THE SENTENCE AND THE NAME

Out of the shadow the shadow came
With two things only: the sentence and the name.
No, it wasn’t yours, and that was a shame;
Still I have them written: the sentence and the name.

I walked up to you; you were shy and tame,
But soon it came down to the sentence and the name.
I wrote you a poem, but this was not your game.
Now I have just these: the sentence and a name.

You made yourself clear; difficulty’s not to blame;
I understood the sentence; I understood the name;
Now I understand you’re gone, lost, lost to fame!
By writing that one sentence, and affixing your dear name.

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11 Comments

  1. Aaron Asphar said,

    December 4, 2010 at 7:58 pm

    I’m personally not clear how people arn’t nausiated by this pat rhyme as much as I am. This rhyme is utter dead aesthetic tautology. It groans from one obvious staid trope to another. The free and frayed sensuous rhythms of ee commings whipes the flaw with this triumphantly forgettable crust of money, weakness and anachronistic cliche’s. You have educated me; I didn’t think the death throws of this kind of shit were still ‘throwing’. Ponce anyone?

  2. thomasbrady said,

    December 5, 2010 at 1:47 am

    anyhow town of the many fickle

    wind

    (blew everyone)

    down

    to love

    (what is it, love, to begin?)

    drugs

    we’ll score

    here at

    (Ezra’s!)

    door

  3. Noochness said,

    December 5, 2010 at 11:29 am

    Dear Ezra,

    You died. Class dismissed. All that noise.
    Well the Jews they’re still with us—
    one of ’em’s my worst enemy:
    me.
    My plot to dictate the economy goes badly.
    The elders screen my calls, ignore my counsel.
    And goyim look down their button noses
    at you, with your hypersonic booms and busts
    of meaning,
    oy! your screwball scholarship du jour.
    In their pacific eyes,
    you may
    be a bit of a Jew yourself.

    Your schoolgirl crush on Mussolini—
    poet’s tears on seaside sand,
    another day and no letter in return!
    No wonder the sky ball leaks red fire
    and drowns itself in the bay….

    —klipschutz

    • thomasbrady said,

      December 5, 2010 at 3:36 pm

      “schoolgirl crush on Mussolini…”

      When will the ignorant romanticizing of Pound end?

      Ezra Pound was 47 years old when he met Mussolini in 1933, the guy old man Ezra called “boss.”

      schoolgirl crush?? LOL that’s what the pound-ites want you to believe.

      Modernist scholars can’t smell shit when it’s right under their nose.

      Why don’t the modernist scholars and pound-worshipers look into close Pound associates John Quinn, the lawyer, and Ford Madox Ford, the WW I War Propaganda Minister, and their connections and their politics?

      “screwball…”

      Aww, Pound was so cute…

  4. Aaron Asphar said,

    December 5, 2010 at 1:29 pm

    To my utter surprise there is a poem is on this thread with great merit! I will now proceed to do a chicken dance and jump out the window. Good bye – see you in a minute! knnkn____________________________

  5. Aaron Asphar said,

    December 5, 2010 at 1:33 pm

    Actually a great deal of merit.

    • thomasbrady said,

      December 5, 2010 at 3:08 pm

      I’m not sure we should trust the literary judgment of one who can’t write two coherent sentences in a row.

  6. BoringShyTVCritic said,

    December 6, 2010 at 12:46 pm

    Aaron, do yerself a favor & fuck off out the big grrls playground, luv – up yrs ye stupid cnut, before we stick our boot all over ye & go in hard, if that’s what yer fucking want ye nut kohl thin hairy shirt lifting airy fairy phat gay fuck, puff away and don’t return or i will personally spill some more shit about ye yer nomark ars whole faux token of fuck all exciting here, dickhead, so go on, fuck off, before I send in the Scarriet spooks and goon gurning like a fuckwit, you, stupid teary cnut, up yrs i said, up your shit & get interesting or do yerself a favor, drop dead ye thick tunc

  7. Aaron Asphar said,

    December 6, 2010 at 3:03 pm

    Well, we can see how the boring shy TV critics sublimates his anger issues. He criticises that which is deeper then him (or her, but I refuse to beleive a woman could be so flacid.

  8. Aaron Asphar said,

    December 6, 2010 at 3:04 pm

    Anyway, I note no-one has come to defend this or any other of his poems. Might we draw an inference from that?

  9. thomasbrady said,

    December 6, 2010 at 3:58 pm

    Very few actually defend poems unless there’s some sort of favoritism involved.

    #1 On critique panels, or classes, or sites: you say you like a poem in hopes the poet will, in turn, like yours.

    #2 Among literary circles or cliques: you promote a poem for the sake of your circle or clique; for instance, the textbook “Understanding Poetry” promoted Pound and Williams because the editors were part of the Modernist/New Critic/Fugitive clique which included Pound and Williams. #2 is simply a more organized and clandestine version of #1.

    There is no other reason to defend a poem. To do so for any other reason is to claim for yourself amateur or ‘loser’ status, and for this reason, it is just not done, unless occasionally by “amateurs and losers,” and this kind of “praise” ultimately damages the reputation of the poem, doing the very reverse of what it intended.

    Even love needs to follow the rules.

    “The Sentence and the Name” needs little defense; it takes as its subject a linguistic duality and how that subject plays out socially, and in terms of sound.

    A “social sound” is precisely what a poem is.


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