Nick FlynnNick Flynn est né à Scituate, Massachusetts, sur la rive sud de Boston le 26 janvier 1960. Il est écrivain, dramaturge et poète américain.
Il a travaillé comme capitaine de navire et dans un refuge pour sans-abri à Boston avant de recevoir une bourse du Fine Arts Work Center de Provincetown. Après une bourse de deux ans, il a déménagé à New York, où il a obtenu sa maîtrise en beaux-arts de l’université de New York et a enseigné dans le cadre du projet d’écriture de l’université Columbia.
Alan Dugan Telling Me I Have a Problem With Time
He reads my latest attempt at a poem
and is silent for a long time, until it feels
like that night we waited for Apollo,
my mother wandering in and out of her bedroom, asking,
Haven't they landed yet? At last
Dugan throws it on the table and says,
This reads like a cheap detective novel
and I've got nothing to say about it. It sits,
naked and white, with everyone's eyes
running over it. The week before
he'd said I had a problem with time,
that in my poems everything
kept happening at once. In 1969,
the voice of Mission Control
told a man named Buzz
that there was a bunch of guys turning blue
down here on Earth, and now I can understand
it was with anticipation, not sickness. Next,
Dugan says, Let's move on. The attempted poem
was about butterflies and my recurring desire
to return to a place I've never been.
It was inspired by reading this
in a National Geographic : monarchs
stream northward from winter roosts in Mexico,
laying their eggs atop milkweed
to foster new generations along the way.
With the old monarchs gone (I took this line as the title)
and all ties to the past ostensibly cut
the unimaginable happens—butterflies
that have never been to that plateau in Mexico
roost there the next winter... I saw this
as a metaphor for a childhood I never had,
until Dugan pointed out
that metaphor has been dead for a hundred years.
A woman, new to the workshop, leans
behind his back and whispers, I like it,
but the silence is seamless, as deep
as outer space. That night in 1969
I could turn my head from the television and see the moon
filling the one pane over the bed completely
as we waited for Neil Armstrong
to leave his footprints all over it.Nick Flynn, dans Poetry, Winter 1992-1993
Children under, say, ten, shouldn't know
that the universe is ever-expanding,
inexorably pushing into the vacuum, galaxies
swallowed by galaxies, whole
solar systems collapsing, all of it
acted out in silence. At ten we are still learning
the rules of cartoon animation,
that if a man draws a door on a rock
only he can pass through it.
Anyone else who tries
will crash into the rock. Ten-year-olds
should stick with burning houses, car wrecks,
ships going down -- earthbound, tangible
disasters, arenas
where they can be heroes. You can run
back into a burning house, sinking ships
have lifeboats, the trucks will come
with their ladders, if you jump
you will be saved. A child
places her hand on the roof of a schoolbus,
& drives across a city of sand. She knows
the exact spot it will skid, at which point
the bridge will give, who will swim to safety
& who will be pulled under by sharks. She will learn
that if a man runs off the edge of a cliff
he will not fall
until he notices his mistake.
Nick Flynn, tiré de Some Ether (2000)
Références :
- Nick Flynn Offical Website : http://www.nickflynn.org/
- Poetry Foundation - Nick Flynn : https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/nick-flynn
- Academy of American Poets - Nick Flynn : https://poets.org/poet/nick-flynn
- Poem Hunter - Nick Flynn : https://www.poemhunter.com/nick-flynn/biography/
- Nick Flynn : https://pennyspoetry.fandom.com/wiki/Nick_Flynn
Oeuvres :
- Some Ether : Poems (2000)
- Blind Huber: Poems (2002)
- The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands (2011)
- My Feelings : Poems (2015)
- I Will Destroy You : Poems (2019)
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