Body
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"Stencil with Chrysanthemums and Fence" Paper, silk, 9 7/16 x 14 15/16 in.,
Early to mid 20th century. Open source from the Met.
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Billiard ball sky / recreate me / in the ocean
revise me / like you do / yourself / and every movement / trickle honey / down the alder tree / into the street / trickle / into the street My heart is a fossil / desperate / to be a fawn trickle up my feet / drink me / milk of morning milk of dusktime / drink me up / dein goldenes Haar Margarete waves unbound / you’ve done it with grace / with grace / But here / the road and me / only the road and me / and sky / breaking / a solid blue / drops like an ocean pocket / drops a note of ever-constant a letter to read / to breathe / it’s written with ash |
About the Author
Tor Strand graduated with honors from Linfield College in 2018. He received the distinguished creative writing award for his thesis in poetry. While in school, he was an editor of Linfield’s literary journal, Camas, as well as the assistant nonfiction editor for the mountain west literary magazine, High Desert Journal. His poems have been published in CatheXis Northwest Press, Caustic Frolic, Projector Magazine, and others. He was recently selected to teach at Story Catcher’s summer writing festival as the Mari Sandoz Emerging Writer. He is currently
preparing for a forthcoming collaboration with professional artist on a project that depicts the perils and triumphs of rural Alaskan communities.
About the Work
I wrote this poem primarily in response to two separate pieces of art. What got the poem started was a drawing by a friend of a small street in Portland during the golden hour just before sunset when the light turns sideways. The second comes from Paul Celan’s poem “Todesfuge” or “Fugue of Death” which at the time, I had just read and was absolutely struck by the language. His description of light as milk that the poem says “we drink and drink” in a Nazi concentration camp would not leave my mind. Celan’s poem contains two central heroes, one is Margarete and her golden hair and the other is Sulamith and her ashen hair. The juxtapositions of gold and ash turned over in me, made me cry but then I began to ponder the light that makes each of us, the light that also dies each day. My conclusion was this poem as well as the unwavering question: what possibly can fully be understood?
Tor Strand graduated with honors from Linfield College in 2018. He received the distinguished creative writing award for his thesis in poetry. While in school, he was an editor of Linfield’s literary journal, Camas, as well as the assistant nonfiction editor for the mountain west literary magazine, High Desert Journal. His poems have been published in CatheXis Northwest Press, Caustic Frolic, Projector Magazine, and others. He was recently selected to teach at Story Catcher’s summer writing festival as the Mari Sandoz Emerging Writer. He is currently
preparing for a forthcoming collaboration with professional artist on a project that depicts the perils and triumphs of rural Alaskan communities.
About the Work
I wrote this poem primarily in response to two separate pieces of art. What got the poem started was a drawing by a friend of a small street in Portland during the golden hour just before sunset when the light turns sideways. The second comes from Paul Celan’s poem “Todesfuge” or “Fugue of Death” which at the time, I had just read and was absolutely struck by the language. His description of light as milk that the poem says “we drink and drink” in a Nazi concentration camp would not leave my mind. Celan’s poem contains two central heroes, one is Margarete and her golden hair and the other is Sulamith and her ashen hair. The juxtapositions of gold and ash turned over in me, made me cry but then I began to ponder the light that makes each of us, the light that also dies each day. My conclusion was this poem as well as the unwavering question: what possibly can fully be understood?
