Ms. Rich passed away last week on March 27, 2012, at the age of 82 and tonight, when I perhaps should be working, I am feeling a lot of delayed mourning for her. (and also some anxiety since I can't find my tape of all of the "Dark Fields of the Republic" poems, read by her, and it doesn't seem to be on iTunes or available on CD yet, although many of the poems are on the Voice of the Poet collection that I do have).
First experience and reading: Stanford Medical School, "Dark Fields of the Republic" era:
I was first introduced to Adrienne Rich's poems while taking a class which focused mostly on poems written by women, taught by Monika Greenleaf, at Stanford.
One day someone burst into the class (at least that is my memory) and announced that Adrienne Rich was reading on campus - at the Medical Center! -- right now!
(Interestingly it appears she also did a similar reading at Medical Center in April 2001 but I clearly remember her doing this in 1995 as well.)
So most of us ran over to hear her, that day, and I was transfixed as I had never read her work really before, and heard it for the first time read by her in person.
Hard to describe the reaction, I was just in awe. A small, wise woman, reading her work, which at this reading was the pieces which focused on her time in hospitals (some of it). Her troubles with rheumatoid arthritis which contributed to her death eventually just now.
Hard to describe the reaction, I was just in awe. A small, wise woman, reading her work, which at this reading was the pieces which focused on her time in hospitals (some of it). Her troubles with rheumatoid arthritis which contributed to her death eventually just now.
I think the poem I remember most vividly was "Calle Visión": (which I am tempted to type out here) - but some individual lines:
-I love the whole opening part with"
"Not what you thought: just a turn-off
leading downhill not up"
...and then the whole rhythm of "under the blanket there are sheets...under the sheets there's a mattress...under the mattress there's a frame"
"The whole bed smells of soap and rust
the window smells of old tobacco dust and rain"
(internal rhythm of rust and dust...)
and she talked about how this is about being a patient in a hospital, at least I think she said that, about this part (and others, I'm avoiding quoting the entire poem here). Later on she also talks about x-rays, being asked "have you ever worked around metal..." etc.
I remember feeling the unique sense of place - here is a woman who has written poems that came, at least partially, inspired from her time in hospitals, and she goes directly to the hospital/medical school to read them.
I remember feeling the unique sense of place - here is a woman who has written poems that came, at least partially, inspired from her time in hospitals, and she goes directly to the hospital/medical school to read them.
"Calle Vision sand in your teethgranules of cartilage in your wristsCalle Vision firestorm behindshuttered eyelids fire in your footCalle Vision rocking the gatesof your locked bones"..."Lodged in the difficult hotelall help withhelda place not to live but to die innot an inn but a hospital"
Oh, I can't explain how it hit me so hard, I can just remember sitting there listening with my mouth open and being so amazed that I was in a place (stanford) where I could just stumble upon Adrienne Rich "randomly" reading her work!
Also, it's the impact of hearing the poem first instead of reading it. It hit me in different ways than if I was first reading the poems and just swooping through them quickly like I usually do when reading, especially when reading poetry.
Also, it's the impact of hearing the poem first instead of reading it. It hit me in different ways than if I was first reading the poems and just swooping through them quickly like I usually do when reading, especially when reading poetry.
This is one of the Great American Poets and she lives right near here (in Santa Cruz!) and maybe I can hear her more often! (which I subsequently tried to do). Ever since, I always think of her when driving over the hill to Santa Cruz...
I fell in love with that entire book that had just come out that year - 1995 - "Dark Fields of the Republic". I got the book and tape set and listened to the tape almost constantly at different times during the years. It was a favorite walking soundtrack (and basic soundtrack for life) for a long time, especially this poem, called "Inscriptions":
where I used lines from part 3 (Origins) for my Toastmasters Icebreaker speech:
"Turning points. We all like to hear about those. Pointson a graph.Sudden conversions. Historical swings. Some kind ofdramatic structure.But a life doesn't unfold that way it movesin loops by switchbacks loosely strungaround the swelling of one hillside toward anotherone island toward another"
I also loved to listen to Part Two of Inscriptions - "Movements" while walking, especially when this poem came up on the tape when I was literally walking across a street:
"Old backswitching road bent toward the ocean's lightTalking of angles of motion movements a black or a red tulipopeningTimes of walking across a street thinkingnot I have joined a movement but I am stepping in this deep current (loved it when this line came up when I was actually stepping out into the street from the curb)Part of my life washing behind me terror I couldn't swim withpart of my life waiting for me a part I had no words forI need to live each day through have them and know them allthough I can see from here where I'll be standing at the end"
and the part right after this, which I loved because of the reference to teachers and to a person finding their direction somehow. It was so hopeful to me.
When does a life bend toward freedom? grasp its direction?
How do you know you're not circling in pale dreams, nostalgia
stagnation
but entering that deep current malachite colorado (I love the way she said "colorado")
requiring all your strength, wherever found
your patience and your labor (also love the way she says "labor". Maybe I just love the accent there).
desire pitted against desire's inversion
all your mind's fortitude?
Maybe through a teacher: someone with facts with numbers
with poetry
who wrote on the board: IN EVERY GENERATION ACTION FREES
OUR DREAMS
(and I believe in these teachers who can inspire as they have made a difference to me)
Maybe a student: one mind unfolding like a redblack peony
quenched into percentile, dropout, stubbed-out bud (also love her enunciation in the reading of "stubbed-out bud" but so sad to think of the quenching - you can hear her sadness in the line and also anger)
--- Your journals Patricia: Douglas your poems but the repetitive blows
on spines whose hope you were, on yours
to see that quenching and decide.
I also love the poem "Sending Love":
I love all the different ways of sending love and all the varied names in the poem.
Basically, my copy of "Dark Fields of the Republic" is well loved. And also signed!
2ND EXPERIENCE AND READING:
I got to see her read again, I think while I was still at Stanford, when she read at Kresge (may have been part of the Lane Lecture series?).
Wait, this may have been as recent as 2001 - since she definitely appeared in the Lane Lecture series in 2001.
At some point, maybe at this reading, I had her sign my copy of "Dark Fields of the Republic".
I remember afterwards, hanging around outside the reading and watching her walk out with friends and walk up to a car or whatever was waiting to pick her up at Kresge. I remember how small and yet wise and powerful she seemed. Too shy to talk to her of course (and not wanting to bug her).
I wished at the time that I would get to hear her again (unsure of her health state).
At some point, maybe at this reading, I had her sign my copy of "Dark Fields of the Republic".
I remember afterwards, hanging around outside the reading and watching her walk out with friends and walk up to a car or whatever was waiting to pick her up at Kresge. I remember how small and yet wise and powerful she seemed. Too shy to talk to her of course (and not wanting to bug her).
I wished at the time that I would get to hear her again (unsure of her health state).
In 2001, Dave gave me a copy of her book Fox: Poems 1998-2000, for our first Christmas together.
3rd Reading
At some point after 2004, I bought her book "The School Among the Ruins: Poems 2000-2004" and must have gone to a reading and had her sign it. I think this was a Jewish Community Center reading in San Francisco that I went to, it may have been this 2006 Hannukah reading that was recently re-requoted here.
I'm not yet as emotionally connected to this book either, but I remember the reading itself being equally powerful. Again I was worried about her health, in 2006 she was 76.
Regarding "School Among the Ruins" - it has also a few interesting Bay Area references, such as this in "For June, in the Year 2001":
"Driving back from Berkeley
880's brute dystopia"
Perfect phrase to describe 880, a bleak road.
I believe at that time or later I bought
"Telephone Ringing in the Labyrinth: Poems 2004-2006" which again I am less emotionally attached to than to "Dark Fields" - maybe since Dark Fields has so much history of listening to it built up.
Also I have "The Voice of the Poet" book and CD set which I am very thankful for since it has a full collection of her most famous poems, read by her.
I also found a Garrison Keillor free video poetry podcast on iTunes which has her reading from "What Kind of Times Are These" which I also love (of course, from "Dark Fields of the Republic"!)
There is as well this treasure trove of Rich readings and writings, put together by U Penn apparently and is free for educational use.
Last week Dave emailed me that Adrienne Rich had died and I didn't really process it at the time because we were in the midst of a busy work week. I realized that I hadn't said or written anything about it just today (Monday April 2).
I am sad. And I realize when reading essays and memorials of Adrienne Rich, that my responses to her poems are quite personal to me -- I'm not necessarily responding to the same things that everyone else does, and that is ok.
I am thankful to have heard her read from her work in person at least 3 times, and that the world also has all these recordings of her own voice reading her work, which is invaluable.
