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Shadowing the Ground
The character of a person, and the worth of a poet, may be judged by how he or she comes to terms with death. David Ignatow, not in his late 70s, faces the prospect of death squarely and speaks with quiet authority of his puzzlement, anger, grief, and ultimate acceptance. In 66 short poems, that together form one monumental work, Ignatow describes what it is to grow old--the isolation, loss of loved ones, idle hours, long walks --and ponders the elemental conundrum of ceasing to "Why was I born if I have to die,/ buzzed the fly, and buzzed and buzzed." He demonstrates his greatness as a poet when he moves beyond somberness to turn the awe of death into a heightened awareness of life and a force that clarifies how we should spend our brief time on this earth.
Divided into three sections, Ignatow's conversational meditations are at first ironic and humorous as he addresses "you fool of a cosmos." He then becomes more personal, considering what his dead parents would think of him as a white-haired old man, recalling the "silent company" of the last years with his aging wife, realizing that "it is death to be alone." Ultimately, he finds solace in the natural world--the sound of rain, smell of grass, warmth of sunshine. Without becoming sentimental or mystical, he sees that death is much the glory and handiwork of god (if there be one) as are the mountains and the flowers, which will also die. The poet turns from self-absorption, sadness and regret to see death's power as a reflection of life's "I look/ out upon the dark, knowing/ death as one form/ of transcendence, but/ so is life."
Divided into three sections, Ignatow's conversational meditations are at first ironic and humorous as he addresses "you fool of a cosmos." He then becomes more personal, considering what his dead parents would think of him as a white-haired old man, recalling the "silent company" of the last years with his aging wife, realizing that "it is death to be alone." Ultimately, he finds solace in the natural world--the sound of rain, smell of grass, warmth of sunshine. Without becoming sentimental or mystical, he sees that death is much the glory and handiwork of god (if there be one) as are the mountains and the flowers, which will also die. The poet turns from self-absorption, sadness and regret to see death's power as a reflection of life's "I look/ out upon the dark, knowing/ death as one form/ of transcendence, but/ so is life."
- GenresPoetry
Paperback
First published May 1, 1991
23 people want to read
About the author
David Ignatow
61 books9 followersDavid Ignatow was an American poet. He was born in Brooklyn on February 7, 1914, and spent most of his life in the New York City area. He died on November 17, 1997, at his home in East Hampton, New York. His papers are held at University of California, San Diego.
Early in his career he worked in a butcher shop. He also helped out in a bindery in Brooklyn, New York, which he later owned and managed. During the Great Depression in the 1930s, he sought employment with the Works Progress Administration (WPA) as a journalist. His father helped him with the funding to produce his first book, Poems, in 1948. Although the volume was well received, he had to continue working various jobs and find time in between to pursue writing. These jobs included work as a messenger, hospital admitting clerk, vegetable market night clerk, and paper salesman. After committing wholly to poetry, Ignatow worked as an editor of American Poetry Review, Analytic, Beloit Poetry Journal, and Chelsea Magazine, and as poetry editor of The Nation.
He taught at the New School for Social Research, the University of Kentucky, the University of Kansas, Vassar College, York College, City University of New York, New York University, and Columbia University. He was president of the Poetry Society of America from 1980 to 1984 and poet-in-residence at the Walt Whitman Birthplace Association in 1987.
Ignatow's many honors include a Bollingen Prize, two Guggenheim fellowships, the John Steinbeck Award, and a National Institute of Arts and Letters award "for a lifetime of creative effort." He received the Shelley Memorial Award (1966), the Frost Medal (1992), and the William Carlos Williams Award (1997) of the Poetry Society of America.
David Ignatow is remembered as a poet who wrote popular verse about the common man and the issues encountered in daily life. In all, he wrote or edited more than twenty-five books. Direct statement and clarity were two of Ignatow's primary objectives in crafting a poem. Fidelity to the details and issues of daily life in Ignatow's poetry won him a reputation for being "the most autobiographical of writers." Ignatow once told Contemporary Authors: "My avocation is to stay alive; my vocation is to write about it; my motivation embraces both intentions, and my viewpoint is gained from a study and activity in both ambitions.
Early in his career he worked in a butcher shop. He also helped out in a bindery in Brooklyn, New York, which he later owned and managed. During the Great Depression in the 1930s, he sought employment with the Works Progress Administration (WPA) as a journalist. His father helped him with the funding to produce his first book, Poems, in 1948. Although the volume was well received, he had to continue working various jobs and find time in between to pursue writing. These jobs included work as a messenger, hospital admitting clerk, vegetable market night clerk, and paper salesman. After committing wholly to poetry, Ignatow worked as an editor of American Poetry Review, Analytic, Beloit Poetry Journal, and Chelsea Magazine, and as poetry editor of The Nation.
He taught at the New School for Social Research, the University of Kentucky, the University of Kansas, Vassar College, York College, City University of New York, New York University, and Columbia University. He was president of the Poetry Society of America from 1980 to 1984 and poet-in-residence at the Walt Whitman Birthplace Association in 1987.
Ignatow's many honors include a Bollingen Prize, two Guggenheim fellowships, the John Steinbeck Award, and a National Institute of Arts and Letters award "for a lifetime of creative effort." He received the Shelley Memorial Award (1966), the Frost Medal (1992), and the William Carlos Williams Award (1997) of the Poetry Society of America.
David Ignatow is remembered as a poet who wrote popular verse about the common man and the issues encountered in daily life. In all, he wrote or edited more than twenty-five books. Direct statement and clarity were two of Ignatow's primary objectives in crafting a poem. Fidelity to the details and issues of daily life in Ignatow's poetry won him a reputation for being "the most autobiographical of writers." Ignatow once told Contemporary Authors: "My avocation is to stay alive; my vocation is to write about it; my motivation embraces both intentions, and my viewpoint is gained from a study and activity in both ambitions.
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
November 21, 2022
Although none of these poems resonated with me specifically, I have great appreciation for Ingantow’s blunt and obscure depictions of mortality. My favorites from this collection:
“Because words have no effect upon the wind or the trees, I am a curious onlooker, but I know that if I were a tree I too would bend in the wind and try not to despair. If I were a tree I would want to believe the wind had a purpose, because to save myself would imply to stay rooted is to stay alive.”
“I'm going back to something that doesn't exist, and I'm going as if it does,
asking to be secure in death, in the emptiness afraid to live.”
“It is death to be alone.
It becomes the metaphor of one's unimportance…”
“The world into which I was born
I mistrust. To live
is to doubt the need to live, to think it sensible to have remained unborn.”
“I carry on a debate between the living and the dead who talk to me persuasively of peace from their graves, as persuasively as the living who talk of making do and living once again in dreams.”
“…Death leaving shall deprive me of my life but then death too shall be deprived of being.”
“No such luck: No one will jump
Into my grave. You keep reading this with curiosity. We are in the world dying together, but scanning these words you see me die alone.”
“I have lived to find out the sun also will die, I will die first and in time
I will have a companion…Ignatow is dying and so is the sun.”
“Because words have no effect upon the wind or the trees, I am a curious onlooker, but I know that if I were a tree I too would bend in the wind and try not to despair. If I were a tree I would want to believe the wind had a purpose, because to save myself would imply to stay rooted is to stay alive.”
“I'm going back to something that doesn't exist, and I'm going as if it does,
asking to be secure in death, in the emptiness afraid to live.”
“It is death to be alone.
It becomes the metaphor of one's unimportance…”
“The world into which I was born
I mistrust. To live
is to doubt the need to live, to think it sensible to have remained unborn.”
“I carry on a debate between the living and the dead who talk to me persuasively of peace from their graves, as persuasively as the living who talk of making do and living once again in dreams.”
“…Death leaving shall deprive me of my life but then death too shall be deprived of being.”
“No such luck: No one will jump
Into my grave. You keep reading this with curiosity. We are in the world dying together, but scanning these words you see me die alone.”
“I have lived to find out the sun also will die, I will die first and in time
I will have a companion…Ignatow is dying and so is the sun.”
September 6, 2020
Ignatow always delivers! It's amazing how with such precise language, built on simple words, he manages to tame the complexity of human experience.
August 18, 2021
Ringkas, mudah tapi berbekas.
June 16, 2008
I used three of the poems from this book at my father's funeral (#65, 61 and 8).
Ignatow's writing is simple and direct, stripped of ornamentation and unnecessary flourish.
It's clear and clean and crisp. Unsentimental and honest.
Ignatow's writing is simple and direct, stripped of ornamentation and unnecessary flourish.
It's clear and clean and crisp. Unsentimental and honest.
October 5, 2009
Haunting, witty, curious, clear and mysterious meditations on the many permutations of mortality and connection.
October 29, 2007
astounding
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews