lördag 27 februari 2016

Not holding back when fire is going

  Äntligen har jag fått chansen att läsa Lucille Cliftons samlade verk (som jag har väntat). Eller rättare sagt, jag har påbörjat läsningen av de drygt 700 sidorna. Till det här inlägget har jag koncentrerat urvalet till diktsamlingen "Two-headed woman" från 1980.

Lucille Clifton

***

  Lucille Sayles Clifton föddes i Depew, New York, till Samuel L. och Thelma Moore Sayles . Hennes far arbetade för New Yorks stålverk; hennes mor var tvätterska och hemmafru. Även om föräldrarna var formellt lågutbildade, så såg de till att deras stora familj hade ett överflöd av böcker, särskilt de av afroamerikaner. Vid sextons ålder började Lucille studera vid Howard University i Washington DC.

  Poeten Robert Hayden skickade in hennes dikter till tävlingen YW - YMHA Poetry Center Discovery Award, 1969. Hon vann priset och med det publiceringen av sin första volym av dikter, Good Times.
  Hennes diktsamling Two-Headed Woman (1980) var nominerad till Pulitzer-priset och den vann The Juniper Prize som delas ut av The University of Massachusetts. Källa: University of Illinois, "Modern American poetry".

En mycket ung Lucille Clifton.
Lucille Clifton papers, MARBL at Emory University.

***

Homage to my hips, by Lucille Clifton (1936-2010)
(from The collected poems of Lucille Clifton 1965-2010 ; [Two-headed woman]. Rochester, NY : BOA Editions, 2012.)

These hips are big hips
they need space to
move around in.
They don't fit into little
petty places. These hips
are free hips.
They don't like to be held back.
These hips have never been enslaved,   
they go where they want to go
they do what they want to do.
These hips are mighty hips.
These hips are magic hips.
I have known them
to put a spell on a man and
spin him like a top!

***

  I minnesartikeln i New Yorker sammanfattade Elizabeth Alexander hennes författargärning och erinrade om ett citat från Lucille Clifton.

  "... Clifton had six children and made poems not in “a room of one’s own” but, rather, at the proverbial kitchen table, with family life proceeding around her. “Why do you think my poems are so short?” she would often say, with a laugh, when people would ask how she managed to write so many books." (hämtat från "Remembering Lucille Clifton", The New Yorker, 2010-02-17.)

*

To Thelma who worried because I couldn't cook, by Lucille Clifton
(from The collected poems of Lucille Clifton 1965-2010 ; [Two-headed woman]. Rochester, NY : BOA Editions, 2012.)

Because no man would taste you
you tried to feed yourself
kneading your body
with your own fists, the beaten thing
rose up lika a dough



and burst in the oven of your hunger.
Madam, I'm not your gifted girl,
I am a woman and
I know what to do.


***

  Jag ger er ytterligare ett stycke från ovan nämnda artikel för det passar så bra till den avslutande dikten "New Year". Jag gillar verkligen slutmetaforen, "but she opens herself to the risk of flame and walks toward an ocean of days".

  "Few poets have written so convincingly of celebration. Clifton invites the reader to celebrate survival: a poet’s survival against the struggles and sorrows of disease, poverty, and attempts at erasure of those who are poor, who are women, who are vulnerable, who challenge conquistador narratives. There is luminous joy in these poems, as they speak against silence and hatred."
("Remembering Lucille Clifton", by Elizabeth Alexander. The New Yorker, 2010-02-17.)


New Year, by Lucille Clifton
(from The collected poems of Lucille Clifton 1965-2010 ; [Two-headed woman]. Rochester, NY : BOA Editions, 2012.)

Lucy
by Sam
out of Thelma
limps down a ramp
toward the rest of her life.
With too many candles
in her hair
she is a princess of
burning buildings
leaving the year that
tried to consume her.
Her hands are bright
as they witch for water
and even her tears cry
fire    fire
but she opens herself
to the risk of flame and
walks toward an ocean
of days.

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