12.31.2014
12.29.2014
noun as adjective
Using a noun as an adjective to good effect. [Thinking Dylan Thomas]
Labels:
adjective,
dylan thomas,
noun,
parts of speech,
technique
12.26.2014
neutral surface
Paper as support, its own materiality is usually ignored. So the sense of a neutral surface that can accommodate any mark seems an ideal way of communicating freedom. At the same time printed material has the capacity to repeat itself endlessly and linked to distribution or manifestos—even freedom however idiosyncratic and inscrutable. And this tension is what surfaces and transforms the amnesia of the paper into a tension between the drawn and the printed. The mark and the letter.
—Ellen Gallagher, interview by Jessica Morgan (Institute of Contemporary Art in association with D.A.P./Distributed Art Publishers, Inc., 2001)
—Ellen Gallagher, interview by Jessica Morgan (Institute of Contemporary Art in association with D.A.P./Distributed Art Publishers, Inc., 2001)
12.23.2014
12.21.2014
12.20.2014
running ahead
Poetry is the forerunner to a future language.
Labels:
forerunner,
future,
language,
poetry is
12.16.2014
dream ladder
Poet, let your lines be a Jacob’s ladder lowered down the page.
Labels:
charge,
jacob's ladder,
ladder,
lines
12.15.2014
shapely figure
Just the shape of a poem on the page has an attractiveness prose cannot match.
Labels:
attractiveness,
poetry v. prose,
prose,
shape
12.14.2014
one and the world
What I find extremely interesting is that only those poets who are aware of the “solitary mind” and remain faithful to their personal fate (which makes their return to the solitary mind inevitable) while keeping a place within the “banquet,” only those poets produce works at which we stare in wonder. Yet if they cut themselves off from the world of the “banquet” and withdraw into the solitary mind alone, their works mysteriously lose power.
Between the will which seeks to participate in the world of the “banquet” (the world of the collective spiritual body) and the will which seeks to devote itself purely to the self (the world of the solitary mind) there is tension. As long as this tension is present the works which the poets produce give off their highest luster.
—Ōoka Makoto, The Colors of Poetry: Essays in Classical Japanese Poetry (Katydid Books, 1991), translated by Thomas V. Lento.
Between the will which seeks to participate in the world of the “banquet” (the world of the collective spiritual body) and the will which seeks to devote itself purely to the self (the world of the solitary mind) there is tension. As long as this tension is present the works which the poets produce give off their highest luster.
—Ōoka Makoto, The Colors of Poetry: Essays in Classical Japanese Poetry (Katydid Books, 1991), translated by Thomas V. Lento.
12.13.2014
ear candy
A plain villanelle: one without that line tart or sweet to the ear on first hearing.
Labels:
first hearing,
form,
line,
pun,
sweet,
tart,
villanelle
12.12.2014
word is
Unlike in prose, the poem will never turn its back on what the word is in terms of sight and sound.
Labels:
materiality,
poetry v. prose,
sight,
sonic,
sound,
visual
12.11.2014
bubble blurbs
Blurbs are like bubbles, little effusive bursts that the author hopes will buoy the book.
12.10.2014
make of the fragments
John Ashbery ends his poem “Street Musicians” with these lines:
Our question of a place of origin hangs
Like smoke: how we picnicked in pine forests,
In coves with the water always seeping up, and left
Our trash, sperm and excrement everywhere, smeared
On the landscape, to make of us what we could.
We make of the fragments of self a form that holds, briefly—that’s the poem—then we watch it shatter again—which is, I suppose, that space that the poem fooled us into believing we’d left behind us, for a time, world of fragmented selves, hard truths, glinting ambiguities to be negotiated, navigated through as we make our disoriented way forward, or what we have to believe is forward. Like being mapless in tough territory, and knowing, somewhere inside, we’d choose this life, and this one only, if in fact we could choose.
—Carl Phillips, "Beautiful Dreamer," The Art of Daring (Graywolf Press, 2014)
Our question of a place of origin hangs
Like smoke: how we picnicked in pine forests,
In coves with the water always seeping up, and left
Our trash, sperm and excrement everywhere, smeared
On the landscape, to make of us what we could.
We make of the fragments of self a form that holds, briefly—that’s the poem—then we watch it shatter again—which is, I suppose, that space that the poem fooled us into believing we’d left behind us, for a time, world of fragmented selves, hard truths, glinting ambiguities to be negotiated, navigated through as we make our disoriented way forward, or what we have to believe is forward. Like being mapless in tough territory, and knowing, somewhere inside, we’d choose this life, and this one only, if in fact we could choose.
—Carl Phillips, "Beautiful Dreamer," The Art of Daring (Graywolf Press, 2014)
Labels:
carl phillips,
forward,
fragments,
john ashbery,
navigate,
place,
self,
territory
12.05.2014
head case
If you memorize enough poems madness is sure to ensue.
Labels:
madness,
memorizing,
memory
12.03.2014
not ready yet
Every time you tried to print out the poem the paper jammed in the printer, until you were forced to revise it before trying again.
12.02.2014
12.01.2014
evenly lit
An outtake from The New York Times obit of the poet Mark Strand:
To critics who complained that his poems, with their emphasis on death, despair and dissolution, were too dark, he replied, “I find them evenly lit.”
To critics who complained that his poems, with their emphasis on death, despair and dissolution, were too dark, he replied, “I find them evenly lit.”
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