Adam Zagajewski calls the Poetry Crisis Line

In memoriam: Adam Zagajewski (1945-2021). May his memory be a blessing.

I have to say a little here about “Try to Praise the Mutilated World,” which I find amazing, though I hadn’t heard of Adam Zagajewski before he passed away, for the way it juxtaposes the terrors of the world (viewed distantly) with the beauty (viewed up close). But my wife and son read this cartoon without having read the original poem, and they saw the refugees and the executioners as interacting with one another, rather than two separate examples of the harshness of the world. So to them it was a depiction of a single massacre. And I had thought this was a particularly dark Poetry Crisis Line call, but, uh…not quite that dark.

ROSIE (counselor): Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI (caller): You’ve seen the refugees going nowhere
ROSIE: On the news, yes.
ZAGAJEWSKI: You’ve heard the executioners sing joyfully.
ROSIE: I can’t talk to you about what happens on other calls.

 

Spring Limerick Triptych

A rabbit, a lamb, and a duck
were trying to flag down a truck
full of colorful eggs—
the lamb stuck out her leg
and barely missed being lamb chuck.

 

A duck asked a lamb and a rabbit
while dyeing eggs, “Golly dagnabit,
why on earth do we task
ourselves with filling bask-
ets each year?” and the rabbit said, “Habit.”

 

A rabbit, a duck, and a lamb
met a pig, and they started to jam.
“Don’t try to outdo him,”
a spider who knew him
said. “He’s an INCREDIBLE ham.”

Eavan Boland calls the Poetry Crisis Line

Note: I’m not above retconning a potted plant, but I need to boast that the dried-out fern on Rosie’s desk dates back to her first appearance.

 

From “How We Made a New Art on Old Ground” by Eavan Boland

ROSIE (counselor): Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
EAVAN BOLAND (caller): Follow this silence to its edge
ROSIE:   …   …   …
BOLAND: And you will hear
ROSIE: Oh. I didn’t realize we’d reached the edge.
BOLAND: the history of air.
ROSIE: Oral or written?
BOLAND: The crispness of a fern.
ROSIE: Yes, mine has gotten kind of crunchy. I should water it.

“Nobody” calls the Poetry Crisis Line

For International Women’s Day, we’re rerunning Emily Dickinson, in sepia, in honor of all the women and marginalized people who’ve had to suffer being conditioned not to think of themselves.

ROSIE (counselor): Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
NOBODY (emily dickinson): I’m Nobody!
ROSIE: It’s OK–at the Poetry Crisis Line, we respect your privacy.
NOBODY: Who are you?
ROSIE: We also respect my privacy.
NOBODY: Are you Nobody, too?
ROSIE: If it helps to think of it that way.

Louise Glück calls the Poetry Crisis Line

PATIENCE (counselor): Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
LOUISE GLÜCK (caller): You’re stepping on your father, my mother said.
PATIENCE: Has he fallen and can’t get up?
GLÜCK: and indeed I was standing exactly in the center of a bed of grass,
mown so neatly it could have been my father’s grave,
although there was no stone saying so.
PATIENCE: Uh… I’ll take that as a yes.
Sorry.

Ms Glück’s lines excerpted from the poem “Aboriginal Landscape

Lawrence Ferlinghetti calls the Poetry Crisis Line

In memoriam of Lawrence Ferlinghetti, March 24, 1919–February 22, 2021. May his memory be a blessing.

ROSIE (counselor): Poetry Crisis Line, What is your emergency?
LAWRENCE FERLINGHETTI (caller): Don’t let that horse eat that violin.
ROSIE: Again? I sent the fiddler on the roof so the horse couldn’t reach. Are you sure it’s not a giraffe eating that violin?

Edna St Vincent Millay calls the Poetry Crisis Line

Happy 129th birthday to Edna St. Vincent Millay, who had something to say about being housebound.

KIM (counselor): Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
EDNA ST VINCENT MILLAY (caller): It’s little I care what path I take
KIM: I’ve heard it can make all the difference.
MILLAY: And where it leads it’s little I care
KIM: As long as you can stay 6 feet away from people?
MILLAY (shouting): BUT OUT OF THIS HOUSE, LEST MY HEART BREAK, I MUST GO AND OFF SOMEWHERE!
KIM: I hear you.

From “Departure” by Edna St. Vincent Millay.