Displaced Poet

for Joseph Brodsky who said:
“The dolce vita is chocolate and champagne.”

He bought bread
in the little shop on the corner,
had it wrapped

mostly for the mystery
and the precious paper,
a blank slate for his poetry

inspired by mingled scents
of poppy seed and yeast,
and a yearning for his homeland

where loaves were crustier
and poets were noted
for their hunger.

 

(excerpted from Poetry Foundation) Iosif Alexandrovich Brodsky was reviled and persecuted in his native Soviet Union, but the Western literary establishment lauded him as one of that country’s finest poets. From the time he began publishing his verse—both under his own name, and under the name Joseph Brodsky—which was characterized by ironic wit and a spirit of fiery independence, Brodsky aroused the ire of Soviet authorities; he was also persecuted because he was a Jew. He was brought to trial for “parasitism,” and a smuggled transcript of that trial helped bring him to the attention of the West, for he answered his interrogators with courageous and articulate idealism. Brodsky was condemned to a Soviet mental institution and later spent five years in Arkhangelsk, an Arctic labor camp. A public outcry from American and European intellectuals over his treatment helped to secure his early release. Forced to emigrate, he moved to Michigan in 1972, where, with the help of the poet W. H. Auden, he settled in at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor as poet-in-residence. He then taught at several universities, including Queens College in New York and Mount Holyoke College in Massachusetts. He continued to write poetry, however, often writing in Russian and translating his own work into English, and eventually winning the Nobel Prize for his work.

6 thoughts on “Displaced Poet

  1. Reblogged this on Mitch Teemley and commented:
    My Featured Blogger this week is the wonderful Sarah M. Zang (a.k.a. S.M. Zang), who maintains multiple blog sites, one for her own poetry, and others for a broad community of modern poets.

    Sarah is an indomitable champion of other artists. Last year, she and a friend drove hundreds of miles to see the world premiere of my film Over-the-Rhine. Meeting her in person was only a confirmation of the friendship we’d already formed through exploring each other’s work.

    But gratitude and friendship alone did not inspire this post. Sarah is an artist in her own right. Like butterflies trapped in amber, her poems are full of aching beauty and spiritual longing. She mourns and celebrates the human experience, while hinting at the promise of something more.

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