Homer’s second point wounds us

with illusion of self-determination.

We limp away alive to make trouble

tomorrow. The first arrow immortalized 

honor. Whether the sun’s rays or hard

rain, underscored by lightning, day fell

with men and stitched sky to the earth

with javelins. Rosy fingered dawn 

sat in puddles. From the dark night

of the soul, a human of culture was born,

though blind wrath hails from all parts

of the world no matter which way 

a poem is woven. However, as we journey

inland to our fates, the tricks in the design

identify who was behind the clothing

and shroud: the struggle in social fabric.

Credits include the 2008 Gival Press Poetry Award for my book-length manuscript Voyeur, a National Book Award nominee and an honorable mention at the 2009 London and at the New England Book Festivals; The Apple in the
Monkey Tree a book of poems by Codhill Press; chapbooks, Great Grandfather (Pudding House Publications), Family
Secret (Finishing Line Press), Hunting and Pecking (Ahadada Press) and  Phoems for Mobile Vices (BlazeVox); works in
Rolling  Stone, Poetry, Grand Street, Trespass, New Letters, Pank, Segue, Big Bridge, Pemmican, foam:e, and  Confrontation, Fulcrum, The International Journal of the Humanities, Fringe, among others.  Rich lives in Marblehead, MA and teach
writing at VCU.

My poem is an homage to Homer's characterization of Penelope. The poem attempts to create a seam of its own between Homer's two poems while recognizing what has come to be thought of as gendered instruments and roles: tools and weapons; poets and warriors.
Needling the Gods comes from a manuscript that is a palimpsest of sorts in which I comment on the poetry, fiction, and philosophy of others, sometimes as a kind of séance. I am interested in writing ironist poems, driving concrete surfaces to address oblique possibility s express ways, giving direction to the distant relations to call attention to lost relations and family resemblances.



Copyright 2009