The Bagel -- David Ignatow

(Poem #1329) The Bagel I stopped to pick up the bagel rolling away in the wind, annoyed with myself for having dropped it as if it were a portent. Faster and faster it rolled, with me running after it bent low, gritting my teeth, and I found myself doubled over and rolling down the street head over heels, one complete somersault after another like a bagel and strangely happy with myself. -- David Ignatow

A charming poem, striking just the right balance of absurdity and
seriousness. And quite apart from its metaphorical meaning, it evokes a very
literal and physical image - the childhood memory of running downhill as
fast as I could, until I was not so much running as bounding, very out
of control and very exhilarated. And, yes, strangely happy with myself.

I must admit to not caring much for Ignatow's poetry in general; today's
poem was a very welcome exception.

martin

Links:

  Biography:

http://www.dlxs.org/products/archive-by-CDROM/4/TextClass/src/web/a/ampo20/bios/am22034.bio.html

A First on TV -- David Ignatow

Guest poem submitted by Bryan Bowen

(Poem #1202) A First on TV This is the twentieth century, you are there, preparing to skin a human being alive. Your part will be to remain calm. -- David Ignatow

I read this poem in "The Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart", edited by
Robert Bly, James Hillman, and Michael Meade.  It was written about
complicit TV anchors whose denial takes the form of cool detachment
while presenting horrific news.

If it has a connection to the last submission (Poem #1201), it's
probably simply reflecting the flip side of our desire for attention.
The population is adopting the news anchor's coolness.  It's no longer
possible to react to news of another war or massacre with the same
outrage as the first.  This poem exposes and criticizes that tendency
to hide, resigned to our own voicelessness, knowing that somehow the
lack of voice is allied with murder.

Bryan

Links:
  [broken link] http://www.poets.org/poets/poets.cfm?45442B7C000C010C01 has a biography and
more poems by Ignatow