I read in a biography of Beckett a while back that he detested Marc Chagall's painting. I wondered why. I started disliking Chagall sympathetically, by power of suggestion. That religiosity? Last week I bought some new tires in Clayton, Missouri near where I live. An expensive suburb of St. Louis. (I live in less upscale University City.) Walking around while they were putting them on my care I passed by a gallery with prints of Chagall and Miró prominently displayed. I disliked the fact that I could recognize the painters so quickly, that their styles were so identifiably theirs. It is unreasonable to expect a painter not to repeat him or herself. When Miró painted a new picture, it was inevitably "a Miró." But did it ever occur to him to try to paint a picture that was not a Miró? How many letter "t"s can Tàpies paint? How many ochre crosses?
***
Another slip of paper found in a book. In José Angel Valente's "La piedra y el centro," a book of dense essays on mysticism and poetry, a 2" by 3" note from a student to whom I had lent the book, attached with a paper clip:
"Thanks for the
use of book. It
was interesting, but
I'm not sure if I
understood it. Probably
not - Have a nice summer,
Brion"
14 ene 2003
13 ene 2003
Now I have to grade that Ph.d. exam!
***
When I used to try to write a poem by revising it into existence, the results always sounded cramped, Creeleyesque in a negative way. I revise very little, prose or poetry, because it only gets rid of uninteresting ideas. It doesn't produce anything on the positive side. I'd rather toss a poem than revise it. Write something new. (Creeley himself doesn't really revise, nor does Ashbery, as I understand it.) Get to the point where you can write at your best without revising. Write a million poems. The references I had before reading the "Million Poems Notebook" were Koch's 1001 Avant-Garde Plays and Queneau's "Un cent mille millard de poèmes."
***
When I used to try to write a poem by revising it into existence, the results always sounded cramped, Creeleyesque in a negative way. I revise very little, prose or poetry, because it only gets rid of uninteresting ideas. It doesn't produce anything on the positive side. I'd rather toss a poem than revise it. Write something new. (Creeley himself doesn't really revise, nor does Ashbery, as I understand it.) Get to the point where you can write at your best without revising. Write a million poems. The references I had before reading the "Million Poems Notebook" were Koch's 1001 Avant-Garde Plays and Queneau's "Un cent mille millard de poèmes."
I woke up with a bad cold, after a night of fitful sleep, and had to come in to proctor the Ph.D. exam. I was insured of 3 hours of uniterrupted time, so I brought Jordan Davis's "Million Poems Journal" to read. This turned out to be a good idea, since my slightly febrile, sleep deprived state made me extremely receptive to this book.
One thing that struck me was a "neighborhood" quality to the book: different parts of the book seemed to be different poetic neighborhoods that one could visit. They are all in the same city, but there is a good deal of diversity as one reads various groups of poems. The language often has a bright, loud quality. You don't even have to read it out loud to hear it. The writing is fresh and vigorous. I hate to make comparisons, but I thought of Schuyler and Ceravolo at different moments as I read.
There is a sort of "dead-pan" style I liked quite a bit as well--different from the "loud" poems perhaps:
"They were driving their friend's dog
South to be in movie.
Formerly they had great hopes
For him - now for his dog."
["False Friends"]
Facing this poem is another, untitled narrative poem about a poet, she is married to a retired professional golf player. . .
"Lightning in Montana" is deftly done. I like it as a poem you could show to someone else and say "this is an example of good writing." And they would look at you and say "yes." I mean someone not necessarily receptive to "experimental" poetry.
"Toast" is a wonderful poem about -- making toast! "Land Camera" uses the word reliogiosity in a way that made me think about that word. I view religiosity as a viscous, superfluous substance adhering to things where it has no business being. (I associate it phonetically with the word "viscosity".) Poetry doesn't need reliogiosity. Not even religion needs reliogiosity! "The self-regarding religiosity / Of music critics..."
"Rotten Floor" parodies "A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island" for hilarious effect. "The Parade of the Notebooks" is quite brilliant, both in conception and execution. I also like "Poem Middle of the Night," with its dazzling opening simile.
The book is remarkably consistent in quality, though varied in tone. I have the feeling I might have other favorite poems other times I pick it up. You can add my blurb to the back cover, along with David Shapiro, Susan Wheeler, and Gary Sullivan.
One thing that struck me was a "neighborhood" quality to the book: different parts of the book seemed to be different poetic neighborhoods that one could visit. They are all in the same city, but there is a good deal of diversity as one reads various groups of poems. The language often has a bright, loud quality. You don't even have to read it out loud to hear it. The writing is fresh and vigorous. I hate to make comparisons, but I thought of Schuyler and Ceravolo at different moments as I read.
There is a sort of "dead-pan" style I liked quite a bit as well--different from the "loud" poems perhaps:
"They were driving their friend's dog
South to be in movie.
Formerly they had great hopes
For him - now for his dog."
["False Friends"]
Facing this poem is another, untitled narrative poem about a poet, she is married to a retired professional golf player. . .
"Lightning in Montana" is deftly done. I like it as a poem you could show to someone else and say "this is an example of good writing." And they would look at you and say "yes." I mean someone not necessarily receptive to "experimental" poetry.
"Toast" is a wonderful poem about -- making toast! "Land Camera" uses the word reliogiosity in a way that made me think about that word. I view religiosity as a viscous, superfluous substance adhering to things where it has no business being. (I associate it phonetically with the word "viscosity".) Poetry doesn't need reliogiosity. Not even religion needs reliogiosity! "The self-regarding religiosity / Of music critics..."
"Rotten Floor" parodies "A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island" for hilarious effect. "The Parade of the Notebooks" is quite brilliant, both in conception and execution. I also like "Poem Middle of the Night," with its dazzling opening simile.
The book is remarkably consistent in quality, though varied in tone. I have the feeling I might have other favorite poems other times I pick it up. You can add my blurb to the back cover, along with David Shapiro, Susan Wheeler, and Gary Sullivan.
12 ene 2003
I find out I'm the sixth alternate for my sabbatical leave, which means I might not get a sabbatical at all. The prophet is without honor, etc... I wrote a somewhat offbeat sabbatical application, saying that I was going to break out of my rut by working on several essays on poetics unrelated to Spanish poetry (except indirectly). I'm sure I miscalculated, and that a conventional proposal (I'm going to write one, two, three, articles on x, y, z) would have gotten me in unproblematically. Oh well. The more pleasant gifts awaiting me on my return to Kansas this evening are Million Poems Journal (Jordan Davis), and J.A's Master's Thesis on Henry Green. Submitted June, 1950, "in partial fulfillment / of the requirements/ for the degree of Master of Arts, / Faculty of Philosophy / Columbia University."
***
Simic, in review of Koch in NYRB, speaks of the Oulipo movement "of the 1970s." Of course, the movement was actually founded in 1960, the year of my birth. I've spoken before of what a landmark year this was for the arts. But that has a lot to do with my egocentric perspective, I'm sure. I found I've been most deeply engaged by writers/musicians born in the 1920s and 1930s--my parents' generation. A few slightly older or younger. I'm sure anyone else could make a case for any other period being especially fruitful. For me, it's the cluster of years on one side or another of 1960.
***
Simic, in review of Koch in NYRB, speaks of the Oulipo movement "of the 1970s." Of course, the movement was actually founded in 1960, the year of my birth. I've spoken before of what a landmark year this was for the arts. But that has a lot to do with my egocentric perspective, I'm sure. I found I've been most deeply engaged by writers/musicians born in the 1920s and 1930s--my parents' generation. A few slightly older or younger. I'm sure anyone else could make a case for any other period being especially fruitful. For me, it's the cluster of years on one side or another of 1960.
11 ene 2003
Deceptively simple comping patterns transcribed from Philly Joe in the most recent Modern Drummer. He rarely resolves the phrase on "one," rarely plays an accent on "three" either. The effect is on of "goosing" the rhythm along. I realized while reading this that I tend to want to resolve the phrase on the "one," just like other "inexperienced players." My right foot has come along nicely this winter break.
10 ene 2003
Translating Góngora and Quevedo with David Shapiro. That would be a wonderful experience.
***
I'm afraid to read Simic on Kenneth Koch in the NYRB. It pisses me off a bit that the NYRB had to wait until he was dead to dignify him with a review. When has the NYRB cared about contemporary poetry? Ashbery is the only poet that they have ever published whom I also respect. I used to read the NYRB when I was young more than twenty years ago. The funny thing is they still have the same people writing for it now.
***
Simic, Tate, Strand, Merwin. The soft underbelly of American "surrealism." I hate it that such poets are associated with Spanish or Latin American poetry. I'm not even mentioning Bly because he is far inferior to these four.
***
I had Spicer reading "Billy the Kid" on my computer, mixed in with my music playing in random order. Whenever he came to the line about the "Jew amethyst salesman" I winced in pain. It's one thing to see it on the page, but to hear the voice of the poet speaking the line is disturbing on a different level. Why should I be surprised? Maybe because this is not seen as a "problem" the way Pound's antisemitism is.
***
In Spain the word for ghostwriter is "negro." As in, "All the plagiarism in my book is the fault of 'mi negro.'" Needless to say, the ghostwriters in question are never actually "negros." The Nobel prize winner Camilo José Cela stole plots from other writers or hired ghostwriters, since he was a fine stylist who didn't have much of a talent for narrative.
***
I'm afraid to read Simic on Kenneth Koch in the NYRB. It pisses me off a bit that the NYRB had to wait until he was dead to dignify him with a review. When has the NYRB cared about contemporary poetry? Ashbery is the only poet that they have ever published whom I also respect. I used to read the NYRB when I was young more than twenty years ago. The funny thing is they still have the same people writing for it now.
***
Simic, Tate, Strand, Merwin. The soft underbelly of American "surrealism." I hate it that such poets are associated with Spanish or Latin American poetry. I'm not even mentioning Bly because he is far inferior to these four.
***
I had Spicer reading "Billy the Kid" on my computer, mixed in with my music playing in random order. Whenever he came to the line about the "Jew amethyst salesman" I winced in pain. It's one thing to see it on the page, but to hear the voice of the poet speaking the line is disturbing on a different level. Why should I be surprised? Maybe because this is not seen as a "problem" the way Pound's antisemitism is.
***
In Spain the word for ghostwriter is "negro." As in, "All the plagiarism in my book is the fault of 'mi negro.'" Needless to say, the ghostwriters in question are never actually "negros." The Nobel prize winner Camilo José Cela stole plots from other writers or hired ghostwriters, since he was a fine stylist who didn't have much of a talent for narrative.
9 ene 2003
AFTER DAVID SHAPIRO
French poetry spoke to American poetry.
“Je suis le veuf, l’inconsolé, le tenebreux.”
The missed translation spoke to the accurate translation.
“You think you’re better than me!"
The violin case spoke to the hi-hat stand.
“I am best emptied; you must be stacked.”
The karaoke machine spoke to the novel by Raymond Roussel.
“I live in smoky bar; you live in dusky shelves.”
The dream-in-the-poem spoke to the dream-in-real-life.
“In me the father is still alive.”
I write poetry to understand the work of poets I am reading. In these lines I tried to capture that particular mixture of New York school insousiance and humor and emotional depth in David Shapiro's poetry. How'm I doing?
French poetry spoke to American poetry.
“Je suis le veuf, l’inconsolé, le tenebreux.”
The missed translation spoke to the accurate translation.
“You think you’re better than me!"
The violin case spoke to the hi-hat stand.
“I am best emptied; you must be stacked.”
The karaoke machine spoke to the novel by Raymond Roussel.
“I live in smoky bar; you live in dusky shelves.”
The dream-in-the-poem spoke to the dream-in-real-life.
“In me the father is still alive.”
I write poetry to understand the work of poets I am reading. In these lines I tried to capture that particular mixture of New York school insousiance and humor and emotional depth in David Shapiro's poetry. How'm I doing?
8 ene 2003
An added benefit of this blog is the high quality of feed-back I sometimes get. I had a long telephone conversation today with David Shapiro touching on many subjects of this blog, including Joe Ceravolo and Ron Padgett, Kenneth Koch and John Ashbery (and Frank O'Hara). Too bad I can't repeat anything that was said!
My friend Bob Basil once expressed a negative opinion about Barbara Hernstein’s Smith’s “Contingencies of Value,” a book that makes the case for relativism in aesthetic judgments. He said, if I remember correctly, that it is full of jargon and “academic” in the worst way. I concur fully. (John Guillory pillories this book extensively as well.) She admits at one point that works that are likely to last are those that “are structurally complex and, in the technical sense, information rich...” Exactly. That is what “better” usually means! Suppose I claim that John Coltrane is better than Hank Mobley. This is an “objective” claim for all intents and purposes. It’s not all that different from saying Michael Jordan is (was) better than some other player. You can argue about specific cases, of course, but you cannot appeal to mere personal “taste” in either case. Taste only comes into play when you are already dealing with *roughly* comparable talents: “For my taste, José Raúl Capablanca is a more elegant chess player than Bobby Fischer.” What does it add for me to say that “for me, being myself in my own contingent circumstances, etc... Coltrane’s music fulfills more functions with more effectiveness within my personal economy, etc...”? Aside from being unhelpful, this sort of jargon clouds the issue.
What if Mobley were “better” for any number of utilitarian functions: keeping me awake on long road trips, putting me to sleep at night, subliminally influencing me to buy socks in the mall, confusing my cat, etc... Mobley’s superiority at any of these other functions would not alter my judgment. I have the right to question someone who says that Mobley is better and to argue that I am, in fact, correct. I would not accept the argument, “well, I like Mobley better. I have a right to my own taste.” Or, “I play him to confuse my cat.” In the trivial sense my judgment is “contingent”; that is, it depends on my not being a rhinocerus, listening to enough jazz to understand what it is about, etc... Smith raises objections like, “people who don’t know English will not appreciate Shakespeare.” Duh.
You cannot make this an argument about Eurocentrism either. Suppose there were one drummer in the village who was, quite simply, the best one there. The opinion that some other guy, who could barely play the drum, was better than the master drummer, would have no standing, in or out of this community. To me it adds nothing to say: “Theodor Adorno might not agree with this judgment.” I am assuming that the evaluator is familiar enough with the artistic language in question to formulate a meaningful judgment in the first place. This implies that one is able to learn something specific and meaningful about artistic traditions. The anecdote with which she begins the book is silly: she constrasts her own early, superficial rejection of a famous Shakespeare sonnet with a more complex, nuanced reading that made it seem more acceptable to her, and then proclaims her own inability to evaluate the poem. Maybe her earlier, facile dismissal was right, or maybe it was wrong!
What if Mobley were “better” for any number of utilitarian functions: keeping me awake on long road trips, putting me to sleep at night, subliminally influencing me to buy socks in the mall, confusing my cat, etc... Mobley’s superiority at any of these other functions would not alter my judgment. I have the right to question someone who says that Mobley is better and to argue that I am, in fact, correct. I would not accept the argument, “well, I like Mobley better. I have a right to my own taste.” Or, “I play him to confuse my cat.” In the trivial sense my judgment is “contingent”; that is, it depends on my not being a rhinocerus, listening to enough jazz to understand what it is about, etc... Smith raises objections like, “people who don’t know English will not appreciate Shakespeare.” Duh.
You cannot make this an argument about Eurocentrism either. Suppose there were one drummer in the village who was, quite simply, the best one there. The opinion that some other guy, who could barely play the drum, was better than the master drummer, would have no standing, in or out of this community. To me it adds nothing to say: “Theodor Adorno might not agree with this judgment.” I am assuming that the evaluator is familiar enough with the artistic language in question to formulate a meaningful judgment in the first place. This implies that one is able to learn something specific and meaningful about artistic traditions. The anecdote with which she begins the book is silly: she constrasts her own early, superficial rejection of a famous Shakespeare sonnet with a more complex, nuanced reading that made it seem more acceptable to her, and then proclaims her own inability to evaluate the poem. Maybe her earlier, facile dismissal was right, or maybe it was wrong!
7 ene 2003
A program on the web will make a poem out of a google search, as I find out from reading Free Space Comix. The results are kind of mixed, I would say:
CLARK. - 217. PARNELL, b. 23 May
NY, a 217. PARNELL, b. 23 May
and Revolutionary Literature; Early
5012; REFERENCE: w8K8. Family
23, 1883, the grandson of a Civil War
TLS to Joseph Hillis Miller 1949 Mar
Submission and Non-Resistanc
descendant General Jonathan Mayhew
b. Walla Walla, Wash. Magazines
1769. The choice: a poem Boston: Edes
Sermon, 1754. - format this article
- As Jonathan Rayback Made possible
Mackey Jackson Mac Low Jaime Manrique
the - preacher, (1741-1821). 12.
Early National Literature, Part
1820 Smithsonian American Art
Mayhew (1864-1945) -- also known
and - Those who walk after their own
vi., in vol. i - Visual Archive
Office of Research and Creative
States Army, General Wainwright was
liberal minister Jonathan Mayhew was
40 (89 helpful votes). Gift Helpers
Mayhew, Specialist Mine - Many years
Jonathan Mayhew called for the repeal
- Wood grew up with deep ancestral
England clergyman; served West Church
Young University Office of Research
on the resistance Made to King
Bass guitar, acoustic 12-string
VOLUME XV. Colonial and Revolutionary
Universalism. The eighteenth-century
I share my name with a revolutionary war period preacher and a general (Jonathan Mayhew Wainwright).
CLARK. - 217. PARNELL, b. 23 May
NY, a 217. PARNELL, b. 23 May
and Revolutionary Literature; Early
5012; REFERENCE: w8K8. Family
23, 1883, the grandson of a Civil War
TLS to Joseph Hillis Miller 1949 Mar
Submission and Non-Resistanc
descendant General Jonathan Mayhew
b. Walla Walla, Wash. Magazines
1769. The choice: a poem Boston: Edes
Sermon, 1754. - format this article
- As Jonathan Rayback Made possible
Mackey Jackson Mac Low Jaime Manrique
the - preacher, (1741-1821). 12.
Early National Literature, Part
1820 Smithsonian American Art
Mayhew (1864-1945) -- also known
and - Those who walk after their own
vi., in vol. i - Visual Archive
Office of Research and Creative
States Army, General Wainwright was
liberal minister Jonathan Mayhew was
40 (89 helpful votes). Gift Helpers
Mayhew, Specialist Mine - Many years
Jonathan Mayhew called for the repeal
- Wood grew up with deep ancestral
England clergyman; served West Church
Young University Office of Research
on the resistance Made to King
Bass guitar, acoustic 12-string
VOLUME XV. Colonial and Revolutionary
Universalism. The eighteenth-century
I share my name with a revolutionary war period preacher and a general (Jonathan Mayhew Wainwright).
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