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Pierre Joris Cartographies of the In between 1. Edition
Peter Cockelbergh Digital Instant Download
Author(s): Peter Cockelbergh
ISBN(s): 9788073083700, 8073083701
Edition: 1.
File Details: PDF, 7.03 MB
Year: 2011
Language: english
PIERRE JORIS
CARTOGRAPHIES OF THE IN-BETWEEN
edited by
Peter Cockelbergh
Prague 2011
Litteraria Pragensia Books
www.litterariapragensia.com
All rights reserved. This book is copyright under international copyright conventions. No part of this
book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the
copyright holders. Requests to publish work from this book should be directed to the publishers.
The publication of this book has been partly funded by research grant MSM0021620824
“Foundations of the Modern World as Reflected in Literature and Philosophy” awarded to the Faculty
of Philosophy, Charles University, Prague, by the Czech Ministry of Education.
or more :
a topography
end
in midair
complete
Abbreviations 12
Peter Cockelbergh
Introduction: Cartographies of the In-between 15
I. Filiations
Jennifer Moxley
Dérive-ations: Pierre Joris & the Drift of Tradition 27
Franca Bellarsi
On the Road of Nomadic Poetics: Pierre Joris & the Beats in Conversation 59
Christopher Rizzo
Essaying the Illiterary: Pierre Joris, Charles Olson & the Event of Writing 91
Dale Smith
The Newly American 106
125 US – Géographèmes
II. En route
Robert Kelly
NOMAD: a Meditation on Pierre Joris’s Nomad Poetics 139
Louis Armand
NOMAD IS THIS 144
Charles Bernstein in conversation with Pierre Joris
Close Listening 160
Corina Ciocârlie
Adrift: Travelling with Pierre Joris 173
Allen Fisher
Cogent Attention in the Work of Pierre Joris 179
187 Maghreb, Algeria – Géographèmes
III. Spaces
Mohammed Bennis
Pierre Joris: an Arabic Islamic Turn in the Poem & its Thought 199
Clive Bush
Floating Right & Light: Poets, Pedagogy & the Spaces of Writing
in the Twentieth Century 215
Jean Portante
Justification of the Margin: Luxembourg in the Poetic Work of Pierre Joris 234
IV. Trans|
Jerome Rothenberg
Working Together: an Essay on Collaboration & my Times
with Pierre Joris 255
Christine Hume
“No True Voices:” Listening to Pierre Joris 260
Tony Baker
The Benevolence of Dust: Translation & the Wiping Out of Traces 267
Geert Buelens
Volumes of Ampersands: On the Poems for the Millennium Project 285
Nicole Peyrafitte
Pierre Joris: Bohaire de Mots 295
Marjorie Perloff
The Return of Luap Nalec: Pierre Joris “Translating” Paul Celan 299
315 UK, France(, Germany) – Géographèmes
V. PoPoPo
Clayton Eshleman
ORGANIZED NOMADISTORMS OF BROKEN OASES 323
Habib Tengour
The Trace & the Echo 333
Peter Cockelbergh
Justifying the Margins. On Pierre Joris’s Nomad Poetics 337
Alice Notley
Before Babel 376
Carrie Noland
Moving On or Homing-in: Pierre Joris between Schwitters &
Heidegger & Celan 383
Abdelwaheb Meddeb
“The Wanderer,” a poem for Pierre Joris 415
Abbreviations
hjr Pierre Joris, h.j.r. (Ann Arbor, MI: Otherwind Press, 1999).
12
M Matières d’Angleterre. Anthologie de la Nouvelle Poésie
Anglaise. [as In’Hui, Number 19], trans. Pierre Joris et. al.,
eds. Pierre Joris and Paul Buck (Amiens: Les Trois Cailloux,
1984).
13
Peter Cockelbergh
INTRODUCTION
CARTOGRAPHIES OF THE IN-BETWEEN
Stasis
1
A most thorough six-page review, dealing with four of Joris’s Celan books (Boston
Review 30.6 (November/December 2005).
2
RainTaxi has reviews of, for instance, h.j.r. (Spring 2000, vol. 5, no. 1), Poasis (Fall
2002, vol. 6, no. 3), 4 x 1 (Summer 2003, vol. 8, no. 2), Routes, not roots (Winter
2007-2008, vol. 12, no. 4), & an interview with Dale Smith in the Winter 2004 issue
(vol. 9, no. 4).
15
its entirety to substantial work on and by Joris.3 Certainly, countless
magazines present his poetry of the moment (ranging from Sulfur and
Po&sie, to Verse Magazine, Process, Alligatorzine and VLAK), but
actual in-depth essays on Joris’s poetry and poetics remain rare:
number 7 (Winter 2001) of Robert Archambeau’s Samizdat Magazine
was a special issue on Jerome Rothenberg and Pierre Joris, but—
again, apart from numerous poems and translations—contained only
one piece on Joris (a review of Poasis, be it one by Robert Kelly).
Finally, Jacket Magazine’s issue 40 (fall 2010) had a short but
powerful feature on Joris, occasioned by the publication of Justifying
the Margins (2009). It needs to be emphasized that these “writings on”
are nearly always of an exceptional quality, yet that in itself does not
alter the fact that overall attention to Joris’s work remains sparse and
scattered. A book like the present one intends to change this
somewhat saddening state of neglect, and has, consequently, been
due for many years. In what follows, I shall have a detailed look at the
different parts of its title: Pierre Joris—Cartographies of the In-
between…
PPPPPPierre Joris
16
(2011). As indicated, a selection that leaves out many shorter books of
poetry, and individual poems, as well as ongoing projects like the
Canto Diurno series (1986-), or Writing/Reading (1977-). Pierre Joris,
performing poet as well, notably with Nicole Peyrafitte, and reading
poet—with that unmistakable nomad’s voice, always already moving
through the languages, and with, in turn, always already languages’
traces and residues speaking through that same voice. Sometimes the
voice is accompanied by musicians (e.g.: on his CD, Routes, not
roots), sometimes by dancers, as with “Pierre’s Words” or “Frozen
Shadows,”5 still other times it was simply aired on the radio, like the
broadcasts6 Joris made for France Culture in the early 1980s.
Pierre Joris—translator, too, mostly in some configuration of
English, French and German. Celebrated for his Celan translations:
Breathturn, Threadsuns, Lightduress,7 or the monstrous Meridian
dossier. But also translator of “selected” Kurt Schwitters8 and Picasso
(with Jerome Rothenberg), of Edmond Jabès and Maurice Blanchot, of
Abdelwahab Meddeb’s The Malady of Islam,9 and, as translator and
editor, of 4 x 1: culling work by Tzara, Rilke, Duprey and Tengour.
One shouldn’t, however, forget that Joris started off in the 1970s with
a number of French Beat translations: Kerouac’s Mexico City Blues,
Gregory Corso Elegiac Feelings American, work by Carl Solomon and
Julian Beck (all for Christian Bourgois Éditeur), right to, more recently,
Hydrogen Jukebox (the Ginsberg libretto for Philip Glass’s opera), as
well as Robert Kelly, Sam Shepard, Herman Melville, Pete Townsend
and many other short and long, published and unpublished
translations in these and still more languages.
Pierre Joris—editor. Of the London/New York-based magazine
SIXPACK (with William Prescott, 1972-1975) and of Paris Exiles
(1985). SIXPACK’s outstanding Paul Blackburn “Festschrift” (number
7/8), for instance, also signals Joris’s active role in the poetry
community, a role that equally comes to the fore in his translations,
essays and writings, in his advocacy of small presses (Inconundrum
5
The former in collaboration with composer Joel Chadabe & the Ellen Sinopoli Dance
Company, the latter, based on Winnetou Old, with choreographer Ellen Sinopoli & her
Dance Company.
6
Broadcasts dealing with as varied topics as champagne, Robert Creeley meeting Steve
Lacy, Parisian night taxis, reviews of contemporary poetry & so on. A selection of these
broadcasts will, in time, be made available on Pierre Joris’s website.
7
Lightduress received the 2005 P.E.N. Poetry Translation Award.
8
Incidentally, the title of this section derives from their PPPPPP: Kurt Schwitters Poems,
Performance, Pieces, Proses, Plays, Poetics, eds. & trans. Jerome Rothenberg & Pierre
Joris (Philadelphia, P.A.: Temple University Press, 1993).
9
With Charlotte Mandell (as Ann Reid).
17
Press, and Joris’s own Ta’wil productions), or in his passionate defence
of “neglecterinos”10 and long poem poets.
Pierre Joris—critic, essayist and prose writer. Not only of essays on
Celan, or on other companions, but also of two masterful collections
of writings on poetics (and well beyond): A Nomad Poetics (2003) and
Justifying the Margins (2009). Which is to forget the lesser known The
Book of Demons (with Victoria Hyatt, 1972) and Global Interference
(1981), a long essay on “the consistent pattern of American foreign
policy.” A third volume of essays is being prepared…
Pierre Joris—anthologist, of the major, two-volume Poems for the
Millennium (1995, 1998), edited with Jerome Rothenberg—and
presently at work, with Habib Tengour, on a fourth volume, Diwan
Ifrikiya, anthologizing North African writing (including work from Latin,
Berber, Arabic and French language sources). Prior to that, he also
did a trailblazing (bilingual) anthology of new English poetry with Paul
Buck, Matières d’Angleterre (1984)—published, remarkably enough
not in England, but in France, as an instalment of Jacques Darras’s
In’Hui magazine. After which came Poésie Internationale: Anthologie
(with Jean Portante, 1987), and the unfortunately unexecuted plan,
with the late Franco Beltrametti, for Blows Against the Mother Tongue.
Pierre Joris—…
Bearing in mind Joris’s poetry and poetics, the approaches, maps and
routes presented in Cartographies of the In-between are kept as varied
and as multiple as possible. Already the different backgrounds and
languages of the poets, critics, philosophers, translators and scholars
gathered here, bring out a certain heterogeneity. Furthermore, the
dimensions of Joris’s oeuvre listed above are not treated systematically
or exhaustively. The texts collected in this book can, however, be read
along roughly five lines that cross Joris’s work in different ways:
“filiations,” “en route,” “spaces,” “trans|” and “PoPoPo.” These
meridians do not divide a landscape in strict and separated areas (or
time zones), but rather serve as loosely drawn, multiple middles
running through different essays, and connecting these with different
aspects of the poet’s oeuvre. For to chart and to graph a poetry of the
“in-between”—of “Barzakh” or “isthmus,” as Joris writes in “A Poem in
Noon”—, lines and maps cannot be static, centring or parallel; they
10
A term coined by Ned Flanders (cf. The Simpsons, season 7, episode 3).
18
must touch, interlace and overlap, like unstoppable arabesques, they
must move on, split, dash off. Thus, the five sections or grand tours
below are continuously cut up, and spreading out: becoming “in-
betweens” themselves.
The first four essays venture into an American poetic space, and trace
some of the major “FILIATIONS” Joris’s work cannot and does not
escape (cf. JtM, 1). US poetry and poetics have always been of crucial
importance to Joris’s oeuvre, and are therefore taken apart in this
separate section—“en route” bridging the gap with three further
“spaces.”
As such, Jennifer Moxley looks into two of the Canto Diurno poems
from the perspective of a signifier d/rift: starting with a Mallarméan
“rift,” through Pound and Robert Duncan, right up to Joris’s pleasures
of drift. Hearth-Work provides for an extra contrast in a discussion of
hearth, home and “domesticity.”
Going back to the beginnings, Franca Bellarsi expounds on the
crucial convergences and divergences between the Beat Generation
and Joris’s work: approaching the latter’s first collection of poems, The
Fifth Season, against the lasting, and multiple influences of Beat
poetry, and, vice versa, approaching the Beats against a nomad
poetics. Translation (Joris’s own Beat translations, translation poetics
and nomadic translations) adds a further layer to her essay.
Christopher Rizzo investigates the key role Charles Olson plays
throughout Joris’s poetics, by exploring and developing the notion of
the “illiterary” between these two oeuvres.
Dale Smith, finally, looks at how Joris’s continental experiences
aerated the New American Poetics in the 1970s, and in this respect
also brings in the relation of Joris’s early work (A Single-Minded
Bestiary, Antlers, Tracing) to Ed Dorn and Robert Creeley among
others.
19
In a text that itself treks through genres, Robert Kelly meditates on
the nomad from a tropical point of view, setting him, for instance,
apart from the exile, but relating him to animals, grass and endless city
streets. He then follows Joris along, indeed, to pelt him with questions
about the poem and poetry.
Louis Armand looks at the reinscription of polis in Joris’s work,
using a broad, theoretical frame of reference, in which notably
Badiou, Olson’s “local-global,” and Joris’s notions of collage and
seams/seems are of chief importance.
Charles Bernstein approaches Joris’s “no mad” poetics in a 2005
Close Listening conversation with the author, revisited and slightly
edited for its present publication. Their talk opens with nomadism, but
quickly segues into collage and allusion, Joris’s poems “Nimrod in
Hell” and “Canto Diurno #4,” but also Luxembourg, mother tongue(s)
and the Maghreb, appropriately ending with the Poems for the
Millennium project.
Corina Ciocârlie takes the work of Derrida as compass in her
travels through Joris’s poems. Attention is paid to the concept and
praxis of nomadizing, and to the latter’s linguistics effects.
Drawing mainly on some of the h.j.r. poems, Allen Fisher, finally,
confronts Joris’s nomad poetics with Deleuze/Guattari’s philosophical
concept of “nomadism.” That concept is, however, shown to be rather
categorical and restricted against Joris’s nomad push of “ta’wil” and
the cogent play with boundaries and bonds throughout his poetry,
poetics and travels.
20
The “TRANS|” offshoot consists of a repeated sequence of three texts
dealing with collaborative projects, voices/voicings, and matters of
translation. All six essays traverse and transgress certain received
notions, be they the single author, single voice, single text or single
language.
Jerome Rothenberg’s text recounts the ways in which Joris’s poetry
and poetics underlies their collaborative translations and anthologies.
Christine Hume considers different modes of reading, voicing and
performing at work in Joris’s oeuvre, which allows her to listen in on
the recording of Joris/Peyrafitte’s “Aegean Shortwave,” “Altars of
Light” and “Tête de veau” with a very careful ear.
Using what he calls “discrete aligned paragraphs,” Tony Baker
broadly sweeps Joris’s poetry, poetics and politics of translation at
large.
Geert Buelens, who once described Poems for the Millennium as a
“bible” for poets, poetry scholars & students, revisits the two-volume
anthology, and shows how the ampersand functions as a basic symbol
of the project.
An important part of their “domopoetics,” Nicole Peyrafitte takes
Pierre at his word, and discusses his word prompting and blowing as a
base for their performances.
Marjorie Perloff, then, closely examines the multiple roles that Paul
Celan plays in Joris’s oeuvre: she looks at biographical affinities and
the praised translations of the late works, to consider their
repercussions for Joris’s poetry and poetics at large—repercussions
which, however, are different for the earlier The Book of Luap Nalec,
than for more recent work.
21
stopping the materials’ rich overflowing in all directions. Further stops
are the “mawqif” and the concept of “justifying the margins” itself.
Taking the Babelian ur- and ear as starting points, Alice Notley
explores how “translation” can be seen as a major difference between
her poetry and Joris’s, despite the fact that they are still doing similar
thing, as poets.
Through questions of dwelling and at-home-ness, Carrie Noland’s
essay indirectly brings us back to the opening text, but then branches
off again in totally different directions by approaching Pierre’s work
from a multi-cultural angle, involving divergent literary strains (namely
Schwitters vs. Celan vs. Heidegger).
More maps could be drawn still: not so much based on the “what” of
the essays, as through the very authors of this book, and how they
write. For the opening poem of Nicole Brossard, and closing homage
by Abdelwahab Meddeb, both occasioned by this book, remind us of
the presence and writing of various major contemporary poets in
Cartographies, poets who are also “compagnons de route” of Joris.
Their presence (and companionship) thus becomes representative of
certain views on poetry, poetics, politics—views which ineluctably also
affect/effect ways of writing.
In short, poets, translators, scholars, philosophers, critics… all
double, multiply the approaches presented in this book further still,
turning Cartographies not just into a collection of essays, but into an
actual “companion” in more than one sense of the word.
22
in 1992 (with its 17 years, Albany, NY is the longest span of time Joris
spent in “one place”) and, most recently, Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, not to
mention the uncountable short and long detours, and transhumance
to Europe that fill up each year.
To counter that all too strange and literal take on nomadics, this
book is cut up, or traversed time and again by another zigzag:
“géographèmes,” or short intermissions tracing Joris’s poetic
peregrinations geographically. More specifically, these brief entries—
remotely reminiscent, perhaps, of Roland Barthes’s
“biographèmes”12—display/displace chronology and biography,
taking the poet’s so-called travels and travails as compass. The halts
covered are the “US,” the “Maghreb, Algeria,” “Luxembourg” and
“the UK, France(, Germany).” Old and new stopping places Pierre
Joris has been asked to revisit during a day-long Paris conversation
with Peter Cockelbergh, for the purpose of this book. Comparable to
the atla’l, which open the pre-Islamic odes dear to Joris, quotes,
interpellations, dates, anecdotes and fragments serve as proverbial
“ruins”… Revisiting them sets off travel stories, past paths, encounters,
poems, poetics and dwellings in these géographèmes.
Acknowledgements
I could never have imagined that working with well over twenty
participants was going to be such a treat! Remerciements, du fond du
cœur to all the contributors: it’s been both a joy and a privilege to
collaborate with you all on Cartographies.
I would also like to thank Louis Armand and Litteraria Pragensia.
Without Louis’s immediate enthusiasm and continuous support, this
book would not have been possible. It is, therefore, a pleasure to have
Cartographies appear in the excellent company of the many other
books featured in the Litteraria Pragensia catalogue.
I would, furthermore, like to thank Pierre Joris who has, over the
past years, always responded with great kindness and patience to my
incessant questions, queries and inquiries, or countless mails and calls
asking for some or other lost text, rare book or unfound article—
12
Cf. “Si j’étais écrivain et mort, comme j’aimerais que ma vie se réduisît, par les soins
d’un biographe amical et désinvolte, à quelques détails, à quelques goûts, à quelques
inflexions, disons des « biographèmes » dont la distinction et la mobilité pourraient
voyager hors de tout destin et venir toucher, à la manière des atomes épicuriens,
quelque corps futur, promis à la même dispersion ; une vie « trouée », en somme.”
Roland Barthes, Sade, Fourier, Loyola (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1971) 14.
23
whether they were his own or someone else’s. I fear, however, that
even the publication of this book, devoted to his work entirely, will not
at all put an end to that…
Finalement, je voudrais remercier mon épouse, Delphine, pour son
encouragement, ses conseils et son soutien, sine qua non.
24
I
Filiations
Jennifer Moxley
DÉRIVE-ATIONS
PIERRE JORIS & THE DRIFT OF TRADITION
EP
had
died.
It stopped
me for a day, a year, a decade.
shaking off the fathers.
Pierre Joris, “Canto Diurno #1”
Pierre Joris describes the premise behind the writing of his “Canto
Diurno #1” nine printed pages into the poem: “a day/ planned as a
page/ to write/ a canto/ diurno all/ day long/ & as large as I/ could
make it” (P, 9-10). By choosing to put his title in Italian, a language
the multi-lingual Joris does not claim as his own, he signals not a
linguistic project but a poetic lineage: Dante, yes, of course, about
whom I will say more later, but primarily the author of those infamous
cantos that changed American Poetry, Ezra Pound. Indeed, as the final
epigraph above attests, the death of Ezra Pound—or as the poem has
it, “EP,” common New American Poetry shorthand—and Joris’s
27
subsequent attempt to shake him off occupy, literally (page 11 of a
24-page poem) a central position in “Canto Diurno #1.” Joris’s stated
goal of gigantism: “as large as I/ could make it,” recalls Poundian
ambition, not referring here to duration, “as long as I/ could make it,”
but rather to size, “as large.” Pound is but one of the many poets who
haunt this poem, which is also chock full of statements best classified
under the often vague, yet crucial, category of “poetics,” which here
should be taken to mean, “theories and ideas about the formal and
ideological mission of poetry.” In other words, how best to write
something that matters. “Canto Diurno #1,” a well-written poem that I
think does matter, is decidedly a kind of ars poetica for Joris, and as
such, a work we can look to when asking questions about his larger
poetic project, as well as the history in which it is situated. Joris
employs the Olsonian word “instanter,”1 is this poem, a word that
appears more than once in Joris’s oeuvre. It might even be argued
that “instanter” serves as a shibboleth for the Luxembourgian,
signaling the centrality of the “projective” to his project, as well as an
allegiance to an anti-academic, non-nonsense style of writing primers
on poetic craft. Yet, in “Canto Diurno #1” it is Olson’s contemporary
Robert Duncan who is the relevant ancestor, a poet who, arguably, put
a queer dance step into the projective project by insisting on circular
forms over straight shots.2
The project of planning a day as a “page” implicitly leads us to
Mallarmé, for his Coup de dés was the poetic dare that forever
transformed the page into a major player as a unit of composition in
poetry. Through Mallarmé the page becomes a metaphor for mental
events, a musical score, and a stage on which to play out
metaphysical allegories about poetry. When Mallarmé enters the story,
so too does the proto-Saussurian anxiety regarding the rift between
signifier and signified, as well as the mandate that the poet mend this
rift as articulated in his Crise de vers.3 Joris inherits this mandate, yet,
1
“[A]lways, always, one perception must must must MOVE, INSTANTER, ON ANOTHER!”
Charles Olson, “Projective Verse,” in The New American Poetry 1945-1960, ed. Donald
Allen (Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1999) 386.
2
Duncan’s persistent dream-turned-poetic image of children turning in a magical circle
speaks to this, as well as his insistence on dance as rhythmically analogous to his own
poetic sound (see “Often I Am Permitted to Return to a Meadow,” “The Dance,” &
“Poem Beginning With a Line By Pindar” in The Opening of the Field as key examples of
Duncan’s circular form).
3
“A côté d’ombre, opaque, ténèbres se fonce peu; quelle déception, devant la perversité
conférant à jour comme à nuit, contradictoirement, des timbres obscure ici, là clair. Le
souhait d’un terme de splendeur brillant, or qu’il s’éteigne, inverse; quant à des
alternatives lumineuses simples—Seulement, sachons n’existerait pas le vers : lui,
28
passing by way of Duncan, will choose not to mend but to follow the
rift, as if it were an etymological crack down the façade of the edifice
that is European Poetry. In Joris, Mallarmé’s rift will turn to the
freedom of drift… and eventually lead him to formulate his “nomad
poetics,” an ideological shift which Joris will increasingly ground in a
critique of the colonial European hegemony and literary histories that
see no farther than political and linguistic borders.
The various company Joris evokes in “Canto Diurno #1” (and
there are others which I won’t discuss in any detail here, Montaigne,
etc.), draws what is, for all intents and purposes, a “map of men.” And
if, as Whitman would have it, each man is a cosmos, then such a map
proposes a complex skyscape of constellations the navigation through
which will prove no simple task. Thus I shall divide the journey into
reasonable units, and keep my fingers crossed that there will be many
stops along the way and plenty of refreshment.
I have chosen to focus on “Canto Diurno #1” exactly because of
its function as an ars poetica. It records the poet’s thoughts about his
art on a single day in 1986. I shall end with a discussion of the very
different “Canto Diurno #5,” written in 2006. It is my hope that these
two numerically linked poems, written twenty years apart, will serve as
excellent vantage points from which to observe the evolution in Joris’s
thinking about poetry, language, and “the fathers.” I am well aware
that mention of “the fathers” is fraught, carrying the connotation of a
familial transmission of knowledge with a none-too-subtle tinge of
patriarchy thrown into the mix. Yet it is the proper word. I do not use it
flippantly, but rather to point to a tradition of non-traditionalists linked
not by any explicit prosodic conformism, but via lines of loyalty to a
family history of spirited prosodic descent, as well as to a set of
assumptions about the role of poetry in mankind’s grappling with
metaphysical, psycho-linguistic, philosophical, and politico-historical
issues.
When dealing with a “tradition of non-traditionalists” we might
make the assumption that prosodic gestures dedicated to a “make-it-
new” ideology must end with their authors, leaving the next generation
carte blanche. But this is obviously false, and poets who chose to
follow innovators, despite the explicit implication that they too will
innovate, give ideational as well formal homage to their forebears. A
common sound does echo through any tradition, even an alternative
one. Yet often in the post-Pound era it echoes in and around the thick
29
air being moved aside by the towering poetic personalities of the past.
These names, like those on any map, become markers of location and
allegiance. There are times when Joris evokes his essential poetic
locators to bolster a stance, as in the poem “Getting There” in h.j.r., in
which Duncan appears as predecessor.4 But what I am more interested
in looking at are those moments when Joris, while arguably still
adhering to the prosodic gestures of his chosen fathers, argues with
them. Such inter-poem dialogues, while perhaps less obscure to a
reader than a prosodic allusion that only those well-versed in the
canon can hear, still create a tension on the surface of the poem that
implies something going on beneath it that all are not privy to. They
assume a grander dialogue, and point to texts outside the margins, the
way a name uttered in a tense moment at the family dinner table can
evoke an entire secret history blocked to any casual guest. Which
brings up the question of apprenticeship: who has the right to say
these names, “Pound,” “Olson,” “Duncan.” What sort of
apprenticeship, leading to what sort of rite of passage allows their
weighty utterance? I will argue that Joris, while firmly raised in the
lineage invoked by the above names, questions, in “Canto Diurno
#1,” the legitimacy of some of that lineage’s assumptions (including
this question of “rights”) and that, through both his editorial work in
the Poems for the Millennium volumes, and his own formulation of a
“nomad poetics,” he creates an ideological, though not entirely
formal, break with it. Looking back to Mallarmé might help explain
what I mean by this last distinction between ideological and formal. If
we take Mallarmé’s shipwreck as, to use Oppen’s phrase, the “bright
light” that illuminated twentieth century European and American avant-
garde poetic traditions, we must grapple with Mallarmé’s own sense
that he did not feel that by scattering his words all over the page he
was tossing a grenade into the house of classical prosody. He
intended no anti-art avant-garde gesture, nor, as he assures us in the
Preface to the poem, did he want to offend anyone, “qu’elle
n’offusque personne.” Un coup de dés, therefore, can be seen as the
logical outcome of Mallarmé’s preoccupation with the sonic patterns
and etymological implications of words. Words become revelatory of
structures beyond human perception and beyond the page, and poetry
the only art capable of allowing us to see this: the connection of verse
4
This poem (indeed, much of h.j.r.) is parsing out Joris’s ideas on nomadics. Duncan
serves as a place to begin: “The loss of discrimination. Start with RD” (hjr, 40).
30
to universe.5 Mallarmé’s preoccupation with the materiality of words
and the magic implicit in the linguistic sign, makes him a forerunner in
the Joris/Rothenberg canon. But it is by virtue of his shipwreck, and the
fact that it left the twentieth-century poet no port in the storm, that he
becomes an important predecessor for poetic wanderings away from
tradition. As Graham Robb puts it, “His ambition [with Un coup de
dés] was not to found a new school but to be the end of a tradition.”6
Though Joris, post-Pound, in deep dialogue with New American
Poetry, and dedicated to a project of internationalism, lives “tradition”
differently than did his French predecessor, wandering the desert
rather than adrift at sea, he will still navigate in a similar direction and
use words as guides.
5
Mallarmé’s trust of rhyme as a sign of this sort of metaphysical resonance is brilliantly
explicated in Graham Robb’s Unlocking Mallarmé (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1996) to which many of my thoughts on this issue are indebted.
6
Robb, Unlocking Mallarmé, 217.
7
Burton Hatlen, “Pound’s Pisan Cantos & the Origins of Projective Verse,” Ezra Pound &
Poetic Influence, ed. Helen M. Dennis (Amsterdam; Atlanta, G.A.: Rodopi, 2000) 150.
31
alive, to “MOVE, INSTANTER…!”8 Clearly no one document made a
handful of forward-thinking American poets move away from the flush
left margin, balanced stanzas, and the capitalization of the first letter
of every line. It was a spontaneous and collaborative event given voice
by Olson’s essay. The impact it would have was not immediately
perceived, as Duncan, in a 1961 lecture, jokingly admits, when he
tells us that upon first hearing the title “Projective Verse” he thought it
had something to do with reading your poems more loudly in public.9
Prosodically, “Canto Diurno #1” (from here forth “CD #1), lies
squarely in the projective tradition. Line lengths and the placement of
words on the page seem motivated not by conventional formal
concerns but by a kind of urgency of utterance, by rhythm, sound
patterns, as well as semantic manipulation. Initially perceived
conformity to projective orthodoxy granted, we must also ask, given
that this poem is concerned with “shaking off the fathers,” how a
critical engagement with composition by field might also be emerging
through the tracery of Joris’s formal decisions. In other words, to call
“CD #1” projective is helpful only up to a point—after which it is
necessary to identify specific formal choices at work in the overall
prosodic structure.
As its title tells us, the blueprint for “CD #1” is a temporal unit, one
day, written down in the form of a poetic diary (from Latin, diaria, a
day’s allowance of food or pay). There are 15 time markers, the first at
ten minutes past midnight (“0.10 a.m.), the last at nine-thirty the next
evening (9:30 p.m.). They mark and divide the 15 separate “entries.”
These “entries” are quite various and do not always aspire to original
poetic utterance. Indeed, the first entry is a Blanchot quotation
concerning Bataille’s thought on community. It casually functions as
an epigraph to the entire poem, alerting us to a central theme, of
which I’ll speak more in just a bit. In addition to attributed citations
from outside texts (3 entries), “CD #1” uses the page in two other
ways: strings of free verse lines (8 sections) and blocks of critical prose
(4 sections). At “2.05 a.m.” a legend is provided for how to read this
map: “Prose demands that one read between the lines. Poetry, that
one read the lines” (P, 2). This legend is written in prose, and therefore
demands that we read between its “lines,” the conundrum being that
8
Hatlen, “Pound’s Pisan Cantos & the Origins of Projective Verse,” 148; Olson,
“Projective Verse,” 388.
9
I have my doubts about the accuracy of the date on this recording, listed as 1961 on
PennSound. The tenor of Duncan’s voice as well as his topic lead me to believe it may
be later than this (http://writing.upenn.edu/pennsound/x/Duncan.php).
32
prose is not written in line. Leaving that puzzle aside, we can notice
that these two sentences resemble the sort of bossy instructions that run
throughout Pound and Olson, but that here they are aimed atypically
at the writer of the poem (“CD #1” is truly a diary insofar as it maps
an internal thought journey as the poet is provoked by the quiet of the
wee hours to rethink the state of his life and the mission of his art).
Furthermore, according to Joris’s formulation, the prose in this poem
will point out to a numinous space, a “between,” and the poetry will
be a concrete thing, lines with shape and breaks. A closer look at the
content assigned each formal side of the poetry/prose fence will show
this to be, with some slight bubbling over here and there, true.
Interpretation calls, but first a final structural observation. The
poetry sections of “CD #1” show a marked hesitancy, as though the
words are reluctant to drift too far from the left-hand margin. The New
American Poetry “field” looks more like a narrow snaking, tentative
path. With the exception of the section, marked “2 p.m.,” which
resembles Williams’s variable foot, all the lineated sections cling to the
left-hand margin in a sometimes painfully thin—even down to a single
phoneme—vertical axis:
8.10 a.m.
a
tempted
au
bade
pros trate
sun
cloud claw
no
milk
in
this
cof
fin
caves
in
clear
po
lice
si
ren
33
sires
day (P, 6-7)
This is the entirety of the “8.10 a.m.” section, and, though it records
the failure to write a poem, is just that. “8.10 a.m.” is typical of most
of the lineated entries, insofar as its focus shifts quickly from abstract
thought to the concrete material surroundings of the poet as perceived
through the senses. The lineated sections are a sensual record, while
those in prose record Joris’s thoughts on prosody, politics, and the
broader mission of poetry. “CD #1” does not enact its questioning of
poetics in line, so much as use poetry as a conduit to the real world.
There is, of course, a poetics implied by this use of the poem,
especially if we look only at the manifest content of the lineated
sections. We can see this poetics from the very start of the poem. After
the Blanchot quote about Bataille, which answers “pourquoi
communauté” with the claim that individuals are ruled by a “principe
d’insuffisance,” Joris’s next entry is lineated:
0.45 a.m.
after the storm
the flat
lineaments of
word
I
meant
world […] (P, 1)
34
of an old and traditional poetic form, but rather, to the real material
world of the present, his aubade attempt fails. The poet is alone, no
parting lover is bemoaned, the words that come are grim and
claustrophobic. The rising sun is “pros trate,” the cloud has a “claw,”
his home is a “coffin” which “caves/ in.” Finally, the sound of a police
siren takes the place of the poet’s song, and “sires” the day. The
poet’s voice is stifled by the anonymous business of the surrounding
city. 18 words stretch themselves across 22 lines. What’s “a/
tempted”—an imaginative intervention into the unfolding of day—is
trumped by material circumstance. Two things to note: the line’s
refusal to manifest much beyond the syllable, and the failure of the
“aubade” as a form. In this combination we can see both the Spirit of
Romance and the projective failing to overcome the real. The glory of
Pound’s beloved Provençal trumped by the immediate truth of “no
milk.”
The booming poetic personalities of the past are drowned out by a
police car’s siren. An exaggeration perhaps, and yet I do think it is
significant that the “siren” which “sires” day (incidentally the sort of
sound play based around etymologies, false or true, that run rampant
through this poem, and which I’ll discuss further on) obliquely
represents a central theme of the poem as dictated by the
aforementioned epigraph: the relationship, nay dependence, of the
individual on community. The poet cannot remain alone in his
“coffin.” The community insists, interrupts, breaks in. A police siren
heralds an ambient unease outside the borders of the poem’s
contemplative frame. Whether this sound is a symbol of safety or state
control is soon answered, in the “9 a.m.” prose entry, in which the
poet reads of “THE NEWSPAPER DEAD.”
The front page has the story of a young radical shot down on the
sidewalk in Rome: “this dead will have to stay where it is, on the front
page, tomorrow’s dustbin liner. this is a Reuters dead from Rome […]”
(P, 8). This case of “real world” information remains unreal to the
poet, made so by journalistic prose: “Vilma Monaco, you leave me
here with only an introibo, with no credo, which is all you had, you
leave me here with your name only, with your smudged inky
deathmask […]” (P, 9). The word introibo, from the phrase Et introibo
ad altere Dei (And I will go in to the altar of God) used in the Latin
mass, returns from the beginning of the “9 a.m.” entry. Joris equates
the ritual of picking up the Sunday paper with going to church:
35
the paper picked up taken home, like going to church on Sunday, long
ago, as regular, as much of a rite. the double ritual of reading, of
writing, take notes, see how it can enter, that world, your world, too.
introibo. no altar but what rolled off the presses, heavily inked.
iconography of random death: if to pray is to give thought, intensely,
then that is what I am doing right now. (P, 8)
Vilma Monaco’s story changes nothing. The poet is left with only an
introibo, an intention to enter, but no credo, nothing to affirm or
believe in. The dual rituals of childhood church going and adult
consumption of news fail to produce a structure of belief, or a
satisfying account of the real. These experiences vanish “between the
lines” of the Latin mass and the Reuters news story.
The lineated entry directly following the rather lengthy prose
account of Monaco’s murder brings the reader immediately back into
the present of the poet’s experience:
11 a.m.
IN REAL TIME:
that dream . co
incidence of a day
now 14 years
ago (P, 9)
10
“Mimetic suggestiveness” is one of the seven functions of rhythm in poetry as defined by
Derek Attridge in Poetic Rhythm (Cambridge, M.A.: Cambridge University Press, 1996).
36
Joris follows the revelation that, in some crucial way, it was “the
fathers” that “un-/ made” his dream, with an intensive rethinking of his
poetics. This interlude, conducted mostly in prose with the occasional
break in to line, is the heart of “CD #1,” and its catalyst is The Earth
as Air by Gustaf Sobin. Published in 1984 by New Directions, the
Earth as Air is divided into four sections. The final section echoes the
title of the book, followed by the subtitle, “an ars poetica.”11 In his own
rethinking of poetry Joris cites several passages from this section of
Sobin’s text. Despite these citations, “The Earth as Air” is not a source
for Joris’s ideas, but a text with which he is having a productive
dialogue. Joris tests the claims in Sobin’s text, without needing to
question them. Much closer in age to Joris (Sobin was eleven years his
senior), Joris need not shake him off. The dialogue between relative
contemporaries helps Joris begin to formulate a new metaphorical
structure for thinking about the poem.
Before continuing, it is necessary to take a step back in “CD #1”
to the “8.30 a.m.” entry, which directly precedes the Vilma Monaco
episode. Adding to Blanchot’s guiding epigraph, this entry is made up
entirely of quoted material, two paragraphs by Jean-Luc Nancy, the
crux of which is the following: “The community is at least the clinamen
of the ‘individual’” (P, 8). In writing through the Sobin, Joris takes
Nancy’s use of the “clinamen” as a figure for the dynamic swerve
between the individual and the community and applies it to the poem.
Joris describes Sobin’s long thin lines, lines that have a surface
resemblance to the lineated portions of “CD #1,” in this way:
that corkscrew movement that anchors the poem downward, into earth
[…] from the top of the page, the heading, chapter, caput, no longer
gives permission for any kind of spread, the poem runs from its own
title/inceptor i.e. first word of line given who knows how, runs in the
shortest line possible, i.e. hairpin curves, mountain travail, where the
descent beckons, in a spiral, narrowing, downward, vertical straights,
sharpest clinamen, always downward, screws itself into, earth. (P, 12)
The image of a line of poetry screwing itself into the earth works to
violently refigure Sobin’s evaporation of the ground (recall, the title of
his ars poetica is the Earth as Air). Joris understands the steepness of
the poem’s vertical line as motivated by an almost mechanical impulse
to reconnect word with world. And though William Carlos Williams’s
beckoning “descent” receives a passing nod, Joris’s “vertical straights”
11
Gustaf Sobin, The Earth as Air (New York: New Directions, 1984) 79.
37
and “sharpest clinamen” describe a poetic line quite distinct from
Williams’s variable foot, which looks far more projective as it slopes
gently down in measured steps, engaging the entirety of the page as
field.12 As Joris writes, the poem “no longer gives permission for any
kind of spread.”
Having set out to describe what he sees in Sobin’s poem, Joris’s
labor slips quickly into a series of statements that reaffirm his own
poetics. What follows is not a wholesale rejection of the “fathers” or
tradition—though that is beginning—but rather a reshaping of his
influences to serve his own evolving sense of the poem’s mission. A
residue of Duncan’s understanding of this mission is present in Joris’s
use of the word “permission” (no longer gives permission), as well as
in his adherence to the Spicer/Duncan poetics of dictation evoked by:
“first word or line given who knows how.” Origins remain outside the
poet, a rejection of Romantic interiority. Romantic frames are further
distanced in the next paragraph: “(this vertical tropos is not to be
confused with the ‘organic’-romantic image of the poem as tree, of
art/work as natural growth […] roots & branches […]” (P, 12). A slap
at Duncan,13 whom Joris goes on to credit with almost changing the
paradigm: “cosmic anthropocentrism out of which […] came
romanticism, all the way down to us—for us still there in Duncan,
though he already on the edge of a new configuration […]” (P, 12).
There is evidence to contradict Joris’s limiting of Duncan to an
“anthopocentrism.” For example, this passage from The H.D. Book,
which later gave the title to Jerome and Diane Rothenberg’s defining
book on ethnopoetics:
To compose such a symposium of the whole, such a totality, all the old
excluded orders must be included. The female, the proletariat, the
foreign; the animal and vegetative; the unconscious and the unknown;
the criminal and failure—all that has been outcast and vagabond must
return to be admitted in the creation of what we consider we are. That
task is left to the next generation.14
12
See Paterson, Book III, in Williams Carlos Williams, Paterson (New York: New
Directions, 1946) 96-97.
13
Roots & Branches is the title of Duncan’s second full-length collection of poems.
14
Robert Duncan, A Selected Prose, ed. Robert J. Bertholf (New York: New Directions,
1995) 99.
38
necessary denial of tree image, a first approximation of the rhizome.)”
(P, 12).
Abandoning the equation poem = tree may be Joris’s first step
toward clear-cutting the “forest of symbols” until there is nothing left
but words as real as sand in the desert, the topography which will
eventually become central to Joris’s poetic imagination.15 The
importance to Joris of this shift away from the arboreal metaphor, as
well as his association of it with Duncan, is underlined in the poem
“Winter, Late Afternoon” from Janus (1988, two years after “CD #1”):
“the ‘imminence of a revelation’/ metaphysical rope enough to hang
any poetry/ Yggdrasil” (P, 35). Yggdrasil, the mythic “world tree” of
Norse mythology, defines a horrific image at the heart of Duncan’s
“Structure of Rime V”: “Have you not seen Yggdrasill, the Abattoir? The
human meat is hanging from every bough.”16 Growing out of Dante’s
tree-shaped suicides in Canto XIII of the Inferno, Yggdrasill is turned
into a bloody above-ground graveyard protesting Duncan’s
intervention (recall it is the pilgrim/poet in Dante who, looking for
information, rips a branch off the tree, causing it to both bleed and
speak). But, since Duncan’s “Structure of Rime” pieces are elaborate
allegories in which figures of speech come to life and address the
poet, Dante’s trees in Duncan become sentences angry with the poet
for ripping them apart in the service of the poem.17 While he is clearly
indebted to Duncan’s dedication to universals, elaborate allegorical
fancies like the “structures of rime” are foreign to Joris, who is mindful
of the dangers of such “metaphysical rope.”
In the fourth paragraph, or, more accurately, “prose block,” of this
noon entry on Sobin and poetics, Joris makes a near-Mallarméan
formulation: “but what does come first: thought or language? the aim
of poetry clearly the attempt to put that question out of play by
creating the concordance of the two” (P, 13). At first this seems in
direct contrast to his materialistic image of the poetic line spiraling into
the earth, but soon enough he moves this thought back to solid
ground: “the shadow and the thing, the thought and the word))
gravity, I said, then there is play again, ça en découle, gravitas,
gravide, grave/grave—bringing it all back down to earth” (P, 13).
“Play” emerges when the poet’s thought flows out in a
sonic/etymological patter, from gravitas to “gravide” (Italian for
pregnant, “gravid” in English) to “grave/ grave,” the double entry
15
See especially “Writing/ Reading #13” (hjr, 25-28).
16
Robert Duncan, The Opening of the Field (New York: Grove Press, 1960) 18.
17
Duncan, The Opening of the Field, 18.
39
pointing to the two possible English meanings, “grave” as in a place of
burial (from Old English graef), and “grave” from Latin gravis,
meaning serious, heavy, weighty—also the etymon of gravid. If
Mallarmé trusted that rhyme was the prosodic patterning that revealed
the poem’s connection to something greater than itself,18 Joris’s post-
modern sound patterning and etymological riffs reground the poem to
the sensual world of organic life and death. After all, though a tree
may have been exchanged for a rhizome, the operative poetic
metaphor is still being borrowed from nature: from what is born from
the earth, and will eventually return to it.
40
any other name) between “cross-eyed bear” and “cross I bear,” and
uses a visual mirror (sonically unsatisfying) between “was” and
“saw.”19 A particularly playful example can be found in the poem
“Proofs,” also in Opening of the Field. This mock-letter to an editor
ends: Don’t/ lose the word R O S E/ isolated on the page./ It is not a
flower, but put there/ for an old rising.”20 “Rose” and “lose” are eye
rhymes The “o” of “rose” sonically threads through “isol” and “old.”
When Duncan writes that he put the word there not that it might
represent a flower outside the poem, but rather to recall an “old
rising,” the wordplay becomes enclosed in the poem’s reference
universe. “Rose” is now the past tense of “rise,” and “old rising” works
as both sexual pun and reference to end-rhyme, an old increase of
sound at line’s end.
Joris focuses on just such sound patterning in his reading of
Sobin’s The Earth as Air. Resonant with the above Duncan excerpt, he
quotes the following lines: “the rose/ as votive: for/ the// vow/ of the
rose” (P, 15). These lines appear in “CD #1” after Joris, in an
etymological frenzy, outlines an associative logic he, as a reader and
poet, has traced out of a reference in Sobin to “ex-vita”: “ex-vita, he
writes, I hear the rime: ex-voto, & look up/ votive.” Sharing only
consonants, “vita” (life) and “voto” (vow) make a weak rhyme. Their
association is stated by Joris rather than created through position in a
line or on the page. It is an associative chain that moves from “vita” to
“voto” to “votive” to “vow” and finally comes to rest in a statement
about the function of the poem: “that many-armed cross also a loom,
the woof & weft of the cloth woven thereon./ and in woven there is the
vow makes the poem a votive offering” (P, 15). A sound association
leads to the uncovering of an etymological connection, and together
they give Joris a matrix in which to embed the function of the poem.
Duncan’s shadow can be seen in the mirror of “wov[en]” and “vow,”
as well as in a reference to the “woof & weft.”21 Etymologies are never
used as lures, but stand in for surety, as though the faded or discarded
meaning of a word, however historically distant or dormant, not only
anchors that word onto solid ground, but holds a true key to it as well.
The chain of associations set off by the seemingly innocent, and
perhaps random association between “vita” and “voto” is justified
19
Duncan, The Opening of the Field, 44.
20
Duncan, The Opening of the Field, 58.
21
Robert Duncan’s talk titled “Warp & Woof” is included in Talking Poetics from Naropa
Institute, eds. Ann Waldman & Marilyn Webb (Boulder & London: Shambhala, 1978) 1-
13.
41
when Sobin’s poem arrives, “a few pages further into the text” at the
word “votive,” which provides the semantic core to the lines quoted
above (the rose/ as votiv…). It is as though “ex-vita” led inevitably to
votive, as inevitably as the end-rhyme “June” predicts for its partner
“moon.”
Etymologies expanded out in every sonic direction are seemingly
endless, giving the reader the impression that the significant patterns in
the poem are beneath the words, in deep histories, rather than
between the lines. Joris’s paradigmatic essay “Nimrod in Hell”
illustrates his adhesion to their power, even when false: “A false
etymology—but are any etymologies really ‘false’? Aren’t they the
engine whose misfirings, rather than smooth transparent linguistic
runs, drive poetry forward?” (JtM, 2). This adherence puts a wobble in
an important critique Joris makes of Duncan in the midst of his
working through of Sobin’s ars poetica and his own. Here, in the deep
histories of the “scars we call words” is found an absent presence. The
lines in quotation marks are out of Sobin:
“towards that ear, that ether, that absentia of all presence: presence itself.”
& this, which Duncan immediately worried out of the ‘ars poetica’:
“but death continuously discharged, expelled,
projected […]
a death kept alive.” (P, 1422)
22
Sobin, The Earth as Air, 90.
23
Devin Johnson, Precipitations. Contemporary American Poetry as Occult Practice
(Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 2002) 97.
42
Though I did not include it in the quotation above, there is one
name from the older generation that is allowed to take its place
alongside Joris and Sobin and the unnamed “others” who are moving
toward a rhizomatic model of the poem: Paul Celan. At this first
mention, on page 12, Celan’s name sticks out in a “one of these
things is not like the others” sort of way. His role in this generational
drama is clarified in the “2:45 p.m.” entry of “CD #1,” when the poet
tells us that he is making a “second attempt at translating
‘Todtnauberg,’” a poem by Celan which, Joris goes on to explain, is
the German Jewish poet’s “encysted record of his 1967 meeting with
Martin Heidegger” (P, 17). Heidegger was about thirty years older
than Celan, a gap nearly matching that between Joris and Duncan
(approximately 27 years). Though it is beyond the scope of this essay
to review the complexities behind Celan’s meeting with Heidegger,24
the particular linguistic and poetic issues raised by “Todtnauberg”
support Celan’s inclusion as an important cornerstone in Joris’s
reimagining of his own poetic mission. In one of the two “diary” entries
in “CD #1” to include both prose and poetry, Joris quotes certain
words in Celan’s poem which he is finding difficult to translate, and
outlines some interpretive questions, after which he includes a draft of
his translation of “Todtnauberg.” Joris’s English version of the Celan
poem is not set aside in quotation marks, nor italics, but appears
entire, including title, as an integral part of “CD #1.” By telling us that
this is a “second attempt,” we know that a struggle has taken place,
and that a third attempt may follow.
A later published version of Joris’s translations differs in many
important ways from the one included here. In his essay “Translation at
the Mountain of Death,” written some two years after “CD #1,” Joris
explains how in doing a deep etymological exploration on one of the
words in “Todtnauberg,” a research that, like Celan’s craft, “goes
deeper and incorporates the network of underground roots,” he
discovered a connection to the word “fascism” in a poem that does
not explicitly name either the philosopher in question nor his political
shamefulness. The word is “Wasen,” which Joris renders as “woodturf”
(but will eventually settle on “forest sward”). At first Joris learns that it is
connected to land where a “Wasenmeister” “guts and buries the dead
livestock”; this leads Joris to “killing fields,” then, looking even further
into his Grimm’s Dictionary of the German Language, he tells us:
24
For an account of both the meeting & the meanings behind the resulting poem, see
Joris, “Translation At the Mountain of Death” (JtM, 87-101).
43
[…] my eye fell on yet another “Wase,” a word current in North
Germany, and used to describe a bundle of dead wood, the etymology
[…] leads back through French “faisceau” to Latin “fasces,” the
curator’s bundle of rods, which became the symbol of, and gave the
word for, “fascism.” (JtM, 97)
Beneath the surface of both the word and the ground lie the truths
buried in the language of the poem. Therefore, the poetic line must,
as Joris sees Sobin’s lines doing, move “downward, screw[ing] itself
into, earth.” Such histories tie the poem to experience, creating a
meaningful resonance between language and human history,
revealing significant patterns in a fashion similar to rhyme, especially if
we take “rime” in Duncan’s broader formulation, as a structure
revealing “ratio” and “measure,”25 words indicating distance between
and relationship to. Joris’s working through of the deep word
meanings as he translates “Todtnauberg” reinforce his decision to
replace the supposedly hierarchal tree for Delueze and Guattari’s
rhizome as an image of the way a poem knows, for it reveals that
there is more truth to be found in what lies buried than in what
remains above ground.
Celan, though generationally a father, need not be shaken off. He
can stand alongside Joris as a contemporary. By choosing to translate
and to include Celan’s work within his own, Joris in effect makes
Celan a poet of his era and includes him in the Anglophone tradition.
A bold move, perhaps, but key in that Celan represents something
radically different from Joris’s allegiances in the American scene. As a
polylingual exile writing in his mother tongue, he, unlike Duncan, or
even the supposedly road-warrior Beat poets, can stand in as a model
for the wandering, homeless nomad that will later be so central in
Joris’s rethinking of the European tradition through the lens of outside.
44
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
katsoimmekin ihmetellen ja kunnioittaen noiden suurten laivain
komeita liikkeitä.
ASEVELJET.
Francis Bacon.
PILVIÄ KOKOUTUU.
Shakespeare.
JÄRJESTÄYTYMINEN.
Tennyson.
"En pidä Hapenista", sanoi Livingston äkkiä. "En ole sietänyt häntä
milloinkaan ja sitten Cuevasin kuoleman vielä vähemmän kuin
ennen. Hän luulee olevansa tarpeeksi viisas hallitsemaan näitä
saaria, yksin."
Jos vain Hapen olisi ollut uskollinen tahi jos olisimme aavistaneet
hänen petoksensa suuruuden, olisi selkkaus mahdollisesti voitu
välttää. Ollen uskollinen tohtori Valdezille antamalleen lupaukselle oli
kapteeni puhunut Hapenille miehistön keskuudessa olevasta
tyytymättömyydestä amerikkalaisten yksinvaltiutta vastaan teroittaen
hänen mieleensä sen välttämättömyyttä ja kieltämätöntä hyötyä.
"Luultavasti, kapteeni."
MYRSKY PUHKEAA.
Walt Whitman.
"Ei, Kasim", sanoin nopeasti, "et saa tappaa heitä. Mutta tule
kanssani ja kerro kapteenille samat asiat kuin minullekin, sillä tämä
on kapinallisuutta, joka on tukahdutettava."'