Fence
Williams (“The Wind Increases”) calling a poet “a man / whose words will / bite / their way / home—being actual / having the form / of motion . . .” A horse biting itself is likely suffering a form of stereotypy (“a repeat’d and perseverant act by an animal, serving no obvious purpose”) call’d “flank-biting.” So poets go. So the fog cloaks the sopping earth, so the deep carboniferous beds release a cloacal fish scent, out-sourcing. One plows through the puddles, spokes a-hum, repeating the “faunal stages” of the early Pennsylvanian period: Kinderscoutian, Marsdenian, Yeadonian, Cheremshanskian, Langsettian, Melekesskian, Duckmantian . . . Half-rabid flank-biting behavior. Butting at what lists. Ben Jonson (quoting Plutarch’s De Garrulitate) says that to guard against a “licentious and wandering” tongue, “a wall, or parapet of teeth” is “set in our mouth to restrain the petulancy of our words.” And Williams: “We batter at our / unsatisfactory / brilliance— // There is no end / to desire—” Reading through, of late, Pound’s Literary Essays, I am struck by Pound’s repeat’d call for “efficiency”—a Taylorist for the high moderns. In “How to Read” (1928) saying how it’s “as important for the purpose of thought to keep language efficient as it is in surgery to keep tetanus bacilli out of one’s bandage.” Worrying in “The Serious Artist” (1913) how “desire often overshoots the power of efficient presentation” and calling for “something like ‘maximum efficiency of expression.’” In “Date Line” (1934) calling language the “most efficient registering material” for “knowledge of the human consciousness.” The repeat’d insistence that such-and-such “saved me a great deal of time.” Pound: “Language is not a mere cabinet curio or museum exhibit.” Though, reading Lissa Wolsak’s terrific Squeezed Light: Collected Poems 1994-2005 (Station Hill, 2010) some months back, I did begin to think just that, with its array’d vocables, goodly odd-stuffs to peer at:
and after,That out of Wolsak’s “Pen Chants, or nth or 12 Spirit-like Impermanences.” So that, encumber’d by the syntactical tightness of my own lines, a moment for the rehearsals of sprawl and flocculence did arrive. I intend’d a piece call’d “The Ten Thousand Things”—leaning up against Thomas Sprat’s reverie of a perfectly efficient lingual Arcadia: “a constant Resolution to reject all Amplifications, Digressions, and Swellings of Style; to return back to the primitive Purity and Shortness, when Men deliver’d so many Things, almost in an equal Number of Words.” That, and Cecil—not Frederick—Taylor’s audaciously seeing in “each note . . . a continent, a world in itself.” Abandon’d after roughly twelve hundred or so words / things. Here’s two:
istle, finnochio, ixia
“rich in apples”
they, for emissive
lips cooled forth
chilled persimmon sheathes,
disinterest in the speech of
ill-lit, rigor-like
ink flows on top of milk
untroubled and smiling an
Engai cuts the tail
from a living lion
humectant dusk
orchid-orange wasp swimmy...
gate and pear
by trading subtly
mores for mores
a mound-owner
stoops to dig a root
halve for me
the wind-beads
halve for me
my space-grasp
orison
a fork’d succulent progg’d by the cesspool
Crane’s pie pantry primitivist’s eye at widdershins
wrench’d out of obligado scop a refuge, a confinement
inventory of the portable self each containment’s hundred
savage candor “peeled bits of straw” glean’d the beyond
circumflect’d sun gone watery Leslie’s road grisaille walk’d
the humdrum John Clare “the cowslip pips”
getting out to pee Volvo in the turnabout the Epping grimoire
wobbles / warbles
sable lettering brush extrapictorial naming refus’d
“serv’d no prenticeship” the fens canny spells
dip of the goldfinch the Chinese call’d it “ink play”
A bowing of / to the horizontal
—
milk’d reveries of a Camberwell youth
“big as the bowels of Vesuvius”
Campo Santo “signifies and is”
scoria array’d dud beetles in the weeds
beyond scurrility prayer busts septic & flush’d
wan sober meat of hickory art-dub hello, actually
pokeweed in the reticent field of mole-color’d gauze
a fit exegesis / digesteth yron uncanny / tyranny
up out of the diurnal fever like an asterisk
August / angst some brackish tannin’d spillway
la Saltpêtrière black jelly adherent glib
seethe of meniscus gulp of dying
“their dusky backs upheav’d” boon to descant
dumb hour hard quotidian snip a throw-
down song