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Constellation: Honorable Mention 2009
Constellation Honorable Mention
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Since 2005, it has been my privilege to arrange the final set of selections for publication in Constellation. As always, the task this year has been by turns exhilarating and humbling—the same emotions I experience composing that most superfluous of genres, the editor's introduction. Readers will want to stake out their own paths among the contents of this volume; or perhaps, following the advice of Stephen Richards' poem, "The Road More or Less Traveled," they will follow no path at all. In any case, I hope they will not mind my pointing out a few of the prominent landmarks to be found along the way.
Our volume opens with Jason Newport's beautifully written "Por Las Piedras De Chile," an answer to Pablo Neruda's 1961 volume, Las Piedras De Chile (The Stones of Chile). While Neruda's book is a solitary meditation on personal meanings inscribed in the natural landscape—meanings to be found in a world seemingly devoid of human presence—it is also, paradoxically, an open invitation extended to all poets to join a conversation. In accepting Neruda's invitation, Newport masterfully links the stones of a Midwest lake to their Chilean counterparts, suggesting that he himself may be the hoped-for "translator/fluent in stone."
Among a subsequent series of pieces that explore the workings of memory and time is Lynne Hinkey's intriguing essay, "The Lost Art of Funerals." Hinkey paints a vivid picture of a childhood spent growing up among Czech immigrants for whom funerals were central events in "marking the continuity of life and family . . . just one more celebration of life, like births, weddings, and holidays." She wonders where continuity is to be found, by contrast, in a culture where family members disperse and where death and funerals are, whenever possible, pushed to the back of consciousness.
As if in answer to Hinkey's question, by far the largest grouping of works in this volume deal in some way with aging, death, and loss. Of special note is the powerful, heartbreaking sequence of three poems by Richard Clegg, "Feathers," "A Moment," and "There IT Was." The first of Clegg's poems opens with an image of arresting presence:
One day you startled me, I swear,
With your presence in a feather
White and unexpected on a stair.
It seems that feathers, like stones, can be bearers of human presence, even beyond
death. The image is a hopeful one, suggesting that literature may take on the ritual
functions of funerals, helping us to confront loss and grief and to find unexpected
sources of continuity and meaning in life.
I hope you enjoy these works as much as I have. On behalf of our guest editors
and the writers whose work appears here and in our online "Honorable Mention"
collection—as well as the many speakers and audience members who have attended
our Adelphi-based literary readings—I invite you to take part in the "open conversation"
that is UMUC's Constellation.
Sincerely,
MATTHEW PRINEAS
Managing Editor, Constellation
Collegiate Associate Professor of English
University of Maryland University College