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Reading and writing change people and change societies. It is not
always easy to see how nor to trace out the subtle map of cause and
effect that links such changes to their context. But we should make an
effort to do so. There is an important, unanswerable question here. Is
it a matter of co-incidence that the poets who invented Eros, making of
him a divinity and a literary obsession, were also the first authors in
our tradition to leave us their poems in written form? To put the
questions more pungently, what is erotic about alphabetization? This may
seem not so much an unanswerable as a foolish question, at first, but
let us look closer into the selves of the first writers. Selves are
crucial to writers. |
|
Anne Carson
from “Losing the Edge,”
EROS THE BITTERSWEET |
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Mary-Sherman Willis, a poet and a city
gardener, whose poems will appear in our next issue, writes:
From 1996 until recently, Dennis Nurkse was the poet laureate of
Brooklyn. Like Brooklyn’s most famous poet, he is an American writing
poetry about America. But unlike that notorious yawper, Nurkse’s poems
make you go quiet to listen. His spare lines, absent of rhetorical
folderol and loaded with story, lift off over the terrain he likes to
revisit: war and a post-war childhood, immigration and assimilation (his
father, Estonian; mother, French), being a worker in the modern age,
marriage and parenthood, divorce. His poems are textured with the
blue-collar grit of his adopted borough. A while ago he said, “I’m a
lyric poet. When it’s consistent with the nature of a group of
individual poems, I order then in narrative, sometimes novelistic
sequences. My work is engaged with contemporary history. I admire Walter
Benjamin’s remark, to articulate the past historically…is to seize hold
of a memory as it wells up at a moment of danger.”
His six books of poems are published under “D. Nurkse.” The most
recent is THE RULES OF PARADISE. I’m particularly fond of the fourth,
VOICES OVER WATER. It tells of an Estonian couple who emigrate to Canada
in the early part of the 20th century. It is heartbreakingly lyrical,
its imagery out of fairy tales. Here, in the voice of the wife, is “The
Oak Bed”:
The wedding sheet frayed under us
so I cut it in four and sewed it back
with the unworn edges at the center,
and when that center became transparent
I cut on the diagonal and sewed it back
matching worn cloth with worn cloth
until I had a mackerel sky of diamond rags,
degrees of use, and still each night
we’d sit at the edge of the mattress
trembling with exhaustion and at last turn
as if unwed, to that silence between us.
D. Nurkse, SHADOW WARS (Hanging Loose Press,
1988), ISOLATION IN
ACTION (State Street
Press, 1988), Staggered
Lights (Owl Creek Press, 1990);
VOICES OVER WATER (Four Way Books
1998); LEAVING XAIA (Four
Way Books, 2000), THE RULES OF PARADISE (Four Way Books,
2001); THE FALL: POEMS
(Knopf, September 2002).
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