NEWS, NEWS, READ ALL ABOUT IT: ANNIE BUNDLED OUT OF HARRIET!


Off with her head!” the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody moved.

“Who cares for you?” said Alice (she had grown to her full size by this time). “You’re nothing but a pack of cards!”

At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon her; she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and tried to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face.

~

Robert Burns and J.D.Salinger have indeed been blathered, and despite Annie Finch’s best intentions, both on Harriet and Scarriet, and our own attempt to bridge the divide as well (we were yet again deleted for our efforts!), Harriet remains in the dumps, otherwise known as denial.

Here’s what Harriet sounded like last summer:

Great to see this here, posted ipso facto in honor not only of of Salinger’s deathday but also of Robbie Burns’ birthday two days earlier–for those who don’t know, a huge national and global celebration of the poet and of Scotland. It’s one of my favorite Burns poems (I have another posted for the occasion at my blog AmericanWitch http://annieridleycranefinch.blogspot.com/)

This has one of the best singing tunes of any of his poems imho, and it is one of the relatively few where female sexuality is celebrated in its own right..it really feels like a poem that could have been written by Jenny herself, coming through dew-wet fields early in the morning to slip into bed after a night out. Thanks, Travis!

POSTED BY: ANNIE FINCH ON JANUARY 31, 2010 AT 11:37 AM

This is, in fact, a comment Annie Finch posted on Harriet a week ago in a vain effort not only to make a discussion on Burns and Salinger more relevant but to breathe some life back into the moribund Poetry Foundation community.

And did she succeed? Did she strike a chord, arouse some enthusiasm for poetry, get some rewarding feedback?

Hardly. The following is the only subsequent comment after Annie Finch’s generous, warm, independent and sexy brave effort:

Just because Salinger died.

Stephen

POSTED BY: STEPHEN STURGEON ON FEBRUARY 1, 2010 AT 1:28 PM

In other words, a good kick up the backside!

~

And as if that weren’t 52 Pickup enough, here’s the latest spectacle in The Poetry Foundation’s limelight, yes, right up there to welcome you on Blog:Harriet’s masthead. And you bet how Travis Nichols is glad-handing the regulars —  tailors, courtiers, and suckers!

FRED MOTEN
5
At circle time on Thursday, Lorenzo declared that when he makes smores for Julian (which I wasn’t aware that he’d ever done) he makes them with bricks, sticks and snow.

CONTINUE READING THIS ENTRY » 02.06.10 PERMALINK | NO COMMENTS

FRED MOTEN
4
A lot of it is just trying to figure out how to say something. How to read. Not how to offer a reading, or even an interpretation, but a performance of a text, in the face of its unintelligibility, as if one were forced/privileged to access some other world where representation and unrepresentability were beside the point, so that the response to the terrors and chances of history were not about calculation, not bound to replicate, even in a blunted and ethically responsible way, the horrors of speculation, where new materialities of imagination were already on the other side of the logic of equivalence.

CONTINUE READING THIS ENTRY » 02.06.10 PERMALINK | NO COMMENTS

FRED MOTEN
B 3
Dear Evie,

Remember when we read together in November, and afterwards you asked me about a particular poem of mine, and seemed to wonder, rightly, why my reading of it didn’t acknowledge or account for the spacing of/in the poem? I figured that question was a statement and you were right. Philip’s theater is this fragmentation of the sentence and the word, where every fragmentation is also an augmentation, bespeaking multiplicity.

CONTINUE READING THIS ENTRY » 02.06.10 PERMALINK | NO COMMENTS

FRED MOTEN
Backlog 2
The commitment to repair is how a refusal to represent terror redoubles the logic of representation. The refusal of our ongoing afterlife can only ever replicate a worn-out grammar. The event remains, in the depths. The event-remains are deep and we stand before them, to express them, as their expression.

CONTINUE READING THIS ENTRY » 02.06.10 PERMALINK | NO COMMENTS

FRED MOTEN
Backlog
I didn’t stop logging, I just stopped posting. I think I got waterlogged from not being able not to try to get too deep. I got into some kind of double trouble from blowing bubbles, I guess. Anyway, here’s some more stuff, along the lines I promised, though I might want to make another promise now. The other thing is that this is driven by the chance to see some of Hong-An Truong’s film and installation work and from reading Gerald Barrax’s poetry and from a friend sending me the catalog from the Xenakis exhibit at the Drawing Center in New York. I just wanted to mention these not in order to provide the key to what I’ve been trying to write but just to commend them all to you because they are beautiful! As is Beth at the Jordan Lake School of the Arts, refuge for the new X-Men, where the superkids go to play. OK: back to my misbegotten ideas on poetics, in approximately 300 word installments.

CONTINUE READING THIS ENTRY » 02.06.10 PERMALINK | COMMENTS (1)

12 Comments

  1. thomasbrady said,

    February 7, 2010 at 1:17 pm

    Fred Moten is the Mad Hatter, obviously.

    Annie Finch as poor, frightened Alice, chased away by Harriet’s inane, ‘Mad Hatter’s Tea Party’ blather.

    Nicely done, Sacrriet.

  2. Christopher Woodman said,

    February 8, 2010 at 4:17 am

    Nobody’s asking about that “Comment (1).”

    Dear misbegotten, dear assembled, dear space/time device: welcome back to this temporary community, to which you are fundamental! — Harrieteer 2 (alphabetically).

    POSTED BY: BHANU KAPIL ON FEBRUARY 6, 2010 AT 5:38 PM

    “Leaf Blowers” — those suburban devices that most represent the futility of modern pride in the American back yard. And how they make the rest of the world, struggling to make ends meet, gape in wonder, laugh, and then turn away in disgust. Is this what life has come down to? Is this what all that money and education has achieved?

    The world is full of such an excess of leaves off winter trees, and when Alice wakes up from her dream her sister Annie brushes them away from her face.

    Just exactly like cards in ‘52 Pickup’ thrown in your face!

    And Bhanu Kapil is another one of those Contributing Writers paid by The Poetry Foundation to keep blowing the stuff in your face.

    And the Contributing Writers just keep talking to each other. Indeed, have you noticed what a high percentage of the comments are being written by members who are paid by the Foundation to post?

  3. thomasbrady said,

    February 8, 2010 at 7:51 pm

    If you remember, Bhanu Kapil was one of the poets listed in the Travis Nichols blog piece (Huffington Post) which we had fun with here at Scarriet (TRAVIS NICHOLS WARNS: LOUSY POETS WANT TO EXPERIMENT ON OUR BRAINS! ).

    Travis cut and pasted an unrelated NY Times article about brain research to supplement his straight-faced claim that obscure avant poetry in a manner new, exciting, and without precedent, directly affects the reader’s brain. A Bhanu Kapil poem was quoted. (My brain will never be the same.)

    Dishonest self-promotion by contemporary poets—in which the poet attempts to appear scientific—is the result of modernism pushing poetry into academia; poetry as the healthy interaction of amateurs in the garden of delicious fruit has been replaced by compartmentalized, professionalized pressures.

    Shortly afterwards, Bhanu became a contributing writer at Harriet—and boy, what a chatterbox. Travis must have thought she would push Harriet’s blog comments to new heights.

    Let the chit chat between contributing writers begin.

  4. Bhanu Kapil said,

    February 8, 2010 at 8:23 pm

    I read your words. I burn your sentences. I eat them in my milk, mashed up with a spoon. Nothing happens. Your poison is beautiful: so simply and rapidly transformed.

    • Christopher Woodman said,

      February 9, 2010 at 1:05 am

      Just get rid of that comma after “milk” and the adverbial ending on “simply” and you’ve got a pome!

      You see, you can do it, Bhanu, you can come out of the icebox and mean!

  5. thomasbrady said,

    February 8, 2010 at 9:47 pm

    Bhanu,

    What an orgy of mixed metaphor! Read, burn, eat, mash, nothing, poison, beautiful, transform.

    This post-modern fear of clarity bewilders me. If the reader is confused, the poet is wrong.

    I know what you’re getting at…you’re saying something akin to ‘sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,’ but even this simple exercise in figurative speech has perils, for we all know that words do hurt us.

    Thomas

  6. Wfkammann said,

    February 8, 2010 at 10:22 pm

    Bhanu,
    Try eating them with a fork and a glass of Scotch. You may die slower but with less pain.

  7. Bhanu Kapil said,

    February 9, 2010 at 2:40 am

    I know, commas always destroy everything I write. I can take it on the chin! What else? I was thinking of picking up a bottle of Glenlivet for hot toddies in the last part of winter when its all wet snow and dogs by the river.

    Also, one of my students today said, in the break: “Oh, my fork! I found it.” And by then I had read your comment, and wanted to take it off her! To test your thesis. Lick the tines, etc.

    Re: words. Hurting. You’re right, I think, when I think of wars beginning and marriages failing: not even the words so much, but their tonality. Their inflection. The accompanying non-verbal “signs.”

    • Wfkammann said,

      February 10, 2010 at 2:39 am

      When you write “lick the tines etc.” what else did you intend to do with the fork? Incidently, this fork was simply opposed to your spoon and has no lickable tines. Good Scotch is wasted on toddies but can ease the pain when the tines prick.

  8. February 9, 2010 at 8:33 am

    Bhanu,
    I began to write a response to your good comment, and it got completely out of hand and went rouge. Then it settled back down, got unpolitical, got it’s second wind, and ended up as an article. And of course it’s dedicated to you, and I hope very much you’ll want to respond.

    FOR BHANU KAPIL: ON TIME & ART DECO.

    Many thanks for your good will and humor!

    Christopher

  9. Christopher Woodman said,

    February 10, 2010 at 7:06 am

    Fred Moten is trying now to put an end to the conversation he started. And Sina Queyras has the affrontery to write:

    I think what the last thread was saying was simply, why not entertain this idea too? Truly entertain another idea. And leave some room for other voices out there to come and enter the conversation. I addressed this in my slow blogging post–the fact that those skilled commenters are often so deeply involved in their own debates there isn’t much room for other voices, new voices, to enter.

    Their are many more voices out there and many more shades to this conversation. It would be great to hear more perspectives.

    I don’t need anyone to agree, but listening would be good.

    POSTED BY: SINA QUEYRAS ON FEBRUARY 9, 2010 AT 9:15 AM

    SCARRIET exists because the Poetry Foundation Blog:Harriet editor, Travis Nichols, banned all the posters who weren’t part of his clique way back in September.

    Some community!

    Indeed, if you want to read what you’re not allowed to read on Harriet, try Scarriet. And do take notice that whenever we refer to Harriet we provide the specific URL, whereas every time anyone on Harriet refers to Scarriet it gets deleted!

    Christopher

  10. thomasbrady said,

    February 10, 2010 at 1:01 pm

    “And leave some room for other voices out there to come and enter the conversation. I addressed this in my slow blogging post–the fact that those skilled commenters are often so deeply involved in their own debates there isn’t much room for other voices, new voices, to enter.” –SINA Q. on Harriet

    This is complete foolishness. Writing is not speaking. This medium—sequential comments in writing—has NO cognizance of the old notions of “room for other voices, new voices” and those who prate on in this way are timid and ignorant. They need to retire to a cafe where they can whisper and giggle and rebuke and stroke each other’s ‘voices’ and give each other ‘room.’ They will be very happy there, I imagine, for the cafe-medium is different, and I imagine that will suit them.

    These types need to quit bringing their antiquated ideas to this new and exciting and democratic medium with their incessant whine: “leave some room for other voices…” This is nothing but grotesque manipulation by the insecure. Go read a book and learn something if you feel intimidated by on-line discussions. The problem is YOU. YOU don’t feel comfortable with the medium. Look, I dominate in this medium. And I’m the nicest, room-giving, soft-spoken, person in the world. I just have confidence in what I write.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 120 other followers

%d bloggers like this: