Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Dara Wier’s "That Vagrant Mistral Vexing the Sun: A Far Cry" unfolds in a cascading litany of saints—ordinary and extraordinary, human and divine—rendered in a surrealist sequence that defies conventional hagiography. The poem revels in its accumulation of images, each one adding a layer of mystery, humor, or quiet reverence. The saints, rather than being solemn figures fixed in stained glass or scripture, move through the world in unexpected, often playful ways: "I once saw a saint sink / into a hammock and another sit on a hassock / and one fall asleep on an ottoman."

From the outset, the poem presents a world saturated with saints, their presence not confined to churches or sacred texts but instead woven into the fabric of everyday life. They exist "on wallpaper, in carts and minivans, / saints on carpets, in intervals, crawlspaces / teeming with saints." These lines suggest ubiquity, as if sainthood is not something distant or elevated but something inhabiting even the overlooked corners of existence. The phrase "a tidy sum of them massing / on the flagpoles" hints at a kind of quiet resistance or reclamation, saints reclaiming spaces associated with national or political symbols.

Wier’s saints are not bound by theological expectations. They engage in mundane, even comic activities: they nap, "chew on something," *"chase" one another "for the fun of it." One saint "smoke[s] a cigarette," another "paint[s] a go-cart," and yet another "beat[s] on a soup pot." These actions collapse the distance between divinity and the ordinary, allowing holiness to exist in unexpected gestures. By presenting saints who partake in such earthly pastimes, Wier challenges conventional narratives that separate the sacred from the profane. Her saints are neither untouchable nor exalted but instead deeply embedded in the rhythms of the everyday.

Yet even in their ordinariness, these saints retain an aura of mystery. Their smiles, the speaker notes, are "so enigmatic, no teeth showing, / no spittle, no sputtering, almost nothing." The phrase "almost nothing" suggests that whatever it is that defines these saints remains elusive. The poem continually walks the line between revelation and concealment, with the saints appearing as figures of both accessibility and impenetrability. They are present yet distant, familiar yet unknowable.

Some saints take on more explicitly surreal qualities. "A picture of a saint walking with a tiger / on a city street nearly stopped my heart." This moment bursts with visual energy, an impossible but striking tableau that suggests power, danger, and an unsettling harmony between the wild and the divine. Similarly, "A saint on a beeline. / A saint with a bell on." These brief, aphoristic statements reduce the saint to movement or sound, reinforcing their fleeting, intangible nature. Wier’s syntax creates a rhythm of accumulation, layering images like flashes of vision that, together, create a fragmented yet cohesive impression.

At times, the saints seem to take on a caretaker role: "A saint surrounded me and sorted my dreams from my nightmares." Here, sainthood becomes an act of gentle intervention, a quiet service that helps the speaker make sense of the chaos of sleep. The idea of a saint as a dream-curator reflects the poem’s concern with ambiguity—saints exist not to impose order but to help the speaker navigate uncertainty.

The closing lines take on a more intimate and ethereal tone: "I saw a saint unbutton a shirt. / I felt a saint's breath flow into my ear. / I saw a saint stand on a branch and bounce into thin air." These final images suggest transformation, disappearance, and transcendence. The unbuttoning of a shirt evokes vulnerability, while the breath in the ear is a whisper of presence, a ghostly touch that lingers. The last line, where a saint "bounces into thin air," leaves the reader with a vanishing act—an embodiment of the ephemeral, fleeting nature of the divine.

Ultimately, "That Vagrant Mistral Vexing the Sun: A Far Cry" is a meditation on the ways sainthood might manifest outside traditional religious frameworks. The poem reimagines saints as tricksters, caretakers, wanderers, and dreamers, figures who operate at the edges of perception and understanding. Wier’s saints are neither fixed nor dogmatic; they are fluid, playful, and omnipresent. The poem resists resolution, leaving the reader in a space where holiness is at once everywhere and just out of reach, carried along like the mistral wind that vexes the sun.

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