Thanks for this subject heading Ric,
you're bang on with this urging
and it's part of what registers Raworth and Cobbing as key
figures in contemporary British Poetry. Their works
make connections, even though in 'Tracking (notes)' Tom
writes that - 'the connections (or connectives) no longer work'.
It reminds me of how useful Robert Sheppard's, deceptively
simple, idea of 'linkage' has become. Tom develops techniques
for linkage. His work, every bit as significantly as Prynne
(again not to deny or decry his output), and as Cobbing
gives a substantial learning ground. Of course when he says
that the connectives no
longer work he's indexing his own profound sociality as much
as discussing linguistics and poetics.
Raworth's music has poise, pivotal swerve. His lines form threads
to stitch the pulped edifice of the page.
They network, cross-over between discreet art-from practices
(ok, i'm not going off on that route again), have a porous
generosity to many worlds. Between the raw and the cooked,
they are busying preparing a feast.
When Robin, in a positive advocacy I respect but question
the means of, says:
>There`s just more to say about CONTENT in Prynne
i go into the yard, toss all of my toy soldiers over the fence
yet again. Sorry, just a way of expressing exasperation
with binarised denial. Maybe i'm a lost cause - too much 'Jabberwocky'
at bedtime, too many potions in my bubble bath. Maybe I should
be more discerning in those experiences to which i admit entry.
Again from 'Tracking (notes)' - 'the true direction is always
a glancing off - there must be an out - all truth is not
CONTAINED in the language: it BUILDS the language'
One site on which languages are built is the book. One of
the spurs to the fascination of a collection of work.
Robin, what I meant by that old chestnut wasn't that you mentioned Form or
and / or Content exactly - but that they were expressed as in some ways
binaries, let alone that within that binary Content was in receipt
of priveledge. Such binaries are difficult to sustain in shorthand.
Let alone -
That's why I wanted to discuss the book - as an environment,
with a curated ecology of materials. Sounding horribly like
Modernist art crit i know. But I'm not suggesting a given book
is simply paratext or peritext let alone text. Certainly not
that one can impose Freudian or Marxist or Christian trinaries in
relation to the same. These infra-textualities combine to
construct 'a' book. Wherefore do the form and content
begin and end? How can they be anything other than interactive
within and without that environment?
One clue to sensitivities is the appropriateness of the
inter-relation between the elements of this environment.
Prynne's work is, to this reader, inappropriately served
by Agneau 2. It is a bad translation in effect.
With such complexities at work i merely meant that rather
than chuck the form and content out with the salt and pepper
we consider the caboodle in a more tenderising detail.
lost in woods
love and love
cris
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