In summation

(Writers note: This voice of this post is my own and therefore completely ethnocentric, when I say we and us I am speaking, mostly, about white middle class males. I note this because I know that my readers will not all be from the same background and I want to acknowledge the historical differences of tack and tactics between them.) 

I really enjoyed Patricia Killalea's poem "Report: Police Shoot Baby Deer in Oakland for No Reason" for many reasons. She works the poem on so many levels. Like my previous work with Hershman R. Jon's poem "Storm Patterns" she does work with the structure and breath. What I would like to look at with this poem, that was much more difficult in the last was her use of imagery and characterization. There is strong imagery that comes through this poem that she uses this to characterize the predominant aspects, the deer and the urban environment, and in so doing creates dynamic imbalance throughout the poem. 

The imbalance that Killalea seeks to strike becomes apparent in the first stanza. The baby deer is confused, that much is apparent but the imagery reaches deeper. "These are not the soft steps my mother spoke from / when she suckled my rough tongue just after the first-breath, / the warm wobbly drink of this living so wild-fought for" (lines 3-5 part 1). Here she is setting up the basic imagery the the rest of the poem plays off of. This imbalance, this back and forth, that urban and nature constitute. We have the this newly birthed deer, frail, weak, completely out of place. The confusion is apparent from this first stanza. The fourth stanza of the first section reinforces this same message.

             and the storebought shrub could not shield

             my shadow-face; and deadened leaves,

             piled-dry, were hardly bed enough

             for my blood, for my soft, and my cry (lines 19-22 part 1) 

These lines are not only beautifully macabre  imagery they are establishing the characteristics that we, the reader, are meant to understand. The deer is our protagonist, it is young and contused, scared and lost. It is not in its element, the antagonist, it is in the urban landscape of Oakland. Forigen, forboding, and dangerous the city is a charade of nature, "Trashcans, alleyways, the backyards of men: / all of them were good for play, though did not speak / as oak or orchid, old hills my body knew" (lines 5-7 part 1) all the fake nature that humans create within the grids of concrete we frame ourselves with. The urban landscape reflects western opinion of nature in this country for over 200 years. This nature that we create is a lie, and any living thing from the reality of nature wont last long there. 

This goes back to that imbalance that Killalea is creating. Something is not right, something is wrong, something is rotten in the country of Denmark. The tension between these is meant to highlight this. The first section establishes the idea that the city is not a place for something, or someone by extension, that is of nature.

The imagery shifts into the second part. While the first part, the condemnation, is written in a more formal way, complete thoughts, more complete sentences, the second part begins to deviate. The structure breaks down, the images are sharper, less lush, but no less important. This is the redemption. 

"He is a man           running" (line 3 part 2) this is the apology. The imagery is broken by the flow of the words. We introduce a new protagonist, the man. He is strong, "He is not         crumpled...He is a man        running for the fawn."  He is good, he is doing something, something I myself would have not had a second thought about. This is Killalea's imagry coming into characterization. We want this man to succeed, we want him to honor the dear.  This is her attempt to redeem western society.   

                                                          Thank you

               Say                                     the fawn

                                                           Thank you

               Say                                      the man.  (lines 23-26 part 2)

Here the author is showing this apology and reverence that man gives, that the city lacks. He is giving his thanks and this sorrow for what has happened, and the dear is thankful for not having to die in vain. She is correcting the imbalance from the first section thought redemption.

The imagery of the last section is really the most beautiful. To excerpt from it would be a crime, because it is so good in itself, and to quote it here would be excessive. What Killalea has done is to take a series of events and create a larger story. Yes, this is about a baby deer that was killed in Oakland and the man that ran Bay to Breakers to honor it, but it can be taken as so much more. This is a conversation about what it means to respect nature. We have spent so much time as a country plowing our way thought nature that it is second nature to ignore it. Q:Why take note of an occurrence like this? A: Because dear are cute and we were all scared by Bambi as a child. That is it, if it were an armadillo or something that wasn't painfully adorable with a Disney franchise there would not be that many people that cared. We have created an imbalance that can not support true nature. Sure we have yards, but what is a stretch of Raleigh St. Augustine to something that has grown up in the wilderness? Killalea gives us a look into what it means to be aware and responsible for our actions against nature, even if we are not the ones making them ourselves.

Feeling a little Gay

When you read, or doing anything for that matter, you fall back on your own experiences as a frame of reference. While reading "A House Made of Dawn" I had noticed a few things that had piqued my interest. I didn't feel like bringing them up in class though because as a part of a minority you do not want to seem like the person that is harping on issues. When the issue of homosexuality came up in class, yet again, I failed to bring up my views on the matter. There was some observations that I had with my reading that I thought fell in line with the issue that was brought up durring class.
The first thing that jumped out at me was the sex scene between Abel and Angela. The scene is written in Momaday's usual descriptive manner. This makes the issue of the language regarding Abel even more interesting. The way the he views here is almost clinical. On page 57 his description is one that puts me in mind of the way that one would describe a horse rather than someone who you are about to inter into sexual contact with. This weird tension comes back with the sex scene between Abel and Milly. The part that jumped out at me was the questioning after the act. He asks her "Did you like it Milly? It was good again, wasn't it, Milly?" He has to ask, he has to be reassured of his sexual prowess. None of this is that unusual or weird for a heterosexual man.
The issues that really makes me question Abel is the interaction with the White Man. He kills him, in a rather brutal manner. There is a odd moment after Abel first attacks the albino where he reaches for him " Abel heard the strange excitement of the white man's breath, and the quick, uneven blowing in his ear, and felt the blue shivering lips upon him, felt even the scales of the lips and the hot slippery point of the tongue." What was the White Man trying to do? Seems pretty homoerotic, no?
I do not think that Abel is "gay". I do however think that there is some deep questions that he has to answer for himself. Maybe he is scared of his own sexuality. Maybe he is bisexual, maybe certain aspects the male physique are erotic for him. It does not really matter. What matters is that Abel is insecure, he is insecure and scared. So scared that he as to take extreme measures to distance himself from them, even going as far as killing a person. There are many aspects of himself that he does not understand. Instead of trying to answer some of these question for himself he turns that mystery into fear and self loathing, aiming the anger inwards in increasing self destructive behavior that reflects outwards onto the people that try and help him.

Feilds

I grew up at the top of the valley, where the Cascades break off into the Costal Ranges and the Sierra Nevadas. While these stunning mountains are part of the skyline of my memory the foothills that lead to them are my idea of home.
Something about the rolling hills that my hometown was nestled in always have always intrigued and fascinated me. They stretch out from me towards the mountains slowly building up on each other to the base of the dark peaks. They are full of mystery, hiding ghost towns and dry river beads. There is a stoicism there. This is the land as it was, as it has been, and as it continues to be. It is empty and vast only broken in its silent waves by tiny ribbons of concrete that meander thoughts its hills and valleys. Dry as a bone they flow like water, one building from the next waving away like the sea. Vast yet ending. They call to me. In my weakest time I retreat into them. Driving with no real direction, just towards a sense of isolation.
The colors rotate throughout the year, changing with the season. The rich emerald of spring burns quickly away, giving in to out predominate season, summer. The color matures, creamy gold dominates the landscape, folded upon itself in infinity, dotted with the dusty green of the creeks oasis. From far away the hills are as smooth as velvet. The drawn out heat of summer leads into the chill of fall, not much changes out in the hills. First rain. The brittle stalks of star thistle loose the last of their color and stand gray and lifeless among the stripped scrub oaks. The sense of death is short lived. In the dark of winter life starts again. Lime and verbena shades dust the hills. The green grows low to the ground, huddling under its dead relatives, waiting. Waiting for the sun, waiting to grow into richer shades of green once again. 
This cycle continues as I move away, and I am always drawn back to it.

Anchorage

One aspect of Joy Harjo's poem "Anchorage" that really interested me was the connections to the elements that she uses. The first stanza lays out the scene in relation to these aspects. "The Chugatch Mountains to the wast and the whale and seal to the west." Here she orients the readers. She is using not only using the physical element of the mountains but also the element of nature with the placing of the larger sea mammals.  She reinforces the importance of the elements with the second half of the stanza. Her illusion to the glaciers as "ghosts" and their ability to shape the landscape goes beyond the physical aspects of what they can do. She uses them to represent the break between past and present, nature and urban. They represent the power of nature, when it is allowed to exist. Throught the poem she returns to the idea of the elements representing nature. She speaks of fire, "boiling earth cracked open", air, "another ocean we can't see" in addition to the earth and water of the first stanza. These images are juxtaposed with gritty urban vignettes to highlight the battle between the two. The forces of nature versus the "progress" of man. 

I am not good at this

So I totally posted this on the wrong blog...oops 
I really enjoyed the readings from this week. The poems were an interesting departure from more classical literature that had previously been covered. Both the poems share some commonalaties but each have their own tone and voice.
Both of these poems deal with the issues of misconceptions about native Americans and the issues that  arise from that ignorance every day. The first poem by Diane Burns is the softer of the two. It takes a dryer more sarcastic tone to Chrystos poem, which is filled with rage and desolation. Both writers deal with the struggle of overcoming deep stereotypes within and through their work. They both utilizes a dark humor that at times seems a bit macabre.
We are supposed to write about how we personally relate to these works. I do not think that I can honestly do that. I do not have any experience with what these two people have gone through. I have never been brutally and systematically discriminated against. I can not empathize with them. That does not however mean that I don't care. That raw nerve that these poems get to is amazing. I might not be able to understand their situation but I can understand exhaustion, I can understand rage, I can understand isolation and fear. These poems reach more than just people who can understand, they reach to the heart of what makes us human.

Eagle vs. Shark

I had to sit down and really think about this prompt for this week. Its funny to get stumped by a seemingly simple question. I had to establish my identity pretty early in life. While my peers toyed around with various trends and life views I had cemented myself into a role. A role that I had gotten wrong from the start. I finally was able to make some sense and peace with myself when I came to the realization that I define myself, not a stereotype. I am at odds with a lot of what I am identified for and it puts my teeth on edge. For that reason it is difficult for me to just shout out something when asked to define myself.

There is a big discrepancy between how I would like to see myself and how I really see myself. I would like to see myself as a fox. There has always been something intriguing about that animal for me. Not only are the handsome animals but they carry the moniker of being clever and evasive. This is always how I have fancied myself, clever and cunning. Something to be watchful over but not exactly scared of. Living on the fringes of society, observing, and choosing when to enter the stage.

 Copyright Dan Walkers Photography

The red fox is a understated looking animal. Small, they are not intimidating, yet something in the face belies intuition and wit. Something our society has persistently applied to them. They are also beautiful the coloring and markings are understated and bold. The rich red is offset by the black legs, making it look something like a uniform. This appeals to me as well.

That is how I wish I was. How do I really see myself? A panda. Large, "cute", nonthreatening (unless provoked). An animal that I fail to see the interest in. They sit around all day eating bamboo. They cant breed properly without human intervention. They are cute, not attractive. They are in essence the example, if not the symbol,  of a breed that cant adapt with the chaining world.

 Photo courtesy of Biojobblog.com

Not that I think that they should not be protected and studied, we need to protect all nature to keep our world safe, but it is an example of a species which cant keep up. They are dull and passive until they get pissed and rip your face off, traits that I really do not enjoy about myself. Pandas are seen as friendly and nonthreatening, more issues that I have with myself. Incapable and slow, again, I feel like I am living in a world that is passing me by.

From the reading this week I was really impressed with the Lighting man story. I am not usually a big fan of narrative poetry but the subject matter and excellent construction of the story overcame my bias. What really intrigues me is the differences between this story and the stories of the Popul Vu. They are both Maya texts, they both pull on similar themes and generalities, but the essence of the stories are really different. One major change is that of legacy. In the Popul Vu the twins are the sons of the original hero twins and their mother is a deposed princes of the underworld. They are characters of relative linage and prestige. In the Lighting Man the hero's are simple peasants. This transcends down into their behavior. The twins of the Pupul Vu know their destiny, the underworld is coming after them and they know they can get one over on them. They are self assured almost to the point of cockiness. The heroes of the lighting man are humble, they are not at risk, nobody is coming after them. They put themselves into the path of danger, they offer their lives to the gods and to their people for the honor of defending it. The difference here is irking. The lighting heroes are truly ready to give their lives. The hero twins only use self sacrifice as a means to an end.  These differences illustrate the differences in ideology between the various villages (or languages) of the Maya.

Culture Shock

I grew up in Red Bluff California.

This is a small town, a cow town you could call it. We have one high school, 2 Starbucks, and the west coast's largest three day rodeo. Its a culturally isolated place.

One story that I heard was growing up what that of Ishi, the last of the Indians. It was a name that was always followed by that phrase(or some version of it), and said with a sort of quiet reverence. What little I gleaned thought many years of sub par social studies and history classes is that somehow a person had grown up, and lived most of his life outside of what we consider "society". This "wild man" was taken in by the scientific community of the times and studied. Beyond that I didn't know much, to be perfectly honest I didn't care.


This blog post is about our choice of name for this blog. I chose No People to Name Me. Purportedly this was the explanation that Ishi gave to the researcher Alfred Kroeber when asked why he had no name. Ishi was the last of his kind. This single living link to his history and his people. I cant even began to imagine the burden that must have been. How crushingly and oppressive the knowledge that you are it. The last holdout against the invasion. How do you continue? How do you go on?

I think that most people have felt alone in their lives. Depression, death, a breakup, however trivial it is human nature to feel isolated. It is what drives us to be social. It is what forces us to interact. I can not sympathize with Ishi. Nothing that has happened in my life could allow me to understand that depth of emotion. I can only take what I have experienced and try to empathize.

We all feel alone, but what does alone truly mean? With this blog I want to expand my own knowledge of a culture that I admittedly know little about. I strive to expand my knowledge of peoples lives and peoples experiences. Even if it is not something that does not relate my my own people and history it is my job to learn as much as I can, if for no other reason but to understand more.

From the readings that we have done so far I think the most striking aspect is the format of the literature. Coming from a traditional western perspective reading though a non linear text for the first time can be a little confusing. Despite the confusion the stories themselves are really interesting. Reading a creation story is a really good way to learn about how a culture views the world an themselves. The fallibility of the gods is really interesting to me. Viewing the creators as entities that make mistakes shows a level of self awareness that seems to be lacking in traditional "western" culture.