In Rotation

Right here, right now

absentia

William Stobb Penguin Poets

Poem with Critical Thinking About distant platforms—ocean ones—

Poem by and multiple scales. The subway William Stobb trumpeter playing two horns at once. The essay I mean to write—what good is it without radar weather, wave patterning, permeable membrane engaged to transfer? Standing by the sink in the morning at the window drinking water and thinking in this perforated way what the day requires and what the life, a quick blur comes into focus off the vine garden floor. Light brown and white framed by ice against the blue-white of fresh powder, scrambling from form into low flight over the alley fence. As if I’ve spoken out loud My daughter, shivering, shoveling cereal: “What’s a critical essay?” Loose current breaking into Nighthawk, food chain, sun edging over the garage. Every surfacing relation, atmospheric pressure, questions remaining unanswered.

Story by D. Brian Burghart brianb@ newsreview.com

I had the opportunity to see William Stobb do an afternoon poetry reading at the University of Nevada, Reno on Oct. 29. It was a homecoming for him because he earned his Ph.D. here. He now lives in La Crosse, Wisc. The guy’s funny and charming, as is his poetry. He recently released a new collection of poems called absentia. In this, his fifth collection, he considers aspects of the Great Basin’s geology, geography and scale.

It’s not surprising that there is so much humor in the work, as it’s pretty hard to take oneself, or one’s work, very seriously in comparison to concepts of scale—like entire mountain ranges covered by a cloud—or the timespans that move landscapes from the depths of ancient oceans to presentday peaks.

At any rate, because the opportunity presented itself, I asked permission to run one of the poems. The one I selected is “Poem with Critical Thinking,” which appears at the top of this article. In searching for the perfect poem to represent the book, it becomes very evident that this is Nevada-based work, in both location and attitude, although some of it is a rumination on the Great Basin from other locales, which might be where the title comes from. Oddly, while I recognize the

Nevada-ness of this collection—for example, there are poems that make direct references to Nevada places, like Wheeler Peak, and there’s a scene from the Black Rock Desert on the cover—much of the poetry isn’t dependent on some imaginary state line. I guess that could speak to the universality of the ideas and writing, but to me, it seems kind of magical and artful how the imagery is designed to take me from the words that are written, that speak to certain specific places on the planet, and deposit me into realms that exist entirely within my own, and I guess Stobb’s, head.

I think a lot of Northern Nevadans, some of whom don’t buy a lot of poetry, might find this collection worthy of a place on their nightstand. Ω

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