This year marks the centennial of the birth of William Stafford, the former United States poet laureate--and, later, the laureate of his adopted state of Oregon as well. Sound of the Ax is one of many new books by and about Stafford we can expect to mark the occasion.
Fellow Oregonians Vincent Wixon and Paul Merchant have gone through Stafford's archives to compile 26 poems and nearly 400 aphorisms--the kind of statement, Stafford said, that "delivers groceries." Among the poems are such classics as "Things I Learned Last Week" ("Ants, when they meet each other,/ usually pass on the right") and "Sayings of the Blind" ("Velvet feels black"), both excellent examples of one of his favorite forms, the "list poem." For Stafford, poetry is the "kind of thing you have to see from the corner of your eye.... If you analyze it away, it's gone. It would be like boiling a watch to find out what makes it tick."
In his aphoristic mode, Stafford could be funny: "A rejection slip: 'This is too good for our readers.' " Or wise: "When the snake decided to go straight he didn't get anywhere." Or witty: "Every mink has a mink coat." He learned from the best--Pascal, Nietzsche, Sandburg (maybe even Groucho Marx?): "A box arrived. It said, 'Any side up.' " Or: "I live in a foreign country."
Stafford's concise and provocative "statements" explore everything: war, peace, honesty, faith, history, work, fears. "My life isn't what I thought it was. But the world isn't either." Touché. --Tom Lavoie, former publisher