Before I begin, I must say that I found Marcus's work rich and deep in a transcendent way. For as easy as it is to enter (and be in) his poems, leaving the poem behind is not easy. His poems acquire that resonant frequency that hums in my mind after I have finished reading. And this also happened for me while listening to his poems--as it should. Many poets spoke to Marcus's ability to mentor and respect them as they grew into poetry. Clements had the funniest story. He explained how, as an editor, he had at first rejected a submission of Marcus's work. Marcus resubmitted a few weeks later with a note, that, according to Clements read, "That's ok. You'll come around." Many attested to his warmth and generosity, and I've found that in his work.
Here's a bit from Marcus's last book--something he worked on during the last years of his life. Not a collection of previously published work, the book is, as several on the panel attested, his best work. Here is an excerpt from the title poem to The Dark Figure in the Doorway. Marcus has focused on a single figure in the background of Diego Velazquez's painting Las Meninas.
...
the Spanish Golden Age
will sink into oblivion.
But like the figure
in the doorway,
we hesitate today,
caught between yesterday
and tomorrow, aware
as never before
that we stand with one foot
in the painting
and one foot out,
sure only of this moment
when we look into the room
where the king and queen
pose for the painter
who stands with his back
toward us,
the Spanish Golden Age
will sink into oblivion.
But like the figure
in the doorway,
we hesitate today,
caught between yesterday
and tomorrow, aware
as never before
that we stand with one foot
in the painting
and one foot out,
sure only of this moment
when we look into the room
where the king and queen
pose for the painter
who stands with his back
toward us,
Here we have a poem that, at first glance might be making some amateur moves--using a universal we, writing about a painting, centering a poem in the middle of a page--but it actually needs these moves help an audience think about what is comfortable and familiar--and to perhaps wake them from that trance. Marcus aids the audience in meditating on the dichotomies that we prescribe to our lives. Throughout the poem, in lines beyond the scope of this post, the reader is asked to examine near/far, public/private, powerful/weak, alive/dead, artist/non, our perspective/the other, doing/being, and on and on. A person in a doorway. Leaving? Entering? Being? All of those possibilities and their implications unfold in Marcus's poem. Spiritual? Yes. Boring? No.
Ok, here's one for Valentine's Day. Excerpts from "3 Poems that Make You Beautiful"
1.
Something--your hands
rummaging for dishes beneath the foam
while the white enameled stove
outlines the slope of your butt
...
That moment, that something,
when you raise your arms
and lift, shiny from the foam,
the dazzling edge of a plate.
2.
There is a loveliness
that goes as it comes:
water shadows, for one,
or your smile, darling,
...
3.
All over the apartment,
...
the looping pencil-lines of hair:
on desk, bathtub, dresser drawer--
...
so that your presence
would be with me
when I bathed, ate,
or wrote a poem.
If you're interested in more of Morton Marcus's work, go to White Pine Press.
