Poetry Friday: Boxing, Poetry (and Water Afterwards)

I had a joyous day earlier this week, donning my boxing gloves and pounding away at the heavy bag in the back corner of my gym. Bad Moon Rising was blasting from my iPod; I was wearing pink and feeling strong; the more I hit the bag, the more I felt as if I was going to lift off the ground and fly.

For those of you who've never boxed, let me say that it isn't about anger. At least not for me. It's about rhythm and control, and that sound...the thwack of my gloves popping against the bag. It's also about getting my whole body to work together, so I can put every bit of my strength into one concentrated punch. Focus and power---that's what boxing means to me. (I love this essay, too, by Robert Flanagan, "What he learned in boxing," in which he says "gym work -- skip rope, medicine ball, light bag, heavy bag -- was like saying the stations of the cross, a penance for weakness, yet giving you hope of being redeemed.")

So what does this have to do with Poetry Friday?

I wanted to find a poem about boxing that expressed what I felt. I haven't found one yet. (I may have to write it.) Most of the poems I found were about blood and being in the ring, something I've never experienced, and might never want to. (Big conflict avoider, that's me.)

But I did run across something amazing that I wanted to share: the World Heavy Weight Championship Poetry Bouts. It's just what it sounds like---two poets enter the ring and duel with poetry, until one is declared the winner by the judges. Poems instead of punches. Cool. Wait until you hear who was competing not too long ago.

Here's the scoop:

The Taos Poetry Circus ended its run after 22 years in 2003. The World Poetry Bout Association, which ran the World Heavyweight Championship Poetry Bout ("The Main Event") during the circus, disbanded. But remnants of the circus exist, including video footage of the 10-round bouts, and this archived article from the NY Times: Bouts of Poetry (the Stress is on Beat,) published June 21, 1994.

"...the circus included readings by several American Indians, like Sherman Alexie, a 27-year-old poet from Spokane, Wash., of the Coeur d'Alene tribe. In a bout on June 9, he read several works, including "Song," which speaks of adolescence on the reservation:

I remember all your names, Indian girls I loved, Dawn, Loretta, Michelle, Jana, Go-Go, Lulu, all of you Spokane Indian princesses who never asked me to slow dance

To the music

That always found its way

Into the tribal school."

Four years later, in 1998, Sherman Alexie won the World Heavyweight Championship Poetry Bout, and went on to win three more times, until he "hung up his gloves" in 2001. Here's a picture of him with the trophy.

No wonder he wrote about fighting in The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. And even though he's won other major grants and recognition over the years, I still marvel that it took from at least June, 1994, when he was reciting that poem, until last November, 2007, before his work about the exact same subject---adolescence on the reservation---won another championship bout, the National Book Award for Young People's Literature. (Read more about why he decided to write for young adults here.)

I'm seriously thinking of springing for the $29 it costs to buy a video tape of one of his bouts. Or maybe I can get a motivational tape of his voice to listen to while I smack the bag and compose poetry, punch by punch, line by line, at the gym and in that fighting corner of my soul.

Now for the water I promised you when we were done...

From his collection, "One Stick Song":

Water
by Sherman Alexie

I know a woman
who swims naked
in the ocean
no matter the season.

I don't have a reason
for telling you this (I never
witnessed her early morning
dips into the salt) Read the rest here.

Poetry Friday is hosted today by its founder, Kelly Herold, at Big A, little a.