Chris Orsman

I’m re-reading poet Chris Orsman’s The Lakes of Mars. I met Chris when Anne and I bought our apartment from his widowed mother Elizabeth. Throughout my life I’ve been enamoured with Antarctica. Scott and Shackleton were my childhood heroes. I envy poets privileged to have visited the frozen continent. So naturally I’m disposed to like poems about it. Chris is also a fine poet.

His description of the interior of Scott’s Hutt at Cape Evans gave fresh life to my youthful enthusiastic reading. Here are two excerpts:

‘Ponting's Darkroom: a cell
padded in black leather,
stocked with paraphernalia
of the embalmer’s art:
emulsion trays, red lanterns,
Watkin's Timed Thermometer;
magic lantern slow plates.
The Strand Magazine lies open
on `Victims of the Weather'
-an advertisement for umbrellas.’

‘The Holy of Holies: Scott’s bunk
and alcove, rather ghastly;
a crumpled sleeping-bag,
perished hot-water bottle,
sock with a hole, dusty tins’

The title series The Lakes of Mars contains powerful pieces conveying a sense of the immensity of the place. In the Taylor Valley.‘constant daylight/ bullies the senses awake’. Chris transports me there by his own experience.

The first part of the collection covers of a wide range of subjects, all powerful in their different ways. Particularly moving was one with the simple title Grass. It ends:
‘and read the metaphor
incumbent in the grass

its biblical power
to persuade

that life is short
and full of strange reverses:

the soldier turns man of peace
and is murdered by the pious

i.m Yitshak Rabin’

When Rabin, the Israeli Prime Minister, was assassinated by a fellow Jew the world lost an opportunity for a more peaceful dialogue between Israel and Palestine. At the time my office was in the same building as the Israeli Embassy. (Our young receptionist flirted with one of their handsome office guards). I went through the complications of their security system to sign the book of condolence. I did it with sadness. Orsman’s poem is a fitting tribute. As the Bible says “all flesh is grass.”