Plath/Sexton/Baraka

So, Osama Bin Laden is dead. Millions of different opinions collide in the air over large and small cities alike, people shudder in either joy or disgust, and our nation is divided once again.Regardless of one's political or ethical stance surrounding the melee, one thing is certain- the tumultuous events of the past weekend have created an ideal backdrop for examining liberation poetics, or what I have come to think of as poetry for those marginalized, disenfranchised, and just plain enraged by mainstream cultural values*.

I will attempt to chronicle my experiences first with Sylvia Plath, a poet I enjoy greatly, and am equally pained by, and feel pain for. I discovered the work of Sylvia Plath by accident, while perusing my 8th grade teachers "personal" bookshelf. Graciously, she allowed me to borrow the book, and in turn, blew my mind. Although I understood little of what Plath was saying or why she was saying it, the gut level pain and alienation were undeniable, even to a slightly apathetic 8th grader. I needed to know more about her, and fast.
In High School, through reading Her Husband, an outstanding Plath/Hughes biography by Diane Middlebrook Wood (read it...seriously) I discovered Wood's Anne Sexton biography, and after reading that, purchased The Awful Rowing Toward God. If an author could win the Pulitzer Prize on the basis of a chill inducing poem or Book title, Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath would've been consistent contenders. I always thought Sexton somewhat subordinate to Plath, Lowell and at times, Snodgrass, even after reading the book in it's entirety. It wasn't until a few years ago that I really started to absorb and appreciate Sexton's gift for crafting blindingly gorgeous imagery that makes your heart happy and terrified at the same time..like the summer sun being coated in ice. Now, I count Sexton amongst my favorite poets ever, Confessional or otherwise.
As for Amiri Baraka...wow. The most angry and arguably, most fluid poet of this bunch has always given me positive chills, even in his most cringe inducing moments. Somebody Blew Up America owned my mind when it was first read aloud. The ensuing controversy, in my opinion, only served to strengthen Baraka's most recent poetic efforts, as it seemed he needed a shot in the arm. The way New Jersey's Governor handled the entire situation serves as a direct illustration of the perceived oppressive force Baraka has been battling for close to thirty years. Be it with the Beats, The Black Panthers, or the Black Mountain Poets, Baraka can blend in and lash out with the best writers of his, or any generation.

Also of note: Baraka's daughter was murdered in the early 2000's in Newark. I always wondered if this horrific event occurring in his mythic hometown had any impact on his later poetry. Poor guy.

*I realize that Plath and Sexton are not conventionally labeled Poets of Liberation, but their contrasting representations of gender dynamics cause me to think of them as two of the original Feminist poets in America, besides Rich.