By 
I first discovered Cid Corman in ModPo- one of his poems is something of an anthem for the class. But I truly fell in love with his work when listening to a celebration of his poetry on a video from the Kelly Writers House, where a beautiful poem was recited and discussed. I don’t have the poem in front of me, but he perfectly captured the way I have experienced motherhood….. in about five lines.
So, I purchased this book, And the Word, for my mother- thinking that she would appreciate his writing. And, when she moved from her house this last spring, it somehow wound up in a box that I brought home with me of my mom’s belongings. I just discovered it while digging around in my basement, and decided it would be nice to read it. (And now I can send it back to her!)
One thing I can say is that Cid Corman is truly a character. His poetry meanders from haiku-like simplicity to humor that catches you off guard to incredibly deep ponderings on life … I loved turning each page, not knowing exactly what to expect.
I love this one:
Like a child again
holding a round stone
in my hand until
the warmth of my hand
warms the stone and I
feel comprehended.
And this:
THE ARTIST
All he had hoped for
was to paint the white
until the white ap-
peared in all its white
until the very
black of it came out
and all color felt
precisely what it
had — to become — light.
Super love this one:
Out of nowhere —
or so it seems
to these eyes —
on bare boughs
a galaxy
of chickadees.
Reading poetry is such a lovely experience, and Cid Corman has a way with language that reaches straight to my heart.
Thank you Meredith for reminding me of the absolute treasure of Cid Corman. I didn’t know about this book–what beautiful poetry!
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I have only read LivingDying (I think that’s the title but I’m going off memory so apologies) — I will have to check this one out! My next book post will be about Marianne Moore’s Observations — perhaps because we are all gearing up for ModPo poetry is on the brain!
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Oh, fantastic of you to bring us some Cid, Meredith! I LOVE what I call the “stone” poem. I hand it out to people who do and do not read poetry, and I tell them about the ModPo person who brought it to our attention. He keeps this poem in a frame on his nightstand, along with a stone he picked up from his grandfather’s grave. OK, I have tears in my eyes yet again…do you?
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I absolutely love the stone poem, and knew that I remembered it from somewhere…… yes, of course- I do recall the poem in the frame now as well….. thanks for the reminder.. and the weepiness…!
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