Welcome to National Poetry Month at The Other Pages. This marks the fifth year of this event, where we try to explore at least one poem a day throughout the month of April. My name is Steve Spanoudis and I curate the series, with help and contributions this year from Bob Blair in Texas, Kashiana Singh in Chicago, and (Nelson) Howard Miller in Georgia. I’m coming to you from Coral Springs, Florida, on the eastern edge of the Everglades.

Oops is not generally a word we associate with poetry. Most poets review what they have written many times to make sure it says what they want it to say, in the way that they want it to be heard, and that the layers of meaning, the sounds, the rhythm, or other aspects of the poem reinforce or resonate, wherever possible. Of course there are also many things informally written, and these may not necessarily be as exacting.

Poetry in translation is something that takes extra effort to ensure the original intent comes across. That can be a painful process - especially painful when the languages are structurally very different.

Creating any form of art is, in a way, a translation. A vision of real/unreal things, brought into being as interpreted by the artist, based on the characteristics of materials, methods, and tools. American poet Molly Peacock’s poem, The Flaw, is about rug-making. About weaving coarse threads on a hand loom - a difficult, tedious, repetitive process, but one which requires skill, concentration, and attention to detail.

First, a few comments on the poet. Molly Peacock(1947- ) was born in Buffalo, New York, and is a dual American-Canadian Citizen, Residing in Toronto and sometimes New York. She has been prolific and varied in her output, writing seven books of poetry, short stories, biographies, essays, and editing three anthologies. She is a past president of the Poetry Society of America, and has taught at numerous universities.

As an interesting aside - if you have ever seen poetry on a bus or subway instead of an advert in a major U.S. city - thank Molly Peacock for starting Poetry in Motion.

Our focus today is a beautifully simple poem, putting forth the idea that it is the irregularities, the rare but inevitable flaws in the pattern, that give it life. Or at least, they tweak your imagination, and your mind provides the animation. It begins with the simple premise:

               The best thing about a hand-made pattern is the flaw.

There are a few lines in this short poem that may remind you of Emily Dickinson, especially toward the end. The closing thought, maybe metaphor, maybe truth, is that the flaw is the hand’s way of saying “I’m alive,” I’m not a machine, hoping that someone deciphers the coded message.

The Poetry Foundation website has a more in-depth biography and sixteen of her poems online.

More of the series, and the full text of this episode are available through https://theotherpages.org and The Other Pages on Facebook or Tumblr.

Thanks for listening,

--Steve