Red Letter Poem #167

 The Red Letters

 

 

In ancient Rome, feast days were indicated on the calendar by red letters.  To my mind, all poetry and art serves as a reminder that every day we wake together beneath the sun is a red-letter day.

 

                                                                                                          – Steven Ratiner

 

 

 

 

 

Red Letter Poem #167

 

 

 

 

 

Tell me, what’s more American than. . .becoming American?  Than setting out from whatever corner of existence you were born into for the possibility of finding new roots within the dream-terrain that is this tumultuous nation?  And attendant upon this dream is a particularly American enterprise: marshalling one’s native talents in order to author a re-invented self, and all the new psychic apparel to suit this augmented soul.  If you don’t think of this as an essential element of our mythos, just ask Walt Whitman or Langston Hughes, Mary Oliver or Bob Dylan – each of whom gave voice to an original self within a new creative conception, casting a wizard-like spell on our collective imagination.  And each, I should add, inspired at least something of a cautionary disclaimer concerning their personal history: pay no attention to that man/woman behind the curtain.

 

Today’s Red Letter features a poet for whom such a project will not seem at all far-fetched.  Indran Amirthanayagam was born in Colombo, Sri Lanka; but his father – a poet, diplomat, and scholar – moved his family to London and later Honolulu.  As a young man in 1983 – and inspired by its rich poetic history (Federico Lorca’s Poet in New York was a strong influence) – Indran moved into a railroad apartment in lower Manhattan.  He eventually attended Columbia University’s School of Journalism, and a memory of those formative experiences inspired today’s new poem.  I loved hearing his tale of a young poet finding his way in storied Gotham.  (I’ll be shocked if a memoir of his peripatetic life is not someday in the offing.)  He became friends with Alan Ginsberg and recalled visiting his East Village apartment where Alan would “send the key down in a sock attached to a pulley.”  Following his mentor’s recommendation, he still remembers his first walk across the Brooklyn Bridge – then rushing out to purchase a copy of Hart Crane’s The Bridge and immersing himself in the poetry.  Later still, he became an officer in the U.S. Foreign Service which reinforced his belief in how language and culture can become a means of uniting disparate peoples rather than being seen as a source of division.  I’m sure he looks back today and marvels at the invention of his unique life and all the places it’s carried him.  Writing in Spanish, French, Portuguese, Haitian Creole, as well as English, Indran is an award-winning poet, essayist, and translator – the author of more than two dozen books.  In 2022, he was named by the International Forum for the Literature and Culture of Peace (IFLAC) its first ever World Poet/Poeta Mundial.  The very model of a poète engagé, Indran continues to commit his energies toward making sure our culture thrives and diverse voices are heard.  Along with his partner in poetry, Sara Cahill Marron, he edits Beltway Poetry Quarterly and its publishing project Beltway Editions.

 

We’ve just celebrated Independence Day.  The flags waved and the fireworks erupted in gushes of startling color.  But it’s not only nations that struggle to forge a sense of self-determination.  Young poets and artists, desirous of true personal and imaginative liberation, must consider the risks such a life-choice will entail – the strain it will place on their relationships, dreams, and even physical wellbeing.  It is a decision made (as the poet Rilke advised) when any other option is simply unimaginable.  But the primary reward for choosing this path is a life of one’s own creation, a more intimate possession of the joys and pains it will necessarily contain.  Indran’s poem reminds us that, despite the bruising such a heart must take: “It beats. It roars.”

 

 

 

Stepping Out from Columbia

 

 

Let’s go for a walk and see

moonlight shining over sky-

scrapers, fairy castles of New

 

Amsterdam, dreams of 

youth to realize in this ode 

to literature, music and theater 

 

unaware of impending deaths,

departures, home found then

abandoned, or transformed

 

into an idea, a moving 

village, a portable USB 

imprinted in the brain, free 

 

of ten thousand literary 

pounds in books, kitchen 

goods, toaster, fridge, gas range,

 

walking downtown from

Columbia following

steps I took once 

 

to honor Federico, 

zombies flying saucers 

out of the eye of Wall,

 

to honor ten thousand 

movies, to honor 

early, sweet love

 

without fear that this 

urge too will pass.

False. It beats. It roars.

 

 

     ––Indran Amirthanayagam

 

 

 

The Red Letters 3.0

 

* If you would like to receive these poems every Friday in your own in-box – or would like to write in with comments or submissions – send correspondence to:

steven.arlingtonlaureate@gmail.com

 

 

* To learn more about the origins of the Red Letter Project, check out an essay I wrote for Arrowsmith Magazine:

https://www.arrowsmithpress.com/community-of-voices

 

and the Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene

http://dougholder.blogspot.com

 

* For updates and announcements about Red Letter projects and poetry readings, please follow me on Twitter          

@StevenRatiner