Poets, Poets, Poets.

Hi Fig Group--my daughter is sick (again), but I thought I'd contribute my thoughts, unfinished as they may be, in lieu of my presence.

Liz's questions last week struck a chord with me. Lately, I've found myself wondering why people find so much joy in crisis, or censorship. It's as if they seek things to quarrel with. In hunting for the "pregnant Barbie" (I think kids should know where people come from), I found the recalled, pregnant "Midge" on Amazon...for $185. The cost wasn't the most disturbing part; rather, the comments irked me. Statements like "little girls don't need to know this" made me question human sanity.

Also, I'd like to point out that on the American Barbie, the belly is removable and she looks...just like she did before. Shocker!

Then, the Copenhagen Zoo controversy. In a move to prevent inbreeding in the zoo and remain economically/environmentally viable, Copenhagen zoo officials opted to kill a healthy giraffe, dissect his body publicly (news outlets shout "but CHILDREN see it!"), used the remains to feed the lions, then contributed the unused pieces to research. Perhaps I'm not the most PETA-friendly person, but...wouldn't animals have died anyway to feed the carnivores? Won't these children grow up to be surgeons and parents and teachers? I found myself wondering what was problematic about maintaining a healthy, quality zoo-life, if that was the goal?

Getting back to the point. Censorship, as Liz said, is a stupid reason, but we must contend with our brains, not our guts. Lorca's "Ode to Walt Whitman" was fascinating, and I must admit I had a hard time following it. Here's what I got--people are cruel, unfeeling, and seek to put themselves on top. I didn't see overt homosexuality. Sexuality? Yes. Pure thighs, heavenly naked bodies. But isn't that part of life, just like lions eating giraffes, and pregnant women? It feels like the age of prudery all over again (see Bill Bryson, The Mother Tongue).

The part of "Ode..." that really stuck with me was this, "That's why I don't raise my voice, old Walt Whitman/ against the little boy who writes the name of a girl on his pillow,/ nor against the boy who dresses as a bride in the darkness of the wardrobe." To me, it doesn't seem that Lorca is promoting homosexuality as he is denouncing those who are homosexual, but simultaneously "enemies of love." I'm not sure what this means. If you scream and shout and flaunt, does that make you a murderer of doves? A slave of women? I'm so confused.

The sonnets of dark love seem even less sexual in nature. Lines of love, sculpted eyes, and withered flowers seem to me images of unrequited passion or lost love. It seems like the real problem (if there was one) would be an overabundance of life and love. Feel too much? Shut it down!

Much like a pregnant Barbie can demonstrate the capacity of a woman's body beyond its appeal in a bikini, and the dead giraffe represents not just a beautiful animal, but food, these poems give us some insight about the human nature of love--homo or hetero.

I hear some crying downstairs. I'm out.