Tuesday, January 03, 2023

"Spending The Winter: A Poetry Collection"

Time to think about time. Joseph ("Jody") Bottum, poet, essayist, and Director of Dakota State University's Classics Institute out of Madison, South Dakota, points to time more than six dozen times in "Spending the Winter: A Poetry Collection" ($13 in paperback from St. Augustine's Press; also for Amazon Kindle).

Bottum's book appears in a 2022 list of most memorable books of the year by former Paradise resident John Wilson, editor of the journal Books and Culture: A Christian Review for all of its 21 years of storied history. 

The poem which gives the book its title observes that "Time's in arrears/ Crankier each frozen morning,/ The water heater groans in warning/ That it will soon give up the ghost./ Nothing lasts in a winter post." Still, the silent snow is worth listening to:

"The mind in winter may find a cleanness,/ A keening wind to clear the meanness/ Of skinflint soul and the chronic day,/ A wind to tear vain thoughts away./ Self-concern, self-esteem,/ Numbed and muted—till we seem/ Nothing but a snow-capped field:/ Draped in winter, smoothed and healed."

Bottum's accessible poems rejoice in form, rhyme, wordplay. In "Reading by Osmosis," the poet can hardly hide the sarcasm: "Percy B. Shelley and Machiavelli/ And Norman Vincent Peale--/ We've never tried opening one of their books./ We know them by their feel.// Does reading seem boring? Does reading seem hard?/ Does reading seem too precocious?/ Just pick up a book and give it a twirl./ You'll learn it by osmosis." … "We bobble, bounce, and throw them./ We never even look./ Osmosis means we know them without opening a book."

For Bottum, winter is not about being snowbound in time, unable to move, but a recognition that even though the world is shrouded in division and death, "Easter Morning" has come, will come, and has overcome:

"Time," the poet writes, "Reaches forward, hungry for winter,/ And what will save my daughter when even/ Hope is caught in the ancient snare?/ A cold fear waits—till all that had fallen,/ All that was lost, rudely broken,/ Crossed in love, comes rising, rising,/ On the breath of the new spring air."