Plaint
Poems by
Richard Darabaner
Edited and
with an Intro by
Daniel Gabriel
Published
by Dos Madres Press
www.dosmadres/com
Copyright
2012
REVIEW BY LO GALLUCCIO
REVIEW BY LO GALLUCCIO
According
to Daniel Gabriel's introduction to this relatively small but rather pristine
collection
of poems, the author, Richard Darabaner, was motivated by “the quest for
knowledge
and
religion” in his life and work. He
earned a B.A. in English at Cornell University (summa
cum laude;)
an M.A. In English Literature at the City College of New York; and a Master of
Philosophy
in English at the City University of NYC, Graduate School. He also taught at
various
colleges and high schools in the NY area.
In addition he has written several short stories and a novel entitled, “Every Wound a Memory.”
Indeed
the wounding forces in both love and religion are made manifest in many of
Darabaner's
poems. The title of the collection
“Plaint”is apparently an invented word to mean,
the
allision of lament and complaint. His
faith in God is shadowed with irony and indifference
as well as
an “ironic recovery of that love....and an ironic redemption.” (Intro.)
As with Emily
Dickinson's
darker side, the shorter pithy poems seem to be intimate with impending death.
Darabur
committed suicide in 1985 in New York City.
In
his poem “Desire” he writes:
(I
am, as a poet, accustomed to consummation in despair.
I am not longing to desire the sand. This is a commitment of faith.) p. 3
For some
reason, the sand, the object of the 2nd sentence raises
questions. Is it the sand in
an hour
glass and thus the sands of time; is it the sand of some ravaged Dalian desert;
or
perhaps the
warm beige sand Edith Piaf was found adoring after her life as a powerful and
moving
scion-singer of France was cut short by alcoholism? Maybe this sand is just sand,
a metaphor
for the earth, but closer to the ocean and its tides. Anyway, it seems clear
that he
sees the fate of a poet to be “a consummation in despair..” But “the renunciation of sand” is
also a commitment of faith.. Faith,
then, in what? God, one imagines but
can't
be totally
sure....
In
another poem, more Biblical and stately in syntax, the author speaks of Christ, “The
Savior,”
and says:
“Yet
I have a heart of things unspoken
You turn again.
You would not hear me if I were there.
….......
Only the thought of Him and you were
resigned.”
“This
is a great gift from Him to thou.”
from [Not Yet Have I Begun The Poem of My Heart.]n
p 2
The
poet moves from the first person speaking to perhaps God, or Christ,
and
then moves to the thought of Him (Christ) as a resigning stance. And
calls
this through not prayer or invocation to be a “great gift,” using thou
instead
of “You” at the end. It is as if an
absent or aloof Christ is possible
to
believe through a thought, just a touch of memory, perhaps, and is then
a
great gift. A deft sequence.
The
woundedness of poets and artists (of faith) is apparent in “Out of the
Maelstrom
and
Intro the Hagstrom.”
“Wounded
those years are
when one finds one's steps”
“Wounded
those bodies brought to task
Should their memory worn plots of the Old
City...”
“Wounded
those ones who feel the wound
But not the body wounded,
Without the grey sky of dawn
To recall in a tiny cell of detachment
The steadfast calm of their agony.”
The
last two lines are quite striking:”to recall in a tiny cell of detachment/The
steadfast
calm
of their agony.” This also suggests the poet's or seer's position – detachment
recalling,
and the stoicism he keeps in agony, while surveying all pain and pleasure.
On
a more lyrical note, the poem “Wave” which also seems more modern somehow in
its
diction because it plays with the meaning of the word “wave,” and its possible
variants. A wave could mean hello or goodbye, wave as
that gesture of moving one's
forearm
and hand back and forth. The other wave
could be like a wavelength or a
wave
of water in the sea, i.e. large ripple,
etc.
In
a turn towards humor he writes:
“Don't
wave at me with your mouth full
I don't know whether you're waving or eating.
P 17
And
ends more solemnly with:
“Not
you but your wave I felt secure with
Your
wave wasn't eating
You
were
Your
wave wouldn't let your brother hunger.”
p. 7
Thus
separately the goodwill of the gesture or wave,
from the body its attached to,
ingesting
mere food, but food necessary to prevent hunger, another state of deprivation.
It
is so also, in the “light verse” of [I'm Not Touched an Inch by Your
Salamander”]
which
ends:
'
You
assume I'm syncopated like the wind.”
Poems
such as th3ese are grace notes in a collection of mostly short,. 6-10 line
works
and
a few longer ones. His poem, “Echo”
clearly speaks of reverberation of the Crucifixion in a quite original
way. As if speaking directly of Christ
in effigy:
“Without
an echo of your former truth alive
Alive out of memoryless waking you come
to hold the rack of Calvary.” p. 12
Interesting
that he doesn't use the more direct and psychological sounding word, “amnesia” but inste4ad, “alive out
of memoryless, waking you come....” to
your
fate
of death. Christ is awake but has no
memories of his life on earth as he takes
the
rack of Calvary.
For
those accustomed to more colorful scenery and objects and sensual modes and emotions from the “real world”or a real rather than
metaphysical riddle in their poetry, this
collection may not suffice. But for any
with a yearning to explore theological equations
or dissonance within the framework of religious faith, I recommend this short volume of select poems
by the late Richard Darabaner. He paints in greys and blacks and whites with the occasional splash
of sand or wave, beige or green.....
Reviewed
by Lo Galluccio
for
Ibbetson St. Press
www.logalluccio.weebly.com
No comments:
Post a Comment