revealed truths versus involved terms

*
from The Aeneid, Book 6, lines (approx) 100-106:

Robert Fitzgerald's trans:

............. These were the sentences
In which the Sibyl of Cumae from her shrine
Sang out her riddles, echoing in the cave,
Dark sayings muffling truths, the way Apollo
Pulled her up raging, or else whipped her on,
Digging the spurs beneath her breast. . . .

John Dryden's version:

Thus, from the dark recess, the Sibyl spoke,
And the resisting air the thunder broke;
The cave rebellow'd, and the temple shook.
Th'ambiguous god, who rul'd her lab'ring breast,
In these mysterious words his mind express'd;
Some truths reveal'd, in terms involv'd the rest.

*

Apollo presumedly expresses his mind as he wishes,
being a god. When he wants to speak truths, he does,
and when he wants to speak what,—mysteries? dark sayings?
ambiguities?—when he wants to speak the latter, he
does that too: presumably he knows the difference between
"truths" and "terms" and when he speaks he is consciously
choosing to use one or the either, given his olympian
powers. . .

Ein Gott vermaggs. Wie aber, sag mir, soll
ein Mann ihm folgen durch die schmale Leier? (Rilke)

A god can do it. But how, tell me, shall
a man follow him through the stringent lyre?

/
Involved in terms, wrung in the contorted serpent
ingenuities of his own terms, how can the poet speak
truths when truths and terms seem so irreconcilable,
and how would he even know when and where and with
what power his lab'ring breast was ruled, if his terms
could express truths, assuming he even wanted them to. . . .

///

the craft

*
It's funny how seldom those who ostensibly undertake to write about my poetry, actually do it—

instead they often fixate on absurd secondary matters like the "presentation" of my books, or data re publication formats and irrelevancies like that—really, what's the point of swotting around such trivial minutiae. I appreciate all honest straightforward appraisals of my work, but if commentators focus on side issues other than the merit (or lack of merit) of the poems themselves, I'm insulted.

I can't force anyone to take my poetry seriously, and if they want to indulge in gossip superfluous crap I can't stop them—

But in case anyone is interested in my verse itself, and would like to see a critique which directly and thoughtfully addresses some of it,

I recommend the new book by Stephen Dobyns, Next Word, Better Word / The craft of writing poetry—

in which he offers close detailed readings of three of my sonnets.

(But even if I was never mentioned at all in the Dobyns book, I would still recommend it—it is a first-rate handbook/guide to poetic craft, and everyone involved in writing (and reading) poetry would benefit from it.)

///

reprint

*
reprint from my old blog: 08/25/08



Ashbery's Visit to Pahlevi, 1972 (after James Wright's "Eisenhower's Visit to Franco, 1958")

The American poet must kiss ass
The forces of darkness.
He has flown here first-class
And come down in the oil fields
Of Iran.

Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlevi stands in a shining circle of CIA.
His wallet opens in welcome.
He promises all USA cars
Can gas up forever now
And live like Beatniks "on the road."

His police fill the prisons
With dissidents. Ashbery follows
His fellow celebrants to the banquet
Of the Avantgarde Arts Fest
Where Her Royal Empress Queen Farah
Gilds to their honor.

Smiles glitter in Shiraz.
Ashbery has touched hands with John Cage, embracing
For the Cultural Attache's report.

Clean new tankers from America
Glide along gantries now.
Their prows shine in the docklights
And their hulls swallow all
Of Iran.

*

As everybody knows, and some knew at the time, Pavlevi's reign was a CIA op from the start——

they ran the coup which put him into power,

they trained the gestapo forces he wielded to keep his people in terror and suppression——

and I assume they advised him that putting some of his swindled billions into an annual "Avantgarde" Arts festival would pay off as a publicity stunt

to help counteract international outrage and protest against his police state regime——

I assume the Avantgarde artists invited and paid handsome sums to attend this yearly farce-stival

were vetted and chosen by the CIA's Cultural Committee——

carefully selected for their a-political esthetics——

*
See this for more about the 1972 gathering: http://thefaleslibrary.blogspot.com/2011/04/downtown-arts-in-pre-revolution-iran.html

///

fuck you, Poets HOuse

*
fuck you, Poets House snobs—

vanity books "will not be accepted"—

you won't "accept" my books? Fine.

Here's what "Poets House" says in their shill for free copies to include in their "showcase"—:

Which titles qualify for inclusion? All books of poetry (full-length collections, anthologies and chapbooks), poetry-related prose, poetry audio and videotapes, CD's, and computer media published since June 2010 qualify for exhibit. Books from vanity press publishers will not be accepted. Books of poetry published outside the United States are included in a separate portion of the exhibit, but they are not listed in the Directory.
* ///

...

can she bake a cherry pie

*
I can't imagine the frustration the critics of Billy Collins must feel—

especially the avant-hick ones—

how, armed with their grad degrees in poetics, in post-posty theory,

they can prove, semiotically, scientifically prove,

how inadequate the verse of Collins is—

and yet, despite their poeticspeak (Orwellian emphasis),

his books continue to be bought and read and enjoyed

by tens of thousands (surely hundreds of thousands by now) of poetry readers:

Count me among them.

*

Avant-hicks: I used to call them avanthacks, hacks, but hicks is I think more appropriate for these impoverished pockets so cut off from the rest of the world, and yet so convinced that their sect is righteous: how saved and holy they are in their isolation, incestuous, bristling, mad.



///

iowa writers workshop turns 75 years old

*
http://www.pbs.org/newshour/bb/entertainment/jan-june11/iowawriters_04-07.html

*

Good for them!

Congrats.

Of course, when I applied to go there as a student to get my MFA,

they rejected me.

And Warren Wilson also rejected me, when I asked if I could study with them—

Vermont College accepted me (they had lower standards, obviously, if they took
worst-cases like me)

and I got my MFA degree from Vermont.

I wasn't good enough for Iowa or Warren Wilson,

which is another illustration (if more were needed) of their outstanding quality.

///