Howard Starks was the embodiment of genius. I write poetry and teach English primarily thanks to his influence. This book was a finalist in the 1997 Oklahoma Book Awards. It should have won hands down, no way a book of translations could even be close. Robinson Jeffers, James Dickey, Walt Whitman, Howard Starks: his name is on their level. I use this book in the classes I teach at Southeastern. It has been reprinted and can be purchased at the Campus Bookstore at Southeastern or from my website http://www.RonWallacePoetry.com Don’t miss the chance to read this work. It is the pinnacle of Oklahoma Poetry.

Tracy Letts in his acknowledgments in the play, August: Osage County, calls him his “late mentor”.  And thanks him for his poem, which Tracy has used for the title of his play.

Fortunately my library has Stark’s book of poetry, Family Album. (sorry, no longer in print)
Publisher: Durant, OK: Running Board Press
34 leaves.

Using sepia toned photographs to introduce the poems, we meet him and his family. I know that all of us from Oklahoma or who have parents raised here, have looked at similar photographs of our family, wondered what they were thinking, how life had changed them and reflected on our own image.  

from Family Rite

‘In my mother’s sewing room      stored
      among old dress patterns      is the pattern
                            of our childhoods
                            in a box
                                        filled with darkness–
       old photos in darkness      getting arcane
                                                                          dangerous
                                   as they crisp and dim.

We mostly leave it closed     the box
               that once held Dad’s Sunday Stetson
      for even images of joy can hurt.
      (Innocence      when recalled      harms
                               careful balances.)
And some of the faces      solemn for the camera
                                    speak of hopes
                                                             and fears
                we’d rather not recall–
                                                                  make dense in us
                               the shadowy children we once were.’

Looking through old pictures is a landmind of feelings for most of us. I know some people who can look and see only the good times; parties, Christmases, new babies, and always smiling faces. But Starks reminds us of dreams unfulfilled,  hard times, missed opportunities and the realism of life’s lessons.

From Two Girls  (The photograph in front of this poem is of two girls, almost women, arms around each other, looking determined into the camera.) 

‘Imagine a Voice      that day
   saying
          You will work and work and work
              wear out your freshness
              in shabby houses      and hot fields
          scream in birthings
              weep alone      and wonder
                           where all this pain came from.
         One will cough       her life away
             at thirty one.
          The other will live long
                  be ground like corn
                       by a world      that whispers
              give      give       give–
                      there’s more yet to bear.

Having listened      these gallant girls
      would still have said
             Yes
             Yes

             So be it.’

I look at the photographs and see the ones of my Grandma, Mom, our old houses and broken down buildings, cars and flowers in the yard,  all surrounded by the nostalgia and melancholy of the past, yet integral to who I am.

Great stuff.