Poem: by Dennis Nurske; by me (re: reading)

Estonian flag

At 8 p.m. tonight (9/20) I'll be reading at Baboo's Books, 242 Prospect Park West, Brooklyn, with Dennis Nurske, who has published at least eight poetry collections, all very much worth reading.  He's from Estonia and Brooklyn, both strange and mysterious places.

I grabbed his Voices Over Water from my bookshelf (I have more but there is no order to my shelving), written in the voice of an Estonian couple who emigrate to Canada.

Tonight's reading is free and followed by a Q&A.

Surviving Partner

Satan tempted me
to his paradise of despair,
explaining that no one
would ever fathom my grief.
I refuted him, pointing out
that his world is full of windows,
broken cups and cracked mirrors,
and that the body propped in the barn
had been a cheating husband,
a man like the rest, not saved
or damned.  I was so stubborn
Lucifer grew afraid and left,
then my enemy was God's mercy
poured out second after second.
_______
Dennis Nurske in Voices Over Water


Let Me Ask You This

Have you ever had sex,
you know, where your skin is
a window open on a night of
many weathers one and another
howling round your breasts like
the burning god of Moses? Moses,
who’ll break stone tablets so
you get this night right.
___________
Sarah Sarai, in The Future Is Happy

What I Choose To Remind You: Sarah Kent, Clark, Superman ". . .with / dazzled flourishes. . ."

I was very excited the day, a few years back, I saw a DVD of The Adventures of Superman, the t.v. show from the 1950s, starring George Reeves.

Watching the show was less exciting than anticipating same but I was struck by the episode's concern with threats of bombs, and nuclear fission fear.  It makes sense, of course, but there it was, the country's anxiety on the screen.

I was also struck with the backstory, mainly Clark's mom, Sarah Kent. Sarah? I was so proud! But also not sure they got it right and so did a little research and discovered her name was Martha in the comic book. Why the change, I don't know, but my identification with her, and my overidentification and my great affection for that series, our old black-and-white t.v., for Jimmy and Lois and, well, everyone, got me thinking.

Remember, also, I went to a Protestant Sunday School where we read the Bible.   I know a few things oldey, like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, who were thrown into a fiery furnace in the book of Daniel. King Nebuchadnezzar was the bad guy (he's not mentioned below).  If you don't know Bible stories I suggest reading them as they can be terrific.  If you don't know our shared mythology, Clark Kent, the planet Krypton, Kryptonite, et al., I insist you hit the links.  Meantime.


What I Choose to Remind You

Is that I, Sarah Kent, am
Earthmother of Superman,
rocketed to our planet
for safekeeping when
his homeland imploded,
which is what the universe
did prior to becoming
the universe, and with
dazzled flourishes of
an illuminated manuscript
illuminated really fast.
Like Moses bobbling in
sun-gold rushes, Clark was
a foundling, and like Shadrach
Meshach and Abednego
survived fires unscathed,
Clark’s of impact with
this planet–more than many
I’ve seen do. I raised him
to be respectful and cheerful
kind in an American way.
I am an American Sarah
embracing the visitation
with one joy-spilled tear
and the other Vidalia-sliced
for the stew. I didn’t laugh
but taught my son his civic duty
of salvation, which his new world
seems to need with every turn.

Sarah Sarai, pub. in Juice: A Journal of the Ordinary, 2008, and in The Future Is Happy, avail. from Small Press Distribution.

The artist is Gustave Doré.