Full Rainbow Outside of Northfield, MinnesotaAfternoon Rainbow on Our Kitchen Floor
I associate outdoor light and shine with Earth Day, and I have every since I was sitting on our porch swing on Earth Day in 2000, with a nine-month-old Julia on my lap. The light rainfall ceased and a double rainbow appeared across the street. “Julia, Julia!” I said, “The Earth loves us back!”
Today’s poem, “Earth Day, 2025,” echoes that emotion for me.
These photos of sedums in our front garden were taken yesterday. They are “glazed with rainwater” in a way that I think that William Carlos Williams would appreciate, and we are thrilled that these robust, low-lying plants are coming up again, vernicose and welcome.
The prompt word that I chose today from Rosendahl’s glossary, “vernicose,” was not known to me before. I was quite taken with its definition, “shiny, as though varnished,” especially when applied to growing plants. As I sought to learn more online, I was questioned repeatedly about the spelling–did I not mean “varicose”?–no, I did not! I conclude that vernicose is not a commonly used word. I did, however, learn that vernicose leaves, especially in houseplants, are a sign of radiant health.
Wishing you a day of brightness and brilliant health, and the same to our beloved planet, Earth! LESLIE
If you have already seen this gentle, luminous, poetry-filled fillm, then you know. This riveting “Week in the Life” of two young married people, working class artists living in Paterson, New Jersey, is a small miracle. Or maybe not so small. The main character is a bus driver who writes poems inspired by the people, places, and things around him–anything he notices and responds to in his daily round might spark a poem that he writes into a notebook he carries everywhere. His wife overflows with artistic impulses and dreams–to make astonishing cupcakes, to paint, to learn to play the guitar and become a country western star. Their English bulldog, Marvin, plays a quiet but key role, and is a sly scene stealer.
The Great Falls of the Passaic River in Paterson, New Jersey
The backdrops for this astonishing film, which blends poetry into the action at each turn seemlessly and believably, is the working class city of Paterson and the eponymous five-volume epic poem, Paterson, written by a dean of American modernist poetry, William Carlos Williams. Williams grew up in Rutherford, a small town near Paterson, and returned to it after his schooling to live there and practice medicine while writing poetry and raising a family.
If you haven’t seen the film and would like an intelligent blow-by-blow, this review by “Film Guy Stash” does a brilliant job.
If you do take the plunge and watch the film, you might want to learn more about the poems featured in the film. Each poem is treated almost like a character, with a form on screen in typeface and a voice, too, usually the main character, also named Paterson, reads them. One of the poems, attributed to a young girl, was written by the film’s director, Jim Jarmusch. Another is a frequently anthologized and justly famous short lyric, “This Is Just To Say,” written by William Carlos Williams. The remaining poems (most commissioned for the film) were written by contemporary poet, Ron Padgett, whose strong and sinuglar voice holds echoes of Williams’ cadences and images draw from daily life.
Paterson by Williams is an epic amalgamation of the poet and the city. Memorable quotes include “No ideas but in things”; “The City is a man”; “The Falls are sprinkled partridges, outspread, spotted with white specks.” (In the spirit of full disclosure, I confess that, while I am drawn to Williams’ short lyrics I have never been able to go beyond Book I of his Paterson. If you have read this epic in its entirety, hat’s off to you!”
Ron Padgett (1942-present) (legacy of French symbolish and Dadaist writing)
Ron Padgett
Years ago, another Northfield poet, D.E. Green, referred me to the work of Ron Padgett, and two of his many titles have a permanent place on my bookshelf:
When I think about the rich cinematic experience of this quiet movie, it is the themes I see that move me most: “Bloom where you are planted. Be brave enough to risk doing the work, and share it with the world. Look anywhere, and you will find love and beauty and art looking right back.
The Summer 2019 issue ofThird Wednesday is out now, and it is again full of the depth and variety for which it is known.
I was delighted by the elegantly icy concrete (or shaped) poem by Northfield’s own Rob Hardy titled “Icicles,” and I was intrigued by a four-sonnet sequence by Jennifer A. McGowan, the feature poet for this issue who is based in the U.K.
And–because I had submitted to their third “One-Sentence Poetry Contest”–I was especially interested to read the winning entries. My submission did not win, but I would not have written it without the impetus of the contest. It sprang from a childhood memory, discussing Shakespeare, very briefly, with my computer-scientist father. I was honored that Third Wednesday included it in their group of “considerable merit.”
As I have come to expect, this issue has me thinking outside my usual boxes about poetry, prose, and images. Just to share a bit of that, here are some of my favorite classic poems–quite different poets, subjects, moods, and diction–that I am now viewing through the lens of one-sentence construction–why didn’t I notice this aspect before?
Now, I suspect, I will look for that single full-stop–in terms of sense and punctuation–as I read the work of others. I know that I shall be consciously considering the limits of the sentence as I construct new poems.
Do you have a favorite one-sentence poem? If so, please let me know! If not, do consider trying your hand at one this summer!