translations
“The recognition that the
very presence of the line
is predominant current
signifier of the Poetic will
cause some poets to discard
at least for a time, its use”
—Ron Silliman,
“Of Theory, To Practice
cleaving masters—like ezra pound
more than just—translating them
word for word—line for line
stanza for stanza—poem for poem
it’s more like—sargasso seas
sinking down—bermuda triangles
disappearing—deep time & space
jettisoning—jetsam & flotsam
all the way—downward
Dancing with Mary Shelley and Henry James
A Cleave Suite
the phantasmagoric audience – all of them having
strangely – the same face
takes the stage, – multiples of one man
acting all the parts – a replicating fantôme
in the dark – populating the nightscape
of dreaming’s Cartesian theater – by morning melting away
withdrawing into daylight – uncovered by lightless night
The place, with its gray sky and withered garlands, its bared spaces and
scattered dead leaves, was like a theater after the performance — all strewn
with crumpled playbills …
the entity – I
the first person – me or mine
is it separate or – just a named hallucination
a wave in a sea of they – a drop of rain
Whisper Your Name Three Times Into the Wind and It Will Go
to that imaginary land of – signs
titles, drawings & stories – of love
songs alluding to – April’s fragrance
facsimiles of – r e a l sun
showerless – showers
counterfeit flowers – bees in the buddleia
always a step away from sensations – feelings and real places
nothing is wonderful but the word – W O N D E R
leaving behind a sigh – a n e x h a l A t i o n
whose name blew away – on a windy day
a word as virtual as signified snow – let it rise as a whisper and go
I saw the master — nothing could be more evident — in the light of an intense
emotion,and I trembled, I remember, in every limb, while at the same time, by a
blest fortune, emotion produced no luminous blur, but left him shining indeed,
only shining with august particulars.
I busied myself with – concocting a tale
a story – that would speak to
mysterious – fears
awakening dread – quickening the blood
I saw a body – made of ghastly fragments
stolen from a graveyard – showing signs of animation
moving eerily – due to its creators skill
the pale student of unhallowed arts – making that progeny conscious
cackling in triumph – alive at last
I caught him, yes, I held him — it may be imagined with what a passion; but at
the end of a minute I began to feel what it truly was that I held.
seemingly normal – nodding responses
but hollow inside – cognizant, bright
having no lack of – emotional
affects yet not – conscious of being
a self – in a condition of
rather uncanny – I-less life
cloned with indifference or cloned with a difference
The story had held us, round the fire, sufficiently breathless, but except the
obvious remark that it was gruesome, as, on Christmas Eve in an old house, a
strange tale should essentially be.
despite disaster – this single thing
language remains – survives the damage
panic forms – phrases
sentences – take shape
writing alone escapes – from nothing’s pure night
so
let us go then you and I – along with our alters
under the Titian-white sky
what is the nouveau siècle to its whyless wide
to its dumb sun
all of us subsequents – formed by the story
until the text ends
Wonderful was it thus to see, and thrilling inwardly to note, that since the
question was of personal values so great no faintest fraction of the whole could
succeed in not counting for interest.
Introducing a new cleave poet: Indolence by Royce Icon
This - I fell asleep on the bus
Kind of thing - Dizzy and drooling
Always happens - I awoke in a foreign area
To - Worried and delirious
Me - Miles away from my stop
Here is another ground-breaking cleave from Andrea Barton, 3 poems fusing into one:
bold (right), italics (middle), normal (left) and then the whole cleave.
My Human Brain by Andrea Barton May I direct your attention –here– follow me this way please –I am– here to the right on your left –in– this section you will notice –all– ready for paint are the columns formed by –the– blank canvasses logically situated battalions –quivering– in anticipation of warriors at the –conjunction– of thought and feeling ready for the battle –of– reason vs. intuition there is no room for –love– in our struggle for identity today, only sequence –and– expression caught in the fray and contrapuntal equilibrium of –algebra– or in the poetry of a lush epic. rational thought –and– be careful here on your left –childbirth– the absolute beginning art in its purest form –and– the creation of life a mere moment we are only without –fault- exquisite and blameless.
Three way(s)
cleaves are—three way(s)
new LangPo—doorways
the Line—opening up
eyes small pigs—looking at big pigs—observing unwieldy—dimensions curious—imperfection of odors a formal—male group gathering—together young pigs—looking at old pigs considering—the elderly mind observing—inexplicable correlatives—based on “The Seeing Eye” Ezra Pound’s Personae (1926)
Jennifer Semple Siegel is our newest cleave poet and has a new type of cleave:
“Cleave-movie poem” using a “seed poem” named after Mac Low’s diastic compositional model.
Here is a link to her site where it first appeared.
The seed poem is the text on the movie poster.
Plan 9 from Outer Space
A cleave poem for Puget
Unspeakable -- Mad Bela croaking L-O-N-G before wrap Horrors -- Worst movie ever made? Camp Sci-fi? From -- Sea to murky sea, a cult hit Outer -- Cloaking for chiropractor Tom Mason Space -- Vampie Vampira from Outer Space Paralyze -- Almost. Nearly tanking sans its Zombie star The -- Filming: never, never after dark Living -- Zombies: Pod People 9 years in future And -- Changeling costumes morphing mid-scenes Resurrect -- The continuity person The -- Star: Ed Wood who pulled it off anyway Dead! -- Viral!
A great little cleave by Andrea. Something to ponder on.
I’m out of town until Thursday.
Also, I’m trying out some different formatting.
Enjoy.
Lots more cleaves and thoughts when I return.
Things I Need by Andrea Barton
In the end - it comes to this:
I parse words - on a grocery pad
meant for lists - for things I need.
A line drawn down - the middle of my words
my thoughts - rent in half
on a Sunday - in the wee days of this new fall
at the end of September - I believe
I need - and want
to remember - these words.
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