{"id":3550,"date":"2006-02-20T18:17:54","date_gmt":"2006-02-20T23:17:54","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lia.bulaong.com\/wp\/?p=3550"},"modified":"2006-02-20T18:17:54","modified_gmt":"2006-02-20T23:17:54","slug":"humidifier_by_louise_gluck","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lia.bulaong.com\/blog\/2006\/02\/humidifier_by_louise_gluck\/","title":{"rendered":"humidifier, by louise gl\u00fcck"},"content":{"rendered":"

While reading through the March\/April 2006 issue of I.D.<\/a> this afternoon, I was pleasantly surprised to find this poem by Louise Glück, a reprint from Poetry<\/a>‘s July\/August 2005 issue. The ending slays me every time.<\/p>\n

\n

Humidifier<\/strong>
—After Robert Pinsky<\/i><\/p>\n

Defier of closed space, such as the head, opener
Of the sealed passageways, so that
Sunlight entering the nose can once again<\/p>\n

Exit the ear, vaporizer, mist machine, whose
Soft hiss sounds like another human being<\/p>\n

But less erratic, more stable, or if not like a human being,
Carried by one, by my mother to the sick chamber
Of my childhood—as Freud said,<\/p>\n

Why are you always sick, Louise?<\/i> his cigar
Confusing mist with smoke, interfering
With healing—Embodied<\/p>\n

Summoner of these ghosts, white plastic box with your elegant
Clear tub, the water sanitized by boiling,
Sterile, odorless,<\/p>\n

In my mother’s absence
Run by me, the one machine<\/p>\n

I understand: what
Would life be if we could not buy
Objects to care for us<\/p>\n

And bear them home, away from the druggists’ pity,
If we could not carry in our own arms
Alms, alchemy, to the safety of our bedrooms,
If there were no more<\/p>\n

Sounds in the night, continuous
Hush, hush of warm steam, not
Like human breath though regular, if there were nothing in the world<\/p>\n

More hopeful than the self,
Soothing it, wishing it well.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

I posted Glück’s Fable<\/a>, one of my favorite poems, almost four years ago! Hard to believe sometimes I’m in my sixth year of blogging. Glück was US poet laureate from 2003-2004 and currently teaches at Yale. Her most recent book of poetry is 2001’s The Seven Ages<\/a>; she won the Pulitzer in 1992 for The Wild Iris<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

While reading through the March\/April 2006 issue of I.D. this afternoon, I was pleasantly surprised to find this poem by Louise Glück, a reprint from<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3550","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-cheesedip","category-movable-type"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lia.bulaong.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3550","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lia.bulaong.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lia.bulaong.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lia.bulaong.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lia.bulaong.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3550"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/lia.bulaong.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3550\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lia.bulaong.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3550"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lia.bulaong.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3550"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lia.bulaong.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3550"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}