Nr. 2 (19) anul VI / aprilie-iunie 2008 - ROMDIDAC

Nr. 2 (19) anul VI / aprilie-iunie 2008 - ROMDIDAC Nr. 2 (19) anul VI / aprilie-iunie 2008 - ROMDIDAC

26.10.2014 Views

Dustbowl growl, the song interminable, inept. Should he Sing another? The eyes roll their half-hearted yes. The nurse grits her teeth, stubs out the cigarette. Although it employs the indirect speech, the sonnet stages Guthrie’s point of view alternated with the one of the speaker as a classic (i.e., omniscient, omnipresent) story-teller save for the Dylan character whose own perspective is opaque to the speaker. In this respect, the syncopated tone and jagged sentences are so much the more illustrative of Guthrie’s condition, hardly gasping, with discontinuous reactions and thoughts. But no matter how impaired, the established musician’s senses and judgment are 100% focused (for lack of anything else if not for another better reason) on the young, just emerging, but still awkward artist. This centrality and attention monopolizing presence of a younger person reminds me of a classical sonnet, written in a perfect Shakespearian form (– crossed rhymes and a final rhyming couplet – whereas Wojahn’s one ‘kind of’ sticks to those rules and is perfect in manipulating the imperfections of the deft inspirational slant-rhymes) – a sonnet of Shakespeare himself, number 75: So are you to my thoughts as food to life, Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground; And for the peace of you I hold such strife As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found; Now proud as an enjoyer and anon Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure, Now counting best to be with you alone, Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure; Sometime all full with feasting on your sight And by and by clean starved for a look; Possessing or pursuing no delight, Save what is had or must from you be took. Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, Or gluttoning on all, or all away. If we read Wojahn’s sonnet as a postmodern replica of the Shakespearean one, or better, a translation of it into the language of fin-de-siècle pop culture, we could discover relevant correspondences. The nurse may be read now as the surrounding society that made the Shakespearian speaker fear he could get “better’d that the world may see my pleasure,” and then the apparent reluctance of Guthrie to receive or listen to the young Dylan may be interpreted as a postmodern reenactment of the Renaissance poet’s oscillation between glutting on the vigorous presence of the younger companion and abstaining from indulging in such devouring pleasure. The “eyes [that] roll their halfhearted yes” in the last but one line of Wojahn’s poem speak for themselves in that very respect. But still, the Guthrie in the latter poet’s sonnet is the speaker in Shakespeare’s one gone beyond that initial ‘innocent’ vacillation – the Zeitgeist itself is now one of deep fatigue, lingering malaise and solipsistic seclusion, so that the Renaissance sensual miserliness clings now only to the remaining breaths, while the hedonistic gluttony has shrunk meanwhile into just hardly hearing two songs that echo a possible fulfillment. Caught -- the bubble in the spirit level, Ex Ponto nr.2, 2008 123

a creature divided; and the compass needle wobbling and wavering, undecided. Freed -- the broken thermometer's mercury running away; and the rainbow-bird from the narrow bevel of the empty mirror, flying wherever it feels like, gay! Ex Ponto nr.2, 2008 I find this “Sonnet” by Elizabeth Bishop (Bishop, 192), written in 1978, most probably the last poem she ever wrote, also quite appropriate for our discussion. The speaker here sounds again as an older artist now focusing on her own despondency and not admiring, worshipping or even missing/ (non) responding to a younger one – more beautiful and alluring in Shakespeare, promising but awkwardly green in Wojahn – but just trying to escape the tribulations of old age and advancing weakness through the liberating liveliness of inner gaiety/ gay sexuality. The apparent autism or at least lack of reactions in the Guthrie of Wojahn’s sonnet is here the solipsistic monologizing self of the poem’s speaker, who breaks free from the empty mirror to the youth of the other – an ‘other’ indirectly announced but impetuously embraced by the concluding part of the sonnet. Bishop’s is itself a fascinating rock poem, not in the sense of evoking any star in the music or the speaker’s personal memories and experiences related to rock, but in the way in which it handles a classic form by imbuing it with a fractured imagery, jagged and edgy rhythms and apparent carelessness regarding balance in equations like tone with/ against diction. These latter qualities are very close to the most remarkable accomplishments in the ‘rock poetry proper’ like for (a rare) instance the posthumous writings of Jim Morrison that I am going to look very closely to in a special chapter. What I pinpointed above as crude relationship between tone and diction has also been approached by Charles Altieri in briefly commenting upon the same poem of Bishop in a study introducing his expressivist theory of the affects. To Altieri the exclamation shifts the poem from commentary on what it might take to be “gay” to a concrete identification with what the poem firstly advances as rather pertaining to a realm of contemplation or, as the thinker calls it, speculation. And that mark of exclamation rending the already rugged surface of what I would call rather allegoric than speculative discourse, allows the poem “to register the kind of willing that may be basic to gaiety, willing based not on acts of judgment but on the expansiveness created by how intentionality finds itself taking hold in particular situations.” (Altieri, 14). A great representative of the same generation of Bishop, Robert Lowell also wrote an “Ezra Pound” sonnet that speaks about the impaired dialogue between old age and younger spirit suggestively evoked by the roughly six-beat lines arrayed in colloquial “musical phrases,” along the portrayed master’s legendary guidelines, also indulging in an apparently careless and yet brazen sequences of slant rhymes; only this time, unlike in the poem above we encounter two ‘real’ characters, more like in Wojahn’s poem about Guthrie and Dylan: 124

a creature divided;<br />

and the compass needle<br />

wobbling and wavering,<br />

undecided.<br />

Freed -- the broken<br />

thermometer's mercury<br />

running away;<br />

and the rainbow-bird<br />

from the narrow bevel<br />

of the empty mirror,<br />

flying wherever<br />

it feels like, gay!<br />

Ex Ponto nr.2, <strong>2008</strong><br />

I find this “Sonnet” by Elizabeth Bishop (Bishop, <strong>19</strong>2), written in <strong>19</strong>78,<br />

most probably the last poem she ever wrote, also quite appropriate for our<br />

discussion. The speaker here sounds again as an older artist now focusing on<br />

her own despondency and not admiring, worshipping or even missing/ (non)<br />

responding to a younger one – more beautiful and alluring in Shakespeare,<br />

promising but awkwardly green in Wojahn – but just trying to escape the<br />

tribulations of old age and advancing weakness through the liberating liveliness<br />

of inner gaiety/ gay sexuality. The apparent autism or at least lack of reactions<br />

in the Guthrie of Wojahn’s sonnet is here the solipsistic monologizing self<br />

of the poem’s speaker, who breaks free from the empty mirror to the youth<br />

of the other – an ‘other’ indirectly announced but impetuously embraced by<br />

the concluding part of the sonnet. Bishop’s is itself a fascinating rock poem,<br />

not in the sense of evoking any star in the music or the speaker’s personal<br />

memories and experiences related to rock, but in the way in which it handles<br />

a classic form by imbuing it with a fractured imagery, jagged and edgy rhythms<br />

and apparent carelessness regarding balance in equations like tone with/<br />

against diction. These latter qualities are very close to the most remarkable<br />

accomplishments in the ‘rock poetry proper’ like for (a rare) instance the<br />

posthumous writings of Jim Morrison that I am going to look very closely to<br />

in a special chapter.<br />

What I pinpointed above as crude relationship between tone and diction<br />

has also been approached by Charles Altieri in briefly commenting upon the<br />

same poem of Bishop in a study introducing his expressivist theory of the<br />

affects. To Altieri the exclamation shifts the poem from commentary on what<br />

it might take to be “gay” to a concrete identification with what the poem firstly<br />

advances as rather pertaining to a realm of contemplation or, as the thinker<br />

calls it, speculation. And that mark of exclamation rending the already rugged<br />

surface of what I would call rather allegoric than speculative discourse, allows<br />

the poem “to register the kind of willing that may be basic to gaiety, willing<br />

based not on acts of judgment but on the expansiveness created by how<br />

intentionality finds itself taking hold in particular situations.” (Altieri, 14).<br />

A great representative of the same generation of Bishop, Robert Lowell<br />

also wrote an “Ezra Pound” sonnet that speaks about the impaired dialogue<br />

between old age and younger spirit suggestively evoked by the roughly<br />

six-beat lines arrayed in colloquial “musical phrases,” along the portrayed<br />

master’s legendary guidelines, also indulging in an apparently careless and<br />

yet brazen sequences of slant rhymes; only this time, unlike in the poem<br />

above we encounter two ‘real’ characters, more like in Wojahn’s poem about<br />

Guthrie and Dylan:<br />

124

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