Bio of B.E. Stock

BIO OF B. E. STOCK B. E. Stock has been writing poetry since the age of eight, and has lived in New York City since age 16. She studied...

Hello, and welcome to Stock Bard!

I'm sharing some samples from Collected Poems. Just lines here and there to give you an idea of what's to be found in the collection, along with many poems that were in the chapbooks.

+

With proud quotes for a captain of her soul
We mourn and salute the English teacher's brain
Dry-eyed. But I didn't have her in school.
We used to play Chinese checkers when it rained.
+

To give to you would be
Pouring my blood down the drain
Not giving, I open your sores
Grow your stubble and rot your socks

+

Night falls on the great city...
Here the great murders happen
Broadway spreads its whore lights
close to the filthy river...
And sometimes on the surface of the stinking swamp
Art opens her incongruous flower

+

Death paid a visit to his future bride
Who suffered so suggestively in bed
and was about to court the surgeon's knife...

+

But in his resounding closet
Abandoning greed and are
The bellplayer's strokes appeal
And shimmer the weary air...

And few have the time to notice
In his beautiful tones unfurled
Time going out of focus
At the gates of the other world.

+

And thus it is that poetry "progresses"
Becoming nakeder and uglier in nature
No longer laboring with form's ecstatic messes
But taking the dullness of prose in every feature...

+

I'm out at eight for the ice cream
Out at nine for the booze
Get a candy bar at eleven
I'm deep in the sugar blues
And no one gets between me and my
sugar.

+

How strange is love, I testify
Love can be angry, leave alone,
Rejoice to see the loved one die
For justice - love can build with stone.
Poets in love are on the loose
With bombs of laughter, knives of scorn...

Now I want to talk about "Sally Jordan", a narrative poem that was published with two others in the book Three Women: Touching the Boundaries of Life, by Mellen Press in 1996. I had the inspiration for the poem when I saw homeless people washing their clothes in the little fountain that used to be at the foot of City Hall Park in Manhattan, across the street from my office. It was several years before the book was published. I thought about a baglady carrying a cart full of books, thinking about ultimate matters in a world falling apart. I wrote a poem in "non-iambic blank verse", I think it was about 12 pages long. Then I saw a notice of a contest for a Dante-like poem with a woman hero, and they wanted something longer, so I expanded it, meanwhile sharing my process with others in a workshop at Poets & Writers. To my delight, I won third prize and made it into the book, where Felicia Mitchell Ph.D. in her preface on all three poems had a lot of insight into what I was about. As often happens, efforts to promote the book did not get very far.

"Sally Jordan" has a long "Prelude" explaining the background of the story, what is happening to the world and to Sally, my rationale for the way I wrote, etc. Then there are five sections, headed with Roman numerals, each beginning with a prose summary. In the first section, Sally takes a bath in the fountain and feeds the birds. She beholds her reflection,

"Notes the white and furrowed face, the restless
fingers wrapping the skinny arms, the silver
Hair that falls in wisps around her shoulders.
Slowly she bathes, despite the cold that tortures
Joints that have wintered on the frozen grass.
Orange and gold yield to blue and white
Cresting the dappled surface and reflecting
Sunrise brilliance fading into morning."

People have created a stove out of paving stones and cook for their children; rats plunder the corpses of men and dogs. Sally's observations are mingled with memories of how it used to be. She recalls the office romance with her ill-fated husband, Gil.

"Gil, the librarian, would send a reference
Into the terminals upon request
But into Sally's also flashed the greetings
Lovers exchange, and often set her blushing.
Down in the kitchen, microwaving popcorn,
Sally would save him some and send a package
Up to his cell by tube, a kiss exploding
Into his morning, green and red and yellow."

While she is eating breakfast, Sally witnesses an attack upon the families by a gang of leather boys:

"Sinking their knives and teeth in hungry hatred
Into the flesh of women men and babies
Driving them off, grabbing their food and clothing.
One in particular, the leader, taking
Into his hands a child whose mother's dying,
Smashes its head against a tree trunk, laughing."

In the second section, Sally reflects on the fate of our civilization, how Gil died, how she went mad and was evicted, and her experience at a Christian commune started by a Father Alexis. She met Melinda in an insane asylum, then later she came to find her and bring her to the commune. However, Sally is haunted by what has happened to her and is unable to concentrate on the farming work that keeps the community going. Moreover, the holy zeal in the chapel frightens her and makes her feel judged as unworthy. She is unable to make a decision of faith, so Melinda and Father Alexis return her to her encampment in City Hall park. They come once in a while with provisions.

In the third section, Sally, traumatized by the gang raid she has seen, finds a quiet spot in the ruined courthouse and rereads the prophecies of Fr. Alexis, hoping that she will be able to believe in time before the last things come to pass. In an ironic twist, she is moved by the sight of a mouse suckling her young.

"Lifting the papers, though, for just a moment,
Something shocked her there on the crumbling floor:
Baby mice tiny and naked sucking
Their mother, heartbeats pulsing under their skins.
Moved by their helpless innocence, she paused and
Thought for a moment God could not destroy
The earth while such a wonder still existed."

The prophecies are given at length, and then there is a rather wild "Log of prophecies and fulfillments" which includes The Wizard, Allin Murdock, becoming Mayor of New York and then President of the United States, the Harlot being honored in the Godbox, the Catholic Center, the Episcopal Church Center, and the Greek Orthodox Diocese, and radioactive water escaping from under Columbia University. Then there are "World Signs" which include killer bees and part of Africa breaking off. At the end, Fr. Alexis relates that he was defrocked by the Orthodox Church for prophecying against the Christian centers.

In Section IV, Sally finds she believes, and prays; Melinda comes and they have lunch outside. They go to the commune by dog cart.

In Section V, the Christians pray for the appearance of Christ. As Sally is recovering in her room, she is awakened by light and goes outside to join the others.

"Light from the Light Eternal now descending
Brings alive the furniture, the ceiling.
Sally awakes and throws away the blanket
Looks for the stagnant water and is startled
When through the windowframe she sees a cross
Beckoning, burning time from off her heart
Then outside a shout of exultation
Breaks from a crowd assembled on the meadow."

Amid the resurrection, Sally looks for Gil and her family. She sees the restoration of her mother's cancer-riddled body,

"Wherein a cold light like a flashlight
Enters, searches out the tumors, chases
One by one those lumps up to the surface
Where they are turned to rubies, diamonds, garnets
And sapphires. Thereupon the bones are knitted
Again by living, gleaming cartilage."

Jesus appears and opens her mind to greater truth; she sees Gil and her father, and is reunited with her mother and brother. Jesus expands and fill the whole sky, and the City is taken to the Father against his breast.

"Sally has disappeared, for she is gazing
So steadily upon the eyes of Jesus
Blissfully black and filled with love portentous
No other sight can move her from that gaze
Wherein she drinks the very Life of Life."

Light of light, life of life. The black eyes of Jesus - the great mystery, the infinite depth. Blissfully black!

Well, it was tremendous fun. The contest apparently drew manuscripts from around the world. I actually got a note of appreciation and congratulations from a contestant in India.

Thanks for listening, and take care.

Love, Barbara



No comments:

Post a Comment