Book Review / Bad Poet by Brian Alan Ellis

 

Book Review 

Bad Poet (2020)

by Brian Alan Ellis

Brian Alan Ellis is perhaps the most twenty-first century writer there is. The unquestioned master of microfiction has boiled contemporary living to its bare essentials: movies, bad food, irony and crippling loneliness. That’s why I’ve covered him so extensively in the past and continue to cover him today. His never-ending emotional collapse is interesting and oddly relatable. In Bad Poet, Ellis continues his downward slide with increasing clarity and purpose.

Bad Poet will feel familiar to those of you who read Brian Alan Ellis’ previous collection Road Warrior Hawk. It’s a collection of poems that dialogue with their own title. The poem providing pure emotion and the title enhancing the experience by giving ironic, distanced perspective. I don’t know any purer depiction of being inside a millenial’s brain. Raw emotion and cynicism are constantly battling for your attention, not allowing you to live whatever you need to live.

Street cred < Street dread

If a stranger ever approaches you

and says, “Hey, you look familiar,”

remind them of who you really are,

which is the kid who shit their pants

in elementary school.

Easy.

The poem quoted above intends to make for of the overused expression street cred, which is thrown around today by people who aren’t from the street and who don’t have any credibility. Ellis makes a vibrant plea for transparency and self-acceptance with this poem. Sure, there’s irony to it. But the overarching idea of Street cred < Street dread is that you shouldn’t try to impress strangers. Instead, you should be using them to gain perspective and heal your trauma.

It’s brilliant in its own crass way.

There’s another great piece in Bad Poet about flipping over your mattress, a very matter-of-fact intergenerational advice that doesn’t make any sense if your sleeping problems are not physical. In this poem, Brian Alan Ellis really nails the anger of being supposed to find “happinesss” and “success” without even knowing what these things mean. We’re living in a world filled with solutions that completely ill-suited to our problems, like flipping a stupid fucking mattress.

Giving my inability to deal with anything a negative review on Yelp brb

Reminder:

My roommate’s half-eaten bowl

of Frosted Mini-Wheats

is definitely the saddest thing

I have ever found

inside a refrigerator.

Another thing I really like about Brian Alan Ellis’ writing that’s omnipresent in Bad Poet is the confrontation of pop culture. While others find it pleasant and comforting to watch wrestling or eat Domino’s, but looks at these for what they really are: temporary distractions from your problems, which give you pleasure in a physically unhealthy way. In Ellis’ case, every moment he chooses to spend with pop culture is actually enhancing his loneliness and heartbreak.

The well-cultivated, intoxicating mix of cynicism and self-awareness are really what Brian Alan Ellis’ does better than everybody else. But he does it in a format that is both relatable (not longer than a Facebook status) and accessible. If he really invested his time into it, Ellis could easily be gutter version of Rupi Kaur on Instagram. His work has a good enough balance of humanity and self-loathing to travel beyond the pages of his books.

That said, you should totally read Bad Poet. It’s short, clever and low-key emotional. The kind of book you read in one feverish afternoon (who am I kidding? One feverish hour) near the pool, while slowly getting drunk on Palm Bays you’ve just bought at 7-11. It’s poetry for internet people. For people like you and I who have grown up with that digital wall between each other. I don’t know how else to say it. Even if you’re not into reading, you should like these.

DEAD END FOLLIES

1979 by Roddy Lumsden

 

1979

BY RODDY LUMSDEN

They arrived at the desk of the Hotel Duncan

and Smithed in, twitchy as flea-drummed squirrels.

Her coat was squared and cream, his patent shoes

were little boats you wouldn’t put to sea in.

People, not meaning to, write themselves in

to the soap that your life is, rise or fall in the plot.

Seems that they were fleeing from the 1980s

much as a hummingbird flies from a flower’s bell.

These were the times when wine was still a treat

and not yet considered a common bodily fluid.

You will have heard that the mind works much

as an oval of soap turned between two hands.

She went round the room seeking lights

that could be off without desire becoming love.

He spread his arms behind his head, a gesture

of libido she misread as test of temperature.

Every carpet has its weave and underlay, seen

only by the maker, the deliverer and the layer.

The year was a dog but the day was as good as

a song that ends with a wedding, meat on the rib.

Evening was folding over the grid, slick walkers

with armfuls of books splendored in dusk’s ask.

The song of the pipes was eerie as a face pressed

to glass, as a basketball with a mouth and teeth.

They lay in the glow of the times and talked of

how people form a queue to exact or escape love.

Each sigh has a sequel, she thought, then he did,

then the whole hotel pulsed through that thought.

Scandal has an inroad, but you must tunnel out;

she rose and stood up counting, all hair and beauty.

Though we do not hear them, beneath our own,

our shadows’ footsteps clatter, they match our dread.

Two Poems From Ukraine

Sandro Botticelli, La mappa dell’Inferno, ca. 1480–90, Vatican Library / Wikimedia

Two Poems from Ukraine

by Olga Bragina
/ Translated by Olga Zilberboug

[Midway upon the journey]

midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within an endless war
well it’s not exactly endless one day it will end even the Hundred Years’ War ended
“achievement unlocked”
Dante placed all of his enemies in the different circles of hell he’d read the footnotes about these enemies but didn’t know the context of the book’s translation and publication
“achievement unlocked: in the context of war”
now everyone is saying that they knew it would come to war well I didn’t know anything like that 
if you ask me if anything in life brought me pleasure, it was reading books
had they taken the books from me, I’d feel at war; in my Babushka’s village books were delivered twice a week
romance novels from the 18th century and mysteries well what else could the villagers really need what else
“achievement unlocked”
when I arrive in Europe people there don’t understand what bombing is well what is bombing why should they want to hear about it
and I say no I don’t want them to understand it
I don’t want to blame them for sitting peacefully in cafés
and not knowing where the nearest bomb shelter in their neighborhood is
I know far too much about the bomb shelters of our country

* “Midway upon the journey of our life” is the first line of Longfellow’s translation of Dante’s Inferno. 

 

[My country is at war]

my country is at war and I want a farmer cheese and vanilla bun
to travel to Europe and to not see the sign “You’re Safe Here”
so that it’d be safe everywhere and not only behind the invisible front line
over on this side a missile might land but further on there are no air-raid sirens
the tastiest farmer cheese and vanilla bun is in Prague
we come to the cemetery where Kafka is buried
together with his parents because his sister died at a concentration camp lanterns flowers nearby
nameplates on the wall commemorate people whose names mean nothing to us but who also 
ended up in concentration camps no safety anywhere near the tastiest vanilla bun
if someone doesn’t like your last name or language you become a nameplate on this wall
displayed in this movie set of a city full of expensive hotels and tourists
I look at the beggars asking for alms on the central streets
hunched over on their knees awkwardly amidst all the riches I’d find this so galling
even if we never had this war

 

Translator’s Note

by Olga Zilberbourg

Olga Bragina wrote these poems about a year after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine began. In February 2022 she was living in Kyiv with her parents and decided to leave a few weeks later. She and her mother spent several months as refugees in eastern Europe before returning to Kyiv. A prolific writer of poetry and prose, Olga responded to the war by keeping what I would describe as a poetic diary on Facebook, posting new pieces multiple times a week. 

I’d fallen in love with Olga’s work several years prior to this period, attracted by her mix of personal candor, literary erudition, and a certain intentional naïveté. Together, these qualities create an approachable lyrical style that seems to address the reader as though they were her personal friend. Her parents often play a significant role in her poems, both in the plural first-person voice she often uses and in direct quotations. Though I’d never met Olga in person, I felt like I knew her and her family. This feeling increased when she began posting her wartime poetry. Her poems gave me the illusion of sharing her experiences.

Olga Bragina is a poet, novelist, essayist, and translator. She was born in Kyiv in 1982 and graduated from the Kyiv National Linguistic University with a degree in translation. She has published five collections of poetry, a book of short stories, and a novel. Her poetry has been translated into twenty-two languages. She lives in Kyiv and is currently working on translating Czesław Miłosz and Wisława Szymborska into Ukrainian.

Olga Zilberbourg is the author of Like Water and Other Stories, which explores “bicultural identity hilariously, poignantly,” according to the Moscow Times. She serves as a co-moderator of the San Francisco Writers Workshop and co-edits Punctured Lines, a blog on the literatures of the former USSR and diaspora.

WORLD LITERATURE TODAY

David Hockney’s Two Boys Aged 23 or 24 / Sensuality and history COPIAR TAMBIÉN EN DRAGON

 

David Hockney’s Two Boys Aged 23 or 24. Photograph: © David Hockney

David Hockney’s Two Boys Aged 23 or 24: sensuality and history

The cultural icon captures close intimacy between his friends to illustrate CP Cavafy’s poem

Skye Sherwin

Friday 12 July 2019

Pillow talk …

With its lovers’ just-touching bodies, marked out in simple, delicate lines above the soft, rumpled sheets, David Hockney’s 1966 etching conjures a luminous scene of post-coital bliss.

The new classics …

It is part of a series: Illustrations for Fourteen Poems from CP Cavafy. Hockney often turned to art-historical or literary sources. The early 20th-century Greek poet’s writing gave gay love in the ancient world a contemporary immediacy.

Right here, right now …

Hockney’s print matches the poetry’s thrill, mixing sensuality, history and “the now”. It feels very modern with its stripped-down technique; more so with its intimate subject matter.

City limits …

The artist had travelled to Cavafy’s home city, Alexandria, in 1963. It was in Beirut in 1966, though, where he found the cosmopolitan energy the poet channelled.

Friends and lovers …

While imbued with the poetry’s mood, what Hockney depicts is his own milieu. The two men are his friends, artists Mo McDermott and Dale Chisman.

THE GUARDIAN

Matsuo Bashō / An Artist Who Summarized the Beauty of Japan in Haiku While on a Life-Risking Journey

 

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1644〜1694  

松尾 芭蕉　Matsuo Bashō

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An Artist Who Summarized the Beauty of Japan in Haiku While on a Life-Risking Journey

9 August 2023

Do you know someone who is famous for haiku?  In Japan, there are several people that are famous for their haiku.  Among them, Matsuo Basho, who was active in the Edo period (1603-1867), is known worldwide for developing haikai, the original form of haiku.  

In this article, we will introduce who Matsuo Basho was and what his masterpiece “Oku no Hosomichi” (The Narrow Road to the Interior) is all about. 

The Life of Matsuo Basho 

Matsuo Basho was a man of the early Edo period who perfected the art of haikai, from which haiku is derived.  His name “Basho” was his haiku pen name he made around 1680, and his real name was Munefusa Matsuo.  

He was born in 1644 into a farming family in Iga Province (present-day Mie Prefecture).  His father, Matsuo Yozaemon, was reportedly a prominent figure in the area.  However, his father died when he was 13 years old, and since he had many siblings, it must have been quite difficult.  

In 1662, at the age of 18, he began to serve Yoshitada Todo, a member of the Todo family that ruled Iga Province, and aspired to find employment.  In his late teens, he began to study haikai with Yoshitada under Kigin Kitamura, a haiku poet who was famous at the time.  

In 1666, at the age of 22, he left the Todo family when his lord Yoshitada died.  Due to losing all of his opportunities to be employed, he decided to pursue the path of haiku in earnest.  In 1674, at the age of 30, he was recognized by Kigin Kitamura for his haiku skills, and so he left his side to become independent.  Today, haiku has a traditional image, but at that time, it was still a new literary art form.  So he decided to live as an artist of a new genre.  

During his twenties, he was based in his hometown, and at the age of 32, he decided to move to Edo and set up his base of operations in the Nihonbashi area.  However, being famous in Edo was not so easy.  He could not make a living only by making haiku, and he also worked part-time as a civil engineer on the Kanda River.  He interacted with many haiku poets and published many works while teaching haiku to samurai and merchants in Edo.  He began to make a living by proofreading and editing the haiku they made.  

At the age of 37, Basho suddenly moved his base to Fukagawa.  While Nihonbashi was at the center of Edo, Fukagawa was on the east side of the Sumida River, an area that was originally the sea but was reclaimed and turned into residential land, so it was quite far from the center of Edo.  It was a frontier area with a lot of untouched nature that was not very accessible.  It seems that he moved there in search of a new place to free himself from the hassles of corrections and human relations to earn a living and create an environment where he could concentrate on his own creative activities.  

Incidentally, the name “Basho” also comes from the fact that when he set up his hermitage in Fukagawa, his disciple sent him a Basho plant, which he planted in his garden.  After this, he traveled all over Japan to write haiku and established Basho’s haiku style called “Shofu”, and became a highly accomplished artist.  

Then, at the age of 46, he embarked on the so-called “Oku no Hosomichi” journey.  This journey resulted in the composition of many of Basho’s masterpieces. He also succeeded in acquiring many disciples in the places he visited.  

And he died at the age of 51.  It is said that more than 300 of his disciples attended his funeral.  

Was He a Spy? 

A chronology of Matsuo Basho’s life reveals that he traveled much more than just the “Oku no Hosomichi”, and instead walked about 40 to 50 kilometers in a single day.  

This has led some to speculate that Matsuo Basho may have been a spy for the Edo Shogunate, keeping an eye on the feudal lords in various regions.  Since the journey along the “Oku no Hosomichi” was a strenuous one, covering 2,400 kilometers (miles) in approximately 150 days, there were assumptions made that Basho’s purpose in traveling was not simply to be an artist, but also to engage in covert activities.  

At that time, there were many customs checkpoints in various places, and yet Basho was able to come and go there smoothly and managed to finance his 150-day journey.  So we can think that there must have been some special exemption to solve the suspicion.  

There is a precedent of lawyers and other artists having been engaged in espionage activities while visiting various countries under the guise of creative activities even before the Edo period, so it is not unlikely that Basho may have been a spy as well.  Iga is also famous as a village of ninjas, but just because it is a place of secrecy does not mean that he was a ninja, as he was engaged in clandestine information-gathering activities.  And whatever the backstory, there is no doubt that “Oku no Hosomichi” is a masterpiece of travel writing in Japanese history.  

He was an avant-garde artist who constantly sought out new places and fresh scenery to create new expressions.  Among his haiku, the most famous one is known to be the haiku about frogs, “Furuike ya/ Kawazu tobikomu/ Mizu no oto” (The old pond. A frog leaps in. Sound of the water).  

The “Oku no Hosomichi” contains many of the haiku that Basho and his disciple, Sora Kawai, wrote during their travels throughout Japan.  The “Oku no Hosomichi” is Matsuo Basho’s masterpiece, but what exactly was it about?  The “Oku no Hosomichi” is a genre of travelogue that describes the actual itinerary of a journey.  It mainly travels from the Tohoku region to the Hokuriku region, including present-day Toyama and Ishikawa prefectures, and includes haiku written by Matsuo Basho at each location.  

About His Masterpiece: “Oku no Hosomichi”

The first part describes the background and motivation of why he decided to travel. In a nutshell, he says, “Travel is the best thing ever.”  

Basho’s trip to the “Oku no Hosomichi” was made in the year of the 500th anniversary of the death of the famous poet Saigyo.  So it is thought to be that it was a pilgrimage to a sacred place for him as well.  It is also said that the impressive opening sentences of the “Oku no Hosomichi” were influenced by a poem by a Chinese poet named Li Bai.  His pen name before he called himself Basho was “Momo Qing.”  The meaning of this name is “blue peach” which is a peach that is still immature, implying he is not up to Li Bai.  There is a respect that transcends time and borders.  

From the town of Edo where Basho lived, he had a clear view of Mt. Fuji. An ukiyoe series, called Fugaku Sanjūrokkei (Thirty-six Views of Mt. Fuji) by Katsushika Hokusai, is a collection of 36 iconic paintings of Mt. Fuji drawn from the Mannen Bridge at Fukagawa, which is just around where Basho lived.  These ukiyoe painted about 150 years after Basho’s trip depict how well you can see Mt. Fuji.  From Tokyo today, you cannot see Mt. Fuji unless you climb a tall building, perhaps when the weather is nice.  Basho wrote in his introductory paragraph that when he set out on his journey, he felt a bit anxious that he would not be able to see Mt. Fuji for a while.  

Basho spoke then that he did not know if he would make it back to Edo alive, for traveling in those days was risking his life.  It was in 1689, in the early Edo period when Matsuo Basho set out on his journey along the “Oku no Hosomichi.”  It was only in the late Edo period (1603-1867), when the peace of the country was firmly established, that ordinary people were able to make journeys such as the famous Tokaidochu Hizakurige（Foot Travelers along the Tokai-do Road) by Ikku JUPPENSHA.  

The route of the journey, the Oshu Kaido, was just being developed. At that time, there were very few inns for ordinary travelers, as the road was basically for samurai on their way to the capital.  In fact, if you read “Oku no Hosomichi”, you will find that he stayed not only in inns but also in private homes, temples, and mountain huts, and he also left a poem phrase “Nomi Shirami / Uma no Shito Suru / Makura Moto (Fleas, lice, a horse peeing near my pillow).”  It is quite harsh, isn’t it?  Of course, he had to carry all his own luggage and walk dozens of kilometers a day, so there were possibilities that he fell ill and died during the journey, and there was also the danger of being killed by bandits who were after the travelers.  

So, since he might not be able to come back, all of his close friends gathered together the night before and shared their farewells on the morning of his departure.  They saw him off until they could no longer see his back.  

When you know that the “Oku-no-Hosomichi” was a journey to prepare for death, the interpretation of the journey might change.  

JAPAN UP MAGAZINE

Issa Kobayashi / A Haiku Poet

 

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1763-1827

小林一茶

Issa Kobayashi

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A Haiku Poet with a Heart for the Everyday

A Difficult Childhood

Issa Kobayashi, born in 1763 in Shinano Province (now Nagano Prefecture), lived a life marked by hardship and resilience. His real name was Yataro, and he came from a farming family. Issa’s early years were challenging. His mother passed away when he was just three years old, and his father remarried when Issa was eight. Unfortunately, his relationship with his stepmother was strained. She favored her own children, leaving Issa to care for his younger half-siblings. When the baby cried, Issa would be scolded, making him feel isolated and unloved. At the age of 15, his father sent him to Edo (modern-day Tokyo) to work. Feeling abandoned, Issa despaired, believing that even his father had turned his back on him. However, his father’s decision stemmed from a desire to protect Issa from the toxic environment at home. This difficult upbringing shaped the emotional depth that would later become evident in Issa’s haiku poetry.