Wednesday, August 4, 2010

I Was Reading Steve Fellner's Fine Blog

And I enjoyed his careful dissection of Simic's triune review of books by Koethe, Armantrout and Hoagland.

I pretty much agree with everything he wrote.

Which is rare for me when I'm reading critical thinking.

There was a lot of nakedness in the comments section.

It looks like some major poets ended up feeling pretty brittle.

Franz Wright (whose books I love) surprised me with the vehemence of his response.

I really love the Armantrout poem ("Heaven") that was under consideration there.

I couldn't resist putting in my one cent. (I no longer give two cents as I find my money lasts longer that way.)

Check out Steve Fellner's blog.

It's good stuff...

I wrote Steve...



I enjoyed your review of Simic's review.

The Armantrout poem slays me. Slays me in the spirit. Of our doubt. This much belongs to all of us. It's here in the comments section too. Our doubt. And our wondering. These are proably two of the few things we will probably all share.

How many have died (by choice or otherwise?) to be "hidden." And we can never--even in our best philosophy and poetry--decide whether the world wants (or not) to be known.

Has the world or the word really "given it up?"

Or did it conceal itself?

Armantrout's poetry is probably the corpus most given over to epistemology right now. It's pretty much epistemological lyricism. And that's what throws people for such loops, I think. She doesn't compartmentalize that sort of thinking (which all of us do). She said it belongs in poetry. Through her poetics.

And because she pulled it off, it does.

Philosophers reifed these problems one way. And poets like Armantrout do it another way.

"Heaven" has all the economy (and relevance) of the best Creeley, the best Niedecker.

The language and thinking are indeed This Condensery.

And I don't think Rae Armantrout has ever been laid-off.

Probably not a day in her life.

No rest.

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