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One Art
Elizabeth Bishop


The art of losing isn’t hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.


Lose something every day. Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.


Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel. None of these will bring disaster.


I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or

next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.


I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.



–Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan’t have lied.  It’s evident

the art of losing’s not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.


I lose stuff all the time…clothing, keys, cell phone, I-Pod, all that stuff, to my family’s dismay. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. It is no disaster because all of that material can be replaced. Forgetting names, places….can be disgruntling but is no disaster.  You miss these things (a city) but “it wasn’t a disaster”. BUT losing someone, the little things (a gesture etc.) is disaster.



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Who is a Poet
by Tadeusz Rosewicz
translated from the Polish by Magnus Krynski and Robert Maguire

a poet is one who writes verses
and one who does not write verses

a poet is one who throws off fetters
and one who puts fetters on himself

a poet is one who believes
and one who cannot bring himself to believe

a poet is one who has told lies
and one who has been told lies

one who has been inclined to fall
and one who raises himself

a poet is one who tries to leave
and one who cannot leave


What I  got:

Firstly, I can’t put it better than the poet (or the translators) but here goes. A poet is a creator-yet the reader is the creation. The poem cannot exist without the reader. A poet is everything and nothing at the same time. The most confounding stanza, I thought, was

“a poet is one who believes
and one who cannot bring himself to believe “.

It reminds me of my dad…I’ve really turned him on to the Obama movement and he wants to believe but he has this social fetter about politics that Obama will just disappoint us all in the end. He wants to believe, but he can’t let optimism overtake his stuck-on belief.


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If See No End In Is

By Frank Bidart


What none knows is when, not if.

Now that your life nears its end

when you turn back what you see

is ruin. You think, It is a prison. No,

it is a vast resonating chamber in

which each thing you say or do is


new, but the same. What none knows is

how to change. Each plateau you reach, if

single, limited, only itself, in-

cludes traces of all the others, so that in the end

limitation frees you, there is no

end, if   you once see what is there to see.


You cannot see what is there to see

not when she whose love you failed is

standing next to you. Then, as if refusing the know-

ledge that life unseparated from her is death, as if

again scorning your refusals, she turns away. The end

achieved by the unappeased is burial within.


Familiar spirit, within whose care I grew, within

whose disappointment I twist, may we at last see

by what necessity the double-bind is in the end

the figure for human life, why what we love is

precluded always by something else we love, as if

each no we speak is yes, each yes no.


The prospect is mixed but elsewhere the forecast is no

better. The eyrie where you perch in

exhaustion has food and is out of the wind, if

cold. You feel old, young, old, young: you scan the sea

for movement, though the promise of sex or food is

the prospect that bewildered you to this end.


Something in you believes that it is not the end.

When you wake, sixth grade will start. The finite you know

you fear is infinite: even at eleven, what you love is

what you should not love, which endless bullies in-

tuit unerringly. The future will be different: you cannot see

the end. What none knows is when, not if.

 Well, this poem is both comforting and depressing. In a world where we so often look ahead, try and get ahead, we forget our own mortality. This is the kind of thing that makes uncomfortable. Death is scary and we’d much prefer to glaze over it and “live In the moment”. “What none knows is when, not if”. We know we will die; we’re human. It’s just a matter of when…you know, it’s kind of scary to think about..but we are powerless. The gods live free of sorrows because they are immortal.

Why was everyone so shocked by the announcement of Ted Kennedy’s brain tumor diagosis? He’s 76. My own father insisted that it was the ‘Kennedy Curse’ and that Ted just has another unlucky fate like the rest of his family. I too was saddened to hear of this news…but it really isn’t shocking. We all WILL die, it is just a question of when.

Anyway, back to the poem…interesting words of Bidart here:

that in the end /limitation frees you, there is no /end, if   you once see what is there to see.

So our own limitation (we are limited by our mortality) is what makes us free, what makes us human.

The prospect is mixed but elsewhere the forecast is no better.


Ugh, how depressing…I can see why we don’t like talking about death.



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Prospective Immigrants Please Note


Either you will

go through this door

or you will not go through.


If you go through

there is always the risk

of remembering your name.


Things look at you doubly

and you must look back

and let them happen.


If you do not go through

it is possible

to live worthily


to maintain your attitudes

to hold your position

to die bravely


but much will blind you,

much will evade you,

at what cost who knows?


The door itself

makes no promises.

It is only a door.



This poem resonates with America today…we have been called a “melting pot” for some time now. It seems ironic that this land has been called the land of opportunity because it has been a while since I’ve heard of the “self-made man” in America. It seems like the ability to rise up through the ranks is diminishing more and more everyday, with big corporate business and that top 5% controlling the wealth of our country. Rich’s disclaimer to immigrants is saying that opportunity (or a door) “makes no promises”.

We’re left with a decision, fight or flight.

1.Go through the door into that unknown and risk of blindness and evasion. Immigrants are often pegged as annoyances stealing jobs from regular Americans.

2. Stay where you are–live worthily….


Would you go through the door?


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I haven’t written in a while; my life is busy. Poetry analysis to come!

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Sneaker Or Sex? Object or Subject?

What do we have here? This advertisement ran in every teen magazine from Cosmogirl to Seventeen. There are two images of Christina Aguilera, pop princess of the nineties, one of her as a nurse and the other as an injured patient. Looking at this ad, we can start with the literal. Christina number one is standing, left hand on hip, and is grasping an enormous vaccine in her right hand. Her double, Christina number two, is sitting upright on the hospital bed, supporting one knee with one hand and is holding an ice pack to her temple with the other.

  Christina and Sketchers

Christina number one is standing in a strong position and is holding an instrument of force, yet her dominance is compromised by the skimpy naughty nurse outfit. You can even see her garter hanging out of her barely-there jumper. The little scarf around Christina number one’s neck is choking her, into confining to a standard set by men to be sexy. Christina number one is holding some sort of metal object in her hand that appears to be a vaccine. The vaccine itself is an oddity. It is giant, probably 5 times the size of a flu shot. The phallic symbolism is obvious.
Christina number two is in a submissive pose and looks disturbed by Christina in the nurse outfit. She is holding an ice-pack to her head, so what kind of injury constitutes a vaccinating? Why does she appear so annoyed by the silvery metal oblong object? Is she really submitting? She’s compromised, yes, and in a sense must submit to the nurse…but that bugs her.

We begin to lose sight of what the ad is actually advertising for: sneakers. Sure, they’re in the foreground of the image, but the first thing our eye goes to is Christina number one, the naughty nurse. You can’t even see her shoes. Is this really an ad for sneakers? What are we supposed to take away? How does this ad motivate people to even buy the product? It may fulfill some sexual fantasies of men, but how can it speak to women and teenagers?
Is this what we should be for our men? This ad seems to be delivering a behavioral tutorial for women and men. Chrisitina number two seems bothered by the outfit of the naughty nurse. She plays the part of the man being pleased by the woman. The woman (Christina number one) is clearly in charge, even in her pleasing outfit.
We should do as they want us to do and we should act like Christina? We should dress in a sexy way and appear helpless. We get the sense that Christina number one is going to punish Christina number two and physically harm her. At the same time, she’s (ignore the pun) giving her a taste of her own medicine. This is what our society wants us to be: hardworking to the point of exhaustion (to appear attractive) and sexed up. There is no man in this ad, yet Christina number two on the bed is in a man’s position. Is that look of distain really for the men that feel they are confined to society’s views that women are sex objects?
If we look at this ad in the context of Christina’s life and comeback as an artist, we can find new meaning in this advertisement. Christina number two has an open mouth and an utter look of distain for her counterpart. It can be said that the real Christina Aguilera was much more innocent and wholesome in her days on the Mickey Mouse Club and as a young diva. We all watched her become “Dirrty” with cut off chaps and saw her transform into a sex kitten. She became this glamorous and sexy woman. As Bordo notes, practices such as cosmetic surgery, obsessive dieting and physical training represent, how cultural “representations homogenize” and how “these homogenized images normalize” (Bordo). Christina number two has obviously injured herself from working out, to achieve the perfect bod she’s known for.In this ad, she is looking at herself dressed up as an object for men’s pleasure. We can tell by her look that she disapproves of dressing up for men or that men are expected to like women behaving like skanks. There is no man in this ad, yet Christina number two on the bed is in a man’s position. Is that look of distain really for the men that feel they are confined to society’s views that women are sex objects? Not all men see women in that naughty way(let’s hope). However, she’s still wearing short shorts. She’s more covered up, but still is not giving up her image as sexy. there’s something (in the public sentiment) so cool about Christina that no matter what she does-even no matter how ‘skanky’ she gets-we think she’s attractive and cool. Chrisitna number one is large and in charge and is controlling Christina number two (the man figure).
She’s simply recognizing that being a sex object isn’t very desirable, but in her industry it is necessary. She’s not really an object, she is a strong subject of femininity and strength. All advertising “proposes to each of us that we transform ourselves, or our lives, by buying something more. This more, it proposes, will make us in some way richer – even though we will be poorer by having spent our money”(Berger).

If we buy Sketchers, we too can transform into glamorous vixens that are INDEED in control. She looks great! She’s the one we all want to be: singer, designer, wife, mother! But is she? Naa…she’s just where the men want her.



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Ave Maria

by Frank O’Hara

 Mothers of America let your kids go to the movies! get them out of the house so they won’t know what you’re up to it’s true that fresh air is good for the body but what about the soul that grows in darkness, embossed by silvery images and when you grow old as grow old you must they won’t hate you they won’t criticize you they won’t know they’ll be in some glamorous country they first saw on a Saturday afternoon or playing hookey  they may even be grateful to you for their first sexual experience which only cost you a quarter and didn’t upset the peaceful home they will know where candy bars come from and gratuitous bags of popcorn as gratuitous as leaving the movie before it’s over with a pleasant stranger whose apartment is in the Heaven on Earth Bldg near the Williamsburg Bridge oh mothers you will have made the little tykes so happy because if nobody does pick them up in the movies they won’t know the difference and if somebody does it’ll be sheer gravy and they’ll have been truly entertained either way instead of hanging around the yard or up in their room hating you prematurely since you won’t have done anything horribly mean yet except keeping them from the darker joys it’s unforgivable the latter so don’t blame me if you won’t take this advice and the family breaks up and your children grow old and blind in front of a TV set seeing movies you wouldn’t let them see when they were young


This poem is whimsically written, but behind the rhetoric, there is some meaning. You can’t keep your kids young forever. Sometimes we have to venture into the wilderness to grow up and find ourselves. This place is the movies. (as it was in the 20’s) in the dark, we are fascinated by the glamour of it all: the moving picture, the salty popcorn, the hidden handhold (or maybe a little more). I remember my first movie date. Our parents dropped us off, but it still felt so grown up to be left alone, to be “on our own”. Sure, mom and dad were just a phone call or a restaurant away, but we felt that “fresh air” O’Hara is talking about. It’s scary to think that by keeping kids home, you risk “the family break[ing] up and your children grow old and blind in front of a TV set seeing movies you wouldn’t let them see when they were young”. Going to the movies is necessary. Leaving the nest…it happens. For me, I’m about to “go to the movies” in a big way -college.

I’m confounded by the line: “get them out of the house so they won’t know what you’re up to”…what could mothers of America be up to?


                                                                                   ADAM AND EVE :LOSS OF INNOCENCE

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