{"id":2855,"date":"2009-01-16T11:57:50","date_gmt":"2009-01-16T16:57:50","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=2855"},"modified":"2009-01-16T11:57:50","modified_gmt":"2009-01-16T16:57:50","slug":"creation-and-completion","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2009\/01\/creation-and-completion\/","title":{"rendered":"Creation and Completion"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"From whiskey river<\/em><\/a>:<\/p>\n

Making Poetry<\/strong><\/p>\n

“You have to inhabit poetry
\nif you want to make it.”<\/p>\n

And what’s “to inhabit?”<\/p>\n

To be in the habit of, to wear
\nwords, sitting in the plainest light,
\nin the silk of morning, in the shoe of night;
\na feeling bare and frondish in surprising air;
\nfamiliar . . . rare.<\/p>\n

And what’s “to make?”<\/p>\n

To be and to become words’ passing
\nweather; to serve a girl on terrible terms,
\nembark on voyages over voices,
\nevade the ego-hill, the misery-well,
\nthe siren hiss of publish<\/em>, success<\/em>, publish<\/em>,
\nsuccess<\/em>, success<\/em>, success<\/em>.<\/p>\n

And why inhabit, make, inherit poetry?<\/p>\n

Oh, it’s the shared comedy of the worst
\nblessed; the sound leading the hand;
\na wordlife running from mind to mind
\nthrough the washed rooms of the simple senses;
\none of those haunted, undefendable, unpoetic
\ncrosses we have to find.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Anne Stevenson<\/a>, Collected Poems<\/em>, p. 101)<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

I keep coming back to the statement because it gets at the truth. It’s another way of accounting for the fact that, if a poem is any good, you can repeat it to yourself as if it were written by somebody else. The completedness frees you from it and it from you. You can read and reread it without feeling self-indulgent: whatever it was in you that started the writing has got beyond you. The unwritten poem is always going to be entangled with your own business, part of your accident and incoherence — which is what drives you to write. But once the poem gets written, it is, in a manner of speaking, none of your business.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Seamus Heaney)<\/p>\n

Not from whiskey river:<\/p>\n

It doesn’t matter if the water is cold or warm if you’re going to have to wade through it anyway.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Teilhard de Chardin )<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

And God stepped out on space,
\nAnd He looked around and said,
\n“I’m lonely —
\nI’ll make me a world.<\/em>”<\/p>\n

And far as the eye of God could see
\nDarkness covered everything,
\nBlacker than a hundred midnights
\nDown in a cypress swamp.<\/p>\n

Then God smiled,
\nAnd the light broke,
\nAnd the darkness rolled up on one side,
\nAnd the light stood shining on the other,
\nAnd God said, “That’s good!<\/em>”<\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

Then God walked around,
\nAnd God looked around
\nOn all that He had made.
\nHe looked at His sun,
\nAnd He looked at His moon,
\nAnd He looked at His little stars;
\nHe looked on His world
\nWith all its living things,
\nAnd God said, “I’m lonely still.<\/em>”<\/p>\n

Then God sat down
\nOn the side of a hill where He could think;
\nBy a deep, wide river He sat down;
\nWith His head in His hands,
\nGod thought and thought,
\nTill He thought, “I’ll make me a man!<\/em>”<\/p>\n

Up from the bed of the river
\nGod scooped the clay;
\nAnd by the bank of the river
\nHe kneeled Him down;
\nAnd there the great God Almighty
\nWho lit the sun and fixed it in the sky,
\nWho flung the stars to the most far corner of the night,
\nWho rounded the earth in the middle of\u00a0 His hand;
\nThis Great God,
\nLike a mammy bending over her baby,
\nKneeled down in the dust
\nToiling over a lump of clay
\nTill He shaped it in His own image;<\/p>\n

Then into it He blew the breath of life,
\nAnd man became a living soul.
\nAmen. Amen.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(James Wheldon Johnson, from “The Creation”)<\/p>\n

Finally, when I think of things wrapping up successfully, it’s hard for me not to think of this song (lyrics below):<\/p>\n

<\/object><\/p>\n

Lyrics:<\/p>\n

Into The West<\/strong><\/p>\n

Lay down
\nyour sweet and weary head.
\nNight is falling.
\nYou have come to journey’s end.<\/p>\n

Sleep now, and dream
\nof the ones who came before.
\nThey are calling
\nfrom across a distant shore.<\/p>\n

Why do you weep?
\nWhat are these tears upon your face?
\nSoon you will see.
\nAll of your fears will pass away.
\nSafe in my arms,
\nyou’re only sleeping.<\/p>\n

What can you see
\non the horizon?
\nWhy do the white gulls call?
\nAcross the sea
\na pale moon rises.
\nThe ships have come
\nto carry you home.<\/p>\n

And all will turn
\nto silver glass.
\nA light on the water.
\nAll souls pass.<\/p>\n

Hope fades
\nInto the world of night,
\nThrough shadows falling,
\nOut of memory and time.<\/p>\n

Don’t say
\nWe have come now to the end<\/em>.
\nWhite shores are calling.
\nYou and I will meet again.
\nAnd you’ll be here in my arms,
\nJust sleeping.<\/p>\n

What can you see
\non the horizon?
\nWhy do the white gulls call?
\nAcross the sea
\na pale moon rises.
\nThe ships have come
\nto carry you home.<\/p>\n

And all will turn
\nto silver glass.
\nA light on the water.
\nGrey ships pass
\nInto the West.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(written by Fran Walsh, Howard Shore and Annie Lennox;
\nperformed by Annie Lennox)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

From whiskey river: Making Poetry “You have to inhabit poetry if you want to make it.” And what’s “to inhabit?” To be in the habit of, to wear words, sitting in the plainest light, in the silk of morning, in the shoe of night; a feeling bare and frondish in surprising air; familiar . . […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","h5ap_radio_sources":[],"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-2855","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-uncategorized","7":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-K3","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2855","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2855"}],"version-history":[{"count":12,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2855\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2867,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2855\/revisions\/2867"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2855"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2855"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2855"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}