Ron Silliman: Pick of the Week [ed. Terence Winch]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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You – I

for Pat Silliman

Hard dreams. The moment at which you recognize that your own death lies in wait somewhere

within your body. A lone ship defines the horizon. The rain is not safe to drink.

 

In Grozny, in Bihac, the idea of history shudders with each new explosion. The rose lies

unattended, wild thorns at the edge of a mass grave. Between classes, over strong coffee,

young men argue the value of a pronoun.

 

When this you see, remember. Note in a bottle bobs in a cartoon sea. The radio operator’s

name is Sparks.

 

Hand outlined in paint on a brick wall. Storm turns playground into a swamp. Finally we spot

the wood duck on the middle lake.

 

The dashboard of my car like the keyboard of a piano. Toy animals anywhere.

 

Sun swells in the morning sky.

 

Man with three pens clipped to the neck of his sweatshirt shuffles from one table to the next,

seeking distance from the cold January air out the coffee house door, tall Styrofoam cup in one

hand, Of Grammatology in the other. Outside, a dog is tied to an empty bench, bike chained to

the No Parking sign.

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Ron Silliman has published 40 books and had his poetry and criticism translated into 19 languages. Among his awards are the 2010 Levinson Award from the Poetry Foundation, a Pew Fellowship, a Kelly Writers House Fellowship plus fellowships from the Pennsylvania and California Arts Councils and the National Endowments for the Arts. Silliman has a plaque in the walk dedicated to poetry in his home town of Berkeley and a sculpture in the Transit Center of Bury, Lancaster, a part of the Irwell Sculpture Trail. He teaches at the University of Pennsylvania. [See also this link.]

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Comments

[Don Berger]

What a remarkable experience it is to live inside the rhythms of these sentences, and to cover such detail of the world in the process. This poem is an uncompromising treatment of how the mind operates while also staying loyal to what's out there all around us. Kudos to Ron and thanks to Terence for bringing this poem to us today.

[Beth J.]

Ron's observations create a photograph in the mind-- a still moment made up of all kinds of action. A beauty. Thank you, Ron and Terence.

[gracecavalieri]

I've always been a follower. And look at the beauty of the long line where so much happens.

[Terence Winch]

Don: Thanks for the comment.

[Terence Winch]

Beth: Thanks for your comment.

[Bill Nevins]

Brilliant lines, each a trigger!
"Between classes, over strong coffee,
young men argue the value of a pronoun."
Yes, as in those well intentioned poet gatherings where each poet is encouraged to choose a pronoun, or not, and we humbly announce the ground upon which we write and declaim is "unceded", whatever that might mean in these troubles times.
Thanks for these sharp words, these clear puzzle- lines.

[Clarinda]

Thanks for this bracing poem! Needed it!
Cl

[Eileen]

Another wonderful dreamy poem. Love it.

[Chris Mason]

It is always great to read Silliman, whose perspective is both empathetic and critical. Always a good read.

[Peter Kearney]

I have read that this poem, You - Part One, is one of a collection of 52 poems, each one written over the space of a week, totaling a year for the entire poem. This poem has 7 parts, each part perhaps a meditation for each week day. If this poem took so long to write, perhaps we should not try too hard to discover connections of the various parts. To me, it was reassuring to read that Silliman was pleased with the comment of one reader who said this poetry is no more difficult than looking out a window.

[Summer Brenner]

A wonderful poem of objects and observation, and like him, you, and us:
"When this you see, remember."

[april havoc]

"When this you see, remember me": best line in the poem. It's Gertrude Stein's.