Here is an excerpt from Disjunctive Poetics, by Peter Quartermain:
“…Williams and Zukofsky both write paratactic verse — in their syntax there is no subordination, there is rather a stringing out of beads on a string, as Aristotle complained, where everything is of equal importance…
“…the poem is an object…in her 1909 essay on Picasso, Gertrude Stein distinguished between things, things seen, and things known, a distinction that reminds us of the ineluctable and intransigent quality of things: unknown, probably unknowable. The poem as a thing is resistant, and must baffle us, leave us shall we say at a loss?”
Stick fire poke lick ripe trade down laid
Apple cart swing my feet with a start
Range below triage quite impossible
Let out the chimpanzees to the oven
Close the door bellow broom might weld
Cookie capture evil wipe swarm eek weep
And it’s not just an alienation from language, or communication. It’s rejection of the individual, lack of acceptance, judgment. Words are empty when trying to express the grief and sorrow that results from this situation, a hopeless condition.
Lack of connection. No community. No friends. No religion. No god. Just a meaningless existence with no purpose, no focus, no hope. Everything social is either scripted or random. There is nothing real out there, or in here.
And there is only the chance to connect based on a common existence or perceived state of loneliness, ennui, loss of meaning, relativity. Everything depends on everything else. Nothing is certain. Life is one absurd action, thought or event after another.
Start end poised jump dive comprehend
Lift stomp squish squeeze push
Scream elevate rhythm quality trippin’
Below above round and round
To the beginning again, slow motion.
Is there peace? A silly question, on your knees.
Another update with current reflections on unpoetry from 2022. This results from research into “Disjunctive Poetics: From Gertrude Stein and Louis Zukofsky to Susan Howe” by Peter Quartermain, and several works on the objectivist poets.
This meditation concerns itself with “language as object.” Alienation from the English language, or, in my opinion, any language at all, creates a certain relationship between the poet and the words in his or her poetry. Syntax can become difficult, and meaning, impossible.
Words are used like pigments in an abstract expressionist or cubist painting, in which a bunch of objects are juxtaposed together in a seemingly random (though sometimes, but sometimes not, with carefully chosen placement) and detached manner. Whether it is a flick of the brush, a dumping of a can of paint, or just a very barbaric collection of images that shocks or confuses.
This is unpoetry, folks! It’s the same thing, just done with language. Word as object, in a collage, or maybe a series of nonsensical statements. Absurdity abounds. An alienation from reality that results in an alienation from society, and an alienation in a failed attempt, over and over again, to communicate.
Floor rug used to be there now it’s laminate and tile cold floor cold on bare feet in slippers sometimes when it’s cold outside and sometimes inside
Too rarely we have a fire in the fireplace but not often she likes the fire to keep warm and to watch it and it’s toasty so sometimes I make it.
Pets we have lots dogs cats and birds they live indoors they stay here sometimes they go outside the yellow lab is a guide dog my wife is visually impaired so the lab goes to work with her every day sometimes we go on trips and the chihuahua comes too
We are going camping soon with her sister and her husband and I think they will bring their dogs too it should be fun I went camping with my family last year we had a good time we ate well. We went to a county fair there were cows and horses there were amusement rides and lots of food there was a car show too and big tractors.
Stove cook eat necessary live dog doesn’t mice aren’t welcome yard full of grass and dirt trees full of birds and squirrels nothing too strange road is busy sometimes but not often no sidewalks in my neighborhood wires across the yard from poles to houses maybe some are buried
Clown fray lax overwhelm stupid rank evil up
Enable clothes teem realm weeds tulip goes
Real exclaim bounce queasy stripe blame out
Seemed watch teed woozy seal dangerous fit
Yard hear beat where pole vamp woot oops
Plot strike waffle wink angel tribe bush talking
Little tap root dainty walk sweet cackle weep
Anhinga mammoth tangle talented ale wars
Mere dude rewind work aliens inhibited near
Pointing future calliope sticks illness drinking