Beginning
With O by
Olga Broumas, Stanley Kunitz (Introduction)
Olga
Broumas's "Beginning With O" was required reading when I
attended college in the late 1970s. Having read and re-read the
book many times, I came away regretting that I was born male and
could not, therefore, be lesbian. For these are love poems of the
highest order--exquisitely crafted, dangerously erotic, and even
comical, as when Broumas writes: "There are still other
fluids/fecund,/tail-whipped with seed...." Broumas clearly
owes a great deal to her spiritual ancestor, Sappho. A Greek by
birth, Broumas shares Sappho's love for other women and, while
more sensuous and erotic and less witty overall than the 7th
century BC master whom Plato referred to as the "tenth
Muse", her celebration of beauty rivals Sappho's own. Most
satisfying is the section of "Beginning With O" titled
"The Twelve Aspects of God" wherein Broumas reexplores
classical mythology in the light of goddess-worship; her goddesses
are potent, sexual, and often real women. The light she sheds is
shimmering--more moonlight than sunlight, her words are not
"winged" but fall from a wet tongue into dark places
which are beautiful not only for their lunar sheen but for the
darknesses themselves. Sappho wrote, "If you're squeamish,
don't prod the beach rubble." Broumas delights in prodding;
seaweed and cunt are words of celebration in her remarkable
lexicon. -- Padma Thornlyre
Sappho's
Gymnasium by
Olga Broumas, T. Begley (Contributor), Sam Hamill
(Introduction)
I bought Sappho's Gymnasium by Olga
Broumas and T Begley on the basis of the first-lines listed on
Amazon.com. The easy-going spirituality I saw in them appealed to
me-I thought, "This looks just right." These poems are
not the poems I've been waiting for my whole life, but I'm glad
I've read them.
I was writing a letter to my friend about these
poems and described them as "kinda crazy, out-there."
There's no punctuation, which doesn't sit well with me, but it
fits with Broumas and Begley's style. These short poems are mostly
strings of images with some reflection too. Connections between
the images aren't made-the reader needs to make the connections
for herself. But in most places it's impossible to make these
connections in a way that's wholly satisfying. Sometimes it feels
pleasant to let the images play themselves in my mind-it feels
like my unconscious is making sense of them in a way that's vague
and beautiful. Sometimes the images interact, resonate with one
another, in a way that I could never describe. But other times I
get frustrated, as if the writers are playing a game with meaning,
and it's a game I've played before, and I don't want to play with
them.
This ambiguity is obviously what the poets
wanted. Everything is viewed as if through a screen or in a very
hazy, bright light. There are moments of clarity that I enjoy very
much. For the most part, the poems don't seem whole-they're
heavily dependant on one another-but there are occasional poems
that stand alone as complete. I particularly like these ones; they
seem more successful.
Because of the ambiguity, this book is generally
frustrating to me, but also because of the ambiguity, it's also
generally a pleasure. The easy-going spirituality that attracted
me to this book initially is not explored as much as I wanted, but
it is an undercurrent throughout the poems, a part of that bright,
hazy light. -- Laura-Marie Taylor
Rave:
Poems 1975-1999 by
Olga Broumas
Broumas, born and raised in Greece, writes poems
that echo the surge and retreat of surf, and whose ocean imagery
provides a rich lexicon. Broumas came to the U.S. on a Fulbright
and soon became known for her elegant poems of woman-to-woman
sensuality and love. Five books followed, selections of which are
gathered here with new works to create a stunning collection.
Broumas writes knowingly and worshipfully of the female body from
the twin perspectives of a soul who occupies one and a lover of
women, but her vision of femaleness extends beyond the self into
meditations on family and, most powerfully, Mother Nature. Many of
her poems, which vary pleasingly in form, are mythic in their
timelessness. Others, such as "Eros" and "The
Choir," portray the industrially ravaged earth of today. But
whether Broumas raves with bliss or anger, she never lightens the
lash of her intellect or dilutes her lyricism, compassion, or
sense of the sacred. -- Donna Seaman
