|
|
Stephen Emmerson is another poet whose work I've not seen
before and I was very pleased to come across his material in this short and
splendidly condensed volume. These are thirteen line poems (sonnets?), each
looking very similar, where the 'content' is embraced by 'the form' and where
snippets of language - bits of overheard conversation?, inner thoughts,
received phrases, often slightly shifted but retaining resonance - come
together in jewelled patternings to produce writing which is strangely
satisfying and demands to be read at a gallop. At least that's how I
approached the work first time around, after which I read through the poems
again more slowly. What to make of stanzas like this:
The more
cultured you are, the
less culture
you have. Living like
this is
costing you your insides. So
drastically
aware of your body,
John Lee
Hooker /
mindless
telephone. Two to one
that we miss
it. I know one that starts
again in an
hour - just walk away &
it's
criminal. You can't expect
sorry to
catch up with the half of it.
Remember when
I thought my arm was
a text?
Cannot adapt (either way), is it
daylight
where you are? Yet?
(page 19)
Each poem works as a discrete object although I am sure there are overlapping
concerns which resonate on re-reading. What I most like about these pieces is
that the reader can create his/her own narrative within the gaps and this can
vary on subsequent readings - the potential of these poems is therefore
endless. The first two lines provide the basis for an argument, followed by
the abrupt shift to 'Living like this...', yet the 'feel' of the transition is
that of a mind talking to itself, transposed from 'inner voice' to 'text on
the page' and grammatically re-jigged for the purpose. 'So drastically aware
of your body,' implies a degree of follow-on from the previous sentence, then
we are projected into the jump-cut of 'John Lee Hooker' (which made me laugh)
and into the following stanza, where, after several readings, the 'mindless
telephone' seems a perfectly natural follow-through from 'John Lee Hooker'.
There's a strangely satisfying vagueness to the second stanza - what exactly
is being referred to here? - which is suggestive rather than descriptive and
which gives the reader room to move and play. This poetry is extremely
playful, in fact. Once again, there's a potential connection (or connections)
between ....'it's criminal.' and 'You can't expect / sorry to catch up with the
half of it.' which leads you into another thought train -'Remember when I
thought my arm was / a text?' which throws up a whole new load of
possibilities and poses different questions - the action of the arm in the
act of writing, perhaps, the arm as used by an actor in a form of silent
communication or mime? Plus the jolt of memory - 'Remember', referring back
to something which has happened. The nature of history and of being in the
present is a dialectic which is constantly being played with throughout this
short collection, in fact. The celerity of the shifts in the last two lines
is another indication of the playfulness of this writing and the elegantly
poised last word - 'Yet', which adds to the previous line, is both conclusive
and open-ended.
The disconnections and unusual juxtapositions in these poems build up to the
point where they feel perfectly 'natural' and the balancing of the texture of
the language - a major part of the art and indeed, artifice, here, is what
makes them so good, I think. There's a smoothness to these repeated patterns
and 'shifts' which is very effective and I can only say again that I enjoyed
reading these pieces and look forward to reading more work from this interesting
and 'new to me' poet.
©
Steve Spence 2015
|