I have often heard of Gary Synder and have delved into a few individual poems and essays of his. However, I have never perused a full collection. After devouring Michael Cohen’s Granite and Grace, a captivating book about Yosemite, I firmly resolved that I needed to explore more of his poetry.

The Riprap poems were predominantly penned in the mid-1950s. This was around the time when Cohen first set foot in Yosemite and approximately a year before my own birth. Synder, in his youthful days, toiled on trail building crews within the park. The title of these poems is highly apt as one frequently has to riprap the side of the trail with rocks to safeguard against erosion.

These poems beautifully capture the very places where Synder labored, along with the individuals with whom he resided and worked. I relished his vivid descriptions of some familiar landscapes. The latter half of the book consists of his translations of the writings of a seventh-century Japanese poet, Han-shan. These poems were equally fascinating and offered a unique perspective into another culture's poetic heritage.

Overall, reading this collection has deepened my appreciation for Gary Synder's work and has left me eager to explore more of his literary contributions.

As a poet, I find myself in a rather uncomfortable position when it comes to reviewing the work of other poets, especially someone of Gary Snyder's eminence.

I can only express what catches my interest, what touches my heart, what spurs me on to write more, and sometimes, what fails to resonate with me (which often turns out to be the very aspect that others might adore about the poet).

In college, I was incredibly naïve and arrogant (attending Reed, which is something Mr. Snyder and I share). I read a bit of Snyder's work and, in my youthful poetic hubris, deemed it too simplistic, too wholesome, and too direct for my liking. I was (and to some extent still am) partial to "edgy" works that toyed with language and delved into grand themes such as sex, drugs, suicide, and dysfunctional relationships (as seen in my own collection A Rough Deliverance, which contains many of my poems from that era). I adored Berryman, Garcia Lorca, and Plath. I even had the audacity to satirize Snyder's work with lines like, "My woman's breasts/hang over the sink." Little did I know.

Thirty-some years later, I revisited Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems with a completely different perspective. For one crucial reason, I now know significantly more about Buddhism and Taoism, although that's not saying much considering I knew next to nothing about such matters in college (even though I'm sure I thought I did). Cutting to the chase, I was astounded this time by the elegance and skill of Snyder's poems, as well as his clear and peaceful vision of the natural world as a reflection of the spirit. I deducted the final star only because at times I felt he was stretching a bit too far in attempting to convey the Buddhist or Taoist "essence" (perhaps the wrong word) of a poem. Again, this is purely a matter of personal taste.

I do want to mention that I was glad he didn't choose to delete or revise the poem "For a Far-Out Friend" for the 50th Anniversary edition, despite the criticism he seemingly received for the opening line, "Because I once beat you up/drunk..." Instead, he added an explanatory note (claiming the real situation was quite different). God knows I in no way condone violence against women (or children, men, or any sentient being), but I don't believe deleting objectionable elements from art is a useful way to address the issue (unless, perhaps, they are clearly intended to incite violence or harm). These things exist, and we need to face them.

But ask me again in another thirty-some years.

Nature's Zen Poet

Gary Snyder is often grouped together with the Beat Poets. However, his poetry takes a different path. While the Beat Poets were known for their rebellious spirit and exploration of urban and political themes, Snyder's work centers around nature and the tranquility of life. His poems have a unique quality that makes them resonate deeply within the reader's mind. They are like the soft chirping of crickets on a quiet night, creating a sense of peace and stillness. Snyder's connection with nature is evident in every line of his poetry. He describes the beauty and power of the natural world with a keen eye and a sensitive heart. His words transport the reader to a place far away from the hustle and bustle of the city, where one can find solace and inspiration in the simplicity of nature. Through his poetry, Snyder invites us to slow down, listen to the sounds of the earth, and embrace the beauty that surrounds us.

Poetry has always been an enigma to me. I used to think of it as just a collection of fancy words and rhymes that didn't really have much to do with my life. However, something happened recently that completely changed my view of poetry.

I was going through a difficult time in my life, and I found myself turning to poetry for solace. As I read through the works of different poets, I began to see that poetry was much more than just words on a page. It was a way of expressing emotions and experiences that were often too deep and complex to put into ordinary language.

One particular poem that had a profound impact on me was "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost. The poem's message about choosing one's own path in life and the consequences that come with it really spoke to me. It made me realize that I had the power to make my own choices and that I should not be afraid to take risks and follow my heart.

Since then, I have become a voracious reader of poetry. I have discovered that poetry can be a source of inspiration, comfort, and wisdom. It has changed my life in ways that I never thought possible, and I am grateful for the new perspective it has given me.

Gary Snyder's first poetry collection is an absolute gem. It offers a profound and meditative look into his diverse experiences. As a deckhand, his travels provided him with a wealth of inspiration. His labor in the North American backcountry added another layer of authenticity and connection to nature. Additionally, his studies of Zen in Japan influenced his perspective and writing style.

Snyder was a pioneer in introducing the elegance, simplicity, and depth of Chinese poetics to a Western audience. His work not only transferred these qualities but also made them accessible and popular. Included in the collection is his remarkable rendering of the Chinese hermit monk, Hanshan. Through Snyder's work, Hanshan reached a wider audience and inspired a generation of people who were seeking an alternative to the life dictated by the State, the Church, and Capital.

Although many may not have directly read "Riprap," they might have come across Snyder and Hanshan through his friend Jack Kerouac and his book "The Dharma Bums." This collection further solidifies my belief that Snyder is one of the finest American poets. His work continues to inspire me daily to see beyond the illusions of our complex world and discover its inherent beauty. As he beautifully puts it, "A clear, attentive mind / Has no meaning but that / Which sees is truly seen."

I have read Dharma Bums a dozen times.

And finally, after all this time, I got around to this particular aspect or experience related to it.

It truly exceeded all my expectations, which were already quite high to begin with.

This work is so incredibly good.

The characters, the story, the themes - everything comes together in a seamless and captivating way.

It makes me think deeply about life, about my own journey, and about the meaning and purpose of it all.

Each time I read it, I discover something new, something that I may have missed before.

It's like a never-ending well of wisdom and inspiration.

I can't recommend it enough to anyone who is looking for a thought-provoking and engaging read.

It will surely have a profound impact on you, just as it has had on me.

Beautiful!

Beauty is a concept that is both subjective and objective. It can refer to physical appearance, such as a beautiful face or a beautiful body. However, beauty can also refer to other aspects of a person or thing, such as a beautiful personality, a beautiful soul, or a beautiful idea.

Beauty has the power to inspire and move us. It can make us feel happy, peaceful, and content. It can also make us feel inspired to create, to love, and to be better people.

In conclusion, beauty is a wonderful and important part of our lives. We should all strive to appreciate and create beauty in our own unique ways.

And now I've lost the shortcut home,
Body asking shadow, how do you keep up?

These two lines by Han-shan have a profound charm that lingers. They seem to capture a moment of existential confusion and self-reflection. The idea of losing the shortcut home can be seen as a metaphor for losing one's way in life, perhaps straying from the path that once seemed so clear and direct. The body asking the shadow how it keeps up adds an element of mystery and wonder. It's as if the body is aware of its own limitations and is seeking answers from the intangible part of itself. I could read these two lines for an indefinite amount of time, each reading revealing new layers of meaning and inviting me to explore the depths of my own thoughts and emotions.

Snyder's first book

presented a collection of poems that was a mix of the outstanding and the inconsequential.

Among them, there were a few truly remarkable poems that stood out for their beauty and depth.

However, there were also some that seemed rather unimportant or lacked a certain spark.

Interestingly, the poems written about his work on an oil tanker in a looser line

showed a different direction that he never fully explored.

This Levine-ish direction hinted at a possible new path for his poetry,

one that could have led to more unique and engaging works.

It makes one wonder what might have happened if Snyder had pursued this direction further.

Overall, his first book was a starting point,

a glimpse into his budding talent and the potential that lay ahead.

For all the buzz it has generated, this is a rather concise collection of poems penned by Japhy Ryder. Riprap? Absolutely! Who in their right mind doesn't have an appreciation for riprap? It's like a chaotic yet charming assemblage of words and ideas.

I also found myself drawn to some of the Cold Mountain poems. There's a certain allure in the way Ryder描绘s the desolate beauty and the sense of isolation that pervades those mountain landscapes.

The simplicity of the language he uses belies the depth of the emotions and thoughts he conveys. Each poem seems to be a snapshot of a moment in time, a fleeting impression that lingers in the mind long after it has been read.

Despite its brevity, this collection manages to pack a punch and leave a lasting impression on the reader. It's a testament to Japhy Ryder's talent as a poet and his ability to capture the essence of the human experience in just a few short lines.

Whether you're a fan of riprap or simply someone who enjoys exploring the beauty of language and poetry, this collection is definitely worth a read.

Going to listen to Snyder reading his poems himself actually helps a great deal. There are specific recordings of poems from this book. However, I have found myself to be somewhat unprepared for this collection. Maybe I am missing a dozen senses in here. It could be that I haven't fully grasped the depth and complexity of his works. Snyder's poetry is known for its vivid imagery and profound insights. By listening to him read, one can gain a better understanding of the rhythm and flow of his words. It also allows the listener to pick up on the nuances and subtleties that might otherwise be missed when simply reading the text. Despite my initial unpreparedness, I am looking forward to delving deeper into this collection and exploring the world that Snyder has created through his poetry.

is a rather complex book to assess. The finest poems within it were truly inspiring and had a transformative impact when they first emerged in the late 1950s, and they still retain their unique charm and inspiration today. However, these excellent poems only constitute approximately one-third of this collection. The remaining part, which amounts to less than sixty pages, lacks the same lyrical quality or fails to sing as loudly. They are either awkward and derivative or cautious and academic.

Let's first address the inferior works. The only awkward poems, such as "Praise for Sick Women," "For a Far Out Friend," and "A Stone Garden," are about women - a subject that the young Snyder, despite being known as a "ladies man," doesn't seem to have a deep understanding of. These poems rely on secondhand myth and rhetoric, which is something Snyder usually avoids in other works. The derivative poems, like "Migration of Birds," "T-2 Tanker Blues," and "Cartagena," show the influence of Ginsberg and Kerouac's anecdotal and effusive style and seem out of character for the more deliberative and meditative Snyder. The cautious and academic part I'm referring to is the entire text of , a selection of 24 poems by Han-shan translated from Chinese. These are not bad poems; in fact, some of the individual lines reflect Snyder's genius, especially his anarchic spirit and humor. I'm convinced that the poet learned a great deal from this translation exercise, but something, perhaps the moral burden of creating a faithful translation or the practical limitations of his Berkeley seminar, prevented Snyder from producing the outstanding work of translation he was capable of.

This leaves us with the beautiful part, the eighteen pages of poetry in that, I believe, will endure in the American spirit for a long time.

In 1955, after a year of graduate work in Oriental languages, the 25-year-old Gary Snyder took a summer job as a trail crew laborer in Yosemite National Park. He soon found himself working in the upper reaches of the Piute Creek drainage, a land of smooth white granite, the visible memory of the ice age. The bedrock was so brilliant that it shone back at the crystal night stars. Amidst a curious mindset of renunciation and long days of hard work with a shovel, pick, dynamite, and boulders, his language relaxed, and he found himself writing poems that surprised him. Snyder was building trails through the granite with "riprap," which is "a cobble of stone laid on steep, slick rock to make a trail for horses in the mountains." He began to see that these trails and his verses were both like the Chinese poems he loved, with their monosyllabic step-by-step placement and their crispness.

The poems he wrote, filled with the natural beauties of Northern California, the spirit of zen, and the essence of honest work, are perfect in themselves and were also perfect for the times. Snyder became friends with Ginsberg and Kerouac, two city kids who found this mountain-climbing country boy poet to be both mythic and romantic. Ginsberg invited him to be part of the San Francisco reading where he debuted his classic poem "Howl," and Kerouac used him as a model for Japhy Ryder in .

Snyder soon became a Beat legend, but the poems themselves still possess a purity that shines independently of all that. Here are three of them - one about trail clearing, one about hay bale stacking, and one about ship deck painting - all about work:


We finished clearing the last
Section of trial by noon,
High on the ridge-side
Two thousand feet above the creek
Reached the pass, went on
Beyond the white pine groves,
Granite shoulders, to a small
Green meadow water by the snow,
Edged with Aspen—sun
Straight high and blazing
But the air was cool.
Ate a cold fried trout in the
Trembling shadows. I spied
A glitter, and found a flake
Black volcanic glass—obsidian—
By a flower. Hands and knees
Pushing the Bear grass, thousands
Of arrowhead leavings over a
Hundred yards. Not one good
Head, just razor flakes
On a hill snowed all but summer,
A land of fat summer deer,
They came to camp. On their
Own trails. I followed my own
Trail here. Picked up the cold-drill,
Pick, singlejack, and sack
Of dynamite.
Ten thousand years.


HAY FOR THE HORSES

He had driven half the night
From far down San Joaquin
Through Mariposa, up the
Dangerous mountain roads,
And pulled in at eight a.m.
With his big truckload of hay
\\t\\tbehind the barn.
With winch and ropes and hooks
We stacked the bales up clean
To splintery redwood rafters
High in the dark, flecks of alfalfa
Whirling through shingle-cracks of light,
Itch of hay dust in the
\\t\\tsweaty shirt and shoes.
At lunchtime under Black oak
Out in the hot corral,
--The old mare nosing lunchpails,
Grasshoppers crackling in the weeds—
“I’m sixty-eight” he said,
“I first bucked hay when I was seventeen.
I though, that day I started,
I sure would hate to do this all my life.
And dammit, that’s just what
I’ve gone and done.”


GOOFING AGAIN

Goofing again
I shifted weight the wrong way
flipping the plank end-over
dumping me down in the bilge
& splatting a gallon can
of thick sticky dark red
italian deck paint
over the fresh white bulkhead.
such a trifling move
& such spectacular results.
now I have to paint the wall again
& salvage only from it all a poem.>