Pearl Pirie’s lists, reviews, interviews, etc. since 2005

Creeley

Reading: If I were writing this by Robert Creeley and Ken Babstock’s Days into Flatspin (I’m not sure they’re compatible to read side by side)
Speaking of Creeley,

One thing he got from Williams, which he pointed to a series of poems by each, was the establishment of a pattern of half-rimes, sound links, throughout a stanza or several stanzas. He “uses assonantal rimes,” “tonal leading of vowels,” which comes from Pound as well as Williams. At the same time, when students asked specifically how he set up a poem: “I have no real knowledge of how I do this.” When on the way out of class a student asked him to ‘fess up, tell us really how he did it, he responded, “When you swim, you don’t think you control the ocean, do you?” [via Ruth Lepson in Jacket Magazine]

It’ll take me a while to adapt to this pace. He has no zingers, no spectacular fireworks and depression. He has contentment with content. There’s understatement and conversationalness that I didn’t come in expecting.
Vid Link: Face to Face with Jeremy Isaacs: An Interview with Allen Ginsberg (1995) who talks mainly about meditation, past lovers and drug use

Bill Knott

Bill Knott offers at his blog to email pdfs of his past 45 years of work.
One of my favorite that bounced around my head for days giving me chuckles:

INTERRUPTUS
Wait. What are you.
I’m a poet. I write filler for suicide-notes. Like:
I love you.
Alright. Continue.

I knew that M. talking about Nicholas Moore’s 31 versions of Baudelaire’s Je suis comme le roi… was bouncing off something I read recently and it’s in there, BASH (ten versions of furuike ya) .

If I were a pond
and some frog jumped into me
I wouldn’t respond.
I am a pond but
when a frog gets intimate
I keep my mouth shut.
I may look like scum
but some frogs can poke this pond
to orgasm come.
This pond is old as
me. That’s how bad-off it is.
Frog-visits, I doze.

And so on. He plays a lot. It seems an extension of how he loves the pivot and reframe, the refraining from one box for anything. In Volume 3: Quatorzains he introduces it saying

Why “quatorzains” rather than “sonnets”? I feel super-
stitious about using the latter term. I feel defensive and
or resentful: only real poets write sonnets, and I’m not
a real poet, am I. No, I’m a—a poet-biscuit.

A lot of people do whimsical and offbeat and throw in footnotes or asides but rarely with such quirky flair that seems at least as much for the reader’s amusement as for the writer.
I love that he does footnotes such as

Anybody who reads poetry can see the ubiquitous self-doubts poets evince
regarding the validity/value of their art. Compare that to the smug self-satisfied
attitudes exhibited by the advocates and practitioners of music. They take it for
granted that music is the highest art, the universal art, the only art that transcends
all borders and biases. […]
But if music is what its hucksters continually sell it as, ‘The Universal Language’,
what that means is that before the Babel Discontinuity there was no music.
Music did not exist before Babel, and will cease to exist when a true universal language
(and a true universal peace) returns in the form of digitaldata/pictovids exchanged
instantaneously by androids cyborgs robots. Music will soon be as obsolete defunct
extinct as humans are.

There’s surreal turn or few in the poems of Volume 3 as well, such as on p. 6,

LAPSE POETICA
Smashing the elixir of life while
shouting “From now on this is my life!”
may not be the best manner
to ensure progress, I know. One
never dips apes into human navels
in order to baptize angels,

What a rush of concepts mashed together yet by the end a sense.
Another excerpt from page 16

What avantgarde nonsense a photograph is.
Miscarriage of abstraction
Whose shadow has a breakdown
At the airport:

Whimsical is sweet but the surreal is imaginative that is interesting. Especially in Volume 3, there is a love to let ideas reel out there, and see what catches. It’s far looser than the epigrams earlier yet more depressed in a romantic Dickinson sort of way. Can you see what I mean?

GRAFTING BOARD
The way the grass weaves my walk into its
intricate bouquet, the sway of my hips knees
branches snatch and carry aloft all moves
that imitate apples cherries: orchard
(it lingers by the ways prior to it)
I could accomplish you who cry.
The days have their noise and I none else.
If the sleep I poach from is posted with
echoes, does tapping these trespass keys—
does each step staple a sapling to a tree?
Because nothing is changed by beauty because
beauty is a part of the way things were
changing anyway because it’s never
a catalyst but a process (I guess).

There’s phenomenal, almost pheromonal sort of draw to all the assonance running through the meadow. The first stanza makes me salivate.
There’s a grand sigh of mope and hopelessness yet at the same time a mind within mind picking apart itself and the poem beginning to untie the knitting it has done with that parting, (I guess), demonstrating the very process it is describing. As if he says Here’s a theory, no, retracted. Sounds good, but is it true or just can’t be left standing with one pov? It’s a sort of refusal to enter and linger in any moment.
He has a sort of comically ruefulness, but pulls back. All seems to underscore, nothing is purely anything. The darkness isn’t tragedy and the glory isn’t glowing. I think its the self-deprecation and irreverence that gets me smiling most. The way the mind undercuts itself from getting too precious is refreshious. Under the grand graveyard memorial, he comments, “Look, look, a graveyard has fancy dirt.”
Reasonably enough given the time, there’s a lot of poems. Some is quippy and quirky and clever and fun with tongue firmly in cheek hitting enamel truths. Like this gem from Q’s Volume One,

THE ENEMY
Like everyone I demand to be
Defended unto the death of
All who defend me, all the
World’s people I command to
Roundabout me shield me on
Guard, tall, arm in arms to
Fight off the enemy. My
Theory is if they all stand
Banded together and wall me
Safe, there’s no one left to
Be the enemy. Unless I of
Course start attack, snap-
Ping and shattering my fists
On your invincible backs.

I like he he takes things out to their further illogically logical end.
I love the name of one collection: A BUTTERFLY WITH A SANDWICH. The selected short poems, from the April 2006 edition, volume TWO includes this shortie:

DEAR ADVICE COLUMNIST
I recently killed my father
And will soon marry my mother;
My question is:
Should his side of the family be invited to the wedding?

I like the dark humor and absurdity, although lord knows it’s not much of a stretch from messes people get themselves into. And wouldn’t it just be human to have that quandary of I’ve murdered but real concern is in the proper etiquette for other rules of play for the resulting luncheon.
He resists the easy, the expected, the constant in writing his poems.
In Quatorzains, Volume 4, I love that he puts side by side quotes on himself that glow and glower,
“Over the years, Knott has maintained a prickly, poignant voice that
deserves to be heard more prominently in contemporary poetry’s
cacophony.”
—Ken Tucker, New York Times Book Review (April 15, 2001)
“[Knott’s] poems are so naive that the question of their poetic quality
hardly arises. . . . Mr. Knott practices a dead language.”
—Denis Donoghue, New York Review of Books
“. . . Knott’s originality as a poet: he is absurd and classical and surrealist all at once. A marvelously impossible animal.”
—Paul Zweig, Contemporary Poetry in America (1974)
“[Bill Knott is] incompetent . . .”
—Alicia Ostriker, Partisan Review
How many people would quote their critics as content?

CBC Facoff

It’s coming February 21st to Ottawa at the NAC…
Each year the national government’s public broadcasting CBC hosts a poetry slam competition, the Poetry FaceOff. It has already come to a close in a few cities. Competitors from coast to coast to coast will be hosted to strut their poetic stuff again as this round is the masters of the past 5 year winners compete against each other.
For Ottawa that means DJ Morales (2006), Q the Romantic Revolutionary a.k.a. Queeverne Kirk (2005), John Akpata (2004), Jim Larwill (2003) and Matt Peake(2002).
Because CBC overwrites its page on the Face-off, blanking out the announcement (then the competitors and the sound files as the competition goes on to leave only the national winner) I’ll archive what they said before it started:

CBC Radio continues its tradition of battling bards with the sixth annual Poetry Face-Off! The popular Canada-wide competition brings together 70 poets in peak form to sound off in 14 cities stretching from Victoria to Yellowknife to St. John’s.
From January to March, five poets in each locale, commissioned by CBC regional producers to reflect local voices and traditions, will face-off before a live audience and deliver their words on this year’s theme – ‘Made In Canada’. At each event, the spectators vote for their favourite poem, and the winner goes on to be celebrated with the other regional winners in five special Poetry Face-Off programs, hosted by Bill Richardson. Those shows will air in April 2007 during National Poetry Month.

Only here is the inside scoop of the interview with one of Ottawa’s competitors and 2003 winner of the illustrious plastic crown presented by the velvet suit man, Alan Neal. He will be competing again for Ottawa in the 2007 round.

HOW HAS YOUR LIFE CHANGED SINCE YOU WON A PREVIOUS POETRY FACE OFF?
I “won” the 2003 Ottawa Poetry Face Off by a single vote.
After the 2003 Poetry Face Off for two years I danced with absolute joy.
Then for two years I cried with utter disappointment.
Now I have begun to sing. (Not enough wine and women in my life.)
And even better, I have received the news; I am going to be a Grampa.
(After the previous Poetry Face Off I did not become CEO of a Global Poetry Corporation. I have come to realise I am not even a “beautiful loser” – I am a short stocky loser, with body odour, who dresses funny.)
Since I won the 2003 Poetry Face-Off “my” life has not changed; however, our planet has shortened all human life down to three future generations.
— Jim Larwill, Omnigothic Neofuturist

The rest of the CBC questions and Jim’s Responses may leak out elsewhere. Who know? I’ll let you know if I see anything.
Last year’s Ottawa competition was pictured by John where you can see the crown refenced. You can buy the 2005 CD and other years as well.
Bonus Poetry Link: William Stobb on MiPo Radio discusses Tom Montag’s essay in the latest Hard to Say episode on how poetry ought to take us beyond poem and language and beyond ourselves. In an interview with Claudia Keelan
[cross-posted at Humanyms

Currently Reading: Ron Silliman's The Chinese Notebook

Currently reading Ron Silliman‘s The Chinese Notebook where he ponders what effects what we think fits the page, or suits it. He gets into zen stream,

21. Poem in a notebook, manuscript, magazine, book, reprinted in an anthol-
ogy. Scripts and contexts differ. How could it be the same poem?

It bothers me to be corralled into reading a piece in a particular order. I don’t know why. I don’t read a novel from start to back but shift thru random spots and takes proving my own course before I settle in linearly. Same with CDs. Even sandwiches I can’t be content to peanut butter in bread, sometimes buttering one slice on both sides. In notebooks I flip open, even knowing it maddens me to not know where to find a blank page or last written. I drop notes into random points in file. I resist my thoughts being structured by ready structures. I want to be active not a passive reservoir. Even before I have anything to say I want to practice saying.
Something like Ygdrasil, I know Klaus Gerken intends each issue to read as a complete linear piece, setting up a sort of collective effect, like an anthology or art exhibit, each playing off and building each other making a supra-work. What does that mean to one piece within when it came into being without that context? Is it both stripped and enriched simultaneously? What of the viewer effect? Do I take it back towards how it was created by skipping around and seeing it singly again?
If I take words and treat them not so large as word but as morphemes to slip around then what? Do I further understanding of them, a secondary or tertiary reflection of reality, or further understanding of myself or understanding absolutely so can see the primary reality, or the platonic reality?

24. If the pen won’t work, the words won’t form. The meanings are not mani-
fested.

It can be a case of Oh bother forget it! when the tool, internal or external blocks. How many poems and thoughts and revisions and refinements are lost because of some simple instrumental thing, a distracting mode to get to the idea. When you take a few runs at being understood or heard in conversation, how long do you persist? When typing is so much slower than thought speed, how much infomation and connection is dropped? What of audience and the sense of how much they will bear? What flattening happens there?

26. Anacoluthia, parataxis—there is no grammar or logic by which the room
in which I sit can be precisely recreated in words. If, in fact, I were to try to convey
it to a stranger, I’d be inclined to show photos and draw a floor map.

It baffles me how the brains take to words or spatial or aesthetics differently. If one can understand a chart, why not a paragraph or how eyestrain is made by colors? They seem conjoined skills of awareness but they are not lock stepped.
I’ve been thinking about where I am stymied, when my mind delivers gestures where I want a word, small motor movement is a sort of subvocalization that can’t go onto a page. But this page against inclusion of a flick of a wrist is a constraint; natural speech has it. It happens throughout face-to-face communication. People read this paralanguage but it can’t transfer to the page. It can transfer to dance in exaggerated form.
It is bouncing off the concepts explained by A.M. Baggs in her video named In My Language, that spoken word, verbal word is a second language and there is communication which is sensory-receiving, interaction with objects and air and temperature that is language.
It bounces off of Four Horseman sound project (coming Mar 13-April 1 at GCTC). Based on the work of bpNichol and Steve McCaffery, sound and movement and verbal and boundaries all mix.

53. Is the possibility of publishing this work automatically a part of the writing?
Does it alter decisions in the work? Could I have written that if it did not?

Back to the audience. I find myself only able to think some thoughts when with or visualizing people who permit such thoughts, in the face of them unflappable, or engaged. The audience then creates possible direction and by seeking certain people, direction is created. Can it be created by manufacturing a non-existing audience, extending self where it wasn’t extended without a model, as spontaneously as a eureka, and sustainably? Or does without community it wither under the force of counter samples of norms of usual audience? Can one push the limits of the castles in the sky and build extensions to the metropolis?

60. Is it language that creates categories? As if each apple were a proposed def-
inition of a certain term.

Does drawing create categories just as language does? Does movement create categories? Movement can define and describe. It must, mustn’t it? Other animals also have behaviors they teach their young of what to eat and what works for tools so these are categories by mind as the source. Other animals have language as well (crows, dolphins, other apes most obviously as vocal and postural, and at least body language and chemical communication we can sense in ants) but I don’t think language is the base for intelligent decisions or discernment as the direction categories arise from.

62…Margins do not seem inherent in speech, but possibly that is not the case.

Time or separating out linear stretches of thought? What would the counterpart in spoken word be? What effects do margins have, other than being the toupee of the high school essay world (no one will notice)? We flow from bottom of page to top over next easily. Dense compressed with thin margins are a big no-no online based on tracking people’s eye movements criss-crossing a page. Narrow bands of text one can track a line without veering out of plumbness. Newspapers keep narrow columns for ease of reading. It’s a visual parsing. Would the equivalent be syntactic parsing in speech? Would the wide columns be the pacing and dramatic pauses to let things sink in, a lowered voice, a modulated tone that doesn’t rush the consumer of words?

81. I have seen poems thought or felt to be dense, difficult to get through,
respaced on the page, two dimensional picture plane, made airy, “light.” How is
content altered by this operation?

On a cognitive processing level, what’s the difference. Text made based on eye-tracking studies work to guide focus, composes the image of what is to be taken in perhaps in the same way that plain language, lists and all the scaffolding a good public speaker uses allows the brain to take it what it can.
According to Richardson and Spivey Saccades (glance of focus) typically land between the beginning and middle of a word, extends 3-4 letters to the left of fixation and 14-15 letters to the right, 2-3 letter words being
skipped 75% or the time, but 8 letter words fixated on almost always . (page 13 of the article)
More spaced out text allows one to parse slower, get more of what you see.
A fast dense speech or dense text signals the haste one is to use. It is like designing a garden, and the pace expected for the view is set by how far apart one places stepping stones and whether they are winding or straight. It tells you how to use it by its structure. If one is to rush through a path expediently, let it be paved and straight. If the intent is to let one absorb plantings along the way, it is a misguidance to pave rather than have stepping stones.
In poems spaces and gaps aren’t decoration or vanity or stylistic but functional. In text if one is to skim the parcels of sound lures, and ponder, there is more white space on the page. Sure one could stop if a book of haiku say were written out as prose but that’s like a store with no particular aisle for anything, some “almost antique shop” of clutter.
There is choice and time as in google or haiku. As in a web page or ad with spaces to the side, it isn’t wasted space. It does something.
If one has already narrowed in on one area for concentration and study, there is no skim or scan, only head bent slow picking through as in a specialty journal or the commitment to a book that is one long poem.