A Last Look at Carnival Evening

I’m going to spend one more day, though I could easily spend a week more, trying to convince you that Carnival Evening is definitely worth your time, a perfect companion during the Covid-19 lockdown. I’ve chosen  two poems which represent two themes in Pastan’s work.  

Several of her poems focus on famous paintings, which I might have found frustrating before the invention of the internet since I would have to run to the library and spend at least an hour finding the painting.  That’s not a problem now, though, and being able to look at the artwork while reading the poem elucidates both.  

I’ll have to admit that I didn’t know who Vermeer was before I read the poem, but I did recognize a couple of his most famous paintings, just not this one, when I looked him up online.  I was a little surprised to find how many references there were to this painting, particularly this one.

Woman Holding a Balance
Vermeer, 1664

The picture within
the picture is The Last
Judgement, subdued
as wallpaper in the background.
And though the woman
holding the scales
is said to be weighing
not a pearl or a coin
but the heft of a single soul,
this hardly matters.
It is really the mystery
of the ordinary
we’re looking at—the way
Vermeer has sanctified
the same light that enters
our own grimed windows
each morning, touching
a cheek, the fold
of a dress, a jewelry box
with perfect justice.

When Vermeer put an illustration of The Last Judgement in the background of his painting he seems to be suggesting a tie between that and the scale, by referring to it as “wallpaper” Pastan notes the painting while at the same time suggesting it is far less important than the “sanctified” light at the heart of the painting and her poem. Even the “weighing” of a human soul to determine its eternal fate “hardly matters”  compared to this holy light. More importantly, for the reader, this is “the same light that enters/our own grimed windows/each morning…”  Most of us are too preoccupied to notice the light; it takes the artist,  the poet, or the photographer to remind us of this daily blessing in hopes that we, too, will see it as holy, sanctified.

Pastan’s interest in art isn’t limited to paintings, she also focuses on her art in poems about Emily Dickinson, new poets, marginalized poets, and the nature of books in general.  My favorite of these types of poems is this one, which made me think that it might have been Emily Dickinson’s version of Whitman’s “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry.”

postcard from cape cod

just now I saw
one yellow
across buzzard’s bay
how brave I thought
or foolish
like sending
a poem
across months
of silence
and on such

There is a nowness to the poem that transcends the years it took to reach my eyes. I can almost see the butterfly.  I know many people think of poetry as a foolish waste of time, but I have never thought of it as taking courage to write poetry. Perhaps it takes courage to send it to out there for fear of appearing foolish.  I like this poem because it is delicate, barely two sentences long and, yet, quite beautiful. 

Pastan’s poetry reminds me not only of the Chinese and Japanese poets I’ve come to love but even more of Emily Dickinson.  It’s not just the immediacy and simplicity of her poems that is reminiscent of Dickinson. There is a sadness, a shyness, a sense of isolation that pervades her poems which she transforms into wisdom.  

3 thoughts on “A Last Look at Carnival Evening”

  1. For years i sent to family and some friends a note in the morning. There was always a poem included, and I had used several of Linda Pastan’s poems over the years. When my daughter and I discussed what kind of funeral I wanted, we talked about music, and where to scatter the ashes and who would get the glass bowl from my husband’s mother, and my father’s leather worked things, and other sundry things that people had said they would be pleased to inherit. And, writing poetry all these years, I wanted to have poets there too, and Linda Pastan’s poem Last Will is one I told her I would like someone to read. I send it to you because you seem to have a soft spot for her work, and it sort of goes with the one you chose about the obligation of happiness.

    Last Will

    when I am ash
    read by the light of the fire
    that consumes me
    this document
    whose subject is love.

    I want to leave you everything: my life
    divided into so many parts
    there are enough to go around; the world
    from this window: weather and a tree
    which bequeaths
    all of its leaves each year.

    Today the lawyer plans
    for your descendants,
    telling a story
    of generations
    that seems to come true
    even as he speaks.

    My books will fill
    your children’s shelves,
    my small enameled spoons
    invade their drawers. It is
    the only way I know, so far,
    to haunt.

    Let me be a guest
    at my own funeral
    and at the reading of my will.
    You I’ll reward first
    for the moments of your births,
    those three brief instants
    when I understood my life.

    But wisdom bends as light does
    around the objects it touches.
    The only legacy you need was left
    by accident long ago:
    a secret in the genes.
    The rest is small change.

    Linda Pastan

    And so, I too had three brief instants when I understood my life, and how it changed and how it would keep changing! Thanks for giving me a chance to talk about one of my beloved poets!

  2. Thanks for the recommendation. I’ve ordered the book.
    The judgment of a soul does matter, though. Our actions/inactions have eternal consequences for each of us.

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