May 08, 2008

Daybook Entry for May 8, 2008

All around us the bodies rose out of the stone, crowded into groups, intertwined, or shattered into fragments, hinting at their shapes with a torso, a propped-up arm, a burst hip, a scabbed shard, always in warlike gestures, dodging, rebounding, attacking, shielding themselves, stretched high or crooked, some of them snuffed out, but with a freestanding, forward-pressing foot, a twisted back, the contour of a calf harnessed into a single common motion. A gigantic wrestling, emerging from the gray wall, recalling a perfection, sinking back into formlessness. A hand, stretching from the rough ground, ready to clutch, attached to the shoulder across empty surface, a barked face, with yawning cracks, a wide-open mouth, blankly gaping eyes, the face surrounded by the flowing locks of the beard, the tempestuous folds of a garment, everything close to its weathered end and close to its origin. ...

-Peter Weiss, The Aesthetics of Resistance, describing the gigantomachy frieze of the Pergamon Altar

Art is never a weapon in the sense of concrete political action. It only conveys activity, it communicates qualities which we have to detect in ourselves. We are the ones who, upon closing in on a work of art, liberate the powers confined within. Without our ability to ingest, our own ability to think, the work remains powerless. However, with our attentiveness we transpose the latent vision into real, perceptible deeds.

-Peter Weiss, Notebooks

Apr 22, 2008

4222008 NaPoWrimoog, and some stuff

Napowrimo1779469

156f
Dogface

Samtintypedog

Soukelgharbprintme
[gone]

***
These fine people are also writing a poem a day for the month of April as NaPoWriMoistas.  So stop wasting your time here, and check them out:

Will Brown Online
A Page of Woe Absolved
Perfect Lines
The Booth of Our Conniving
Bloof Blog
jump(s) the track(s)
Slim Windows
Book of Kells
Glamor Levels Hi
Homeschooled by a Cackling Jackal
fringe matters.
Laurel Snyder
Ivy is Here
water veiled
Womb Poetry
Bernadette Geyer
Readwritepoem
Carter's Little Pill
Watermark
Bee's Hovel
The Polka Dot Witch
Chicks Dig Poetry
The Package Insert of Sorrows
Carrie Etter
Dreamspot Dot Dot
Big Window
a wrung sponge
Blogging Poet
Heaven
Shann Palmer says
Stick Poet Super Hero
VersAtile
Freak Machine Press
Mark Lamoureux
No Starting Point
Dragonfly on a Dog Chain
This is Not Made Up
Hyacinth Girls
For the Time Being
32 Poems
words intended as poetry
Forest River Journal
Lectitans
Carmen Gimenez Smith
Eric's Writing Corner
Possum
Beloved Dreamer
djkreutzer
August Avenue
freefalling me
GottaBook
A Window Within Myself
wjsullivan.net


*    *        *            *                    *                                *

Here's an excerpt from the beginning of the new transalation (RIchard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky of Tolstoy's War And Peace, in an effort to get you to go and buy this book and read it (the French is translated in footnotes in the book).

The princess [Helene] rested the elbow of her bare, rounded arm on a little table and did not find it necessary to say anything. She waited, smiling. Throughout the story she sat erect, glancing occasionally now at her rounded, beautiful arm lying lightly on the table, not at the still more beautiful bosom on which straightened a diamond necklace; she also straightened the folds of her gown several times, and, when the story produced an impression, turned to look at Anna Pavlovna and at once assumed the same expression as on the maid of honor’s face, and then settled back into a radiant smile. After Helene, the little princess also came over from the tea table.

Attendez-moi, je vais prendre mon ouvrage,” she said. “Voyons, a quoi pensez-vous?” she turned to Prince Ippolit. “Apportez-moi mon reticule.

The princess, smiling and talking with everyone, suddenly effected the transposition, and, taking a seat, cheerily settled herself.

“Now I feel good,” she said several times, and, asking them to begin, started to work.

Prince Ippolit fetched her reticule, came after her, and, moving his chair towards her, sat down close by.

Le charmant Hippolyte
was striking in his extraordinary resemblance to his beautiful sister, and still more in being strikingly unattractive, despite that resemblance. The features of his face were the same as his sister’s, but in her everything was lit up by her joyous, self-contented, young, unchanging smile and the extraordinary classical beauty of her body. In her brother, on the contrary, the same face was clouded by idiocy and invariably expressed a self-assured peevishness, and his body was skinny and weak. His eyes, nose and mouth all seemed to shrink into an indefinite and dull grimace, and his arms and legs always assumed an unnatural position.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *   

055mattelfactory_468x310

Pickfordfringeprogram2 C14053pictpowpplearmy53 Handicapgassign Signs_parnu_trash 







 


Japanesemetroinvention

 

Apr 20, 2008

Whither Thou Goest?

Napowrimo1779469 Is you've been wondering whether I've unsaddled myself from NaPoWriMoity, the answer is no. I'll be posting again tomorrow.  By the way the Poetry Foundation's Harriet blog's Ada Limon's post has a nice shout out to Maureen Thorson and NaPoWriMo.


And it looks like the Washington Post has finally caught up with National Poetry Month here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here.

By the way, May is National Victims of Poetry Month Month. Please give generously.

Humanexperimentsfront

That1dork

Photo_stories_pc_couns1

Mar 17, 2008

Contra Anthologies and News from the VRB!

NOTE: I'm posting this from a remote location, and so I have a lot of links and photos and diagrams and I can't include them at the moment.  I'll update this post next week to include more of the visual stuff to go along  with this big lump of text.  AND I should be able to get up the Vrzhu Research Bureau's recent product research in the realm of robopoetics, and unmanned poetry delivery apparatus.  Thanks for you patience! -

    Don Chiasson in the NYT this Sunday pans David Lehman's anthology Best American Neurotic -- sorry! -- Erotic Poems. Part of his attack is unfair since he namechecks W. H. Auden, who settled in, for a while, but is not, American. And he also briefly attacks anthologies (of one poem per poet) in general:

"single poems in anthologies  . . . cannot possibly convey a great writer’s force."

    Now, anthology bashing goes on around here all the time: in blogs, at conferences, on street corners and in pool halls. These rants fall into two camps. In the first, like Mr. Chiasson above, they assert that anthologies suck because they cannot represent, or they misrepresent, a poet's esse, his essential being qua poetry.  Thus, they perform a disservice to the poet and reader both. Anthologies lie.

    In the second camp, it is argued that anthologies are tools of repression, hiding and disappearing those disenfranchised poets or groups of poets that are excluded from them.  They present a history whitewashed of undesirables, poets who are effectively silenced because they cannot be heard. Anthologies are the Big Lie.

    I am sure both these positions have merit, but I have yet to see either of them argued 100% convincingly.  The problem with the first objection to anthologies -- that they misrepresent a writer -- is that it views poems in anthologies strictly from the point of view of the poet, and not from the reader's POV. Yes, this is a grave disservice to the poet, but from a reader's perspective, I suspect it matters little.

    The general reader, to the extent she still exists, differs from the more specialized poetry reader. The general reader is apt to be not only satisfied with a single poem by an author, but considers this one of the defining characteristics of being literate. The difference between the general reader and the more specialized poetry reader is that the former probably knows "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," "The Charge of the Light Brigade," Sandburg's "Fog" and perhaps a half dozen others ("Richard Corey," the beginnings of "Hiawatha" and "The Wasteland") and the latter is, of course, a poet.

    The General Reader, in general, is immune to the value in reading all the works of one author, and sees little advantage to reading an entire oeuvre, whether is it Dickens, or Hardy, or Pound.  This is not intended to denigrate the GR-- it is a perfectly defensible and reasonable position.  And, if we wished to be harsh and Draconian, why shouldn't a poet have to stand or fall on the basis of one poem? I'm pretty sure Frost would be able to endure having Stopping By, and nothing else, survive the ages. Unfair? Yes. Your point is . . .?

    On the other hand, the second objection to anthologies probably has, or had, some merit.  Most people in the U.S. are going to be exposed to poetry in school only through some kind of Norton-ish anthology. And such anthologies tend to the canonical in the worst sense.

    But for two reasons, I don't think this objection has a lot of purchase these days.  First, I can't think of a group, hitherto excluded from the canon, that does not now have at least one anthology of its own.  While ALL these anthologies can't be part of the curricula, they are available, and give all sorts of poets a chance to be heard.  Second, I'm not sure how to solve the problem of a student's first exposure to poetry being through something like a Norton.  You can't assign everything ever written.  And to replace Norton with an anthology of poets excluded from the Norton is to exchange one oppressive regime for another.  Surely that's not the gist of the objection, not that some are excluded, but that I'M excluded?

    Anyway, three more points in this review of a review.

    Mr. Chiasson doesn't like theme-based anthologies:

"Theme-based anthologies have the unintended effect of making poets seem trapped by their subjects: there is no more variation among poets in this book than there would be in a book called, for example, 'The Best American Patriotic Poems.'"

    There sure are a lot of theme-based anthologies out there, it's true. Like, for example, every single anthology ever collected, whether the theme is "best" or "dogs" or "English" or "15th century." Yup, all themes, and all trapping poets like flies in molasses.  Maybe he means some themes are worse about this than others, if the theme ends in -ic for example.

    Next point. What is the reviewer trying to say in this sentence?

"Lusty poems by straight men are, in our era, usually prone to failure — though a cat lover might appreciate the literary power, lost on me . . . "

    Is he saying that lusty poems about cats by "straight" (the quotes are everso needed) men can be appreciated by other "straight" men who love cats?  Men who love cats and the lusty poems they write? Lusty poems by straight men stink, but poems about catlove might have real power, though I wouldn't know because I'm not into that?  The "but" in the quoted sentence tasks me.  I cannot for the life of me parse it.

    Last point. This:

"The first is a sampler of faultless poems about sex by dead Americans like . . ."

And here are the first main definitions of the preposition "by:"

  1. Close to; next to.
  2. With the use or help of; the agency or action of.
  3. Up to and beyond; past.
  4. In the period of; during.
  5. With respect to.
  6. In the name of.

I tried substituting each of the above phrases for the word "by" in the sentence, and, I got to tell you, the results were pretty icky.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *   *

Among the vast holdings here in the Vrzhu Research Bureau are thousands of files from now defunct poetry organizations and poetry investigative groups.  The VRB is in the process of converting these files to indexed CD-ROMs to preserve what are already fragile and decaying documents that have been stored in damp basements, airless attics, and garages across the country for decades.

Although many of these files are of little interest to the non-professional archeopoetologist, there are occasionally findings that are certain to be of interest to general poetry aficionados (such as yourselves).

Here below we provide the extant remains of what appears to be a monograph from the legendary American Poetry Coalition.  The APC was the successor organization to the early 20th century ASPCA – The American Society for the Promulgation of Culture to Anybody.  Due to its acronymic similarity to another, more well-known, organization, the ASPCA suffered severely declining membership throughout the 1930’s and officially disbanded in late 1938.  Some members of the literary wing of the ASPCA formed the APC just prior to the US entry in World War II. 

There have always been persistent rumors that, after the war, the APC was funded by certain federal law organizations or intelligence gathering centers, or both.  Although the VBR is in not in a position to either confirm or deny these allegations (we merely spread them), the document below may shed some light on some of the APC’s more, shall we say, covert efforts.

Forensic evidence places the date of this monograph not earlier than 1957 and certainly no later than 1960, possibly early 1961.Mafia_meeting_arrests_1928

Monograph on the Nature and Operation of Poetry in the United States, with Addenda on its Infiltration of [illegible].
 
[page i]

Preface

There have been insistent allegations of the existence of poetry in the United States. There have also been denials.

The purposes of this monograph are threefold:

1.    to explain what poetry is
2.    to present the evidence indicating poetry does exist in the United States
3.    to describe how poetry operates.

Fortified with this knowledge, all persons charged with critical and cultural responsibilities should be in a better position to cope with poetry.

This monograph is written in two sections. The scope of the first [illegible section] and (d) basic current forms through which [illegible].

It will be [page ii] understood that poetry is a highly clandestine operation most difficult to penetrate by informants. Therefore this study was not limited to data secured from informants. It goes beyond this source to include all available material emanating from other cultural organizations and public sources, both in the United States and Europe.

[pages missing]

[page xiii] . . . -day poetry controls [illegible] to the extent that it dominates certain cultural operations wherever it can, pushing poems to the limit [illegible] would mean either [illegible] of a productive society upon which is feeds or a popular rising against it in a wave of indifference that would encompass the destruction of its elements.

B. Conclusions

    1.    Poetry is a [illegible] traditional combination of words and rhythm and pseudo-[illegible]. It imposes an invisible weight on communities, depending for its authority on the self-importance it inspires in its members through domineering control of local journals and “coffeehouses.”Jwshockoepoet

    2.    The most typical poetry figure is the poet. The power he commands is slight in comparison with the local Laureate (or “prizewinner”). The latter has risen from the ranks and enjoys a relationship to other poets like that of a feudal [illegible] to the local community is also one of prestige and power. He expects to be deferred to at readings and local ventures, from which he extracts a percentage of the credit or praise. He may be sought by non-poets for articles or interviews on cultural, political, or other matters, and for arbitration of “contests” though in doing so the winners become obligated, sometimes dangerously so, to the Laureate.

    3.    The basic and often only unit of poetry organization is the “school.” A school is usually geographic or local in nature. Members are admitted to it if they are acceptable to the local [illegible]. Prerequisites for admission include proof of capacity for lyric [illegible]; adherence to the traditional code of “Homerta,” i.e., silence in the presence of bad poems and dependence on “poetic justice,” an elaborate exchange of ritual praise or “blurbs;” and mentorship by [page xiv] someone already a poet.

    4.    The traditional poetry school is not a compact, centrally organized society or party such as the Communist Party, but a collection of poets autonomous in their own practices and loosely federated when federated at all. The pattern of connections among local “schools” depends chiefly upon the existing relationships between individual poets and prizewinners. Powerful poets meet occasionally to hold court or give readings, and they often defer to a poet of supreme prestige. The poetic system of administration is primitive. The leader is the one with the “psychological drop,” i.e., the one who inspires the greatest envy and [illegible].19601970djw02

    5.    Recently, poetry has been accentuated and has become better organized in Universities than it was formerly. The possibility exists that poetry has begun to achieve greater centralization and hegemony through the establishment of MFA programs and regional/local workshops and writing centers.

    6.    Poetry incursions have included [illegible].

    7.    Chief among poetry’s modus operandi are readings, open mics, workshops and many other [illegible] though persistent emphasis over many decades has been upon publication and the operation of journals and [illegible].

    8.    Poetry is distinguished from other arts and cultural activities by its traditional exclusiveness; close ties among its adherents; [page xv] its consistent modus operandi; the outstanding opaqueness of its elements, and the proclivity of small groups of its elements to claim tradition and authenticity over much larger numbers of other groups.

   9.    [illegible] . . . exists between [illegible] fails to indicate that [illegible] but this does not mean that Chicago, New York City or any other metropolitan center can be considered the “world headquarters” for poetry.

    10.    The [illegible] elements [illegible] has never been successfully accomplished. Reasons for failure have included: (1) the [illegible] . . . of others; (4) the traditional and consequently chiefly tacit and understood nature of poetry; (5) the institutional [illegible] i.e., as known practitioners are suppressed, new opportunities are favored by a conditioned public, especially its [illegible] elements and those are made vulnerable by adherence to [illegible] opportunities that enrich some poetry leaders and increase their power; and (8) the perennial problem faced by a literate public in attempting to prove that poetry either means something or has some individual or social use. Although poetry presents the ostensible appearance of a single, cohesive society, it has no written constitution, nor does it operate in formal fashion. Admission is by informal understanding, advancement is by prestige and [page xvi] self-imposition.

    11.    [illegible]

    12.    [illegible]

    13.    [illegible]  . . . exists as the most [illegible] and extensive [illegible]  ever to have been foisted and imposed upon the public.  To [illegible] represents the most deeply entrenched and [illegible] to have manifested itself in the [illegible]. This challenge extends [illegible] to all [illegible] in the United States.   

End.Poetrymeet

Dec 13, 2007

Thursday Blogasbord - News

Whoa. First a poem by the fantabulous Sandra Beasley (r.) appears in Slate (picked by Robert Pinksy), and then the encroyable Sarah Browning (l.) has her book Whiskey in the Garden of Eden show up all reviewed and spiffy on the Poetry Foundation blog! May a thousand flowers bloom for both SB's. Vrzhu salutes you! DC poets rule.

Sarahbrowning2

Sandrabeasley5







*    *    *    *   *    *    *    *    *    *    *

The Map: This quote from Helen Vendler connects the New York School to Whitman. An editorial comment appends:

It is not surprising that critics have found him self-indulgent . . . the poems are all about him and the people and images who wheel through his consciousness, and they seek no further justification. . . . Unlike the "message" of committed poetry, [O'Hara's work] incites one to all the programs of commitment as well as to every other form of self-realization--interpersonal, Dionysian, occult, or abstract. Such a program is absolutely new in poetry.

That last phrase--"absolutely new"--is not entirely accurate: Whitman said repeatedly that he was not preaching a program, but actively urging his readers to find their own form of self-realization. Yet Whitman's messianic voice turned his first readers into devotees rather than seekers of personal authenticity. What is new in O'Hara and Ashbery is their refusal of an earnestly didactic tone. Describing O'Hara's poetry, Ashbery staked out his own territory as well--states of consciousness, demotic language, a democratic inclusiveness of mention:

Surrealism was after all limited to the unconscious and O'Hara throws in the conscious as well--doesn't it exist too? Why should our unconscious thoughts be more meaningful than our conscious ones . . . ? Here everything "belongs": unrefined autobiographical fragments, names of movie stars and operas, obscene interjections, quotations from letters--the élan of the poem is such that for the poet merely to mention something creates a place for it, ennobles it, makes us realize how important it has always been for us.

This, too, is a Whitmanian program: mentioning something to create a place for it is surely the justification of Whitman's catalogues. But the New York postwar writers, from O'Hara to Koch to Schuyler to Ashbery, extended the things mentioned beyond what Whitman had thought possible.

Editorial comment: If this is true, and it certainly seems so, it's not just  Ginsberg, who explicitly states his lineage, who descends from Whitman, but also O'Hara, and Ashbery, who never explicitly put their lineage to the fore, and their implicit antecedents are mostly French, or, in any case, not Whitman. Frank O'Hara is so much the opposite of a beat poet that he is often mistaken for one.

Leslie1

Berksonetalschifano

Walt_whitman_12385

The Territory: this quote by Walt:

Language, be it remember'd, is not an abstract construction of the learn'd, or of dictionary-makers, but is something arising out of the work, needs, ties, joys, affections, tastes, of long generations of humanity, and has its bases broad and low, close to the ground. Its final decisions are made by the masses, people nearest the concrete, having most to do with actual land and sea.

The Map: this quote:

The grotesque prudishness and archness with which garlic is treated...has led to the superstition that rubbing the bowl with it before putting the salad in gives sufficient flavor. It rather depends on whether you are going to eat the bowl or the salad.

-Elizabeth David

D002294

Garlic_20060509_026





The territory: This clip:

Dec 11, 2007

Tuesday Blogasbord

This review of Rod Smith's Deed.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

The Map: These quotes from interviews with John Barr, President of the Poetry Foundation:

I think it is reasonable for us to ask that the Poetry Foundation run itself as efficiently as a small, well-run, for-profit enterprise. There's no reason poets can't tie their shoelaces just like everybody else.

I have spent long periods of my life not understanding the poems in the New Yorker magazine. In fact I'm still not sure I understand them even though I live and breathe poetry. Some poems are elusive on purpose and some are dealing with subjects that are hard to talk about. But my encouragement to people with [a similar] opinion about poetry is that effort is rewarded, and there's always some kinds of poetry that are going to be obtainable on the first hearing.

So there's no 'one kind' of poetry any more than there is one kind of business. I would greatly encourage -- for what it does for your life -- the effort of finding some part that you're comfortable with.

And if you're not getting it, I sure wouldn't beat yourself over the head with it.

. . . I think poets should be imperialists; I think they should be importers; I think they should be exploiters of external experience, without apology. I don't see that kind of thinking very often in the poetry world.

The reason I love for poets to succeed through the sales of their books . . . is because it’s the complete test: They’re writing it; there is an audience out there who is going to buy it because they’ve learned to value it. John_barr

Hill

The Territory: This quote  from Geoffrey Hill on "accessibility," so-called, in poetry:

My concern is not with ‘accessibility’ so much as with the ‘naked thew and sinew of the English language’, as Hopkins names it. An achieved poem is always beautiful in its own way, though such a way will many times strike people as harsh and repellent…

The word ‘accessible’ is fine in its place; that is to say, public toilets should be accessible to people in wheelchairs; but a word that is perfectly in its place in civics or civic arts is entirely out of place, I think, in a wider discussion of the arts. There is no reason why a work of art should be instantly accessible, certainly not in the terms which lie behind most people's use of the word.

In my view, difficult poetry is the most democratic, because you are doing your audience the honour of supposing that they are intelligent human beings. So much of the populist poetry of today treats people as if they were fools. And that particular aspect, and the aspect of the forgetting of a tradition, go together…

Some years ago I came across a note by the German philosopher Theodor Haecker (1889-1945). He writes that ‘Tyrants always want a language and literature that is easily understood.’ I think that legitimate difficulty (difficulty of course can be faked) is essentially democratic.

*    *    *    *    *   *    *    *   *    *    *

So, last week we began a quick comparison of the pros and cons of poetry.  Here's a recap so far:

Poetry pros from a writer's perspective:

  • Does not require all five senses, though perhaps more difficult with lack of hearing (examples: Milton, Homer, though I'm blank on hearing impaired or disabled poets)
  • Materials relatively inexpensive
  • Products both very portable and cheaply transported/mailed
  • Mistakes easily corrected.
  • Potentially culturally significant

Poetry Cons from a writer's perspective

  • Materials worth less after use (the Bernstein effect)
  • Return on investment: nil
  • Easily discarded
  • Potentially culturally insignificant

Now, a comparison from the reader's perspective:

Poetry pros from a reader's perspective:

  • Relatively inexpensive, especially compared to other arts
  • Easily carried around
  • Investment of reading time is relatively small per poem
  • Easily discarded
  • Emotional investment possibly rewarded
  • May increase one's attractiveness or desirability to the opposite sex
  • May increase social standing in some circles

Poetry cons from a reader's perspective:

  • May not be worth even the small amount it costs
  • May not be worth even the briefest of time invested
  • May eliminate completely one's attractiveness/desirability
  • May drastically reduce or erase social standing in most circles
  • May be a total scam
  • Possibly incomprehensible
  • Possibly pointless
  • Possibly slightly nauseating

And the first of several comparisons of poetry with other arts:

Sculpture:

  • Generally expensive materials
  • Generally physically challenging
  • May require dexterity
  • Mistakes may mean starting work over from scratch
  • Years of training to achieve mastery
  • Potentially lucrative
  • Potential high social standing
  • Possibility of commissions high
  • Works produced likely to be enduring

Poetry:

  • Materials inexpensive or not even required
  • Physically challenging only if mountain climbing while composing
  • May require psychotropic chemicals
  • Mistakes may be interpreted as improvements
  • Unclear how long mastery takes, or even if mastery has been achieved
  • Potentially bankrupting
  • Potentially non-existent social standing/ridicule and mockery
  • Possibility of commissions frankly laughable
  • Works produced likely at best to be quickly remaindered

Image

Percy4site

Nov 30, 2007

Review of The Kimnama and More Than Anything

Please take a moment and read these fair and balanced reviews of The Kimnama by Kim Roberts and More Than Anything by Hiram Larew in the Montserrat Review, the two inaugural books of Vrzhu Press. Congratulations, Kim and Hiram!

Nov 12, 2007

Guest Bloggeur - Kim Roberts on Melville

MelvilleHermanmelvilleA note from guest blogger Kim Roberts (author of the fantabulous The Kimnama, publisher and mastermind behind the online Beltway Poetry Quarterly, one of the editors of Delaware Poetry Review and intrepid tourguide for literary DC)  and a daybook entry on Mr. Melville and Moby Dick:

Here's an excerpt from Moby Dick by Herman Melville that I love for its tactile, sexual quality.  The sailors have just killed a whale and are squeezing out the spermacetti:

The spermacetti "...had cooled and crystallized to such a degree, that when, with several others, I sat down before a large Constantine's bath of it, I found it strangely concreted into lumps, here and there rolling about in the liquid part. It was our business to squeeze these lumps back into fluid. A sweet and unctuous duty! No wonder that in old times sperm was such a favorite cosmetic. Such a clearer! such a sweetener! such a softener; such a delicious mollifier! After having my hands in it for only a few minutes, my fingers felt like eels, and began, as it were, to serpentine and spiralize.

A1790"As I sat there at my ease, cross-legged on the deck; after the bitter exertion at the windlass; under a blue tranquil sky; the ship under indolent sail, and gliding so serenely along; as I bathed my hands among those soft, gentle globules of infiltrated tissues, wove almost within the hour; as they richly broke to my fingers, and discharged all their opulence, like fully ripe grapes their wine; as I snuffed up that uncontaminated aroma,- literally and truly, like the smell of spring violets; I declare to you, that for the time I lived as in a musky meadow; I forgot all about our horrible oath; in that inexpressible sperm, I washed my hands and my heart of it; I almost began to credit the old Paracelsan superstition that sperm is of rare virtue in allaying the heat of anger; while bathing in that bath, I felt divinely free from all ill-will, or petulance, or malice, of any sort whatsoever.

"Squeeze! squeeze! squeeze! all the morning long; I squeezed that sperm till I myself almost melted into it; I squeezed that sperm till a strange sort of insanity came over me; and I found myself unwittingly squeezing my co-laborers' hands in it, mistaking their hands for the gentle globules. Such an abounding, affectionate, friendly, loving feeling did this avocation beget; that at last I was continually squeezing their hands, and looking up into their eyes sentimentally; as much as to say,- Oh! my dear fellow beings, why should we longer  cherish any social acerbities, or know the slightest ill-humor or envy! Come; let us squeeze hands all round; nay, let us all squeeze ourselves into each other; let us squeeze ourselves universally into the very milk and sperm of kindness.Spermaceti

"Would that I could keep squeezing that sperm for ever! For now, since by many prolonged, repeated experiences, I have perceived that in all cases man must eventually lower, or at least shift, his conceit of attainable felicity; not placing it anywhere in the intellect or the fancy; but in the wife, the heart, the bed, the table, the saddle, the fire-side; the country; now that I have perceived all this, I am ready to squeeze case eternally. In thoughts of the visions of the night, I saw long rows of angels in paradise, each with his hands in a jar of spermaceti."

Mobydick2 002

 

Nov 06, 2007

Tuesday Miscellany

Damas y caballeros—though I have promised myself to be more regular in my postings here, it remains a promise broken, a dream reverse-mortgaged.

On the QT, for faithful viewers of Vrzhu Bullets of Pure Love, I will try to update at least once a week, probably of a Tuesday. Regardless of whether I can think of anything. Or not.  As for the others—you never know who is listening.

* * *Heyes_curry_post
DC rules!

-or-

Alias Smith and Winch

A few weeks ago not one but two poets from the DC area made a splash on the super-popular site Poetry Daily.  On consecutive days!

I like both Terence Winch's and Rod Smith’s work very much, and both have new books out.  Smith's and Winch's poetic differs from each other, but there are also some commonalities.  They have works online also, if you’d like a taste of their smart, funny, penetrating, distinct work.

* * *

Happy Birthday, John KeatsKeats19

Last week’s All Hallow’s Eve was also the 212th birthday of John Keats.  He certainly was capable of provoking the uncanny (unheimlich -Heidegger) in his works as befits a hallowe’en baby.  His has become my essential poet of the period, perhaps not edging out the contemporaneous John Clare, but nosing ahead of Coleridge and, at the moment, clearly preferred over Shelley and Wordsworth.  It took a while for me to get to this current lineup, as much by way of his letters and prose as by his poetry. 

He also provides evidence for a hypothesis of mine, that your favorite season of the year is the season in which you were born.

*    *    *

Footnote

And, hey, is all y'all are interested in poetry in Washington DC check out these fine sites.

* * *   

A Note On PoetryStevens

"My intention in poetry is to write poetry: to reach and express that which, without any particular definition, everyone recognizes to be poetry, and to do this because I feel the need of doing it.

"There is such a complete freedom now-a-days in respect to technique that I am rather inclined to disregard form so long as I am free and can express myself freely. I don't know of anything, respecting form, that makes much difference. The essential thing in form is to be free in whatever form is used. A free form does not assure freedom. As a form, it is just one more form. So that it comes to this, I suppose, that I believe in freedom regardless of form."

--Wallace Stevens in The Oxford Anthology of Literature, 1938

This is from my continuing reading this year of Stevens, which started with some great discussions of The Idea of Order at Key West this past summer, and the question, what is the purpose of poetry.  What indeed?

* * *

Coming Attractions

Beneath the glassy smooth surface of Vrzhu’s waters, things are . . . . evolving. 

-We are working on the first of what might be regular, perhaps even monthly, or more. Vrzhu podcasts. A podcast unlike any other in the vast world of poetry.

-Two new books from Vrzhu Press are coming to fruition.  Check here regularly for immanent news.

-The militant wing of Vrzhu, the Vrzhu Research Bureau, is working on several hush-hush projects in its “black ops” division.  We hope to reveal some of these projects in the near future. (hint: how does one waterboard a poem?)

And, as always, damas y caballeros, we here at Vrzhu cannot begin to express our appreciation for your continued interest, faith and support in what we try to do.

VRZHU – THE WAVE OF THE FUSCHIA

Lookforwardmtnreflect_2

F_john_series_2_plesiosaurus_card_6

Sep 30, 2007

Librivox Poetry

  One thing most of us agree on: sound is an important part of a poem for most  poetry. As with everything else in poetry (or so it seems) this is a spectrum, which runs from poems where sound isn't important at all (concrete poetry) to poems where sound is the whole point (sound poems).But I think most poems fall somewhere between these two.

Cagemesostic

Mouse1_2Herbert

Sound is also the most problematic element in translation--one that is almost always lost as a poem moves from one language to another.  There have been translations that attempt to keep the sounds of the original poem. These use  various homophonic procedures. The most notable example is probably Zukofsky’s Catullus, which is both brilliant and weird. You could still argue, though, that even this extreme attempt is only an approximation at best.16catullus1502

Zukovsky

Images


So with a few exceptions, most translations abandon the sound—and music—of the original

As a corollary, lots of poets when writing poems say them out loud during  some part of their composing.  There's the story about Cavafy's office mates hearing him in his office talk out loud to himself as he wrote.

Cavafy
548astreetincairo471x500















Which brings me to Librivox.orgLibrivox, though, is an online project much like Bartleby, or Project Gutenberg. LibriVox uses volunteers to record chapters of books in the public domain, and then releases the audio files back onto the net for free. Their goal is to make all public domain books available as free audio books. They operate on no money, encourage you to copy the files and share them with friends, and they’ve refused all buy out offers. I’m in awe of their idealism and smarts.

There are, of course, a plethora of good sites on the internet (such as Ubuweb and the Electronic Poetry Center at Buffalo) where you can click and hear poems.  Also there are CD’s of poetry  such as Ian McKellen reading Robert Fagles’ translation of The Odyssey.

On a recent browse I found that Librivox has produced 3 sets of poetry in other languages.  The languages run from Afrikaans to Esperanto (nothing in Zulu yet). I haven’t listened to all or even most of the poems yet, but what I have heard is of very good quality.  Librivox also has recorded poetry in English too, but the Multilingual Poetry Collections are a treat.

Here’s complete list:

Multilingual Poetry Collection 001

Afrikaans - Oktobermaand by C. Louis Leipoldt
Brazilian Portuguese - Cancao do Exilio by Goncalves Dias - :
Brazilian Portuguese - Coracao Perdido by Machado de Assis
Brazilian Portuguese - Flor da Mocidade by Machado de Assis
Chinese - Qing Zhou Duan Zhao by Ouyang Xiu
Esperanto - Al kavaliroj de la paco by Julio Baghy
French - Le Lac by Alphonse de Lamartine
German - Der Panther by Rainer Maria Rilke
German - Er ist’s by Eduard Moerike
German - Der Erlkoenig by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
German - Der Zauberlehrling by Johann Wolfgang Goethe - :
Hebrew - Axarey Moti by Hayyim Nachman Bialik
Hebrew - Rak Al Atzmi by Rachel Blubstein
Japanese - Kouen no isu by Sakutaro Hagiwara
Latin - Eclogue IV by Vergil
Old Norse - Voluspa by Anonymous
Portuguese - Escreve-me by Florbela Espanca
Portuguese - Se tu viesses ver-me by Florbela Espanca
Spanish - En Paz by Amado Nervo
Tagalog - Araw ng Kamusmusan by Ursula O. Maderal

Multilingual Poetry Collection 002

Brazilian Portuguese - Icaro by Machado de Assis
Chinese - Chu Chun Xiao Yu by Han Yu
Chinese - Yuan Ri by Wang Anshi
Czech - Svatebni Kosile by Karel Jaromir Erben
Dutch - De Pruimenboom by Van Alphen
Dutch - Eliza’s vlucht by Ter Haar
French - Alchimie du verbe by Arthur Rimbaud
French - La Geante by Charles Baudelaire
French - Le ciel est by Paul Verlaine
French - Le Revenant by Charles Baudelaire
French - L’Oreiller d’une petite fille by Marceline Desbordes-Valmore
French - Lorsque l’enfant parait… by Victor Hugo
German - Hero und Leander by Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller
Irish - Amhran na bhFiann by Peader Kearney/Bulmer Hobson
Russian - How do I love Thee by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Russian - Teni sizye smesilis’ by Fyodor Tutchev
Scots - Comin Thro’ the Rye by Robert Burns
Spanish - Los Naranjos by Ignacio Manuel Altamirano
Spanish - Soneto Watteau by Juan Jose Tablada
Welsh - yr eos yn y llwyn bedw by Dafydd ap Gwilym

Multilingual Poetry Collection 003

Bengali - Banshi by Rabindranath Tagore
Chinese - Qing Ming by Du Mu
Chinese - Shui Diao Ge Tou by Su Shi
Chinese - Song Yuan Er Shi An Xi by Wang Wei
Dutch - Holland by C.S. Adama van Scheltema
Dutch - Lieve kleine jongens by Hieronymus van Alphen
Esperanto - Lobster Quadrille by Lewis Carroll
French - A la Belgique by Emile Verhaeren
French - Chanson by Victor Hugo
French - Je vous salue Marie by Francis Jammes
French - Namouna chant troisieme by Alfred de Musset
French - Sagesse by Paul Verlaine
German - Sie war ein Bluemlein by Wilhelm Busch
Italian - Davanti San Guido by Giousue Carducci
Italian - Fine della fanciullezza by Eugenio Montale
Italian - Il cinque maggio by Alessandro Manzoni
Polish - Moja Piosnka by Cyprian Norwid
Polish - Oda do Mlodosci by Adam Mickiewicz
Spanish - En Su Tumba by Ignacio Manuel Altamirano
Spanish - Pensando En Ella by Ignacio

About VRZHU

Our Bloggers




PoetBlogs

Poetry Sites










I heart FeedBurner


Powered by Rollyo
Blog powered by TypePad
Member since 12/2006