The Letter Project

January 31, 2011

Special Delivery (73)

Filed under: Letters — Theresa Williams @ 12:51 am
Tags: , ,

In his last letter to his friend Ricky, Mike Judge explains how Wright’s poems are a manifestion of “lost love.”  –TW

Dear Ricky,

Well, sir, the end is upon us. After months of exploration and letter writing, my extensive pursuit of James Wright is coming to a close. It has been a wonderful adventure. This course was my first intentional experience with poetry, and a grand one it was. I’ve begun to understand what goes into good poetry. As to be expected, I feel as though I’ve learned a great deal about poetry in the past few months. However, what I was not expecting to learn about, although learn about I did, was character and passion.

Wright repeatedly surprised me with his compassionate nature and with his persistent fervor throughout this entire semester. Every time I would pick up A Wild Perfection (the compilation of his letters that I own), I would feel inspired on some level.  Even within his letters, his words would regularly form something of great beauty and authenticity.

One of my favorite examples of this is in a letter that Wright wrote to a young Janice Thurn. Thurn is a 17 year old who decided to (without any previous contact with Wright) send him a couple of her poems to get his feedback on them. Wright displays great character within his response to her. He opens with, “I trust you received that somewhat crumpled postcard that I sent you a couple of weeks ago from Cleveland. I promised you an adequate letter, and I’m afraid that this note will not be quite adequate.” In response to a random letter asking for a favor, Wright not only responds but he responds with a postcard, a letter with feedback, and the promise of future letters. He even asks her to keep on sending him letters! What a selfless heart! Wright, a professional poet and educator, is making time for a stray writer. But this isn’t the only time he strikes up this type of relationship, either. His wife records in his biography that this was a regular practice. He did this exact same thing with countless others throughout his life. Cool!

That alone is impacting, but the feedback that Wright responds with is equally as striking. In his letter to the young Thurn, he writes:

In a way I am sorry that you told me that you are 17 years old, because now I am almost in the position of having to say that your two poems…are splendid poems, “even though they were written by a poet only 17 years old.” And that is certainly what I don’t mean to say. The fact is that they are splendid poems by any standards, and I am grateful to you for letting me read them. Anybody who can write the line “gravestoned on a cold sky” has a magnificent and unmistakable gift for poetry, I don’t give a damn how old the poet is.”

As I said before, there are a couple things about Wright that jump out at me as I read this paragraph. First, is Wright’s authentic presentation. He is entirely genuine the entire time. Everything from the apology at the beginning, to the passionate line at the end, speaks of his character. The second thing that strikes me is his giving nature. He is very quick to offer praise to this other poet. It would be very easy for a poet to criticize and speak against a different poet in order to “feel better about himself.” Wright casts his pride aside and pours out lifting compliments to the young writer.

Authenticity and selflessness are two great attributes to have. I believe that a life lived behind a wall, is a life not worth living. So often people get stuck trying to fit in and following the “safe path.” However, there are many times that life isn’t just about people pleasing: times where people need to be true to their hearts. Wright’s genuine and unreserved spirit is one that carried him far in life, and it is something that has earned him both my own respect and the respect of others.

Selflessness is possibly even more significant to authenticity. A man who’s concerned only with himself is hardly a man at all. Wright’s general attitude towards others is one of service. He gives life to those who he connects with. This attitude not only brings out the best in others, but it even brings personal satisfaction. In my life, I’ve found that the more I give, the more I actually get. Every time I help someone, the more satisfied with life I am. It’s a truly spectacular cycle, that, when used by many people, has the potential to really make a difference. This might sound far-fetched to some people, but I believe that authentic selflessness is the key to happiness in this life.

Wright truly is a great man. While the previous few paragraphs may seem excessive or tangential, I want you to know that there is a reason behind them. It is important to know about a writer’s background before discussing his or her work. I feel as though it helps readers get into the writer’s head, and thus understand their art better. As you’ll soon see, understanding these aspects of Wright’s personality will help you to better appreciate the rest of this letter and especially his poetry.

Now, there is something that I really want to draw your eyes too: a theme inside of his writing that has really captivated my heart.

Throughout this entire course, I’ve come to value one of Wright’s poems above all of his others. It caries the theme that has me impacted so profoundly: the theme of brokenness and the yearning for and discovering of redemption. It is something that I can relate to in great magnitude through my spirituality. Because of that, and the similarities between each of our individual lives, it is something that I imagine you can relate to as well. The poem is called Hook.

Hook

I was only a young man

In those days. On that evening

The cold was so God damned

Bitter there was nothing.

Nothing. I was in trouble

With a woman, and there was nothing

There but me and dead snow…

So already we can see signs of the narrator’s brokenness. In this poem, readers have the opportunity to take a glimpse at the hardships that this particular narrator has been challenged with. For him, at this moment of his life, he was struggling (as many of us have) with lost love. The words portray him to be experiencing a great sense of hurt because of the repetition in hints of emptiness and frustration. Have you not lost a loved one, either to death or to some other cause? I know I have, and the emotions that follow are ones that I would wish upon even the worst of men.

His tale continues:

I stood on the street corner

In Minneapolis, lashed

This way and that.

Wind rose from some pit,

Hunting me.

Another bus to Saint Paul

Would arrive in three hours,

If I was lucky.

The broken man now explains that he’s at a Minneapolis street corner, waiting for a bus to take him away from his present place. But there’s more here. As we work our way through the poem, it becomes apparent that it is layered with many deep symbolisms. A few of these we have already began to see. The first of them is the “cold” “wind.” This wind is a symbol for the sorrow and heartbreak that is chasing and pursuing the narrator. It is the physical manifestation of his lost love. As the passage says, this negative entity actually “hunts” him. The wind is so piercing that he is almost overwhelmed by it. All he wants is for the bus to come take him away to Saint Paul; to find his emotional freedom. I believe that that’s what the bus is: the path to the freedom. The bus is what we seek after every time we get hurt. It’s what every man’s heart yearns for when times are rough.

Everybody experiences hardships from time-to-time, and often times we overcome them. However, if we look back on them, we’ll often find that our hardships require us to go to someone else in order to help us find our freedom from our burdens. Sometimes our struggles are so heavy that we cannot find the way out on our own. These types of themes come up repeatedly in Wright’s work, both in his poetry and his letters.

Probably the thing that I struggle with the most is my pride. Often times I find that I don’t want to think of myself on a realistic level because I want to believe that I’m better than I actually am. I get so caught up in being “Super Mike” that I lose track of reality. Unfortunately for the world, I know that I’m not the only one with this struggle. James Wright also deals with it at one point in his life; he even wrote a letter that captured his very moment of realization and the emotions tied to it quite beautifully. For Wright, the moment that he realized his pride was holding him back was relatively early on in his writing career. Although I mentioned it briefly once before, I would like to bring it up once again because it has served as such an awesome example of humility in my life. The moment I’m speaking of is, if you remember, the time when Wright and his good friend-to-be, James Dickey, first corresponded.

As you may recall, Wright had just published one of his early books and the time had come for critics to come in and have their words about it. Dickey was one of these critics, and he didn’t care for Wright’s work very much at all. This is because he felt that Wright wasn’t even a real poet. Wright’s initial response to such a review was one of stubbornness and great pride. He wouldn’t allow himself to even contemplate the idea that maybe he wasn’t as good of a poet as he had initially thought. His eyes’ perception were distorted to truth; for, after writing a very harsh letter to Dickey, and Dickey writing one in return, Wright actually realized that there was great truth in Dickey’s words. After coming to his senses, Wright wrote back to Dickey, saying, “As I sit here, I think I know why I was hurt. You simply said that I was not a poet. This remark of yours only confirmed what – obviously enough – is a central fear of mine, and which I have been deeply struggling to face for some time.” Like Hook’s narrator, Wright too was being pursued by his own great “wind.” Wright’s pride had been preventing him from being the truly astonishing writer that he grew to be after that point in his life.

What’s spectacular about Wright is that, having learned a thing or two about dealing with struggles, he tries to assist other people who are experiencing “winds” of their own. For one of Wright’s fans, the struggle was loneliness. In a letter to D. Groth (yet another one of Wright’s fans), Wright explains what happened with his lonely acquaintance a while back. One day, Wright received a letter and some poems the unknown and lonely poet. Wright remarks that the man was an “absolutely unmistakable genius;” yet, having also read the poets letter, Wright is concerned about him. In the poet’s letter was the note, “I am so lonely I can’t stand it. Solitude is a richness of spirit. But loneliness rots the soul.” Seeing a good man in deep trouble, Wright takes immediate action. He sends the foreign poet a reply saying, quite simply, that he would be traveling to his Chicago apartment in a few days, and that with him he’d be bringing two women and, oddly enough, a large bag of bananas. Having never met him, Wright follows through and gives the lonely man a time to remember.

Now, I want to comment on the fact that in both cases the broken or struggling individual is deep in their sorrows until someone else comes into their life to pick them up. This is the power that positive community and relationships can have on one’s life. It reminds me of a marvelous song that Bowling Green’s Men’s Chorus sings every semester called “You Were Born.” The song challenges its listeners to take up the task of flying through life. The song climaxes at the the phrase, “You were not meant for crawling, you have wings. Use them to fly.” So often we find ourselves crawling on the ground struggling through life in ways we are not supposed to be. It’s almost as if there’s a harness on our wings with a latch binding it shut that is just out of our reach. No matter what we do, we can never reach it ourselves; someone else must come and open it for us. Sometimes we have troubles that are just too great for us to resolve on our own. Sometimes we can’t see clearly and need an honest individual to be our glasses. Sometimes our hearts grow so dim from being secluded that it takes another person to illuminate our heart’s room long enough for us to find our way back to the light switch. Sometimes we need each other.

It’s is this community that keeps us going; this power that keeps us strong. In order to spread our wings, we must let others into our lives so that we may be redeemed from that harness that has befallen upon us. As Wright says in the end of his letter to Groth, “…we need one another in deep, strange ways.” Words could not be truer.

Out of all of Wright’s letters that I have read, there is one segment that he wrote that I will remember above all others. He speaks on this very topic in brilliant metaphor: where one man’s passion has the ability to bring out another’s; where one man’s boldness has the power to strip another man free of his hindering harness. He writes, “Everybody surely hears some kind of song inside of himself. How amazing if he could only be brave enough to sing it out loud. If he does, often he gets back from other people something like an echo-an echo changed and transfigured by the secret songs of the very people who have heard him sing in the first place.” There are a number of ways that one could view this excerpt. However, for this instance, let us only focus on Wright’s point on man’s ability to affect one another. Each person’s “song” is their strengths, gifts, and spirit bundled together to form one entity. Wright explains that, as we overcome our fears, we have the ability to unleash our true selves. But, as he also says, we aren’t always brave to overcome our struggles first. Sometimes we must be inspired by the songs of others before we have what it takes to spread our wings and truly fly.

This is exactly what happens in Hook.

If you recall back a couple pages ago, our narrator was waiting for the bus to take him away from the Minneapolis street corner and its heart wrenching wind that would perpetually wash over him. He was consumed by his troubles and thirsting for them to go away somehow. Fortunately, that path opens just in the nick of time.

Then the young Sioux

Loomed beside me, his scars

Were just my age.

Ain’t got no bus here

A long time, he said.

You got enough money

To get home on?

A new acquaintance comes along right when the narrator needs him most. Not only does the Sioux offer a conversation to the hurting young man, but he even goes as far as to offer help. Immediately the Sioux offers the narrator some advice and hints at the gift of bus fare. It is also important to note that the Sioux has noticeable scars on his body.  These will tie into the next section. Have just been offered money, the narrator responds by saying:

What did they do

To your hand? I answered.

He raised up his hook into the terrible starlight

And slashed the wind.

Oh, that? he said.

I had a bad time with a woman.

The narrator’s response to the offer of money is hardly appropriate. However, it is significant because it draws attention to the title object of this poem, the hook. Wright is trying to get the reader to focus in on the significance of the hook: of the Sioux’s scars from his own hardships. The Sioux even goes on to say that he got his wound from the same sort of thing that the narrator experience, only his burden was now physical. But what is the most significant part of this portion of the poem, I would argue at least, is the in the action that the Sioux makes. He slashes the wind. The wind: that which has been plaguing him! Having born his scars for a long time, the Sioux’s action shows that he has figured out how to conquer his struggles; conquer his own “wind.” I love these lines, “He raised up his hook into the terrible starlight and slashed the wind.” So powerful. So rejuvenating. Is this not what Wright was speaking about when he wrote about “singing?” The Sioux has discover his song and, for it, he is singing it to another. The narrator’s response is so genuine that it is hardly forgettable.

The Sioux offers the bus fare, again:

Here, you take this.

Did you ever feel a man hold

Sixty-five cents

In a hook,

And place it

Gently

In your freezing hand?

I took it.

It wasn’t the money I needed.

But I took it.

The narrator is astonished by the selfless and confident nature of the Sioux. The poem makes it out to be as if he is left completely without words. In the second to last line it becomes clear that it wasn’t the money that was needed to board the bus to freedom; but rather, it was an acquisition of enlightenment. The narrator needed to open up himself to the truth that healing can be found, and that, in this case, its price was the act of surrendering to someone who could show him the way: a savior. Just from a few words and a small depiction of his personal nature, the Sioux was able to instill hope and courage inside the wind stricken young man; to be the first one to help take off the harness that was binding the narrator’s wings. This is a great example of the power of fruitful community, but I would also argue that this is a great example of what it looks like to be a true savior.

In many ways, the Sioux makes for a perfect parallel of Christ. The Sioux, having conquered extreme hardships, has the heart to share that his desirable freedom with others. At his own expense, he worked to bring others into the light that he was standing in. Knowing and understanding the emphasis of Christ’s similar role makes this poem far more personal than every other poem by Wright that I’ve read. Having experienced Christ’s love and sacrifice in my own life through a relationship with Him, I can understand the surreal response that the narrator must have been feeling after his interactions with the Sioux.

Now, I don’t want to take away to the value of community with normal people. Relationships with others can have all of the profound effects that I spoke about before. They are wonderful and life changing. However, Ricky, I think you’ll agree with me when I say that having a relationship with Christ is far more exhilarating than any traditional relationship. I love the way that Wright depicts this experience. Brokenness to redemption. It is the most wonderful thing that I have ever come across, and I highly doubt anything will ever again come close. The day that I surrendered myself to Christ, let Him take the harness that had been restraining my restless wings, was the best day of my life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now I’d like to take a moment to reflect on my experiences with Wright and this course in general. Having journeyed with me through it, and through so many other parts of life, I think that it is the only fair way to end this letter.

This course and the exploration of James Wright’s life have taught me more than I ever thought it could. I still remember walking in on the first day of class and feeling absurdly hesitant about what this semester would bring. Having only taken highly structured and uptight literature courses for years, this class, and the things that I’d be pursuing in it, scared me a bit. I was out of my comfort zone. But as I settled in, the initial fear dissipated. I began to realize that, although this poetry course seemed a world apart from all of the other English courses I’d experienced, that it has a remarkable beauty that none of the other courses I’d taken offered. It has shown me a free and wonderful side of literature that has been almost impossible to see in other settings. This course provided me with a place to be passionate; allowing me freedom to incorporate and discuss my personal values into discussion and analysis; something that seemed shunned in all of my other classroom environments.

Ricky, I know that you’re a much more free-spirited individual than I am. But I’d encourage you to always take steps out of your comfort zone from time to time; for if you do, you are bound to come across something beautiful. Sometimes greatness waits just beyond the mysterious door that we never choose to journey through. This course has certainly been a journey for me. Everything from discussing and analyzing poetry, to sharing my heart in a classroom setting, and, of course, to exploring just a few of the great depths of James Wright’s life has been monumental in my march through the literary world.

If there is anything in your life that you haven’t gotten around to, or anything that you have maybe been hesitant to explore, I’d encourage you to take this opportunity and give it a shot. You only live once, and this lifetime has more joys to be found than one man can ever experience.

At the same time, however, I’d remind you of one of my favorite Bible verses. “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life” (Proverbs 4:23). The reason I bring this up, is because I don’t want you to take my challenge too far. Be bold, be risky (I bet you never thought you’d hear me say that), take great strides with your life, but never veer from the path that you know you are called to follow. As this verse reminds all who read it, never forget about your heart and what will cater to its well being.

You are a true friend, and a true brother. Thank you for journeying with me as I’ve journeyed through this ominous literary forest of new beginnings. Thank you for being a great friend for me since day one. Thank you for just being you!

I treasure you dearly.

Forever your brother,

Mi

Special Delivery (72)

Filed under: Letters — Theresa Williams @ 12:50 am
Tags: , ,

Mike Judge writes to his friend Ricky about James Wright’s poems.  Mike offers a very personal interpretation of Wright’s “First Days.”  –TW

 

Dear Ricky,

I’m very excited to write to you today! On this special occasion, I’m going to be discussing in detail one of James Wright’s poems that I very briefly mentioned to you in my last letter. I have come to realize that the poem, First Days, really holds a lot of value to me. Perhaps, after I have shared my thoughts, then you will understand the reason behind the depths of my infatuation.

One of the greatest reasons as to why I treasure this poem as much as I do is because I can see a lot of connections between this poem and the fall of man from the Bible (the actions that took place in the Garden of Eden). Even if one were to look at the poem’s title alone, they would discover the theme of the creation the world. “The First Days” is an easy parallel to the beginning of mankind.

Within this poem, the narrator plays the voice of God and the bee is the representative of humanity. As I know that you are well read on this topic, perhaps you can look out for them as well.

The First Days

The first thing I saw in the morning

Was a huge golden bee ploughing

His burly right shoulder into the belly

Of a sleek yellow pear

Low on a bough.

Before he could find that sudden black honey

That squirms in there

Inside the seed…

Already, in this poem, we can see this idea that it is the beginning of time being played out. This is exhibited through the first line of the poem, “The first thing I saw in the morning” (keep in mind that this is God speaking so that the poem makes sense). Then, God goes on to explain that he had found a “golden bee ploughing” into the center of a pear in pursuit of the “black honey that squirms around in there.” As I’ve emphasized, Wright is careful illustrate the current state of the bee: “golden” and pure. The bee is not yet tainted, but it is growing awfully close. Once it has reached the “black honey” that he is after, he will be truly golden no more. It is interesting to note the commonalities in the object of fruit being that which led to both the fall of man and to the fall of the bee; for, in the next line, the bee will quite literally plummet.

…the tree could not bear any more.

The pear fell to the ground,

With the bee still half alive

Inside its body.

The bee has fallen. His pursuit of “black honey” has led it to a broken state, as noted in the line, “The pear fell to the ground, / With the bee still half alive / inside its body.” This is exactly like man’s fall. Before Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, they were fully alive in their same exact bodies. However, once they had sinned they were left fractured, without the direct community with God that they had previously had. Sin entered the world, although their physical bodies stayed the same.

Wright goes on to explain God’s grace in the next portion of the poem. He writes:

He would have died if I hadn’t knelt down

And sliced the pear gently

A little more open.

As we can see, both the narrator and God are gracious enough to give the fallen creatures another chance. Both the bee and mankind did not deserve a second chance; each of them selfishly pursued their own desires rather than their superiors. Even so, the fallen still receive the gift of another chance to live. How wonderful it is to have been given such an opportunity!

The poem continues with:

The bee shuddered, and returned.

Maybe I should have left him alone there,

Drowning in his own delight.

Here we see the bee’s response. It acknowledges its mistake and returns to its everyday life as a changed be. This passage also comments on an alternative path that the narrator or God could have taken. He could have left us there alone to die; trapped in the prisons that we placed ourselves in. Like before, this exhibits God’s grace for us even through our errors. Without God coming along and freeing us we would still be as the bee, “drowning in” our “own delight:” each of the selfish things that we humans get involved in.

Wright tastefully concluded his poem with a reflection on the poem’s title and a thought on the bee’s future.

The best days are the first

To flee, sang the lovely

Musician born in this town

So like my own.

I let the bee go

Among the gasworks at the edge of Mantua.

Again, “The best days are the first to flee,” is an unfortunate truth that Wright comments on. We then see him transition into the bee’s future. The bee, a fallen creature, is left to live amongst the obstacle-natured “gasworks.” Similarly, we, broken humans, are left to live within a “half alive” world. These gasworks are Wrights choice way of explaining the struggle that both the bee and humanity must face since each of their respective falls.

I have a question for you to ask yourself. What would have happened if the bee had chosen to return to his fruit instead? Or, what would have happened if the bee would have resisted the narrator in the first place? What would its life be like now? These are questions that are helpful to think about, and questions that I want to discuss with you in my next letter that will be arriving sometime in the near future.

I wish you well, Ricky. I hope that your studies keep on going well, and that your time spent reading this letter was enjoyable.

Take care, my friend!

Sincerely,

Mike

September 5, 2010

Special Delivery (63)

Filed under: Letters — Theresa Williams @ 12:50 am
Tags: ,

In this letter, Mike Judge works out a very personal interpretation of one of James Wright’s poems.  Mike’s excitement invites us to a close reading of the poem and reminds of how deeply pleasurable reading poetry can be:

First Days, really holds a lot of value to me. Perhaps, after I have shared my thoughts, then you will understand the reason behind the depths of my infatuation.

Dear Ricky,

I’m very excited to write to you today! On this special occasion, I’m going to be discussing in detail one of James Wright’s poems that I very briefly mentioned to you in my last letter. I have come to realize that the poem, First Days, really holds a lot of value to me. Perhaps, after I have shared my thoughts, then you will understand the reason behind the depths of my infatuation.

One of the greatest reasons as to why I treasure this poem as much as I do is because I can see a lot of connections between this poem and the fall of man from the Bible (the actions that took place in the Garden of Eden). Even if one were to look at the poem’s title alone, they would discover the theme of the creation the world. “The First Days” is an easy parallel to the beginning of mankind.

Within this poem, the narrator plays the voice of God and the bee is the representative of humanity. As I know that you are well read on this topic, perhaps you can look out for them as well.

The First Days

The first thing I saw in the morning

Was a huge golden bee ploughing

His burly right shoulder into the belly

Of a sleek yellow pear

Low on a bough.

Before he could find that sudden black honey

That squirms in there

Inside the seed…

Already, in this poem, we can see this idea that it is the beginning of time being played out. This is exhibited through the first line of the poem, “The first thing I saw in the morning” (keep in mind that this is God speaking so that the poem makes sense). Then, God goes on to explain that he had found a “golden bee ploughing” into the center of a pear in pursuit of the “black honey that squirms around in there.” As I’ve emphasized, Wright is careful illustrate the current state of the bee: “golden” and pure. The bee is not yet tainted, but it is growing awfully close. Once it has reached the “black honey” that he is after, he will be truly golden no more. It is interesting to note the commonalities in the object of fruit being that which led to both the fall of man and to the fall of the bee; for, in the next line, the bee will quite literally plummet.

…the tree could not bear any more.

The pear fell to the ground,

With the bee still half alive

Inside its body.

The bee has fallen. His pursuit of “black honey” has led it to a broken state, as noted in the line, “The pear fell to the ground, / With the bee still half alive / inside its body.” This is exactly like man’s fall. Before Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, they were fully alive in their same exact bodies. However, once they had sinned they were left fractured, without the direct community with God that they had previously had. Sin entered the world, although their physical bodies stayed the same.

Wright goes on to explain God’s grace in the next portion of the poem. He writes:

He would have died if I hadn’t knelt down

And sliced the pear gently

A little more open.

As we can see, both the narrator and God are gracious enough to give the fallen creatures another chance. Both the bee and mankind did not deserve a second chance; each of them selfishly pursued their own desires rather than their superiors. Even so, the fallen still receive the gift of another chance to live. How wonderful it is to have been given such an opportunity!

The poem continues with:

The bee shuddered, and returned.

Maybe I should have left him alone there,

Drowning in his own delight.

Here we see the bee’s response. It acknowledges its mistake and returns to its everyday life as a changed bee. This passage also comments on an alternative path that the narrator or God could have taken. He could have left us there alone to die; trapped in the prisons that we placed ourselves in. Like before, this exhibits God’s grace for us even through our errors. Without God coming along and freeing us we would still be as the bee, “drowning in” our “own delight:” each of the selfish things that we humans get involved in.

Wright tastefully concluded his poem with a reflection on the poem’s title and a thought on the bee’s future.

The best days are the first

To flee, sang the lovely

Musician born in this town

So like my own.

I let the bee go

Among the gasworks at the edge of Mantua.

Again, “The best days are the first to flee,” is an unfortunate truth that Wright comments on. We then see him transition into the bee’s future. The bee, a fallen creature, is left to live amongst the obstacle-natured “gasworks.” Similarly, we, broken humans, are left to live within a “half alive” world. These gasworks are Wrights choice way of explaining the struggle that both the bee and humanity must face since each of their respective falls.

I have a question for you to ask yourself. What would have happened if the bee had chosen to return to his fruit instead? Or, what would have happened if the bee would have resisted the narrator in the first place? What would its life be like now? These are questions that are helpful to think about, and questions that I want to discuss with you in my next letter that will be arriving sometime in the near future.

I wish you well, Ricky. I hope that your studies keep on going well, and that your time spent reading this letter was enjoyable.

Take care, my friend!

Sincerely,

Mike

Special Delivery (62)

Filed under: Letters — Theresa Williams @ 12:45 am
Tags: , ,

Mike Judge writes to Ricky of James Wright and the deep image poem.  His excitement about learning to enter poetry is very evident in this letter:

This line makes me envision a community of people searching for someone or something that is lost. Such imagery rekindles a sense of yearning and anxiousness inside of me.

Dear Ricky,

The time has come, once again, for me to write to you further on the highly interesting James Wright. I truly hope that you have been enjoying the letters that I’ve sent to you thus far. As you know, literature is one of my greatest passions and this is such an enjoyable way to discuss it!

Today, I want to write to you about James Wright’s poetry. Before this class, I had not read very much poetry at all; and even having read the few poems that we have been able to analyze and discuss in class, I can promise you that I have come to regret my previous inexperience with this wonderful style of art. I have learned that good poetry holds much more that pretty words and artistic meter; it takes wonderful ideas and emotions and weaves them together into a great tapestry of mind-rattling depth. Throughout this course alone I have found a number of such tapestries, and the author of many of them is James Wright.

Later on in his career, James Wright began to write deep image poetry. In this style the writer tries to communicate his or her meanings or messages through images rather than abstract phrasing. When done successfully, the images evoke strong emotions that the reader may have associated to the images or even new ones that the reader hasn’t experienced before. To be honest, at first I wasn’t too fond of this approach of poetry. But, like coffee, it has grown quite a bit on me. My favorite example of this is in Wright’s poem, Hook. However, I don’t want to give too much away, as I will be writing you a separate letter on that poem specifically in the near future. So instead, I’ll explain this to you through another one of Wright’s poems, Rain.

Rain is a dark poem about misfortune. It is a wonderful example of deep image poetry because throughout the entire poem, there is only one line of that does not solely serve as an image (but even that line does if you choose to look at it in a certain perspective). Here it is:

Rain

It is the sinking of things.

Flashlights drift over dark trees,

Girls kneel,

An owl’s eyelids fall.

The sad bones of my hands descend into a valley

Of strange rocks.

I like to view each line as its own scene in a movie. Every time that I progress to the line below, I see a very new and distinctive shot filled with emotion. The first line sets the stage for the rest of the poem. Rather than saying, “It is misfortune,” Wright carefully chooses to say “It is the sinking of things.” Instead of just acknowledging a fall through normal words, Wright empowers readers to be able picture someone or something sinking that they have a personal connection with. This personalization is what makes deep image poetry so moving: it brings past experiences to the forefront of one’s mind.

From there, Wright continues with his image driven lines. He first writes, “Flashlights drift over dark trees.” This line makes me envision a community of people searching for someone or something that is lost. Such imagery rekindles a sense of yearning and anxiousness inside of me. It makes me think about moments that I’ve lost things and had to search through figuratively dark places to find them. What a powerful tool, this deep image poetry is! The rest of the poem follows suit, I just wanted to include an example so that you can understand how profound it really is. Perhaps you can try reading the poem again and reflecting on the emotions and associations that you may have with each of the lines. I think you would find it valuable and potentially enlightening.

Wright wrote on many other topics, as well. One of his more re-occurring topics is that of hardship. Like in the poem Rain, James Wright regularly writes to explain various forms of troubles that people face. Wright is certainly qualified to do this, as he had a rough upbringing and was an alcoholic for a decent amount of his life. One of my favorite illustrations of hardship that Wright presents to his readers is in his poem, The First Days.

This poem discusses an individual who stumbles across a “…huge golden bee ploughing / His burly right shoulder into the belly / Of a sleek yellow pear / Low on a bough.” The individual watches as the bee writhes his way through the pear trying to find the “sudden black honey” that resides within the center of the fruit. With all of the force combined with the added weight of the bee, the pear crashes to ground. The bee almost dies because of his pursuit, but the observing individual cuts the pear open and lets the bee go free because it was almost dead and trapped inside of the fruit. After freeing the bee, the individual reflects, “Maybe I should have left him alone there, / Drowning in his own delight.” What a powerful line! How often do we pursue our very own forms of “black honey?” In other words, how often do we pursue things that ultimately bring us down, sometimes to the brink of destruction? All of the time. It is a curse; and worse, it is a curse that we bring upon ourselves.

I have come to realize that the poems that I have chosen to illustrate Wright are not of the most cheerful variety. However, their applicability to any person’s lives, as well as the fact that they are personally impacting drew me to them. I hope that you won’t assume that all of his poems are of his nature, for they certainly are not.

Sadly, I must cut my letter off here for now. I very much value you as a friend, and would encourage you to check out some more of his work. Should you desire to, I do have a small collection of some of his poetry that I could easily lend to you.

Take care, brother,

Mike

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Filed under: Letters — Theresa Williams @ 12:44 am
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In his second letter to his friend Ricky, Mike Judge writes  about James Wright’s letters.  Here, Mike explores Wright’s desire to be a “life giver” : 

With the goal of pulling from your own “song,” you can hit the highest marks in life. Not only that, but you can inspire others to do the same.

Dear Ricky,

I hope everything has been going well! It’s been some time since we last spoke! Life for me has been pretty well, although school and work are always heavy burdens to bear. I imagine you are as ready for the approaching Spring Break as I am. Anyways, the reason that I’m writing you, on this occasion, is to discuss with you some of James Wright’s letters. You see, there is a very interesting and enlightening story that I have pieced together throughout Wright’s letters which I would like to share with you. I’ve done my best to give you a brief overview of the relevant information that leads up to the point of my letter. It may not make complete sense until the end, but I would encourage you to stick with me until we arrive at that place of revelation.

Throughout James Wright’s lifetime, he wrote countless letters to his friends, family, and acquaintances. These letters serve as a window into the man’s rather intriguing life. Wright loved to write. He did it every day, and it was easily one of his favorite activities. With such compassion for his work, he eventually published a number of poetry books. After the publishing of one such book, Wright received a rather unfavorable review from a literary critic, James Dickey. In response to his bad review, Wright wrote a very angry letter to Dickey. One especially notable excerpt from this letter is when Wright is criticizing Dickeys approach to his review. Wright writes:

Sometimes a man tries to write poems and fails. I think the critic has fulfilled his responsibility when he says so and explains what he means. Sometimes good critics explain the standard by which they judge (I said explain, not merely state), and sometimes they go so far as to admit that there may possibly be, somewhere in the universe and in human history, standards different from their own. But if the versifier (like myself, as you well know) fails to achieve a poem, I don’t see why the critic has to kick him in the balls.

As you can see, James Wright is furious about this review. It has struck a chord so deep inside of him that he is riled with anger. But we don’t get to understand this anger until Wright’s next letter to Dickey.

Once Dickey has received this hateful letter, he responds with a justly angry letter of his own. This letter basically calls Wright out on all of his shortcomings to the point where Wright begins to actually consider the fact that he is not a good writer. In fact he even admits it to Dickey. He confesses, “You (Dickey-in his review) simply said that I was not a poet. This remark of yours only confirmed what-obviously enough-is a central fear of mine, and which I have been deeply struggling to face for some time.” This is where Wright admits his shortcomings and explains the furious tone in his previous letter, but he then goes on to explain this struggle’s history. Wright reflects that, as soon as his book was published, he “looked into it and knew at once that it contained merely competence, and that competence alone is death.” Wow, what profound words! Such an expression implies that Wright’s standards were well below the level of excellence because he was ok with taking the easy way out and not shooting for the winning mark, just the passing one. Now we can see that Wright was not quite the literary master that he had made himself out to be at that time of his life. He had been enslaved to mediocrity, with “competence” as his goal.

In a separate letter to Wright’s friend, Donald Hall, Wright reflects on his experience with Dickey’s response letter by saying, “I read his letter, and realized finally that my own message had been written to myself, to that part of myself which had betrayed poetry by complacency.” This is Wright’s way of saying that he had disgraced the world of poetry by contributing with uninspired work that was just good enough to scrape by. At this point in his life, Wright cared more about pleasing the literary field with passable work, than with creating masterpieces bred from deep within his soul. His work was shallow, and it was fueled on fumes rather than raw energy.

But things changed. Wright discovered a truth that set him free from the bondage of mediocrity. This is what I want you to see, Ricky. It’s a beautiful truth that has power to inspire and challenge a man to reach above the level of competence.

Much later in Wright’s lifetime and career, he wrote a letter in response to an educator name Laurence Green who had asked him, “What inspires you to write poetry?” Wright gave a truly amazing response. Not only is it amazing, but it is also quite different from the response that he would have given before Dickey’s original book review. Wright responds by explaining that deep inside of every individual, there is a deep and profound “song” that represents each person’s individual spirit and inspiration. Here is the core of his response, “Everybody surely hears some kind of song inside of himself. How amazing if he could only be brave enough to sing it out loud. If he does, often he gets back from other people something like an echo-an echo changed and transfigured by the secret songs of the very people who have heard him sing in the first place.” What Wright poses here is that true work and true life are fueled by the heart and soul of an individual. Through his early years, James Wright was fueled by the goal of achieving competence. He was pulling from an alternate source that, while it was easy to tap into, ultimately yielded “death.”

I would propose to you that James Wright’s great success that occurred later in life came from this revelation. With the goal of pulling from your own “song,” you can hit the highest marks in life. Not only that, but you can inspire others to do the same. In Wright’s words, “If he does, often he gets back from other people something like an echo…changed and transfigured by the secret songs of the very people who have heard him sing…” Ricky, this is what being a ‘life-giver’ is all about. When we don’t hold back and distort our own songs, our songs resonate and inspire others to sing as well. We should use our deepest passions and our greatest inspirations to fuel our pursuit for God and life. It’s so easy to get caught up onto the easy path as Wright did early on in his life, but I believe that it is possible to hold true to the songs buried inside each of our souls. Every time we deny competence, we grow stronger as men and become more capable of reaching our greatest dreams.

Well that’s all that I had to share with you this time. I hope that you have enjoyed these snapshots of James Wright’s life as much as I have. Take care, my brother. Sincerely,

Mike

April 4, 2010

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Filed under: Letters — Theresa Williams @ 12:01 am
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In his first letter about James Wright to his friend, Ricky, Mike Judge  addresses James Wright’s “strong and unyielding passion for writing and reading literature.”  Mike also writes of Wright,  “It becomes very clear in his work that it was his fuel. It was what got him through wonderful days, and even through days of great trial.”   –TW

January 25, 2010

Dear Ricky,

 Hello again, brother! I’m so excited to be sharing my thoughts with you on this fine day. Today marks the embarking of a personal exploration of an old, yet new, form of communication. Yes, this is the first time that I have ever written a personal letter to anyone aside from a thank you note, and I’m glad that you get to be my recipient. As I explained to you briefly in person, throughout this semester I will be getting to write a series of letters in response to a remarkable man by the name of James Wright. In future letters I will be reflecting on his highly artistic letters and poems. However, today I simply wish to discuss his life with you. Through reading some of his work, as well as the foreword and preface of his combinative book of his personal letters to friends and acquaintances, A Wild Perfection, and engaging in class discussion, I have acquired a medley of intriguing information on the man and the path of life that he chose to follow. He has proven to be an abstract and rare breed of man, but it is for these qualities that he steals so much admiration from my heart.

 Without a doubt, what strikes me most about James Wright is that he had such a strong and unyielding passion for writing and reading literature. It becomes very clear in his work that it was his fuel. It was what got him through wonderful days, and even through days of great trial. Included in A Wild Perfection is a letter that James wrote to his mother as a teenager in the military. From it, the reader can see hints of Wright’s love for letters even as a youth. He writes, “My mail is beginning to seep through a little, but I could use more. You must understand how much even one flimsy letter means…” Here, Wright writes that even though he is getting a steady stream of letters, his hunger for them is not satisfied. As I said before, letters (along with literature in general) are his fuel. In a large number of his early letters he urges his friends and family to write more regularly. Letters are what got him through the days. They were his connections to the outside world, and a place for him to lay out his constant flow of philosophical ideas. Literature was easily one of the greatest treasures of his life, and what a beautiful treasure it is to have. 

 I truly respect Wright’s passion for giving back to others as well. His wife, Anne, talks about how he would, for hours at a time, give feedback to all sorts of aspiring poets regarding their poems in progress. As an acclaimed poet, it would be easy for Wright to neglect his fans in this manner. Sure, reading fan mail isn’t too bad, but spending the countless hours that it would take to respond to all of his fans’ poems that they wanted to be proofread is a much larger task. Such selflessness is to be admired of a man. As you are well aware, Ricky, it is one of my greatest ambitions to live a life of serving those around me. I want to be a man who works to constructively build up others even at my own expense. I love service and would never choose a life without it. This is why Wright strikes an even deeper chord in my heart: he seems to be a man of great character.

 From what little I’ve read of his work thus far, I can already identify another key piece of his character. His philosophical and deep thinking mind was constantly musing over different aspects and realities of life. Thus, I see now that Wright was a man of great depth. Even if the topic of his writing was dark, he would write his art anyways; never overly offensive, yet never censoring his topic to the point where it no longer held its same meaning. He was real and he was deep. This approach is one that I wish to apply to my future work as well. I feel that in order to both impact and transform the world in a way that I wish to requires such authenticity and truth that no man can earnestly deny it. I wish to strike deep chords in the hearts of men and have them connect with the realities that I present to them. It is my goal to be honest and real in the books that I have planned, sermons I wish to give, and in the biblical studies that I actively develop.

 Learning about this man’s life has truly given me some inspiration for my own writing career. In Saundra Rose Maley’s (scholar) introduction to the book, she wrote one simple line that struck out to me significantly. In regards to Wright, she says, “He read widely and wrote daily, mostly sonnets, while enduring the rigors of army life.” For me personally, I read very regularly in a large gamut of topics (“read widely”). However, I seldom get to write for pleasure because of the way my life is currently set up. Almost all of my time each day is committed to school, work, or ministry responsibilities. Reading this single line sets my brain into a cyclone of thoughts about how my life might be if I, like Wright, made great efforts to write for pleasure on a daily basis. How would I evolve as an author? What could I accomplish then? My heart races. I wish to find out, to receive the treasure that is hidden behind this wall.

 It is interesting to see how simply reading about another man’s life can trigger such thoughts about one’s own life. I suppose analyzing and thinking about the things that Wright lived for makes me think about the things that I live for; and similarly, reflecting on the principles that Wright made most president in his life causes me to think of the values that I hold dearest. I would be happy to live a life where I would write every day; and I would be happy to live a life where I could help and serve other people and, most importantly, the God whom we both serve. I don’t know for certain if we’ve yet spoken of this, but reading of Wright’s life ambitions certainly causes me to think of my own. For years I have known that I’ve wanted to use writing to communicate Truth to the world, but I haven’t always known what writing conduit I would use. Frankly, this is because there is no one conduit that I plan on using. Why should a man who carries such a passionate heart for writing confine himself in one spectrum of it? There is no reason to. Rather, I plan on exploring in each one of the varied forms of writing that I hold dear and use them to accomplish both of my greatest ambitions. Hopefully the day is near for this adventure to unfold, for my heart is anxious to set off on its course.

 Ricky, I challenge you to think about the man who you are setting yourself up to grow into. What kind of man do you desire to be? Who, today, are you taking steps towards becoming? Simply exploring fragments of James Wright’s life has inspired me to ask myself these questions, and having just explored them to myself, I would also encourage you to do the same.

 Fare thee well, brother. As always, you are in my prayers.

 Your brother,

 Mike

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