ars poetica, a seduction of lexical lists
mélange unmoored from belonging
pulse thrum in the anechoic room
how will we find purity amidst semantic noise;
the salve of metalanguage in a sea of allusions?
language transfers mental content
(words are containers)
speakers eject thought into an external space
(in this way language is reified)
‘a poem should not mean but be’
positing a fantasia,
a condition of meaningfulness –
unfurling with the cosmic significance
of a blue lotus blooming improbably
at the base of a Bodhi tree
cartographic games of death,
hybrid experiments that assuage
our fear of floating into the void
-or-
a terribly human snow angel
sculpted and melting, transfigured
to cloud and stream
whispering Rilke’s empty freedom
attained by seeking what’s beyond
a treatise of identity,
Hillman’s String Theory Sutra
(this poem has a mimetic twin
that plays arias in another dimension
through a telekinetic gramophone)
where, a reader may ask, does virtue lie?
Dickens’ acuity akin to the Delphic Oracle unsettles
telescopic vision reveals Bishop’s calculated descriptors
alongside Ashbery’s nuanced reflection:
convex mirror distorting the ruminating Self
(my face imprints the air within a breath of yours)
Carson’s accordion of grief,
a Sanskrit obituary contrasting handwritten notes
each word translated to illuminate a place
where no light is permitted
we poets enact a query
demonstrating the fragility
of the sacred phoenix’s flight
philosophical conceits drown
in a tidal wave of lyricism
roaring, irremediable, shifting selves
litter an infinite shore
(we build cairns for those without name,
stone markers in the sand)
well, this is the coolest thing I’ve read in a bit. Very nice.
My mind is blown. What a beautiful dance of language. Exotic and enrapturing.
The art of poetry, an attempt to express ideas through wordplay; words being representing ideas yet not quite it. I thinks it’s interesting to see them as containers. Can a word be too big or too small for what is meant to contains? Maybe. Poetry being a way to play with a question, watching patiently for something observed to bloom or maybe not, look over some edge. Sometimes even that last one is kinda scary, or one has already decided it’s too scary just to look. Interesting thoughts from the first part.
I’m gonna have to explore Rilke, Reddy and Hillman’s poem to understand the second bit properly I think. 🙂
haha fascinating anna…lov ethe twin in another universe singing arias…my fav stanza though is the words as containers…great depth…you force me to think though things more than most…and i enjoy it…smiles.
Friend ~you have caught my soul! Amazing verses! What’s there and what isn’t there is another language !
What cool writing, I love how you include science (maybe just being a phycisist…) Somehow I get to think about Aniara, by Harry Martinson… a littl bit Sci-Fi intermingled, I see space-ships and wonder were in space those cairns were erected.
i find rilke was such an interesting character…love his letters to a young poet…love how you stretch us with your poetry and images anna….‘a poem should not mean but be’… maybe it should both…sometimes leaned a bit more to this…sometimes a bit more to the other side
oh my..i feel like i’ve just had the most amazing rollercoaster ride ever 🙂
pure magic Anna..just mindblowing~
Stunning, Anna.
I enjoy the dense, lush under-structure with the parenthesized poem studding the center. incredible.
A wonderful and cool write, Anna.
Language is amazing. Poetry is beautiful. This poem is intriguing.