The Wrack Line
Paul Perry
I
came to the end of the line
Then,
I imagined a line in poetry called the wrack-line
The
poems unhinged themselves
They
fed other things …
Wrack
line - the line of debris left on the beach by high tide
The
high tide of the poem – the rhetorical consciousness of self-hood. The lyric I
The
cul de sac of the first person
The
debris – its linguistic release, the shed skin of parole. The what now, forget,
this is what I meant to say, but did not say …
On
beaches the wrack line is what the birds, turtles, crabs, shells and worms eat
Unhinge
the poem, let it fly
Speaking
it, reading, reciting, singing and performing does this
I
read once that all language is metaphor
I
believed that. On some days, (Sundays) I still do
I
once wrote all poetry is performance – it still stands
I
think of Maura Soshin O’Halloran
I
use words of from her letters and diaries and make poems with them – sometimes
I change very little
It’s
a form of prayer / of care / of worship to the sanctity of life
Her
sister contacted me. That’s beautiful, she said. That was a blessing
I
once spoke with C.D. Wright in her office about poetry. I was a teenager. I
asked her so many questions, that when I stopped, she said, well that’s a lot
of questions, then she spoke to me about improvisation in poetry
Try
not to be Seamus Heaney, she said. There already is a Seamus Heaney
After
this, I wrote a poem which was small, and did not try to save the world
None
of my poems need to sound like me
There
is no me
I
constantly misunderstand people. I imagine they do me too
Peter
Bichsel’s Ein Tisch ist Ein Tisch has stayed with me for 40 years. The
arbitrariness of language – vielleicht
Every
poem is an elegy
How
does one contain silence in poetry? This is a real question
People
mean different things by poetry
Poetry
is also about one’s relationship to the world vis a vis language, and silence
When
I listen to music, I don’t wonder what it means
Poetry
is a form of music
Leave
meaning to the critics
I
love for / look for the leaps between words, the magnetic aura of meaning they
attract and repel … it’s a volatile game by which lives are made, saved, and
endured … when I say meaning, I mean metaphor, and when I say metaphor, I mean
something else
You
get the drift ….
And
this is the wrack-line … one of my first memories is of a harbour wall in
Ballyconneely and hundreds of crabs crawling from their harbour walls
This
was before the digital revolution
There
is a poetry of before and after – I think we’re somewhere in between now, and
if I close my eyes I can see on that beach the digital wrack-line - it’s made
up of migrants and natives, and the noise sounds something like the waves
breaking on that Connemara beach forty plus years ago
Paul
Perry, June 23rd, 2020
Paul Perry is
the author of 5 full length collections of poetry including Gunpowder Valentine: New and Selected Poems and the above/ground press chapbooks The Ghosts of Barnacullia (2019) and BLINDSIGHT (September, 2020). A
recent recipient of the Patrick and Katherine Kavanagh Fellowship, he is also a
novelist. He directs the creative Writing Programme at UCD in Dublin, Ireland.
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