Andrew, John -- you may also be interested in an updated volume, which is forthcoming this summer from Graywolf. It is edited by Heid Erdrich, titled, "New Poets of Native Nations," and includes younger Native poets, whose first books were published after the year 2000. No, I am not in it
Here is the link, and her comment on the site:
https://www.amazon.com/Poets-Native-.../dp/1555978096
"As an editor and judge on panels for literary prizes, I have found among my
peer poets and critics a general lack of understanding of what Native American
writing looks like, what it might be about, what styles it might choose, and how
it can be recognized within the whole of American poetry. It has seemed to
me that, unless our poetry conforms to some stereo typical notion of Native
American history and culture in the past tense or unless it depicts spiritual relationship
to the natural world of animals and plants and landscape, it goes unrecognized.
We do and we do not write of treaties, battles, and drums. We
do and we do not write about eagles, spirits, and canyons. Native poetry may
be those things, but it is not only those things. It is also about grass and apologies,
bones and joy, marching bands and genocide, skin and social work, and
much more. But who would know? . . . This anthology is meant to bring new
audiences to poets of Native nations, including Native audiences, and readers
who might then start seeing actual Native-created poetry as part of the larger
American poetry conversation.
—Heid E. Erdrich, from her introduction"
As for me, while I read them all, as I said, I am wild about the Acoma Pueblo poet, Simon Ortiz. His deep humanitarianism, his sense of humor, his strong storyteller impulse, and the fact his aesthetic arises
straight from the American Indian oral tradition. His readings electrify me, the modulation of his voice, the sing-song, pitch-oriented delivery (Cherokee is a pitch language, very sing-song, so I can appreciate this style). When in his readings, Ortiz breaks into song, "Dance, my flying horse," he is drawing directly from Native American tradition. I know. Because I have translated and transcribed it.
As you may not know --
both my grandfathers were Indian. Each one has "walked on." Some of my maternal grandfather's last words were, "I am leaving." Ortiz has a song about leaving (dying) which I cannot put from my mind. I always remember my grandfather, hearing it.
I would listen to the man count elk, bison, buzzards, and wolves.
Jennifer
Where do we go now?
Linear Mode
