ALLEN BRAMHALL Reviews
Green
Oil by Jean Donnelly
(Further Other Book Works, Austin, TX, 2014)
Here is a
strikingly lovely book developed by program. I only know that Jean Donnelly used a
program by reading the preface. You need not carry that programming kernel in
your mind as you read. The poems exist on their own plane. I first wrote plain:
that works too.
Donnelly's
program includes performing homophonic translation of work by Francis Ponge.
That's how Louis and Celia Zukofsky produced their Catullus. Maybe Catullus
was the catalyst for this book. Anybody???
Donnelly
claims not to know French pronunciation (I assume the Zukofskys knew how to
pronounce and perhaps to read Latin). A skew then, my guess, enters Donnelly's
'translation'.
The result
of her effort proves surprisingly supple. I did in fact see grenouille
(French for frog) in the book's title. That's the title of Ponge's work that
Donnelly worked from. I have not read Ponge.
None of
which matters except to the author. I mean, readers can spend too much time
wondering how they got somewhere rather than where they have arrived. What are
the poems like?
It looks
like Donnelly exclusively utilizes two line verses. The lines are often quite
curt. You might think of Cid Corman, Tom Raworth, or others who keep the
metronome ticking downward (the eye, unslowed by lengthy lines, wants to move
down the page). Such formatting choices can lead to scanning but here at least
the verse nuggets themselves possess sufficient gravity to hold the eye.
Here is a
poem from the first section, “atoms”. Otherview: this could be a section from
the poem “atom”. Each page has 10-30
words neatly arranged in verses, call it what you will.
brutal objects
imbue
dawn with sense
on justice
they gorge
savor &
jettison
meaning
Lack of
punctuation allows multiple flowers. Take the first verse as statement, her
lines let you see it thus. You can think about that statement. Do brutal
objects imbue? What's a brutal object?
Reading
further, you can see the second verse completing a sentence begun by the first
verse: brutal objects imbue dawn with sense on justice. It dawns on me
that the second verse can be a reply to the first, to wit: When
brutal objects imbue try dawning with your sense on justice.
My point
isn't that I've figured out the author's message, it's that the coterie of
words will shift according to your eyes. I am not reviewing this work, I am
viewing it.
The short
verses stand discretely, tho of course you can read them sequentially. This
one, page 34, in the section/poem “the tear” (how you pronounce the noun changes
the meaning):
our voices pour
the present
not simply
to park
what is demur
but to seat
the soul
a chair
in a house
of sunlight
that pours
from our feet
I might not have thought it had I not
known Donnelly's method but I see pour as the French word meaning for.
But pouring voices also resides. Not simply to park what is demur but to
seat the soul. To me, an invisible comma follows soul, leading to a
definition of it: a chair in a house of sunlight that pours from our feet. I'm
just trying to follow the words here. No, I didn't do a lot of acid in the day.
I think I'm showing or illustrating
how these strangely-gathered words cohere. Your mileage may vary, but I'm
pretty sure you will get mileage.
An interesting design effect occurs
with the title page of each section. The right hand page before the section
begins bears a grey mirror image of the section title. The left page following
has the title reading from the front. So a suggestion of the backside of words.
Huhn!
*****
Re. Allen Bramhall: A diminishing flow of poems, a continuing insistence in watching superhero movies with my son, an increasing interest in the healing, lifebound elation of creativity, and some websites:
Generally cheerful.
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