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 butterfly migrating across buzzard’s bay how brave I thought or foolish like sending a poem across months of silence and on such delicate wings
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.
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
Children,
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!
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.
I should know the work of Linda Pastan but don’t. After reading your post I’ll be looking out for more.