Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Linda Hogan’s poem "Me, Crow, Fish, and the Magi" explores the human condition in relation to nature, mythology, and spirituality. Using the symbols of a rooster, trout, fish, and the Magi, Hogan crafts an allegory about the pursuit of purpose and the sometimes blind pursuit of desires. The poem reflects on themes of faith, instinct, and the search for meaning while juxtaposing these against the natural world’s harsh realities and the internal struggles of the speaker.

The poem begins with the image of a rooster, which, "the smaller he is, the more he fills his chest with air and crows." The rooster here symbolizes a bold defiance of fear, an embrace of life’s challenges, and an assertion of existence. Despite his size, the rooster crows loudly, unafraid of the "morning," suggesting an instinctual triumph over the inevitability of the day’s challenges. The rooster’s crowing is a declaration of presence and power, mirroring a human tendency to assert one’s existence even in the face of difficult circumstances.

Hogan quickly shifts to another image of fearlessness: "Nor is trout afraid, leaping into deadly air." Like the rooster, the trout’s leap into the unknown represents a defiance of fear, but it also speaks to the vulnerability inherent in that act. The trout’s leap is both courageous and fatalistic—suggesting that, just as with the rooster’s crowing, every action comes with its risks. This interplay between fearlessness and danger highlights a recurring motif in the poem: the duality of life, where boldness often exists alongside the potential for harm.

The speaker’s personal reflection follows: "And I forget my own suspicions to follow some line even with its hook." This is an admission of human fallibility and an acknowledgment of the forces that drive us. The "line" with the "hook" refers to the lure of desire, whether it be the pull of a goal, an ambition, or a longing. Despite the awareness of its potential harm—the hook—the speaker follows it nonetheless, compelled by the urge to pursue, to reach, to strive.

The line "Why don’t you look me up sometime?" is a conversational turn, almost a plea or invitation, which serves to deepen the speaker's reflection on human connection and the pursuit of fulfillment. This sudden break in the more abstract imagery of animals and gods brings the poem back to personal experience, evoking the desire to be seen and understood, much like the animals who leap or crow to declare their presence.

The imagery of "driving a highway, wearing all my old lives" speaks to the passage of time and the accumulation of experiences. The "scars on both knees and crow’s feet" symbolize both physical and emotional marks left behind by the journey of life. These "old lives" are the remnants of past experiences, mistakes, and choices that shape the person the speaker has become. The "history like broken fish line carried by Old Whiskers" introduces the idea of a fragmented, sometimes futile past—a fishing line that, much like the speaker’s life, is broken, tangled, and difficult to navigate. "Old Whiskers," perhaps a reference to an experienced figure or a metaphor for time, guides the fish, but even the fish—despite their skill—are marked by their struggles, as evidenced by the broken line.

Hogan then introduces the concept of "gods we follow," whether it be the sunlight or the worm, symbols of the external forces that guide human action. The image of chickens walking toward their inevitable death, "along a hypnotic line of chalk drawn by the good lord or Mesmer," evokes the idea of blind faith or the conditioned response to authority. Here, the chickens may represent those who follow life’s prescribed paths without question, entranced by an invisible force or hypnotized by external expectations.

Despite this tendency toward blind obedience, the speaker acknowledges that "the odds are good" that there are moments when we break free from this hypnotic line. "Sometimes we quit crowing or chasing lunch," suggests that, in certain instances, the individual steps back from the relentless pursuit of survival or external validation. The pause in the chase is a moment of reflection, a time when the speaker stops to "listen and hear the pull of our own voices." This shift signals an awakening or a return to one’s inner voice, a moment when one recognizes the value of internal guidance over external forces.

The closing reference to the "Magi with their star, the wise ones with their camels, perfumes and gold" introduces a spiritual dimension, invoking the famous biblical story of the Magi who followed a star to find the newborn Christ. Hogan draws a parallel between the journey of the Magi and the journey of the speaker, suggesting that the "inner songs" or "journey in the bones of their feet" are akin to the instincts that drive animals or humans. The Magi’s faith in their star and their own inner call mirrors the speaker’s recognition of the need to listen to their inner voice, to trust the journey rather than merely pursuing external rewards. The image of "migrating birds or salmon swimming ladders of stars to the beginning of life" ties this journey to nature, where creatures follow instinctual paths that lead them toward renewal and continuity.

In "Me, Crow, Fish, and the Magi," Hogan masterfully intertwines imagery from the natural world with spiritual and human dimensions to explore the idea of pursuit—whether it is for survival, meaning, or connection. The poem contrasts blind obedience with moments of introspection, urging the reader to recognize the inner call that exists alongside the external forces that influence us. The Magi’s journey serves as a metaphor for the larger spiritual journey that all beings, human or animal, must embark on—a journey toward self-awareness, renewal, and the pursuit of something deeper than what is immediately tangible.

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