Poems by Karen Alkalay-Gut and Ezra Gut
Simple Conundrum Press; Tel Aviv, Israel, 2014
ISBN: 978-965-7600-023; 69 pages; $25.00
Review by Joanne DeSimone Reynolds
In a mortar and brick bookstore, this volume would be an
island among the aisles.
Part poetry, part pictorial. A travelogue, yes, but, with
splashes of diary. A natural science text, Darwinian, a dose of Bible. And a
parallel to Melville’s novella of the same name. The accompanying photographs,
stunning in both color and range.
Imagine one of a nubby-skinned, spike-crowned, citron
colored iguana, up close. Or another, of a Blue-footed Booby. Some of the
earth’s oddest creatures staring out at you.
And the many images taken from greater distances, showing a
netherworld natured Galapagos of “immense
deluges of black naked lava” (from an epigraph courtesy of Charles Darwin).
In a Shel Silverstein kind of way, the photographs, presumably taken by Ezra
Gut, enhance the poems and entrance the reader.
But, the poems, floating aside the color-burst photos as
they do, have an insistence all their own, much like the tourist-tame creatures
they evoke. Included here, are two of the poems in their entirety. One from the
lighter side of the collection that elicited a chuckle from this reader,
followed by the introductory poem, a forthright look into the speaker’s mind:
The Booby
You wish it
would be wiser than it is.
You wish the
eyes to be hiding a deep truth.
But
sometimes the status of “ancient”
does not
accompany the actions we admire.
The amazing
feet of the blue boobies
are not even
important enough to be moved aside
when the
bird shits. And a chick looks as smart
as the mother
who just hatched him.
A Thought
I wouldn’t want a paradise.
Even in the
Holy Book they knew
it’s too
simple just to be
good,
without judgments
to make each
moment
a new
encounter to encourage
revision and
insight. Living
as I do,
equidistant from
Armageddon
and Gehenna,
and not all
that far from where
the Bible
places Eden
my dreams
teeter
like a
dinghy in high tide
but with no
shore in sight.
But dream I
do
How many Boobies have we met in our lives? How often have we
wished one to be wiser? For “eyes to be
hiding a deep truth”? Chuckle or no,
we have seen the Booby and He is us!
in Pogo parlance, unable to get out of the messes of our own making. And as for
the paradise the poet conjures, it is wholly rejected as a place of stasis in
favor of the world as we know it. A place of choice. Of duality and ambiguity.
Tensions out of which dreams arise and art is made and we become more fully
conscious and human.
Many of the poems in this collection rely heavily on
anthropomorphism. Dolphins “smile”
from afar in the poem White Bellied
Dolphin. Iguanas “clearly [listen]
attentively” in Idle Gossip. Sinkers at best. But, to skip
them would be like dismissing a child for less than stellar behavior. And it
would be a shame to mistake something wondrous for a stone. In the poem Shells, for instance, the enormity of an
animal’s armor evokes primal feelings, sending chills up the spine, “How the weird reptilian fear overtakes me.” And even in poems of lesser
note, the reading experience opens up like a crevice under pressure when
considered in relation to well chosen images. A Myriad of Constellations
offers such a moment. The first lines “Behold:/a
myriad of stars/appear in the equatorial sky” sound magisterial, even
biblical in tone, but, deliver little in the way of the new, and the poem bobs
somewhat in the doldrums. However, when our attention turns to the facing page,
a photograph, Escher-like in its play of interlocking iguanas, spiny backs
tipped in Van Gogh yellow as if electrified, sends us sailing.
Karen Alkalay-Gut is an award winning poet, a professor, and
an editor. Born in London and raised in New York State, she now lives in Israel
where this book was published, first in Hebrew and now in English. Having been
involved in collaborations of a far flung nature, for instance, with the
fashion enterprise Comme Il Faut,
and one with the avant-rock musicians Roy Yarkoni and Ishay Sommer which
produced an album entitled Thin Lips, this project, tethering the cross
currents, the outcroppings, and the strange inhabitants of the Galapagos into a
collection of poems as taught as nautical knots, makes perfect sense. I hope
you consider it for its navigation of the formidable, fragile, frank, and
fanciful. But, do not feel guilty if you find yourself lost in the glossies.
And for heaven’s sake, don’t hide it from the kids! The book is meant to be
shared, with its eye-popping photographs and thoughtful poems, as enchanting as
the archipelago it describes.
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