Sonnet

I
[CXX]

選擇一種形式

Cast your second stones,
accursed sooty sonnets!
Haiku missed their mark.

II
[CCCLXV]

戴歐尼修斯

The sonnets rend me
limb from limb, like Osiris
the netmender's son.

III
[CDXVII]

捕夢網
In memory of Elizabeth Bishop

Fraught with art and creed
handcrafted, aught, Writer, but
your sonnet. Caught. Freed.

IV
[CDXCIX]

μηδὲν ἄγαν

Nothing to excess,
be it gothic sonnets, sex,
or slightly soiled love.

V
[DXXXIII]

叫石头变成饼

Leave no stone unturned:
all routes through poetry cross
unleavened sonnets.

VI
[DCCCLXXX]

西方的沒落

Ormolu sonnets
decay into bronze haiku,
many-coloured stones.

VII
[MLXXIX]

哨兵的夢想

Seventeen syllables long —
tankas require thirty-one —
even one word wrong
vitiates all that we've done.
Echoes mate the song,
not to mention the odd pun,
with a multilingual strong
Narr-ative's sheer fun.
I imagine a volta
entangling our wrists,
lifting both our spirits here:
some fandango no Travolta
engaging in twists
need blame on a sonneteer.

VIII
[MCCCXCIII]

Ὀσυμανδύας

Summon, dead sonnet,
words of memory, of fame --
monuments and odes.

IX
[MCDLV]

Брось

Hurl, wretched sonnet,
your eight-and-six-make-fourteen
into air-air-air.

X
[MDLXXVIII]

優先

Does the hen create
the sonnet or the sonnet
create the hen's egg?

XI
[MDCXXXVII]

火花

If I blow softly
this sacred sonnet blazes
from a just struck match.

XII
[MDCCLXXXIV]

الزخرف

No fable, good sonnet,
enables the Son of God
not to judge you now.

XIII
[MDCCCXXVI]

十四行诗

Sonnet, Song of Songs,
thank you, dream catcher, for birthdays,
each celebrated
verse by verse through your goodly
even though quaint offices.
Now memories fade,
whether seven-syllabled
neumes or high-fived psalms
in their pentatonic fronds,
eliding the desert winds,
letting their cool sands
slip through our fingers, our palms
evening the moist
night air like fresh-laundered sheets.

XIV
[MDCCCXXVII]

這里和那裡
in memory of Joan Murphy

Mama's is still here.
So many mothers' sonnets
still there forever.

19 November 2017
[From Year of the Rooster]

Letters to Aunt Grace, Part 131: Postscripts

The first postscript in Bishop’s 3 January 1963 letter to her aunt was short and typed upside down on the verso of the letter proper, as if she had flipped the page and added it quickly. The first item referred to that most useful cookbook Grace had sent to her niece for Christmas. Bishop noted that she “found several agreeable drawings of houses and what looks like the score of a game of Canasta.” Clearly, the book was not new, but that didn’t make Bishop appreciate it less. Indeed, perhaps it made her value it more.

The next subject was Elizabeth Naudin and her daughters (still awaiting their Peter Rabbit books, even if they didn’t know it). Bishop declared that she thought her cousin “should have named this last daughter E[lizabeth], too – don’t you?” It might have been her own name, but Bishop still liked it, “and it has been in the family a long time now.” She noted that “Patricia means ‘of noble descent’!!” Bishop concluded at this point that she thought her cousin didn’t “have much of an ear.” She thought “Diane, Suzanne Naudin all those an sounds are very ugly,” though she “wouldn’t mind Susanna, or Diana, nearly as much.” Then with what seems like a silent sigh, Bishop noted, “But then, I suppose I am a poet.”

The next postscript received an official “P.S.,” which was immediately followed by a short sentence, “I’m sending a card to Ruth now.” I am not sure who this person was, but perhaps it was Ruth Hill, one of her mother’s oldest friends from Great Village.

Then the postscript begins in earnest and takes up most of the page. The first item was an acknowledgement that she had “just re-read” her aunt’s letter and hoped “the flu shot works.” I was surprised to read about this shot – I thought flu shots were relatively recent vaccines, not existing as far back as the 1960s. I remember getting booster shots or vaccinations for various things when I was a child in the 60s; but I don’t ever remember getting an annual flu shot until I was an adult. Clearly, Bishop hadn’t had one either because she offered her “theory that living outdoors a lot keeps one from having colds!” At least if she and Lota were any proof. She knew her aunt was headed back to Florida, so further hoped that Grace would “escape the germs better there” in the sunshine and warmth.

The next paragraph returns to one of Bishop’s favourite subjects: Monica, again by declaring this child to be “adorable … just talking, but all in Portuguese.” Bishop confessed that she liked best children “from 8 months to 3 [years].” Monica liked music and “tells us when she wants to listen.” When she and Mary were “up to dinner Saturday night,” they “were listening to Brazilian samba music.” Monica “wriggles in her seat just the right way,” even though “no one ever showed her.” This seemingly innate aptitude caused Elizabeth and Lota to “tease Mary by saying Monica is a ‘Carnival Baby’ – probably true.” Bishop noted that “nine months after Carnival every year there’s a crop of little bastards.”

Monica clearly had Mary, Lota and Elizabeth wrapped around her little finger. Bishop related that when she “wanted us all to lie on the floor and wave our legs in the air with her … we did.” Bishop observed this request came about because she had “just learned the verb ‘lie down’.” As these “three spinsters and little Monica” were “all in a row on the carpet waving our legs,” their “‘butler’ walked in – of course no one heard him knock.” Needless to say, “he looked rather surprised.”

Bishop’s next declaration was a discovery about which she was clearly pleased, concerning “how to keep small children happy on a long drive.” The trick was to “give them one of those little boxes of dry cereal – rice krispies or something.” She discovered that “it takes at least an hour to eat, one by one!”

Back to Elizabeth Naudin, who Bishop noted was “going to Canada in June, I think – or May.” This trip meant an opportunity to send “something light” to her aunt, though she despaired that “there was so little here.” She would also send “a wedding present,” for Joanne, Elizabeth Naudin’s sister – clearly the reason for the trip back to Montreal.

Apropos of nothing, Bishop’s final postscript paragraph was a dash of local colour and culture. She noted that she was just back from going “to the corner to buy some limes.” This errand offered a strange encounter: “hot as hell, and everyone still hanging around in bathing suits, although it is dark.” The truly strange part was that “on the corner [was] a big Christmas tree, a real one, not the N.S. kind, but some kind of fir tree.” It had been “thrown out – losing its needles fast but still smelling a little.” Back to her dislike of the commercialization of Christmas, she noted that “they put up a HUGE figure of Santa Claus here in Copacabana.” This figure was “three stories high – 3 dimensional – awful.” Unequivocally, she declared, “We hate it.” So much so “that last night coming down from the country we seriously thought of shooting it full of bullets,” a definite possibility since “Lota carries a gun in her car.”!!

Adding a bit more context, Bishop wrote that “the ‘Strangers’ Hospital’ (where E had the baby) is right across the street.” She and Lota could see the newspaper report: “Santa Claus badly wounded. Taken to Strangers’ Hospital. He is in rooms number 1o3, 104, 1o5. End of Christmas Foreseen!” (The zeros were made with the lowercase letter o.) They “thought it would be funny.” Bishop was never fond of Christmas and Santa Claus, but this is the most murderous expression of her dislike I have ever read! Poor Santa Claus!

So concluded Bishop’s first letter to her aunt for 1963. Her next letter was written only four days later, prompted by a letter from Grace. The next post will pick up the story.

Click here to see Post 130.

A Pocket of Time -- launches announced

Elizabeth Bishop's house in Key West bought

The Key West Literary Seminar has just announced that it has bought the house Elizabeth Bishop owned with Louise Crane, the house where she lived off and on for a decade. Learn more about this acquisition and the plans the organization has for restoring the house and making it the base of its activities and operations by clicking here.

(Elizabeth Bishop's House in Key West, 1938. Yale.)

Letters to Aunt Grace, Part 130: Monica, Florence, Roger and Zephyrino

The next paragraph of Bishop’s 3 January 1963 letter to her aunt was full of family observations. It began with a report that she had “ordered ten of the ‘Peter Rabbit’ books for E’s daughters,” that is, Suzanne, Diane and Patricia Naudin The books “didn’t get there in time,” but rather reached her “in Cabo Frio instead.”

(Cover of one of the early editions of this

much beloved Beatrix Potter classic.)

Without pause or segue, Bishop then wrote that at the latter location (that is, Cabo Frio) there was “a big pointer dog … huge, named ‘Roger’,” a creature “adored” by Monica, Mary Morse’s daughter. They had gone to Cabo Frio, too, over the holidays for some fun. Bishop reported that at one point they found Monica “on the floor turning over pages for him to see the pictures in Peter Rabbit – very close to his nose.” The Naudin sisters were not the first to enjoy these Christmas presents. Bishop continued with Monica, who she noted again “adores the ocean” and who “only cried all ten days when we had to drag her away from the water.” Bishop described Monica as “very tiny – the dog could eat her in one gulp.” She reported, however, that Roger “seemed to like her.” Tiny Monica also loved to sing “Brazilian children’s songs at the top of her lungs – without words – but excellent pitch and rhythm.” Bishop claimed that she had “never seen a happier baby.” Bishop was clearly glad for this “little waif,” who she declared was “saved from the orphan asylum by pure luck.” Bishop did have a tender spot for all orphans, and she clearly “adored” this one. When people learned Monica’s story, she noted, they “take to her because of that.” Then Bishop reported that Mary Morse was planning on “adopting another one – as soon as she can find a white and healthy one.”

Another abrupt switch was signaled by her characteristic “//” The new subject was “the latest story of poor Aunt Florence.” This now quite elderly relative, with whom Bishop had such fraught experiences and memories (yet continued to stay in touch with and hear about), was “quite bed-ridden and pretty gaga.” One of Bishop’s cousins, “Priscilla[,] asked her what she wanted for Christmas.” This poor old woman declared: “A SCREWDRIVER!” The reason for this response was because there was “a thermometer on her wall, and it was hers, and she wants to take it off to take it back to Worcester with her.”* Poor old Aunt Florence indeed! There but for the grace of countless unknown forces and factors go each of us, especially these days, now that so many of us are living so long.

Another “//” signaled Bishop’s return to the here and now and her hope that her aunt was “well and that the weather is good there” (wherever Grace was). Bishop noted that they were “going to Samambaia tomorrow,” which meant she might “have a letter from you – I hope so.” She reported that Elizabeth Naudin was “in Teresopolis for 3 weeks, I think,” so the Peter Rabbit books would be even more delayed in reaching their intended recipients.

As her letter began to wind down, she said she had to” go out marketing to get ready for tomorrow.” Then another quick shift of subject, signaled by only “ – “ She told her aunt that she had just received a canary from “a man who works with Lota.” This fellow “raises them.” Said canary was “a very pretty one, orange, from Holland.” Undoubtedly, this little bird reminded her of Gammie’s and Aunt Maude’s canaries. To name him, Bishop “asked Lota what the man’s name was … it turned out to be Zephyrino.” This little creature was “very young, but sings quite a lot.” (Does this remind you of someone?) She noted that in the country they had cats, in the city, the canary, “well separated.” Again, like Roger, the cats could eat the canary in “one gulp.”

The last couple of sentences were typed on the vertical in the left margin. She quickly signed off “With much love, and thank you again Elizabeth.” This closing was not, however, the end of the letter. On the back of the page Bishop typed two postscripts, one quite lengthy, which filled the whole page. The next post will take up these addenda.

Click here to see Post 129.

*****************

*Note: Florence was clearly suffering from dementia of some sort, at an advanced stage. I have had enough experience with dementia – my mother suffered from vascular dementia and my father has Alzheimer’s – that I cringe when I read Bishop’s tossed-off term “gaga.” With her own mother’s mental and physical sufferings, Bishop was terrified she would lose her faculties. The understanding of serious cognitive impairments and illnesses have improved greatly since the 1960s, but even now, most people don’t understand dementia and are just as terrified of it as Bishop.

New book about Elizabeth Bishop's childhood

I am excited to share the news of a new book about Elizabeth Bishop for young readers. Written by Rita Wilson and illustrated by Emma FitzGerald, Nimbus Publishing will be launching this book early in December. I’ll be posting information about the launches when it is available. As far as I know, there is no other book about EB for young readers. It is especially important for young Nova Scotians to learn about her deep and abiding connection to Great Village and how it shaped her artistic sensibility and development. Both Rita and Emma have strong connections to the EBSNS, so the society is especially happy to support this important project. You can read more about the book on Nimbus’s website.

Letters to Aunt Grace, Part 129: Holidays and gifts

Bishop’s first letter to her aunt in 1963 is dated 3 January from Rio. Proof that letters had been exchanged after her September 1962 epistle is in the first paragraph, when Bishop hoped that “you got my modest Christmas gift – because I got yours!” Bishop’s gift was, undoubtedly, money. Grace’s was more tangible and practical and was elaborated as Bishop got going. Even so, enough time had elapsed that Bishop was unsure “where to address you.” She surmised that Grace had “gone to Florida” and suspected she should use “Hazel’s address” in Hollywood, FL. Wherever her aunt was, Bishop knew “this will reach you,” directly or re-directly. The year was still brand new, so she emphatically typed, “Happy New Year.”

Bishop then accounted for her holiday, telling Grace that they “went to Cabo Frio for Christmas.” They left on “the 21^st and came back ten days later.” She noted they had “a nice time” at their “friend’s house,” which they had “all to themselves, with servants, too.” They spent their “time swimming and driving around to see the beaches and birds, etc, and sleeping.” This leisure and rest were greatly needed after the stressful late summer visit by the Lowells and because of Lota’s increasingly busy job.

At one point ‘Mary Morse went there … with Monica,” and “brought all our mail, including your book, from P.” I assume “P” is Phyllis and the gift in question was a cookbook, because Bishop quickly remarked that “it came in very HANDY there [Cabo Frio].” The cook, who worked for their friends, a man, “isn’t too good” (it seems good cooks were hard to find), so “every once in a while I take over.” At least this cook “likes to learn things,” which was the reason why when “your book arrived,” Bishop found it helpful: “I taught him how to make a New England (or NS style) fish chowder.” Bishop then complained about the bread, which was “so bad” that she “made a Johnny cake – thanks to the book, too.” This gift had “hit the nail on the head” for Bishop, who offered a heartfelt “thank you very much.”

(New England fish chowder)

As for marking Christmas, they “didn’t do anything at all in the way of … celebration.” Bishop used “a bottle of store mincemeat and a box of store pie crust,” both given to them by “an American friend here,” and made “a rather mediocre mince pie” that “top[ped] off our boiled shrimp on Christmas day.” The poor pie did mange to taste “a little like Christmas.”

(Johnny cakes)

Bishop had never been fond of this holiday and the older she got the less she liked it. She confessed to her aunt that she was “rather sick of the whole commercialized racket.” (I am reminded here of Charles Schultz’s “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” which came out in the 1960s and addressed this “commercialized racket.”) Bishop wished that the Brazilians “wouldn’t adopt it.” She noted they were “still torn between our style of Christmas and their style of New Years.” Bishop explained that “until quite recently,” Christmas “was just a religious affair” in Brazil. Gift-giving happened “at New Years,” and still did. Indeed, “Lota got quite a few” gifts.

This brief treatise on cultural differences in gift-giving segued to a practical development. Bishop noted that she “gave us three air conditioners, out of my fellowship money” (so much for travelling). Because Lota’s job was keeping them so much in Rio, in the heat, they decided they “couldn’t take another summer in the city without them.” Bishop decided to do “it up brown* while we were at it.” The result: “what a relief.” Bishop reported that “Lota will be working like this for three more years, maybe longer.” They had decided “to make ourselves moderately comfortable in the apartment.”

This dense, opening paragraph of her first 1963 letter was only just getting things started. She had a lot more ground to cover, which will continue in the next post.

Click here to see Post 128.

************

*Note: I have never heard this turn of phrase before. Bishop so rarely used such colloquial terms, it jumped right out.

Letters to Aunt Grace, Part 128: 1962 finale

N.B.: I got diverted from these letters by sharing images from Penny Lighthall’s hooked rug exhibit. This final post for the year 1962 has got separated from the flow of previous Letters to Aunt Grace. However, I now offer it and bring to a close a fascinating and sometimes difficult year for Elizabeth and Lota. I will begin 1963 shortly.

********************

The final two paragraphs of Bishop’s last extant 1962 letter to her aunt began with a strong, for Bishop, expletive: “DAMN!” She had mentioned earlier that she and Lota were finally going to get away to the country, to Samambaia, for the weekend, and were, actually, about ready to leave. But as Bishop typed this epistle, things changed: “we can’t go to the country after all.” The culprit this time was not Lota’s job, exactly, but the writer” John Dos Passos. Bishop wondered if her aunt had ever heard of him: “well — he’s here and now he wants to see me.” Moreover, “he also wants to see Lota’s park.” This request meant that their departure was delayed “until tomorrow.” So, not a total loss, but since she hadn’t been to the country in over a month, she was eager to go. This kind of interruption made her declare: “we are getting too official for my taste.” And observe that she was “a hermit by nature!”

(John Dos Passos)

All she wanted to do was “to get up there and just listen to the hi-fi all evening.” And she wanted to see Mary Morse’s daughter Monica, who she declared yet again was a “darling — almost two now.” Mary and Monica had recently visited them in Rio “for a few days and every morning early I took her swimming on the beach.” As young as Monica was, Bishop described her as “fearless” around the water: “she rushes right into the breakers, or water over her head, sinks, comes up laughing, her nose running, her hair all wet.” Clearly, a natural. So much did she love the water, Bishop said that she “couldn’t get her to sit & play on the sand.” All she wanted to do was “rush back into the water.” When they returned to the apartment Bishop jokingly said to Mary: “Your child is too rough for me to play with!” Who was tiring out whom?

The letter was finally winding down for good, with another “Well — ” and an effort to make the best of the delay in going up to the country:  “I’ll get to call on Elizabeth [Naudin] this afternoon,” something she had been wanting to do for some time.

As she reflected on what she wrote, she asked her aunt to “Please forgive all my various tales of woe.” And shifted gears to Grace, hoping that she was “keeping well and that you had a nice summer.” Since it had been so long since she wrote, and clearly since she had not heard from her aunt, she wondered “Where were you all this time?” And asked if there had been “lots of strawberries?” She noted that this fruit was just coming on “in Samambaia — and artichokes are just beginning.” Then she realized that it was in fact “‘spring’, more or less.” With the approach of hotter weather, she told her aunt that she was “going to invest in an air conditioner,” something they never had before, “but if Lota has to work all summer and stay in Rio I don’t think we can stand it without one.” The issue would be whether or not they could “get one, that is,” because there was “a shortage of practically everything.” This last line was just about typed off the bottom of the page.

Her final sentences were scribbled on the left margin. She wondered how Phyllis and her family were doing. How “Buddy’s baby” was: “I don’t even know its sex, name, or anything.” And she was genuinely interested. She knew her aunt would have lots of news so she signed off with “Please write soon. Lots of love, Elizabeth.”

It is hard to believe that no more letters were exchanged between Bishop and her aunt in 1962, but none exist. Grace and Phyllis were so careful to save Bishop’s letters, it is a shame that whatever was written in this next stretch has vanished. And all of Grace’s letters are gone, a real loss to history and an understanding of Bishop’s maternal family, about which she cared deeply. The next extant letter is dated 3 January 1963, from Rio. The next post will commence the New Year.

Click here to see Post 127. 

EBSNS AGM 2020

The Elizabeth Bishop Society of Nova Scotia will hold its 2020 Annual General Meeting on 20 June at the Royal Canadian Legion in Great Village, N.S. Guest speaker will be Nova Scotia poet Janet Barkhouse, who will read from her work and talk about her connection to Sable Island.

(Janet Barkhouse)

(Janet on Sable Island)

The society will present an exhibit of Bishop inspired drawings by Natalia Povalyaeva, from Minsk, Belarus, in the Echoes of EB art gallery in St. James Church. As further details become available, the society will share them on this blog and on the society's website.

(Natalia Povalyaeva)

(One of Natalia's images)

From Pen to Hook: Part 20

The final image in this series is Lighthall's response to Bishop's early poem "Chemin de Fer." This strange, fable-like poem is one of the first in her first book North & South. It shows a view from a train (as opposed to a bus in the late poem "The Moose") and offers an odd aggressive act when a hermit shoots off a gun, though the act seems more like just making a noise than any sort of violence, because the hermit shouts one of Bishop's strong but mysterious declarations: "Love should be put in to action." Slight as this poem seems, it contains layers of meaning and many images that reappear in Bishop's work throughout her life. She is signalling that an essential character of her work is "an echo." I have enjoyed presenting Lighthall's images, which are themselves like visual echoes of Bishop's words, but they are of course much more than that. Lighthall has put her love of Bishop's art into action, into her own art, which is a pleasure to contemplate. Again, I want to thank Susan Kerslake for providing me with all the images used in this series.

From Pen to Hook: Part 19

"Well, we have come this far." is the ending of "Cirque d'Hiver," the early Bishop poem that inspired this delightful rug. The poem is about a mechanical toy: a cantering horse with a twirling dancer on its back -- an object that seems both inanimate and animate at the same time. It is the penultimate image I will post. We have come quite far in this series and this charming image is one of my favourites. Seemingly purely descriptive, this poem carries with it a good deal of mystery, evoked in the very motion of the object, which moves in the poem without any apparent assistance from a human hand. I love that big key under the horse's belly.

From Pen to Hook: Part 18

Bishop loved to cook, a skill she began to learn during her childhood. This delightful rug is based on a funny little poem Bishop wrote about Fanny Farmer's cookbook, a gift she gave her friend, the poet Frank Bidart and to whom she dedicated the poem. Yesterday Penny Lighthall gave a talk about her rugs at the Halifax Central Library. Wish I could have been there. Susan Kerslake attended and sent these images. Tahnks, Susie. And thanks Penny for creating such delightful works of art!

From Pen to Hook: Part 17

This rather dramatic rug is a response to EB's poem "Trouvee" (apologies for no accent on the first e.). This odd little poem, dedicated to her friends Wheaton Galentine and Harold Leeds, is about a hen that was killed on West 4th Street in NYC. EB knew many hens during her childhood. Great Village would have been full of them. But the disjunct of seeing one killed on a busy city street clearly struck her. The poem is essentially a question about why things happen where and when they do, for which we often seldom have full or even partial answers. It is interesting to me that Lighthall has chosen not only the most famous or iconic poems to interpret, but also some of Bisbop's more obscure poems.

From Pen to Hook: Part 16

Today is the fortieth anniversary of Elizabeth Bishop's death. I wonder if she could have imagined the global interest in her life and work in 1979. She had received many awards and had some sense of the interest in her poetry, but the stature and status of Bishop has only continued to rise since her death. This lovely rug is inspired by Bishop's early poem "The Man-Moth," triggered by a misprint she saw in a newspaper (the word was supposed to be mammoth). This poem appeared in North & South and is one of her most mysterious. I love the simplicity of this rug and that strange shadow figure behind the poet.

From Pen to Hook: Part 15

This intricate rug is inspired by Bishop's poem "First Death in Nova Scotia," about the death of one of her little cousins, son of Arthur and Mabel Bulmer. Lighthall said she felt uncertain about depicting a scene that was common in the early 20th century -- the laying out of bodies at home. But I think this rug captures the poem beautifully, with the chromographs of the royal family on the wall, the loon on the table, Bishop's mother lifting her to see her cousin and the deep snow outside. Bishop wrote this scene with both profound mystery and serious humour. It was a moment in her life that shaped how she saw the fragility reality. She was both confused and comforted in the midst of this common ritual of her childhood.

From Pen to Hook: Part 14

I was quite interested to see that Lighthall chose to do a rug based on Bishop's poem "Five Flights Up." This rarely remarked upon poem is the last one in her final collection, Geography III. This poem has a little bird and a little dog being observed by the "poet," who ponders our sense of self and time. The final lines in this poem are: "-- Yesterday brought to today so lightly! / (A yesterday I find almost impossible to lift.)" They are important to me because I took the title of my book from them: Lifting Yesterday: Elizabeth Bishop and Nova Scotia. We all lift and carry "yesterday" with us, and sometimes it is a heavy burden. Bishop lifted and carried her yesterday by writing transcendent poems that speak to many people "today."

From Pen to Hook: Part 13

This rug is inspired by Bishop's late poem "In the Waiting Room," set in Worcester, MA, in February 1918, when she was seven years old. It is the one poem where she names herself directly and writes about her realization of how she was both connected to and separate from the people and world around her. Lighthall has caught the sense of the crowded feel of the waiting room that so unsettled Bishop. Not sure why she chose to insert the smiling tooth, but Bishop was always one for injecting humour into even the darkest or most shadowy moments, so it is not out of place.

From Pen to Hook: Part 12

This rug could be inspired by only one poem, "The Moose," which is now perhaps Bishop's second most famous poem, after "One Art." The origin of this poem was a bus ride in 1946 from Great Village back to Boston. Bishop dedicated the poem to her beloved Aunt Grace, who, incidentally painted a portrait of a bull moose (the one in "The Moose" is female) when in her 80s. Here is a very poor scan of a photo of this painting, which used to hang in the sunporch of Elmcroft, the Bowers' family farm, in Great Village. The house has been recently renovated and the sunporch removed, and I have no idea where this painting is now. I love the way Penny has coalesced that long descriptive poem into this one clear and iconic image.

(Photo taken by Phyllis Sutherland in the

kitchen of Elmcroft, circa early 1990s).

From Pen to Hook: Part 11

This dramatic rug is inspired by Bishop's early poem "The Ballad of the Subway Train," written when she was about sixteen at Walnut Hill School. This poem is her re-telling of the Biblical fall, but with dragons rather than humans, dragons that live and play freely in the cosmos until one day they eat a "swarm of stars new made" and God banishes them to the depth of the earth where they become subway trains. A truly precocious piece of juvenilia, an omen of her capacity to bring together strange elements and make them seem deeply familiar. I love Lighthall's wondrous dragon and all those humans who are rather unaware of the mystery of their mode of transportation.

From Pen to Hook: Part 10

This rug is inspired by Bishop's late poem "The End of March," set on a beach in Duxbury, MA. Littoral spaces were generative for Bishop, places between the mysterious ocean and the enigmatic continent. In this poem she is walking the beach looking for a perfect place to rest, to "be," which she knows to be "impossible." I like how Lighthall has rendered the most famous images of this poem, the kite string and the "big, majestic paw-prints" of "the lion sun."