This is the fluid in which we meet each other,
This haloey radiance that seems to breathe
And lets our shadows wither
Only to blow
Them huge again, violent giants on the wall.
One match scratch makes you real.

At first the candle will not bloom at all –
It snuffs its bud
To almost nothing, to a dull blue dud.

I hold my breath until you creak to life,
Balled hedgehog,
Small and cross. The yellow knife
Grows tall. You clutch your bars.
My singing makes you roar.
I rock you like a boat
Across the Indian carpet, the cold floor,
While the brass man
Kneels, back bent, as best he can

Hefting his white pillar with the light
That keeps the sky at bay,
The sack of black! It is everywhere, tight, tight!
He is yours, the little brassy Atlas –
Poor heirloom, all you have,
At his heels a pile of five brass cannonballs,
No child, no wife.
Five balls! Five bright brass balls!
To juggle with, my love, when the sky falls.

-Sylvia Plath

Twilight is a threshold time,
a corridor, a port,
a melting pot, a thing sublime,
where light and dark consort.

It is a grail, a cup,
for dual absolutions.
It softens stark extremes
and beckons toward solutions.

The hero wakes in twilight,
past crushing, clashing rocks.
In his begging bowl is insight,
carried home to feed the flocks.

In days gone by, this hero
was the seer, was the sage.
Now, he’s a twilight poet,
who sings to a twilight age.

Find his middle way,
and its truth that does denote us.
For at twilight’s balance point,
dwells the jewel within the lotus.

-Michael Haugh

I am extraordinarily pleased to share this special poem written recently by one of the most influential teachers in my life, Michael Haugh. At 15 years old, I was sent from public school to private school after nearly failing out my freshman year. Here I met Mr. Haugh, a no-nonsense teacher; a large and imposing man to whom I sensed – and still sense – I must bring my best. He believed in me and being, for the most part, terrifying made that even more effective.

Michael Haugh’s encouragement of my abilities as a writer and thinker changed my life and set me on a course for honors English, then AP English, then a bachelors and master’s in English, and finally into careers as a professor, writer, editor, and publisher.

Michael P. Haugh was born in Brooklyn, NY on October 25, 1945. He graduated from The Aquinas Institute of Rochester, NY in 1963. He matriculated at St. Bonaventure University. He obtained a B.A.in English in 1967 and an M.A. in English Literature in 1969. He, also, acquired an M.A. in Diversified Studies from Brockport State University in 1985. For forty years he taught English, Journalism, Theology, and Creative Writing at Cardinal Mooney H.S. and at The Aquinas Institute, both located in Rochester, NY.

In addition to classroom responsibilities, he also held the administrative positions of Dean of Students and English Departmental Chair, and served several years as Campus Minister and the coach of boys’ varsity golf and freshman basketball. In 2007, the year of his retirement, Michael was a recipient of the Singer Award for Excellence in Secondary Education from The University of Rochester. Michael is married to Stephanie Haugh, is presently retired, and continues residence in Rochester, NY. They have three married sons, seven grandchildren, and two dogs.

2. I Walked a Mile with Pleasure

3. The Lost Son

4. Ithaca (video)

5. The Serpent

6. After a While

7. Love Me Like You Never Loved Before

8. Deathless Aphrodite of the Spangled Mind

9. Giving Up

10. The Unicorn

Her eyes were green
And I see now
How I thought I was beautiful
Compared to him
But she was beautiful
Compared to me

And he would chose her

In my head
And in the hall of my roots
Where the dead grow and the old
Plays are memorialized on tapestry

The mold is only slight, there is a
Magic that keeps this terrible truth alive

In all I wanted, in all these years, I thought
I found something to aspire to, that is a line
From a book, I suspect, some bland platitude
But it piques my interest because

I am the tom cat
In the celebrity showcase

I am the one cartooned

She is the plaster goddess, the thing on the wall
She is the face that said no
And now smiles and so
Who could say no to her?

She is the power play, I am merely the one who
Stood next to him

I am the one who has offered
She has asked to be given

And no matter what I do
it is always me
who must be cast out
To the far corners

Me as always
In every one of these stories
In the deep dank room of roots
Untried, unloved, unwon, uncarried
The woman in the background

Fading away already, always light of hair, light of skin

A ghost

-Nina Alvarez

http://ninaalvarez.net/2010/12/04/support-the-arts-this-christmas

http://ninaalvarez.net/2009/12/10/words-without-borders

http://ninaalvarez.net/2008/12/18/support-literature-this-christmas-if-you-can

Words Without Borders is a wonderful and important publication, celebrating and curating literature from around the world and sharing it in many different languages. But like many literary organizations, they need your support. Read this holiday message from their Executive Director.

Dear Friends

As a regular reader of Words without Borders you know that for the last eight years Words without Borders has provided our readers with the very best in international literature and that in doing so we promote cultural understanding and build bridges between cultures. Whether it is a fictional account of the Dasht-e-Leili massacre, the destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas at the hands of the Taliban, Leïla Marouane’s taleof a woman’s oppression by a family member or even the existential torment of shopping at IKEA, Words without Borders connects you, our reader, to the entire world.

But we do so much more in order to bring our authors and their important work to as many people as possible.

We actively advocate to the publishing industry on behalf of our authors. In fact, we have a quarterly newsletter that just goes out to agents and editors. This year we welcomed the release of  Galit Seliktar and Galid Seliktar’s Farm 54 and Johan Harstad’s Buzz Aldrin, What Happened to You in All the Confusion , and announced that Angela Pradelli received a contract with Latin American Review Press thanks to our efforts.

We publish stories in many languages. Since April 2011 whenever we can attain the rights, we publish the original alongside the translation (like this!). We now have work in Spanish, French, German, Pashto, Dari, Arabic, Icelandic, Korean, Japanese, Maltese and over a dozen more.

We’re placing international authors in public high schools around the country, including Évelyne Trouillot, Galit Seliktar, and Etgar Keret at the Bard High School and Early College New York, Dei Bao in Chicago, Carmen Boullosa at the Houston Independent School District in Houston, and Eduardo Halfon at the June Jordan High School for Equity in San Francisco. These visits are just the first steps in a much larger education program we hope to launch in 2012.

Whether you are one of our readers from around the world, an academic or student engaged in scholarly research, or a publishing professional looking for new talent, Words without Borders’ small staff is working to provide you and as many other people as we can possible reach with a rich and meaningful cross-cultural experience, which is why I’m asking you to join our growing list of financial supporters by making a tax-deductible donation via JustGive.org by December 31.

Whether it’s $10, $1000 or a much welcome monthly donation your gift goes toward supporting Words without Borders: The Online Magazine of International Literature and our burgeoning education program and ensuring that we remain a strong and vital cultural institution.

Donate today. Thank you for your support.

Sincerely,
Joshua Mandelbaum
Executive Director

Filed under: words ]]> http://ninaalvarez.net/2011/12/09/1793/feed/ 0 ninaalvarez