Friday, May 23, 2008

The Tendency of Dropped Objects to Fall

Reginald Shepherd has been quiet on his blog because he was seriously ill for weeks—close to death even. My comments on his poems were, unknowingly, made during his illness. I have more comments on them to come, as well as on his essays.

Here's another moment that reminded me of W. G. Sebald, this one from "The Tendency of Dropped Objects to Fall":

..... In exile Andromache's handmaid

builds a miniature Troy with toothpicks
and superglue, with matchsticks
from a story that she read: a helpless glitter
with tinfoil walls and someone

rolls over it in his sleep.

In The Rings of Saturn, Sebald wrote about a man who built a miniature version of the Temple of Jerusalem. There's some information about Sebald's source here.

The building of miniatures with toothpicks reminds me of Brian Phillips's comparison between poetry and shortwave-radio operators, in this essay. Poetry as toothpick temples and Troys?

4 comments:

  1. Yes, a hobby can be honorable; but
    the general perception is that if a
    person does not get paid for what
    he/she is doing, that doing is a
    hobby. I disagree. Further, even
    if what I make using language
    and/or numbers is not made as the
    "professionals" make things/ does
    not mean that what I make is in any
    way less worthy.
    -
    Just read the article by Brian
    Phillips, and he is right about
    taste and anxiety, the objective
    and the subjective. I found his
    metaphor of a man wanting to reach
    the middle of a lake but being
    unwilling to use both the boat and
    the oars together quite apropos.
    Still, especially since at this
    time there are so many ways of
    making poems (what the makers of
    them say are poems), it often
    becomes necessary to have a grasp
    of the aesthetic underlying a given
    poem in order to begin to evaluate
    and appreciate it; and there are
    some aesthetics one just cannot
    get into. So, beauty has been
    reduced to being largely in the
    eye (mind) of the beholder even
    though one senses beauty does yet
    have a transcendent aspect. Will
    it "take a poet to find the hidden
    door"? I cannot say. However,
    I do believe the aesthetic which
    underlies a made thing is less
    important than the thing made via
    that aesthetic. Stanley Kunitz
    said "a poem comes as a kind of
    blessing" and my own experiences
    have told me this is so. Thus, a
    poem has within it the aesthetic
    by which it manifests itself, and
    the tighter the relationship
    between its inner and outer self,
    the more satifyingly will it
    engage an observer of it. It is
    possible to enjoy something
    without understanding it, but it
    definitely helps to know and feel
    at ease with a poem's aesthetic.
    Case in point: So far Stein's
    "Tender Buttons" remains
    unavailabe to me because I just
    don't relate to its methodology.
    This is also true for many of the
    currently popular ways of making
    poems, not that I haven't done
    some experimenting of my own.
    Sometimes I feel the "make it new"
    idea is degenerative. Enough of
    my ramblings.

    Thank you for the link.

    -

    Oh, I'm voting for
    "Come to Me, His Blood"
    again.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Brian, thanks for your enjoyable "rambling," as you so modestly put it. The two key points for me were these:

    "beauty has been reduced to being largely in the eye (mind) of the beholder even though one senses beauty does yet have a transcendent aspect."

    "A poem has within it the aesthetic by which it manifests itself, and the tighter the relationship between its inner and outer self, the more satifyingly will it engage an observer of it."

    The latter reminds me of how the World Saxophone Quartet played, at least in the mid-eighties, when they would start out with material that was only unusual in its instrumentation (four saxophones, no rhythm section) and slowly open things up into explosive free-form explorations that made complete sense, because they used the concert as a means to teach the audience how to hear that free-form stuff. The pianist Don Pullen was also really good at that: beginning a long solo with an R&B groove and eventually ending up sounding like the most experimental piano music in the world -- with the groove still driving things along.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Anonymous4:12 PM

    Brian Phillips' thought -- "the swerve of inner response that defines one's personal reaction to a poem" -- reminds me, quite literally, of the London Tube building/riding experiences in 'Plague' (the poem by Damian Walford Davies that made it into DPP4's final round).

    Thanks for sending the link to BP's essay :D))

    -- dhsh

    ReplyDelete
  4. Charting "the swerve of inner response" is what I have been doing with Shepherd's poems, I think.

    ReplyDelete

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.