olson

Looking to the Edge by Mark Fleury

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Looking to the Edge

by

Mark Fleury

Looking to the edge

Of the dawn-tinged mountain

Tops’ cliffed flaming skyscape,

The ladder to the brow of the morning

Star leans against the wall between

The night and day of a new year.

I peak over the sky, blue as the part

Of a candle flame that entrances

A child in Easter Sunday’s Grace

Before what’s thanked for is consumed

For weight toward Earth’s center.

And I see it’s the same primordial pool

Of fire and flame and lust that does

Dervish whirls from a screen door

To a backyard. April is draining

Its pain of birth, thaw and rust

As though the hinges

Of soil opened to houses

In the enclosed bark of trees.

Bio: Mark Fleury lives in St. Paul, MN. He has recently had poems published in Vext Magazine, Altered Scale, Clockwise Cat, Counterexample Poetics, Medulla Review, ditch, UFO Gigolo and the Original Van Gogh’s Ear Anthology. Mark also has a poem forthcoming in the September inaugural issue of Of/ With. Mark has a new 2014 book of poetry entitled The Precious Surreal Door Opened, published by Medulla Review Publishing.

 

Poetics Statement: My writing invariably goes back to the basement apartment where I lived when I had a nervous breakdown over twenty years ago. The different parts of the apartment symbolize various parts of my psyche; for example, the door leading into the apartment is the location of the pineal gland in the center of my brain. And the window across the room, which is the title of one of my books: The 4D Window, is the sensorium screen where my worldly experiences, including poetry, take place. I consider myself to be a student of Charles Olson’s Projective Verse essay.

In Defense of a New Lyricism

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In Defense of a New Lyricism

by Kenyatta Jean-Paul Garcia

“man is himself an object”

Charles Olson

Lyricism, the poetry of emotion, is in need of an overhaul but not in need of complete annihilation.  Lyricism at its core is rhythm and sentiment tied together.  This bundle is of great importance to both reader and writer.  As poetry finds a natural pace conjoined to thought, it returns to its verbal and thus songlike primordial state.  This rhythm which comes with thought attached to breath or heart or nature or machinery or whatever is contained inside and out converts emotion also to its natural state – the state of being sensed.

 

Lyricism is poetry made natural or better yet, normal/mundane.  The new lyricism is not concerned with meter as much as it is concerned with the pace of thought, memory, experience.  Lyricism translates the world into emotion and emotion into a musical/tonal state of being.  Being is important.  Lyricism works with flow and rests so as to keep the emotion moving between writer and reader.

 

This link between reader and writer is the crux of the new lyricism.  Lyricism is about emotion not about subject and object.  It is about how an occurrence changes a state of mind/how a mind changes at all.  States of mind are what connects all individuals.  We experience and we process.  We react.  We internalize.  We externalize. When we read we not only absorb words but apply those words to our past and ideas of the future and our current place.

 

Reading is daydreaming or meditating.  When one reads poetry one should stay close to the words until words fade into the moment. The moment of sentiment.  Of sensing.  When one leaves the poem and enters into the Self or outside of the Self.

Thoughts collect as reading occurs.  The new lyrical poet harnesses their own thoughts and experiences/perception and transfers into an absorbable state of musicality.  The new lyrical poet takes into account syllables, breath, phrasal constituents, phonology, harmony.  This poet is love with language and brings it to a natural place where it can do its duty of communicating or rather communing.

 

Lyricism does not need to be subjective.  We are all subjects and objects simultaneously.  Experience and perception is all around and ever-occurring.  With this taken into account the new lyricism focuses simply or only upon conveyance of the emotion and/or those thoughts related to emotion.  The mere mention of joy, anger, love, distress conjures up sentiment and the daydreams which transfer one back intowards such a state of occurrence.

 

Emotion needs no agent nor patient.  Emotion is.  And if it is, it is worthy of the poet’s attention.

 

Emotion is an ever-changing part of being human and emotions shift at any given time.  The amount of triggers which set off thoughts and thus emotion or more precisely the memories surrounding and caging memory are infinite.  Today is different for everyone.  This second is varied for each experiencer but it is experienced. And, emotion is there; even if the emotion is the emotion of nothing – no value.  Apathy, indifference, nihilism, zen, etc states of non-emotion are in themselves emotion.  Emotion is nothing more than a state of mind/being which sometimes becomes a reaction.  Mostly, emotion is from the Latin for remove or displace.  What is more displaced than nothingness?  And, in all honesty what state is harder to achieve than that of nothingness within writing?  Even the most abstract and uncreative of poems emote.  Each syllable in its morphological essence may trigger change.  Each syllable with its phonological presence can soothe or ruffle and thus create an emotion.

 

The new lyrical poet does not need to fall into archaic traps and be brought into a state of ‘I’- heavy wordings.  Nor does the lyrical poet need to fall into meter.  Language will find its flow from there we place emotions to move between eyes/ears and print/voice.

I, Saladin, To Nobody in Particular

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A Response to Charles Olson

by E.S. Cormac

I, Saladin, To Nobody in Particular

Wandering idle down Styx lanes

Periwinkle, Crimson, safflower

hues assault windshield unrestrain’

battlement’s arrows shower.

Shall I sit upon the shore fishing?

With the sea stretching out from my feet.

      Or speak of undone business?

Of breath

          of ears

                of syllable, syllabus, syllabic

Oh Glowster Man

   (that is how the ears hear it)

My spatial nature geometry is lost now

buried beneath billboard

advertising gleaming teeth

and all manner of elixir

                and what watches

                           and what wears

         I want to fit

I want to shine brighter than the fifty stars that glint atop Metropolis

        I want that piece

        I want that peace

I held that gun at them

     for the confusers for the Brooks Brothers cloistered minions

I held that gun

           watching as we lay siege at Ma’arra.

                          How they feasted

Across winter windshield

giants stand gleaming teeth on black ribbon roadsides

 Fear Not Citizen!

                get the yellow out 

                             drink this

                                         tune in tonight at nine)

GOOOO! SPORTSTEAM! GOOOO! COMMERCE! BUY SELL SELL BUY BUY

Go Icharus

fly  where you can never reach

             fly and I will follow

My ship’s mast melts with wings

        to cause quarrel over the loss of golden armor.

There are riches enough to be satisfied in Troy

          In Troy

where Dear Fathers, Fearless Leaders, Benevolent Uncles

Bearded Revolutionaries smile down on us all

           watching

              waiting

                  for the chance to purge

O Commerce O Commerce

I repent

My teeth dream of the day they can gleam

sublime ego sentence strands removed from shores

blown to glass

      situated in teethly tower rows

          erect Testaments to our fathers named

Sears, Comcast, Chrysler, Key and Bank of America I and II

O Commerce O Commerce

I repent I am Redeemed for five cents

Do not discard me in your Gulag Archipelago

         I am not so poor, you will make no great profit

    Do not discard me in a home of wayward Roman D.J.s

         In twelve plus twelve I would never produce a cantos

Oh Glowster Man

    Do you hear me?

       Was this percussive?

          Was it PROJECTIVE?

I want to wander through brilliant stacks of cans

I want to act after taken thought

I want to fight no more forever

Oh Glowster Man

    Do you hear me?

Your RAT-A-TAT-TAT DA-DING

has been replaced by yet another glowing blue screen that can paint the windows of Suburbia

The keys still clack

but even as we speak they are being replaced…

                                                               By what says you?

         by shiny glass and aluminumy tablets says I

                                                                Like His word says you?

    better says I

       they gleam of billboard staring toothuses

 

Charles Olson’s poetry and essay, “Projective/ Verse” are the antithesis of the New Critic School of writing. Although Olson is scholarly and fills his stanzas with learned quotes and references, he departs in every other way from the New Critics. Embracing all the features of modern printing Olson breaks his verse up according to how it should be spoken or into ‘breaths as he calls them. His open verse or Composition by Field is formed free of iambic meter. Instead Olson prefers to concentrate on the kinetic nature of the poem, Olson also carefully points out that all metaphor, objects, or anything else that would interrupt this kinetic flow must be omitted.