I am a big
admirer of Scott Ferry's poetry. I've read many of his books and even blurbed a couple. Scott and I, along with Lillian Necakov, have
recently finished a poetry collaboration together, so I am pleased to share
this review of Scott's latest book, The Long Blade of Days Ahead, by
poet Stephen Cole.
The Long Blade of Days Ahead is available to purchase on Amazon.
Scott Ferry and the Connectivity of Poetry by Stephen Cole
In so many ways poetry is the unintended consequence of someone’s compulsion—of
human consciousness making its way into a connection. It is always through
consciousness realizing it is in the presence of other consciousnesses that we
become aware of ourselves and poetry is the linguistic mechanism for this
awesome human achievement.
So poetry is primarily the language act of connectivity. This is how it exerts
its pressure on us and confronts the things that may be dangerously separated
from us and too easily overlooked in that separation. Poetry at its best
overcomes this too often unnoticed isolation and is the antidote that indeed
presents us the unity and autonomy that is so deeply required for the healing
of this too human experience.
This is what I want to praise the poetry of Scott Ferry and his book of poems,
“The Long Blade of Days Ahead” (Impspired Press, 2022). When you come in to
contact with poetry and it propels itself deeply into an awareness itself, it
becomes a way that could at first be very disturbing but it leaves you
connected to something you have always suspected but could not otherwise make
the connection.
Poetry is the medicine which, at its best, may completely take you within its
embrace and, like the hug of a lover, heal you. Afterwards, you do not forget
the experience and of course it never leaves you completely or goes away. It
can be picked up and read again. Reading poetry to yourself and others is how
we reinforce and connect with the gift of poetry.
We owe the poet thanks and of course some monetary support. Nickel for the poet
and you give thanks because you will come to understand why you can breathe again
— and in thankfulness, you may not even hear your own self give up a sigh at
each poem but you know it has been accomplished.
Here is an example:
ants
have streamed into our
kitchen in silent queues
finding sticky midjool dates
a box of honey nut cheerios
a tiny fist of rice surrounded
by morning in jaws and bodies
until i place a canoe of
liquid poison behind the fridge
where my sons fingers can’t
reach and the next morning
no itching script on floors
or counters so i knew
where they were i knew
I would find a clumped
paragraph a slowly
dying hunger congealing
in the dark
••••••
(Not in the book)
my hands are huge
and i can’t button my mouth on
my fabric is smeared with
faith
(mostly i lie in these poems—
mirrored miraged
mismanaged)
i have made a poison cake
with all of this
blight
still some people love me
i still love god
somehow
as the light wrapped in fire
touches my fingers they
blister
yes the sky is the same as
the mouth the wind
treacherous
i will try to open into it
less pain than
flaying
i will wear the extra
serotonin like a
badge
look i can laugh again
look i can
laugh
About Stephen
I was born in Los Angeles California near the end of the Second World War. I
honestly believe that only rocks and redwood trees are older.
I was raised in the Hill Country of Northeast Mississippi and the San Fernando
Valley in Southern California, which allows me to conflate opposites at a great
distance. I went to many different schools in my country and overseas. I was
raised with four older sisters and no brothers so this led me to believe that
if there was a God, it was certainly female.
My education was in philosophy. I was raised in the political tradition that
believes that all people are created equal and that it is the point of every
Nation to form a more perfect union within itself to realize these goals of
equality. Privilege is the ultimate evil in any society.
No comments:
Post a Comment