Archive

Monthly Archives: April 2018

Over the past few days, I read May Swenson’s first book of poetry, Another Animal. Having just written about Ashbery’s use of an extended “ocean of language” metaphor, I cannot resist also writing about Swenson’s take on a similar theme, in her poem “Stony Beach”. Here is the poem:

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Stony Beach

. . . . . . . . . . . . . The sea like Demosthenes’ mouth
. . . . . . . . . . . . champs upon these stones
. . . . . . . . . . . whose many stumblings make him suave
. . . . . . . . . . The argument molded monotonously by all his lips
. . . . . . . . . in a parliament of overlappings
. . . . . . . . is vocal but incomprehensible because never finished

. . . . . . . Listen listen there is nothing to learn from the sea
. . . . . . Listen he is lucid in sound only
. . . . . convinces with broken phrases that wizardly
. . . . the waves round out a rune over riddling stones

. . . Beginning again and again with a great A
. . a garbeled alphabet he lisps and groans
. The insistent eloquence of echoes
has no omega

The sea is likened immediately to Demosthenes, the famous Greek statesmen and orator. Importantly, he is said to have overcome a speech impediment by forcing himself to speak with stones in his mouth. Thus, in the first two lines, we are presented with a sea that is attempting to say something but struggling to say it. Swenson captures the repetitiousness of these exercises with some choice alliteration (on ‘m’) and consonance (on ‘l’)—“The argument molded monotonously by all his lips”—as if the poem itself (or at least this line) were the sea speaking.

Whereas Demosthenes went on to great success, his exercises having worked to great effect, with the sea it is different. His voice is a “parliament of overlappings” (what an image!) that never quite becomes comprehensible because it is never finished. “Listen listen there is nothing to learn from the sea”, the second stanza tells us, and indeed there is nothing to learn from these exercises, whose content doesn’t matter. They are “lucid in sound only”. The last line of the stanza confirms this by exemplifying it: “the waves round out a rune over riddling stones”. Once again we get the impression that the sea is speaking, that the poem is the sea’s practice.

It is fitting, then, that the third stanza sees both the sea and the poem “Beginning again”—beginning and always beginning, never finishing. “The insistent eloquence of echoes / has no omega”. Meaning, oration, is never reached.

Advertisements

Third post in a series on John Ashbery’s long poem, “A Wave”, covering stanzas 6-8. Previous posts:

Stanzas 1-3
Stanzas 4-5

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

In these three stanzas, Ashbery captures the interplay of freedom and captivity, as here, in the eighth stanza:

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . By so many systems
As we are involved in, by just so many
Are we set free on an ocean of language that comes to be
Part of us, as though we would ever get away.

On the one hand there are the “systems… we are involved in” and from which, we learn by the end of the sentence, we can’t really escape; on the other hand it is precisely through these systems that we are “set free on an ocean of language”. With this image, Ashbery picks up on a metaphor he began developing two stanzas earlier. There, in discussing how “a mixed surface is revealed,” Ashbery likens the situation to “rocks at low tide”. We learn:

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And the mind
Is the beach on which the rocks pop up, just a neutral
Support for them in their indignity.

The simile of the rocky beach has been literalized, at least in the sense that it is found a continued existence outside of the original context of its invocation. At the same time, it has not quite become real, but merely a different metaphor, now for the mind. The rocks, perhaps, are thoughts—something, at least, for which the mind is the substrate.

In this light, we can better understand the “ocean of language” from stanza eight. We see our minds as touching on only the edge of language. “[T]he waves talk to us, / Preparing dreams we’ll have to live with and use”, but the center, the source of these waves, remains beyond us. Perhaps we are also to imagine ourselves as separate beaches, communicating across this center that remains equally inaccessible to all of us. Who can say what happens to our meanings in the meantime?

So much for the ocean of language. What of the systems that involve us, and that by so involving us set us free on this ocean? I take them to be systems of meaning and purpose—including, therefore, the very mind-as-beach, ocean-as-language metaphor I’ve been discussing. But there is another central metaphor in these stanzas, that of games. Here, for instance, are the opening lines of stanza 7:

I think all games and disciplines are contained here,
Painting, as they go, dots and asterisks that
We force into meanings that don’t concern us
And so leave us behind.

Games (and disciplines) are here portrayed as generators of meanings, meanings that we do not control and that “leave us behind”—like a retreating wave, perhaps. Later, Ashbery suggests that the game’s purpose is revealed only “at the moment / Another player broke one of the rules”, though, cagily, Ashbery only allows that “You thought you perceived a purpose in the game”, and not that a purpose was in fact found.

In the above paragraphs, we’ve seen two metaphors interlink and take on lives of their own, lives that extend beyond any fixed, initial meaning. In this way, even as he describes how language escapes us, is not fully our possession, Ashbery exemplifies it.