Post by karembi38 on May 21, 2012 22:11:51 GMT -5
Though only 36 years old, Michael Dickman is an accomplished poet, having published two books, The End of the West and Flies, the latter of which won the James Laughlin Award by the Academy of American Poets. This feat is even more impressive knowing that Dickman’s age was not the only thing working against him. Born Portland, Oregon, to a single mother, Dickman did not live a privileged life. In the neighborhood of Lents, he was exposed to drugs and violence at a young age. However, with well-timed inspiration, this hostile environment was able to turn out two bright young poets, Michael, and his twin brother Matthew, Dickman.
Dickman was not always interested in poetry; in fact, he didn’t even read most of the books assigned to him in school. All this changed when one day he was exposed to a book of Pablo Neruda love poems by a girl he was interested in. The book fascinated him as he read the poems over and over and found that, through poetry “There is a way/ if we want/ into everything.” After his poetic awakening Dickman was lead to ask, “When you look down/ inside yourself/ what is there?” Through his writing, he tried to answer.
His work, though not entirely autobiographical, often touches upon the themes of childhood, and growing up in unpleasant environments, as one poem recalls, “When I think of the childhood inside me I think of sunlight/ dying on/ a window sill.” These memories often evolve into existential commentary, as he muses on the state of the world and those who inhabit it. Describing life as a collection of “Minor/ and forgettable/ miracles,” he often reminds the reader that “All of us [are] running around/ outside our/ deaths.” This certainty of death often adds a dark and desperate quality to his works.
As death is ever-present in his works, there is also an element of life-after-death and what’s to come. Choosing to believe that, “Everyone is still alive/ if not here then/ someplace else,” death appears to be less tragic in Dickman’s work, as those that have passed are still present, if only through metaphors. The intertwining of life and death gives Dickman’s poems a surreal quality, in which “Heaven is everywhere/ but there’s still/ the world.” Dickman also brings more life to his works through the continuous presence of light in his poems, as he is “Carefully stacking up everything [he] made next to everything [he] ruined/ in broad daylight in bright/ brainlight.” The repeated juxtaposition of light and dark, life and death allows the reader to dive deep into Dickman’s poetry, experiencing a spectrum of emotions.
Yet, his works are never hopeless. Dickman’s poetry intends to make the life before death less tragic, as he has “always wanted [his] body/ to work harder/ at being/ alive.” Amidst the death and destruction there is always an urgency to live on, as he reminds the reader “Still/ there is a lot to pray to/ on earth.” His poetry is both refreshing and enlightening in a society where we often lose sight of our roots and our values, and I hope you enjoy listening to it as much as I enjoyed reading it. I want to thank you all for coming tonight and invite you to join me in welcoming Michael Dickman.
554 words
Dickman was not always interested in poetry; in fact, he didn’t even read most of the books assigned to him in school. All this changed when one day he was exposed to a book of Pablo Neruda love poems by a girl he was interested in. The book fascinated him as he read the poems over and over and found that, through poetry “There is a way/ if we want/ into everything.” After his poetic awakening Dickman was lead to ask, “When you look down/ inside yourself/ what is there?” Through his writing, he tried to answer.
His work, though not entirely autobiographical, often touches upon the themes of childhood, and growing up in unpleasant environments, as one poem recalls, “When I think of the childhood inside me I think of sunlight/ dying on/ a window sill.” These memories often evolve into existential commentary, as he muses on the state of the world and those who inhabit it. Describing life as a collection of “Minor/ and forgettable/ miracles,” he often reminds the reader that “All of us [are] running around/ outside our/ deaths.” This certainty of death often adds a dark and desperate quality to his works.
As death is ever-present in his works, there is also an element of life-after-death and what’s to come. Choosing to believe that, “Everyone is still alive/ if not here then/ someplace else,” death appears to be less tragic in Dickman’s work, as those that have passed are still present, if only through metaphors. The intertwining of life and death gives Dickman’s poems a surreal quality, in which “Heaven is everywhere/ but there’s still/ the world.” Dickman also brings more life to his works through the continuous presence of light in his poems, as he is “Carefully stacking up everything [he] made next to everything [he] ruined/ in broad daylight in bright/ brainlight.” The repeated juxtaposition of light and dark, life and death allows the reader to dive deep into Dickman’s poetry, experiencing a spectrum of emotions.
Yet, his works are never hopeless. Dickman’s poetry intends to make the life before death less tragic, as he has “always wanted [his] body/ to work harder/ at being/ alive.” Amidst the death and destruction there is always an urgency to live on, as he reminds the reader “Still/ there is a lot to pray to/ on earth.” His poetry is both refreshing and enlightening in a society where we often lose sight of our roots and our values, and I hope you enjoy listening to it as much as I enjoyed reading it. I want to thank you all for coming tonight and invite you to join me in welcoming Michael Dickman.
554 words