A Short Letter to David Lynch

April 28, 2009

I have recently read Ibsen’s When We Dead Awaken, surpassing Enemy of the People as my favorite Ibsen play. When We Dead Awaken is in many ways a play of oppositions & dualism, in other ways of echoes & reflection to his earlier works. Above all, I see it as a haunting reflection of tortured artist’s struggle between art and reality (was the creation of art really worth forgoing the living of reality). Apparently, When We Dead Awaken is the least performed of Ibsen’s plays. To me, this is a great travesty, a sham, and a mockery… a traveshamockery, if you will. My solution? Dear David Lynch, adapt and direct this play to film. If anyone can do duality & surrealism, you can. Just a thought.


Playing the Club Silencio

April 19, 2009

This is a poem inspired by a scene in David Lynch’s 2001 film Mulholland Drive.  I think Mr. Lynch encourages interpretation, and so, in true ekphrastic style, I will not explain this piece any more than I already have.

“Playing the Club Silencio”
(for B.M.)

Ladies and Gentlemen,
El Club Silencio les presente:
A duet.

Red velvet curtains
hang, sway.
A lone player takes
the stage, plays.
A trumpet: humming
brassy blues, strains –

Bluer than Blue Train
and love superceding
A Love Supreme.
There is no band,
just a lone player playing –
crescendo and wane.

Lone player swaying,
drops dead
to the ground, drowning
city sound
in silence so loud –
player stays playing

and red curtains
hang, sway
to the echo
of a sole
sound’s blues
without End

2009 Undergraduate Research Symposium

April 7, 2009

For those of you in attendance at the 2009 Undergraduate Research Symposium, I want to first thank you for taking an interest in my research. As you may have gathered from my presentation, my research is still ongoing, and will be leading to a research paper as part of my James Scholar honors project this year. The next step is to translate selections of Ibsen’s original poems for myself. Using the original texts and direct and poetric translations, I will be exploring how Ibsen’s poetry offers deeper analysis for his later dramatic works and how it helped to shape a developing Norwegian idenitity. His poetry voices passion, celebrates history, and holds purpose. With expanded analysis, this purpose can be seen outside of just the Norwegian-speaking public. As my research continues, I hope to expand this blog to encompass not only my research and analysis, but my translations as well. Please feel free to leave comments and to contact me if you have any questions.


April 5, 2009

I started this blog a few days ago to showcase my research on Henrik Ibsen’s poetry.  I also hope it will become a place to share my own thoughts, reflections, and poetic musings.  So, I think it’s best if I give this blog a poetic sendoff a sort of inauguration.  Inspiration, as most writers know, comes from… well, somewhere.  A song, a face, a floor tile that was particularly interesting, or, gasp! we make them up.  This poem is one I wrote that sort of deals with the idea of ideas.  You know, a writer’s poem about writing.

“Do the pages dream?”

I flip open my notebook,
feel the leather binding
& unwind the cord
that keeps it shut, –
open, I run my fingers over
the heavy ink filled
pages, & I pause.

I had planned
to transcribe words to Word,
but my computer is fast asleep
in dreams of endless electric sheep,
& my notebook lies open,
the air in the room resounding: –
Speak to me / breathe,
breathe in the air.

&, dipping in the blackened ink,
I dream a blackened dream.

There it is!  My inauguration to the blogosphere.