A Poetry Reading by Ryan Wildstar & Ryan Elston
In Honor of National Poetry Month
As poets and lovers of poetry, poems are always present in our lives. Which is why, in honor of April being National Poetry Month, we both wanted to share one of our own poems with our readers and listeners here at The Epicurean Vagabonds.
Ryan Wildstar:
The poem I’ve selected to share was inspired by one of my favorite poets, the inimitable Marianne Moore. When I was a young college student I had an exercise in my poetry class that instructed the students to take the first line from one of our favorite poems and start our own poem with it. I chose “Poetry” by Marianne Moore (which you can hear me reading in our last podcast) and this is the poem that I wrote, taken from my upcoming book of poetry, A Jovian Dream.
The poem is entitled “unimportant.”
unimportant
by Ryan Wildstar
i, too, dislike it
there are things that are important
unimportant
sea shells with ocean sounds forever
broken stones we throw at one another
the line is empty
and i smash glass against the mirror to see the shattering of an image
to hurt a small bird because i’m cold
then to wish that i could fly
talk and hold my ears closed
pretend apologies aren’t my style
you, too, dislike it
too much that is important
and does not drift away
Ryan Elston:
I’ve chosen to share a poem from what I call my “imagist epic,” a book-length work inspired by my lifelong passion for Greek mythology. I use the word “[BREAK]” (always in brackets) throughout my writing, in reference to the gaps and cracks and lacunae found in the papyrus scraps, pottery shards and marble fragments from the ancient pagan world of the Mediterranean — the word “[BREAK]” being simultaneously a symbol of what has survived, and a reminder of how much has been lost.
This poem is entitled “Final Vision: The Shape of the Cosmos.”
Final Vision: The Shape of the Cosmos by Ryan Elston A peacock feather’s single eye, watching. A golden wand entwined with twin serpents. A grapevine — growing, spreading, unfolding ripe clusters of purple grapes. A battlefield — raging, bloody, terrible to behold. A vast ocean — tides swelling, waves crashing upon a rocky shore. A crimson, caramel, rose and lavender sunset. A crescent moon hanging low in a dusky sky. A locked door, a rusty gate, a mysterious portal to somewhere unknown. A giant redwood tree with endless roots and endless branches, extending in all directions. A bald eagle soaring overhead, sunlight beaming through the interstices of his wings. A hand-woven tapestry of countless threads in many colors, depicting a story of gods and giants at war. A mountain, covered in forest, pine trees splashing, whirling, a turtle-shaped island rising from the sea. A field of wheat in harvest, the reaping of the scythe, husks and kernels divided by the hum of the winnowing fan. A central hearth-fire, blazing with light and warmth and illumination. A wild hunt, the thrill of the chase, the sound of the horn, the twang of bowstrings and the barking of hounds, the sacred dance of predator and prey. A seven-stringed lyre playing the song of the universe, the harmony of the spheres. A pair of lovers locked in ecstatic embrace. A pair of ancient trees grown together, cloaked in moss and fairytale mushrooms, two trees entwined. A pair of torches burning at a crossroads. A half-remembered dream. A magnificent structure, a palace or temple, of bronze and marble, obsidian and porphyry, glass and steel, with thousands of pillars, buttresses, turrets, pyramids, minarets, obelisks, each adorned with glittering gemstones of every hue. A shadow growing, spreading, enfolding all into oblivion, void, abyss. A satellite circling a planet circling a star. A pomegranate shattered on a threshold to mark the new year. A primordial wingèd Being, of many names and many faces, born from the Cosmic Egg. A faded photograph or petroglyph of two eyes, watching. A still pool reflecting the image of a beautiful boy lost in reflection, a beautiful lad in love, a beautiful poet on the verge of drowning whose eyes are also twin stars. [BREAK] An imagist epic. Flashes of images. Broken fragments of myth. The love between the shepherd and the star . . . His eyes. My eyes. Eyes lock. His green-blue, grey-blue eyes. My golden, emerald hazel eyes. His smile. My smile. We know each other. From before. Another world, another dream, another time . . . There has always been something between us. We exist. We pre-existed this moment. An idea in the minds of the gods. A pattern woven into the grand tapestry. Two trees planted in an old-growth forest. Two bright stars in the nighttime sky. Under the golden apple tree, I loved you and you loved me, led by the Star and his sisters three, to the Sunset Land beyond the sea. His eyes. My eyes. His smile. My smile. Our embrace. Lips lock. Passion unfurls. We know each other. From before. This has all happened before. Different suits and styles of dress and hair. Different settings, cultures, preoccupations. Different skin. Different colors of eyes. And yet that same spark, that same light behind the eyes. His eyes. My eyes. I loved you and you loved me, under the golden apple tree, in the Sunset Land beyond the sea, ruled by the Star and his sisters three. Twin stars. Two trees entwined. Two souls aligned. Lover and Belovèd. Daemon and Titan. Shepherd and Star. He fell from the sky. I climbed the mountain. Our love is pure. In the Sunset Land beyond the sea, ruled by the Star and his sisters three, I loved you and you loved me, under the golden apple tree. We found paradise in the sunset, on the edge of the Western Lands. In the garden of golden apples, in the Queen of Heaven’s sanctuary, at the base of the World Tree. Led by the Star and his sisters three, to the Sunset Land beyond the sea, under the golden apple tree, I loved you and you loved me. [BREAK]
Brilliant Mesmerizing
My two favorite poets.