Aquatic metaphors
in today's poetry are often tiresome cliches spun
off by sentimental amateurs
seeking silly new age links to "spiritualize" their overwrought verse.
Bernstein's poetry maintains its appeal through
simple feminine observation.
Readers are not bludgeoned by superwoman fantasies or housefrau hardships.
None of that is news or new. 'Pull of the Tides" is refreshingly new, even
when it delves into social territory most American poets resign to foreign
literary voices.
"Children
is Cancelled" a poem about Bosnia and its suffering children restricted
from playing outside for fear of sniper-fire is a fine example of a poet
reaching beyond her familiar surroundings and waking up to the world spinning
around her:
"The cracked tree of life
Drops our cradles,
Strewing hope
Like broken toys
Where we mourn our mothers'
Lead-hot shame brimming
Their bitter cup
Of despair...
Who will scrawl our epitaph
In blood who will
Drink one droplet
Of our soul
Before night
Massacres
The sun."
"What the
Comet Does" is probably the first poem written about the Haley-Bopp
Comet that doesn't include a reference about those cult weirdos. It rightly
reminds us of the cosmic beauty and ancient origins of these fascinating
phenomena:
"A dream finds
stars of Babylon falling,
falling into fields of birds
singing black omens.
Cold fire draws
the curve of calculus,
the strands of myth and portent
across the eye of Horus...
And hurl their burden to the
ages.
Here demons
lie in wait
for patriarch and pharaoh
to challenge fate,..."
"Genesis"
is one of a number of outstanding poems in this collection that strive
to strike a bargain between clarity and brevity. As quoted below, Bernstein
comes into her own, a major leap ahead of her previous collection (Tsunami)
by removing wordy clutter and clinging to a poetic minimalism that lingers
in the reader's mind:
"In the beginning
darkness opened the eye of dawn
summoned life
from fire
Kindling the infant
bed of the sea
and winds of prophecy.
stirred the magna of souls.
Searing the tunnel
at the end of light
where desire begat flesh.
Now compassion becomes
too hard to bear and
like death
The watery eyes
of fishes never reveal
what they know."
"Pull of
the Tides" is another example of what American poets should be doing
with their talent other an shilling for tenure. I can identify at least
twenty poems in this collection that have more breadth and heart than most
of the drivel published in establishment poetry publications. I am overjoyed
for Ms. Bernstein's continued forays into poetic excellence. But I am also
deeply saddened that most poetry editors today expect verse structurely
sound and bright as a broken bulb.
The quality
of poetry must be measured by what demands it makes on a poet's soul. The
pull of the poetic tides can drag you under or carry you to shore. Stripped
naked of literary devices, a solid poem withstands the elements by force
of its spirit. If American poets are to find theirs, we must abandon history
and academia, and listen to the wind---and our weary hearts will bring
us home.