e88 robin mathews – on radical listening & political poetry

'I don't know how many people in Canada who would immediately understand what radical listening is, because it would occur to me that the listener would have to be sensitized beforehand in order to listen radically, so that the radical listening is a secondary function of becoming radicalized in a political matter or political level. Radical listening is at one level, isn't it, one listens in repose. One listens in usually undefended state of mind and so radical listening would be post action listening or preparatory to action.'Robin Mathews, Vancouver, 2021This is a special edition of the conscient podcast. You’ll hear two recordings that I did with my father in the law, the poet and educator Robin Mathews. I did not narrate his extensive biography however there are some links in the episode notes below for you to learn more about his distinguished career as a writer and activist. The first recording is from just a few days in Vancouver, where I ask him to help me understand the origins of the term radical and also the notion of radical listening, which is the theme of this 3rd season. The second recording is from 17 years ago, in 2004 which was a series of conversation I had with Robin about political poetry and the role of the artist in society. I thought I would bring these two conversations together in this episode.You’ll also hear him read three of his poems. The first is at the Café Lenin from his Think Freedom book of poetry published in 2004 by Northland Publications.  The second is The Lady From Iraq, written in 1991. The third is from this year, called Unmarked Graves. In particular I like this quote from our 2004 conversation about the role of the artists in society:It doesn't do to dictate about the artist, because artists are as various as it is possible to be. A great many artists can only have their being in withdrawal and insularity, retreat and silence and so to call upon them to be social activists would be wounding and maybe destructive but in the large picture of the artist in the society, even the artists that I have described, must in himself or herself, recognize that to be artists is a special function and a special blessing and in response to it, the artist must take responsibility for the nature of the society in which he or she lives. And that's asking a great deal, but I don't think it's asking too much.I want thank Robin for sharing his deep knowledge of arts and culture and his passion for poetry and literature. I also thank him for being a generous and supportive father-in-law to me and a loving grandfather to our children. Though she does not appear in this episode, I also recognize the work and wisdom of Esther Mathews as an activist and cultural worker.Poems narrated in this episodeat the Café Lenin (2004)We'll meet at the Café Lenin. when the midnight hour has toiled.We'll drink to the hopes, the past held dearon a planet grown tragically old We'll mourn the loss of the ozone, the oceans depleted of fish; we’ll remember the songs that were sung by the frogs,we’ll remember and wonder and wish We'll sit in the Café Lenin with its decor of scarlet and black mourning the million's gone down to their graveso the markets can stay ‘on track’. We'll drink to the men and the women who fight for the Good and the Justand are torn from hope and human love by Imperial greed and lust. We'll praise all revolutions – no matter how poor or small – where the weak and the tortured fight to break free of Capital's murdering thrall. We'll meet at the Café Lenin in the darkness and dead of our night. We'll remember, dream - and then plan a freshfor a New Day filled with Light.The Lady from IraqThe lady in the High-Class Store, backs the madmen on the Hill. She blesses them and thinks it right, that they should kill and kill, because the world, she says, is bad and good. Our leaders stand up for the right. The bad must feel our heavy wrath falling on them in the night.The lady in the High-Class Store Doesn't wish her neighbour ill, Doesn't have a racist hate, Doesn't rifle from the till.Like you and me she starts her day with coffee by her lawn side view, Sews for her daughter, loves her son, Fears the different and the new.She talks about our U.S. friends. She says they need to go to war. As friends we ought to follow them. We can't do less, she thinks, or more.She's built herself a fortress mind. She wanders in a burning wood where admen tell her what is True, The TV tells her what is Good.She doesn't know her choice has been. Packaged somewhere far away. When she sees there's throwing stones, She wants to throw some of her own.Her leaders know that. They depend that she'll continue being she. They build their banal madness on her firm predictability.Unmarked Graves (2021)Hearing voices rising from unmarked graves seeing forms as though of bodiesbound in ill-fitting cerementsmoving away from habitationsmoving silently through unbroken forestas if along worn trailsHearing voices murmuring unintelligible phrases and seeing the shapes of bodies (or what were once bodies)bound in ill-fitting cerementsmoving silently through unbroken forestmoving where there is no pathway….Their voices rising from unmarked gravesecho in the empty passageways of memory.When they speak(as if they are speaking to one another)their voices rising from unmarked gravesare not wise and rounded and certain voices(as the voices of the dead should be:voices that rise from completed lives)they are uncertain voices echoing in the empty passageways of memory.No history can restore them.No intention can give them wholeness back, as if their destinyis barely to be heard or seenexcept as voices rising from unmarked graves -except as shadows bound in ill-fitting cerementsmoving through unbroken forest - having been given releaseto utter cries of forlorn hopecries that come to the ears as the cries of thoselost in the empty passageways of memory -as cries uttered in sadness and abandonmentrising from the unmarked graves of those not knownor rememberedbut walking on the ghostly pathwaysof a past erasedand only found again in palsied memory … and in dream.Links mention in this episodehttps://www.lib.sfu.ca/system/files/28909/Paris1968.pdfhttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robin_Mathews_(poet)https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/robin-mathewsRobin and Esther Mathews, November 2021, VancouverRobin Mathews and me, November 2021, Vancouver *END NOTES FOR ALL EPISODESHey conscient listeners, I’ve been producing the conscient podcast as a learning and unlearning journey since May 2020 on un-ceded Anishinaabe Algonquin territory (Ottawa). It’s my way to give back.In parallel with the production of the conscient podcast and its francophone counterpart, balado conscient, I I publish a free ‘a calm presence' monthly Substack see https://acalmpresence.substack.com.Your feedback is always welcome at [email protected] and/or on social media: Facebook, Instagram, Linkedin, Threads, BlueSky, Mastodon, Tik Tok, YouTube and Substack.Share what you like, etcI am grateful and accountable to the earth and the human labour that provided me with the privilege of producing this podcast, including the toxic materials and extractive processes behind the computers, recorders, transportation systems and infrastructure that made this production possible. Claude SchryerLatest update on November 13, 2025

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