कविता या विषयावरचे फार अनवट पुस्तक सध्या वाचनात आले. पुस्तकाचे नाव आहे - "The language of life - a festival of poets" लेखक आहेत " Bill Moyers" यामध्ये जवळजवळ ३४ कवींच्या अत्यंत ओघवत्या भाषेतील, वैचारीक संपत्तीने समृद्ध अशा, विश्लेषणात्मक मुलाखती असून या मुलाखतींमध्ये त्या त्या कवीच्या कविता तसेच त्या कवितेच्या निर्मीतीप्रक्रियेमागील विश्लेषण आदि भूमिका आदि गोष्टी सुस्पष्ट रीतीने विषद केलेल्या आहेत. गॅरी स्नायडर (Gary Snyde) या कवीची पुढील कविताच पहा- How poetry comes to me It comes blundering over the Boulders at night, it stays Frightened outside the Range of my campfire I go to meet it at the Edge of the light या कवितेबद्दल "बिल मोयर" म्हणजे मुलाखतकार हे स्नायडर यांना प्रश्न विचारतात की ते कोणाला भेटायला प्रकाशाच्या सीमारेषेवर जातात? यावर स्नायडर उत्तर देतात - तर्काच्या प्रखर प्रकाशात मला भेटायला येण्यास बुजणार्‍या ठेचकाळत, लाजत एकेक पाऊल टाकत येणार्‍या लावण्यमयी , आदिम, सहजप्रवृत्तीच्या अशा कवितेच्या (Intuitive) विश्वाला मी प्रकाशाच्या त्या सीमारेषेवर सामोरा जातो. हेच स्नायडर कवी कवितेला "कल्पनेच्या जगातील अभयारण्य" अशा विलक्षण नावाने बोलावतात. या पुस्तकात "ल्युसिल क्लिफ्टन" हिची "चाईल्ड अ‍ॅब्युज" या विषयावरची अंगावर काटा आणणारी कविता आणि या कवयित्रीचे त्यावरील भाष्य आपल्याला वाचावयास मिळते. shapeshifter poems by Lucille Clifton 1 the legend is whispered in the women's tent how the moon when she rises full follows some men into themselves and changes them there the season is short but dreadful shapeshifters they wear strange hands they walk through the houses at night their daughters do not know them 2 who is there to protect her from the hands of the father not the windows which see and say nothing not the moon that awful eye not the woman she will become with her scarred tongue who who who the owl laments into the evening who will protect her this prettylittlegirl 3 if the little girl lies still enough shut enough hard enough shapeshifter may not walk tonight the full moon may not find him here the hair on him bristling rising up 4 the poem at the end of the world is the poem the little girl breathes into her pillow the one she cannot tell the one there is no one to hear this poem is a political poem is a war poem is a universal poem but is not about these things this poem is about one human heart this poem is the poem at the end of the world ल्युसिलला मोयर विचारतात वरील कवितेतील मुलगी कोण? आणि ल्युसिल उत्तर देतात "या कवितेतील मुलगी मीच आहे." ....."पण..... माझा माझ्या वडीलांवर राग नाही कारण ते स्वतः जर "अ‍ॅब्युजड" नसते तर कदाचित ते वेगळे असते. मी माझ्या मनात त्यांबदालच्या तिरस्काराची, घृणेची वीषवल्ली जोपासली नाही कारण मला माहीत आहे यात माझाच नाश आहे." हे आपण वाचतो आणि या स्त्रीच्या समजूतदारपणावर थक्क होतो. कुठे कॅरोलिना फोर्शे (Carolyn Forche) नावाची कवयित्री सहज सांगून जाते की कविता ही मनुष्याला चिंतन करण्यास शिकवते. आत्म्याचा कोवळा हुंकार, आत्म्याचा विलास, आत्म्याचे संगीत म्हणजे कविता तर कुठे जॉय हारो (Joy Harjo) नावाची कवयित्री सांगते की प्रत्येक कविता ही प्रेमातूनच उगम पावते म्हणून प्रत्येक कविता ही प्रेमकविताच असते. पुढे ती म्हणते की कविता ही नादमय कला आहे. एकांतात मनाशी वाचायचा हा प्रकार नसून मोठ्यांने वाचा. कविता कानावर शब्द पडतील अशी वाचा. It's an oral art. कवितेची जादू संपूर्ण बहराला तेव्हाच येते जेव्हा आपण ती ध्वनीरूपाने ऐकतो. या कवयित्रीची अशीच एक जादूभरी , अमूर्त मनाचे पापुद्रे उलगडून दाखविणारी कविता - She had some horses. She had horses who were bodies of sand. She had horses who were maps drawn of blood. She had horses who were skins of ocean water. She had horses who were the blue air of sky. She had horses who were fur and teeth. She had horses who were clay and would break. She had horses who were splintered red cliff. She had some horses. She had horses with eyes of trains. She had horses with full, brown thighs. She had horses who laughed too much. She had horses who threw rocks at glass houses. She had horses who licked razor blades. She had some horses. She had horses who danced in their mothers' arms. She had horses who thought they were the sun and their bodies shone and burned like stars. She had horses who waltzed nightly on the moon. She had horses who were much too shy, and kept quiet in stalls of their own making. She had some horses. She had horses who liked Creek Stomp Dance songs. She had horses who cried in their beer. She had horses who spit at male queens who made them afraid of themselves. She had horses who said they weren't afraid. She had horses who lied. She had horses who told the truth, who were stripped bare of their tongues. She had some horses. She had horses who called themselves, "horse". She had horses who called themselves, "spirit", and kept their voices secret and to themselves. She had horses who had no names. She had horses who had books of names. She had some horses. She had horses who whispered in the dark, who were afraid to speak. She had horses who screamed out of fear of the silence, who carried knives to protect themselves from ghosts. She had horses who waited for destruction. She had horses who waited for resurrection. She had some horses. She had horses who got down on their knees for any saviour. She had horses who thought their high price had saved them. She had horses who tried to save her, who climbed in her bed at night and prayed as they raped her. She had some horses. She had some horses she loved. She had some horses she hated. These were the same horses. पुस्तक फार चिंतनिय आहे, रसिंकासाठी मेजवानी आहे यात वादच नाही.