|Old entries. What is this? Links. Mail.|
I often yearn to capture my experiences as a listener of music in writing. And not just the sometimes-flat prose of the essayist or aesthetician: poetry. I believe that the best moments I experience as a listener are somehow similar to those I experience as a reader, so it's a matter of appropriateness: poetry to describe poetry, really.
Understandably, I find it hard to do this. I'm not a poet and at the moment I have no great desire to be (I don't mind beind poetic, though, in my prose, when I can).
Imagine my delight, then, to find that William Carlos Williams did, kind of, just this. By chance I opened volume II of his collected poems to a page just a bit after 'Pictures from Breughel' (which also fits in here, so perhaps more on it later), to find, in poetic form:
I think there are more, too.
I say that Williams did what I want to do, but I'm not sure. Perhaps subtly so. On the surface he appears to have simply made critical comments, the kind usually made in prose, with poetry instead. But Williams consorted briefly with the imagists, and favored similar techniques. He was interested in presenting images ("no ideas but in things") which would allow the effect (emotional? intellectual?) associated with the image (as a "complex") to simply take effect in the reader. Or, at least, the imagists were interested. Williams moved away from them a bit (he had to, to support the larger and more complex ideas, with more complex structure), but I think this fairly describes something of his approach as well. The way he makes these critical observations, then, might carry something of his own reaction to the play or painting.
See also this intriguing agglomeration of things about the visual arts, Williams, and Frank O'Hara.
With that said, I currently have no other comment on these, except to show them, and some other nice poems of Williams', to you.
on seeing my own play
versations with my
in the play but who will
the serious aspects of
dint of learning the lines
his face aglow openmouthed
- as in Gauguin's The Loss of Virginity -
the nude body, unattended save by a watchful
there she lies on her back in an open field,
very unrelatedness it enhances the impact
as for him who
you did not
Maybe it's his wife
to a petty police officer
was far from official
THIS IS JUST TO SAY
I have eaten
And to think, I was considering doing this myself.