It's cold... but Spring... and I love that I sent Mark Strand's poem to my father in law (see below)
to which he replied: "Am struggling with "infinite"( strong quotation marks, comme des griffes), specifically in Jung. We shall eliminate this word from our language and find out if there is anything missing from what we want to say."
From Knopf today:
The below may not be a poem, but it is also not NOT a poem. It is typical of the work in Almost Invisible, a slim but significant book of playful creations from the pen of Mark Strand, whose whole career, in a way, has been an attempt to understand (or perhaps to refute!) "The Triumph of the Infinite."
The Triumph of the Infinite
I got up in the night and went to the end of the hall. Over the
door in large letters it said, "This is the next life. Please come
in." I opened the door. Across the room a bearded man in a
pale-green suit turned to me and said, "Better get ready, we're
taking the long way." "Now I'll wake up," I thought, but I was
wrong. We began our journey over golden tundra and patches
of ice. Then there was nothing for miles around, and all I could
hear was my heart pumping and pumping so hard I thought I
would die all over again.
**
My poem... What is "it" -- we say -- but where is the emphasis? WHAT is it? What IS it? What is IT
are three different sentences in English. What happens if you delete just one word? What if there were no "it" ? IT in its grandest meaning of what perhaps has been referred to, but can be so much more.
hmmmmmm. Hence my title.
Chary about It
The artist sketches lines
to test his memory: today cherries
pronounced cha –ar- ries
and he imagines the plump sweetness
hugged in taut skin, the pucker
on the tongue as purplish juice
blends with the flesh, and sun-ripe
perfume.
What does it mean to you, cherries?
WHAT does it mean
What DOES it mean
What does it MEAN
What does mean is missing it.
Just like the cherries are missing
the tree. The it of cycle: blossom,
leaf, fruit, followed by sleep
in bare branches of nubbled bark.
The artist is wearing a wool hat,
gloves that allow him to feel his pencil.
He draws branch bones whipped
by the wind— they’re flutter-filled bloom
after a snowless winter. But today,
it is cold enough to ice things over.
The cherries will be dear this year.
What do you notice?
WHAT do you,
What DO you,
What do YOU
What do you NOTice?
What does it mean to you?
No comments:
Post a Comment