, Gabriela Mistral (trans. from Spanish by Ursula K. Le Guin), Juan Felipe Herrera, Lily Darling, Noelle Kocot, Ron Silliman, Emanual Xavier, Cynthia Hogue, Ellen Bass, Canisia Lubrin, Alexandra Peary, Marilyn Nelson, Myronn Hardy, Forrest Gander, Chase Berggrun, Joseph Fasano, Chim Sher Ting, Mahogany L. Browne, Khaled Mattawa, Ashley M. Jones, Niki Herd

from Poets Respond
March 10, 2024

__________

Erin Murphy: “Whenever I visit the Outer Banks of North Carolina, I see a Latino man feeding seagulls on the beach after work. He speaks Spanish to the birds, gesturing with his hands for them to come down to eat. The birds seem to recognize him and swarm around him for bread. This week, I witnessed a vehicle speeding along the beach and coming dangerously close to the man. The driver and passenger were yelling at the man and pumping their fists. The birds dispersed. I don’t think it’s an accident that this happened the same week that Axios reported that Latino activists are concerned about increasing hate crimes against immigrants. I chose the cento form for this poem because the experience called for a multiplicity of voices.” (web)

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June 20, 2023

Erin Murphy

I-95 CORRIDOR

1.
This is where I was cited
for reckless driving
and my uncle quipped
95 is the route number,
not the speed limit.
 
2.
This is where I stopped
with an ex-boyfriend
on the last stretch from Miami
and a motel clerk asked
if we wanted the all night
or hourly rate.
 
3.
This is where my grad school
U-Haul broke down and I
waited for the wrecker
with a Swiss Army knife
flexed against my bare thigh.
 
4.
This is where I learned
all the lyrics to Dylan’s
“Subterranean Homesick Blues,”
rewinding the cassette
till it snapped in the deck.
 
5.
This is where I interviewed
for an adjunct teaching gig
that would cost me more
in tolls and gas than I’d earn.
 
6.
This is where thieves
took my Plymouth Breeze
on a joyride then dumped it
on the shoulder, my just-cashed
paycheck still in the console.
 
7.
This is where my husband
missed an exit for the symphony
and grazed a concrete pillar
beneath an underpass.
 
8.
This is where I ordered
my daughter vanilla ice cream
with extra maraschino cherries
after she lay corpse-still
for her first echocardiogram.
 
9.
This is where a tanker truck
caught fire, melting the highway’s
steel beams until an entire span
collapsed like a ruptured aorta.
 
10.
Corridor:
a long,
narrow
passage
between
rooms
or land.
Or time.
 
11.
They are still sifting through
the truck driver’s remains.
 
12.
I can never remember
if it’s steel oneself
or steal oneself. Am I
supposed to harden my feelings
or shove them under
my shirt like a shoplifter?
 
13.
In the show I’m watching,
one corridor leads
to another, rough cut
after rough cut of white walls
in a workplace maze.
 
14.
The day of the symphony,
we abandoned our SUV
on the off-ramp and ran
four blocks to the concert hall,
plunking into plush seats
just in time for da da da dum.
 
15.
Commute, hospital, concert,
wedding, commute, bar mitzvah,
commute, funeral, commute.
 
16.
Lately I need to sit
closer to the throat
of a bass trombone
or purring cat to feel
a stirring in my pulse.
 
17.
My uncle is gone now,
a stroke two days
before Christmas.
 
18.
For years I replayed
that last conversation
in my ex’s red Jetta,
his hands trying to bend
the steering wheel,
his eyes swollen.
 
19.
What’s the difference
between carefree
and careless?
 
20.
I’m not sure
I want to know.
 
21.
So many bodies
and bodies in motion.
 
22.
I can’t steal myself.
I’m already stolen.
 

from Poets Respond
June 20, 2023

__________

Erin Murphy: “I grew up near I-95, a major artery of the East Coast. Until last week’s tanker crash and collapse, I hadn’t given much thought to how many of my memories are tied to 95.” (web)

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March 18, 2022

Erin Murphy

THE INTERNET OF THINGS

(n.): the networking capability that allows information to be sent and received by objects and devices

The low tide riverbed silt 
of things. The cloud-swept 

distant hill of things. 
The open bedroom window 

in spring of things. 
The moonlit cricket 

symphony of things. 
The pitter-patter 

tin roof rain of things. 
The fifty-year marriage 

loose skin of things. 
The clipped winter light 

of things. The stippled lymph 
node of things. The grief. 

Oh—the grief. The brief 
ecstatic flight of things. 

from Rattle #74, Winter 2021
Readers’ Choice Award Winner

__________

Erin Murphy: “I grew up in a home where two newspapers a day were delivered to our front stoop: one in the morning, the other in the evening. I credit this with my interest in the news, which led to an early job as news editor of a daily paper and even now inspires many of my poems. Reading a business article that mentioned the technology term ‘the Internet of Things’ (or ‘IoT’) last summer, I began thinking about our other collective experiences—the natural world, relationships, death—and about William Carlos Williams’ pronouncement, ‘No ideas but in things.’” (web)

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January 10, 2011

Review by Karen WeyantMaknig Poems: Forty Poems with Commentary by the Poets

MAKING POEMS: FORTY POEMS WITH COMMENTARY BY THE POETS
by Eds. Todd Davis and Erin Murphy

State University of New York Press
22 Corporate Woods Boulevard, 3rd Floor
Albany, NY 12211-2504
ISBN 978-1-4384-3176-5
2010, 218 pp., $23.95
www.sunypress.edu

As a writer, I know that inspiration for a poem often doesn’t come like a bright “ta da!” moment. There’s no glowing lightbulb that appears over a writer’s head. Instead, writing is often tedious, sometimes more of a chore than an interesting activity. The muse is elusive and sometimes even a bit of a tease. As someone who teaches creative writing, this concept is a hard idea to sell to my students, whose own work often eludes them because they believe “I wasn’t inspired.” This is where Making Poems: Forty Poems with Commentary edited by Todd Davis and Erin Murphy comes in as a handy tool for the creative writing classroom. Making Poems offers a selection of poems by contemporary poets who write brief essays explaining how their works came into being. As one can imagine, some poets are frank and honest, detailing their revision strategies while discussing real life roots of poems. Other poets, however, drift into more scholarly writing, explaining the influence of literary theories and histories. Whatever the birth of each poem, this anthology offers ideas for why the world of contemporary poetry is as varied as each published collection.

Some scholars believe that American poetry is often rooted in place, and thus, it should come as no surprise that many poets discuss sense of place in their individual works. Jim Daniels, for example, discusses his poem, “Factory Jungle” in the context of a job he once held at Ford Sterling Axle Plant. According to Daniels, “In a strange way, the whole landscape resembled the thick underbrush of a jungle.” This landscape is what represents the root of inspiration for his poem, and Daniels goes on to discuss his individual revision process, focusing on his exploration of the jungle as poetic metaphor. Another poet, Patricia Jabbeh Wesley, uses place as a source of loss and displacement in her poem, “Leaving.” This work, says Wesley, was “like many other poems I have written, was inspired by the feeling of displacement, dislocation, and the search for home after the loss of one’s original homeland.” She then explains:

It is a poem taken out of real life, inspired, of course, by my son,
Gee, who was not excited about moving away to a new town
just after he settled in the small town of Indiana, Pennsylvania.
He was beginning to connect, but the immigrants that we are,
we were still seeking a place where we would settle down as a family
having moved around for many years during the Liberian civil war
and after we arrived here in the United States.

It is apparent that Wesley does not find sense of place as a comfort in the turmoil of her life. The end of “Leaving” concludes “Someone once asked me why people like us/move around so much; why can’t be balance our feet between// the hills and the sloping crevasses of this new life, between/these old cliffs and valleys, and I say, ‘I don’t know.’”

Besides the exploration of place in poetry, memory and the idea of memory is another popular point of inspiration in much of today’s poetry. Julia Spicher Kasdorf wrestles with the tricky relationship between what an individual remembers and the written word. Her poem, “Double the Digits,” takes the reader to rural Pennsylvania, where the persona tells the story of a group of girls exploring both the open road and life. Her poem, Kasdorf explains, was based on real life antics of the past, of risks she and some friends took while driving the back roads. Yet, Kasdorf is not ready to say that the poem is 100 percent true; instead, explaining with original drafts, “I didn’t want to analyze or think too hard about if beforehand.” In her essay, “Memory and the Problem of What Really Happened” Kasdorf explains the following:

If you think about it, real life is not all that interesting,
filled as it is with tedious and pointless parts of routine;
even the details that may personally satisfying often carry
little meaning for anyone else. Most real life consists of
one dull thing or small thing after another, no narrative rise
and fall, no symbolic resonance or unity of effect. Life is not
literature.

Such words must especially hit home for those of us facing classes of teenagers who believe that they don’t have lives that are interesting enough for possible subject matter for their poetry.

Other poets take their cues from traumatic events that have happened in the world around us. For instance, Ann Hostetler explains that “Sonnets for the Amish Girls of Nickel Mines” comes from the Amish shooting tragedy on October 2, 2006. “My husband and I both have deep Amish roots,” explains Hostetler, “His family lives in Lancaster County and his parents helped found the Mennonite Church in Bart, Pennsylvania, which they still attend.” Hostetler goes on to explain that her sonnets were based mostly on the information she obtained from mass media, an ironic fact considering that Amish traditionally shun the public eye. Still, this poet knows this world and was able to write based on her knowledge of the intimate world of the shooting victims and their families.

Finally, some poets cite the importance of research in their work. In Greg Rappleye’s poem “Orpheus, Gathering the Trees” the poet explains that the genesis of his poem began with the general knowledge that most people know the story of Orpheus and his attempt to bring Eurydice back from the underworld. However, little has been said about what Orpheus’s life was like after this failed attempt. Rappleye searched scholarly literature, as well as field guides for his poem, in order to help search for the emotions of Orpheus. In many ways, the genesis for this poem is found in both research and Rappleye’s own observations of both life and nature. He explains that as he researched, he made lists of elements from the natural world: “As I winnowed my list, stopping now and again to leave my desk to look into the undergrowth, I saw that there were dead and empty places among the trees.” This observation is found in Rappleye’s poem which ends like this:

From the air he called the sparrows
and the varieties of wrens.
Then he sang for a bit of pestilence –
for the green caterpillars,
for the leaf worms and bark bettles.
Food to suit the flickers and the crows.
So that in the woodlot
there would always be empty places.
So he would still know loss.

What is most impressive about this anthology is the wide range of poetic works, both in theme and form. Furthermore, the writing process is varied–in their essays, some poets share drafts, some don’t. Some poets show the messiness of writing; others explain that sometimes inspiration does come in a quick, short burst, with little or no revision for a poem. All in all, this anthology is more about the process than the product, more about the messiness of writing than the clean hard copies we all read in print.

____________

Karen J. Weyant’s chapbook Stealing Dust was published in 2009 by Finishing Line Press. Her most recent work can be seen in 5 AM, The Barn Owl Review, Copper Nickel, Harpur Palate, and Lake Effect. She lives in western Pennsylvania but teaches at Jamestown Community College in Jamestown, New York. She blogs at www.thescrapperpoet.wordpress.com

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