from Carl Sandburg’s Lincoln: the Prairie Years

I neglected to plan ahead enough for today’s U. S. Presidents’ Day holiday. It’s an odd holiday anyway, of no great interest to the large number of readers/listeners this project has overseas. And for Americans, the title and avowed purpose of the holiday may be especially fraught in our present day. Back when I was … Continue reading from Carl Sandburg’s Lincoln: the Prairie Years

Fire Dreams, or Carl Sandburg’s Come On, Pilgrim

Emily Dickinson isn’t the only one of this project’s favorite American poets to write a Thanksgiving poem. Carl Sandburg did so too. Long time readers here will know how much I like Sandburg and how often I like to speak toward the canon-keepers to point out that early Sandburg was a devoted Modernist with a … Continue reading Fire Dreams, or Carl Sandburg’s Come On, Pilgrim

10 Definitions of Poetry from Carl Sandburg

Let’s continue our celebration of U. S. National Poetry Month! If Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman are the parents of modern American poetry, then one poet is most nearly the descendant with an equal inheritance from both: Carl Sandburg. Sandburg’s poetry has two modes: the tightly compressed Imagist poem and the expansive, iterative, catalogic Whitman-like … Continue reading 10 Definitions of Poetry from Carl Sandburg

Oscars, then Oscar, during National Poetry Month

I hope to still have at least one more piece ready here this month, but I’ll admit that I waylaid some time yesterday watching the Academy Award “Oscars” while restringing and doing some deferred maintenance on a couple of guitars. Awards shows — which are of course promotional events regardless of their area of the … Continue reading Oscars, then Oscar, during National Poetry Month

Once more it’s hard to concentrate on music, poetry, art.

There isn’t going to be any new encounter with a set of words, nor any new musical combination with them today. I’ve mentioned during the last part of 2020 how this project that has brought me much joy and surprise has become more difficult for me. There are complicated reasons of little general interest that … Continue reading Once more it’s hard to concentrate on music, poetry, art.