Coleman Barks

Yesterday, my school had the distinct pleasure of hosting the poet Coleman Barks. He came to the school during the day and we had an assembly. Barks is the foremost translator of the 13th-century poet and mystic Rumi. For the afternoon reading for the student body, we were treated to some of his Rumi translations, some of his own poetry, and some jokes out of the Nazrudin tradition. All of the above were accompanied with improvised cello music from David Darling, which made for a really great experience. Darling is a very accomplished musician and he really added a lot to the performance. As Barks himself said, the combination of music with spoken-word poetry gives more space around the poem and gives more room for repetition. One of the neat things about Barks' reading was that his readings seemed like conversation (he would throw in asides about the poem that brought insight or humor to the reading) and his conversation had the deep resonances of poetry. The students that I spoke to about it really seemed to enjoy the performance in all of its aspects.

In the evening, he gave another reading at our school, open to the general public. This reading was just poetry, no Nazrudin stories, but it was equally excellent. For the most part, Barks and Darling performed different poems than what we heard. The sense of improvisation was even more evident in the evening reading than in the afternoon, though it was obvious there as well. Barks had fun, the audience had fun, and yet it was a moving experience as well--this was true even with Rumi's mystical poetry (and you know I'm just about anything but a mystic). 

Seeing Coleman Barks read his poetry live with David Darling, each improvising in his way, brought a powerful dimension to the poetry. As he noted, it's only been since the Renaissance that poetry has been dissociated from music. Judging from the readings yesterday, the severing was rather to the detriment of poetry. That is to say that music really added something to the experience, though it wasn't just the music: Barks' expressive reading and significant repetitions also did much to enrich the experience. Check out Barks' work if you get the chance. Read it if you will, but see him perform his poetry if you get the chance.

In this on-line interview, I found quoted one of his poems that he read in the afternoon, so I thought I'd share that, as I rather liked it:

"Purring"

The internet says science is not sure how cats purr, 
     probably a vibration of the whole 
           larynx, unlike what we do when we talk.  Less 

likely, a blood vessel moving across the chest wall. 
     As  a child I tried to make every 
           cat I met purr.  That was one of the early 

miracles, the stroking to perfection.  Here's something 
     I've never heard:  a feline purrs in 
          two conditions, when deeply content and when 

mortally wounded, to calm themselves, readying for the 
     death-opening.  The low frequency 
          evidently helps to strengthen bones and 

heal damaged organs.  Say poetry is a human purr, vessel 
     mooring in the chest, a closed-mouth 
          refuge, the feel of a glide through dying:  one 

winter morning on sunny chair inside this only body, 
     a faroff inboard moterboat sings 
          the empty room, urrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhhh 

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