When Rafael Campo's poems first appeared in The Kenyon Review, I found them powerful. Marilyn Hacker said that Rafael "brings us the news." I've also heard a wonderful poet, Paula Tatarunis (who's a medical doctor...check out her poetry publications on google.com) speak of Campo's "thundering iambs." She liked his early work, but has tired of his style.
By Rafael Campo, from a series of 16, 16-line, poems in WHAT THE BODY TOLD.
XV. Lilacs for My Mother
Of all the drugs I've known, the lilac's sweetest.
I seek it in the gardens of my neighbors;
To walk intoxicated through its vapors,
I've visited the Arnold Arboretum
(Which has the largest plants--a century
Of cultivation, blooming, on display).
The scent recalls my mother's silk sachets...
I'm resting on her pillow. In the breeze,
She sings to me: she says I'm handsome, strong;
I'm all she ever dreamed of, perfect, loved.
It never mattered that I'm gay; above
All else (the breeze, remembering her song)
Is freedom to express our love, be who
We are. And so, about my arm? It doesn't matter.
The lilacs, through my tears, grow even fatter--
My mother is my heart. The lilacs bloom.
This piece comes from a series dealing with cancer in the speaker's arm, among other subjects, such as medical care and loving relationships.
Bob
[This message has been edited by Robert J. Clawson (edited October 23, 2001).]
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