『Stephen Sawyer on Jorie Graham's poem 'Time Frame' and his own poem 'What We Did Know We Had or Running Thin'』のカバーアート

Stephen Sawyer on Jorie Graham's poem 'Time Frame' and his own poem 'What We Did Know We Had or Running Thin'

Stephen Sawyer on Jorie Graham's poem 'Time Frame' and his own poem 'What We Did Know We Had or Running Thin'

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概要

 In this final episode of Season Three, Stephen Sawyer discusses Jorie Graham's poem 'Time Frame' in relation to his own poem 'What We Did Know We Had or Running Thin'. Together, we explore Jorie Graham's journey as a poet. Stephen provides a concise biography, and then goes on to explore how her writing-focus has changed over the course of her career. He spends time, in particular, on Jorie Graham's techniques and approaches as a poet, eschewing linear narrative and the idea of the 'clear' ending, and also concentrates on her attention to climate change, and articulating the consequences of the Anthropocene. We discuss the poem 'Time Frame' at length, reflecting on the 'instabilities' in the text, on the narrative voice, on time itself, the 'American project' and the disappearance of the fortune teller as the poem progresses. We then go on to explore Stephen's poem. He 'unpacks' his own techniques and how Jorie Graham has influenced his ways of communicating in his own work. He talks about the idea of why the poem is right justified, for instance - in relation to Graham's own practice. He ruminates on the rise of the notion of 'climate crisis' over the past fifty years - from his childhood experiences on the north-west coast of England to now. He reflects on the role of the poet, and finding an audience. What moves him to write long poems? You can read Jorie Graham's poem 'Time Frame' here (with an audio reading by the poet) in the London Review of Books archive. This poem comes from the Collection To 2040 (Carcanet, 2023), which you can read about here. You can read about Stephen's book - There Will Be No Miracles Here - following this link. You can read about (and order a copy of) Carrying a Tree on the Bus to Low Edges here. What We Did Know We Had or Running Thin It’s a shock I know the drowning sea, fishes floating between sharp stems in the slowing current at the water’s edge, the disturbance of our parting. Don’t worry, it’s still the past, the fast and furious, furious, the utter, instant now, the later-human voice, fishes breaking camp, unsettled in their skin, hastening remorselessly, as arrows in a free flow diagram to the zero- point. Are you the seventh generation staring back at me as me. What we did know we had. I remember the sea touching the clouds in the voice of the rain, net curtains nailed up, a single yellow daffodil in the garden next door. If the worst should befall us. Aren’t those the garden steps where Rhianna, your neighbour, shone her torch? What is it you know about me, I don’t. Which part of the body am I. Which part of which body am I. How many self-destructive parts of now? To whom am I not listening. The wind is a wounded creature. The sea is a wounded creature. I feel so much more and less than a mental bird in a mental cage hastening to that rip in the fabric at four hundred and forty parts per million of atmospheric CO₂. Companions will be found for you, a reflexively contrarian shadow text →Choose Gospel→Cloud Tech →AI Systems→Species→Menu and ‘I’ was to think ‘you’ thinking ‘me.’ Tentacles! Six ‘personal others’ between you and me, a set of suckers, jet propulsive, high-fiving that bottle-backed bubble-headed, giant frog. How much of us have gone. Remember me, says Sea-roar. What it was to run after that orange Trophy football on Ainsdale village green, bent double, gasping for laughter, our one thousand odours of salt, the boat is lurching purple waves claw the sails, small as grains of rice. Remember, the valley of dormant smokestacks, the man in Y-fronts on his drive way unabashed by your appearance at the gate, “So beautiful … they see nothing,” says the failing light. Who is the ghost, who is the ghost’s ghost? a ghost asks. Is this a now. Am I still in minutes. Can all this happen in reverse. Butterflies were giants once. Elvis waved rain from the sky so his friends could play racquet ball, before projecting himself to the stars, wearing trainers and a guru scarf, The Leaves of Morya’s Garden Volumes 1 & II tucked under his arm. You feel it before you know it. I can’t hear them screaming, weeping, see them doubling down on Nettleham Road. Is that are they drums drones, tanks? Hurry, →Hurry, Faster, Faster Do you prepare? How do you prepare for the Venus effect. Some people scuba dive, cruise and fly. I keep looking for left- over signs, hieroglyphs, jutting spikes, a human hand finger- shaking on a red background. Please, don’t follow me to the right...
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