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I've been an admirer of Peter Dent's poetry for some years
now and have been anticipating a new collection with relish. Tripping
Daylight certainly doesn't disappoint,
from a first viewing of its wonderfully harmonised cover - a fusing of the
'abstract' and the 'natural', very germane to the book's content - to a
gradual unfolding of the material itself, split into three sections, each
being presented as tight formal structures, each poem discrete yet having
association and resonance with those in its company. If there's a general
comment I could make about this book it's that there's a greater sense of
anxiety underlying these 'fractured narratives' than I've noticed in Dent's
work before. I imagine that the causes for this are both personal and public
and the 'times that we live in', to rehabilitate a ripe cliche, certainly
intrude into the textures and content of this intriguing writing.
The first section, 'Tripping Daylight', is made up of 80 14-line blocks, with
a substitute for line-breaks indicated by spaces between phrases and sections
of sentences. In this respect and in terms of its jagged lyrical
disconnections, I'm reminded of Nathan Thompson's recent work. These poems
have the feel of a silent monologue, the mind embracing thoughts and
materials 'imposed' from without, the detritus of the day encapsulated in
snippets of language, including the clichˇd and the fresh, which meshed
together into this well-balanced and texturally harmonious whole give the
impression of being 'smoothed-out', even where, as I've suggested, there is
often an abruptness or sharp change of gear:
Not that this
morning's light is too intense. I
have a scheme
that interests itself in 'desirable'
structure' in
evocations of a promising site
illusion is
proving less than useful
no security
no substance
I know of can help the sequence
forward the plot if it really is
a plot excites
more fear
than hope I'm
presently unprepared
to entertain
such a climb ..............
(from '2')
The 'aboutness' of this writing is, of course, unknowable. There's a
suggestion of a project about to be attempted, a journey - whether in the
mind or in 'actuality' - to be planned, yet there's a fearfulness about the
enterprise, which may be a self-reflective comment on the nature of artistic
creation or perhaps a more 'solipsistic' withdrawal from the 'world out
there', based on a not unreasonable anxiety related to news items and/or
information overload. We don't know, yet there's an intriguing element to
this uncertainty, which sends the reader into a space of his/her own,
creating or projecting imaginative fictions into the gaps which Dent hasn't
filled in. I'm reminded of the somewhat paranoid and claustrophobic world of
Kafka's short story 'The Burrow', and the last line of this poem refutes such
a determined and 'closed-down' ending as might have been expected:
'I shall
scale the great unseen'.
(from '2')
There are references to light - hinting at the book's title - and to
paintings and to the artefacts and procedures surrounding the life of a
painter/visual artist which also imply a more expansive environment, if an
'artificial' one, and also suggestions of a more carefree attitude - 'a lazy
Summer's day kept endings/quiet' - yet there's also a calculated vagueness, a
distancing process, sometimes underlined by the use of 'reported thought':
Did he go to
the attic often am I
meant to say?
his last word
as I have it is surely the perfect
introduction
'tomorrow's done' with boxes like
no one's
business all unsealed
did he mean to
pry I
wondered though he
never meant to hide
there was
seldom a page where all was said less
signed a still air a musty invitation to
settle ....
(from '36')
which again builds up a backdrop of mystery and an almost claustrophobic
sense of quiet unease. You can build your own narrative into the gaps as Dent
gives the reader the space and permission to do so.
Part 2 - 'Arithmetic &
Colour', is made up of 7-liners, 3 to a page, and has a slightly more active
feel, somewhat frenzied yet also evoking the landscapes of a De Chirico or
the game-playing descriptions of Paul Auster. There's a more foregrounded
sense of wordplay here, which creates a different mood and for this reader,
at least, made the poems easier to engage with in a less cerebral, more
playful manner:
Brand leader
or companion in arms?
out in the
square he did
everything he was told
hard as it
was he
remembered carrying favours
to safety
to the last
affray as his lady smiled
but streets
were deserted
and his dissertation left much to
desire how unrehearsed it was
yet how sweetly
bought her colours captured a
likeness to like
(from '36')
The overt use of alliteration - deserted, dissertation, desire, together with
the possible intentional play on 'currying favour' (sometimes unintended puns
are as good as those which are intended) creates an environment which is more
open to speculative creation and the reader really comes into his/her own. We
are also invited, it seems to me, to ponder the possible origins of phrases
such as 'how unrehearsed it was yet how sweetly/bought', which feels more
like a lifted, or partially lifted phrase, as does 'to safety/to the last
affray as his lady smiled' and adds a possible hint of the 'incongruous'
-'his lady smiled' - which seems like something borrowed from the realms of
courtly love.
The final section, entitled 'Theatre', has titles rather than numbers and
each poem is made up of quatrains, with, in most cases, a final single line.
This heightening of the 'artificial' formal constraint points openly to the
poem as a constructed game and once again, there's a strong sense of 'the
visual' within these pieces - painting appears to be an activity which is of
some importance to Peter Dent:
Pestered on
and off through the night by patches
of moonlight
and changes of angle
it's not the
first time a
still life has got the better there is
much more
serious industry under a cloud for
The life of
me presenting tokens
cracks no ice
nor does a
waking dream when dark things out
of nowhere
get in first!
conspiracies?
I can't
say I've given them
a chance still my
daytime
Has a way of
engineering thought
which come
a certain mix
of habits can set me up
have you
seen it yet? the yellow half-light or
that silver
stream? all conscious matter is a
man's delight ...
Of
thunder or who is it
out there under trees?
(from 'Disappearances')
The hinting at a mix of registers here is intriguing. This poem almost reads
as an updated Shakespeare soliloquy, where the villain/protagonist is racked
with guilt and doubt yet plotting further dire machinations. How much, if
any? of this poem has been directly lifted. I'm unsure but its pictorial
ruses and Dent's suggestion of the artificial and the dramatic ('Theatre')
combine intriguingly with a more introverted sense of withdrawal and
obsessive reading. I found these poems fascinating, not always a comfortable
read but engaging and thought-provoking and thoroughly stimulating in a
variety of ways. Excellent.
© Steve
Spence 2012
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