Poem of the Week | September 21, 2015

This week we offer a new poem by Calvin Olsen. Olsen holds an MFA from Boston University, where he received a Robert Pinsky Global Fellowship. His poetry and translations have appeared in Nashville Review, Catch & Release, Gravel, The Interpreter’s House, Salamander, and Lay Bare the Canvas: New England Poets on Art, among many others. His current projects include a book-length manuscript, a translation of the collected works of Alberto de Lacerda, and an extensive undertaking at tenthousandhaiku.com. He lives and teaches in Boston.
 
Author’s note:

This poem’s impetus (for lack of a fancier word) came from time I spent in the art studio of Adrienne Stein while we collaborated on a project at Boston University. My favorite of Adrienne’s paintings features a white owl, and an earlier version of the poem was solely about that bird and its effect on the work. A year or two later I sat in Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts and watched a video of and owl flying in slow motion which sent me back through all my memories of owls. I dissected owl pellets in third grade, camping trips as a teenager in Idaho offered more than one close encounter with the birds, and my wife and I wake up to an owl hooting outside our window every morning here in Massachusetts. All of this factors into the poem in my mind: the owl is a conglomerate of all the owls I have come into contact with, and the place he ends up at the end of the poem is a romanticized version of the small barn/large shed at my parents’ home. I’ve attempted to shape the poem to allow the reader to see the owl as I do: wild, enticing, and more than a little intimidating—a lot like taking a good look at yourself.