levy's poetry left me both "hear, hear" and WTF?, and, I must admit, I did a bit of eye-rolling (more on that later), but his short bio introduced me to a man who was a true renegade; a member of a group called The Underground Thought Patrol who fought back against thought-oppression and corrupt authority. He even shares something in common with the one and only Socrates: they were both charged with contributing to the Delinquency of Minors because of their words. That's pretty cool. Levy's books were confiscated and banned, he was labeled obscene by a grand jury, and then arrested and charged. As I'm sure you guys have heard, Socrates was out there on the streets verbally challenging the thinking of passersby and he was arrested and charged in an effort to shut him up. Neither story ends well; you know with an easy death; Socrates was sentenced to death and poisoned. Levy made it past his trial, but later died in his apartment with a bullet in his head - no one is sure if he committed suicide or was murdered.
After all that awesomeness in the bio, I was ready for some rocking poetry, and the first poem really came through with its opening: "if you want a revolution/ return to your childhood/ and kick out the bottom". I loved the way this poem stressed the importance of understanding who you are and changing yourself from the very foundation in order to revolt. Levy knew that "if you attack the structure/ the system - the establishment/you attack yourself". I appreciate that knowledge and fully intend on sharing this poem with my college freshman who are so ready to believe they are not a product of their society, they are different (not to break them down or anything, just to call attention to the fact of their complicity in dominant ideology).
For the rest of the poems by levy, I only had a 50-50 chance of truly understanding them. For example:
...in between the stench of fish - youngSo what exactly am I supposed to get out of this? The closest I get to some "deepness" is that this is a description of the dirty, lonely feeling one gets after a weekend of anonymous sex....maybe in an alleyway...otherwise why is the rat there.... Seriously, this poem was almost entirely like this for me, a series of WTFs. And I know I should look up the allusions I don't understand, but I have to admit I just don't want to. I don't get the LOCKWEIRD reference, if it's even a reference, and the only Lady Jane I know is the woman who was Queen of England for 9 days before being martyred. I have no idea why she's being blown on the western front, and I'm not sure if that's a reference to All Quiet on the Western Front...and maybe Lady Jane is a way of saying marijuana... I know I could look all of this up, but if I have to look at someone else's interpretation to form my own, I'm annoyed.
trains of skinnylegs are coupling - maggot infested
fish...soft breasts...a rat carries a piece of puke
home...hand under skirt-thunderbird cockman
(& theyre blowing Lady Jane on the western front)...
driftwood-the lightening in the void...OM MANI PAD ME HUM...
broken glass...beer courage...fires & fires & shouts from
Sandusky to ERIE...this fast dry "rocks off" lay is not
TANTRA (FUCK is not the ultimate expression of
love)...the sunrises in the east & the weekends
are not washed away - no one wears a white shirt
if they understand the tragedy of LOCKWEIRD
smells like rotting abortions on bayonets...
My point here is that this is one of my main problems with poetry. Sometimes the language is so esoteric, so metaphoric and figurative and non-linear, that my little brain poops out on itself. I end up with a feeling, but not a true understanding (like watching a David Lynch film). While I like playing around with the more abstract in film, reframing it and manipulating it into some sort of cohesive interpretation, with poetry I am more likely to just get annoyed. It is definitely possible that this is because I am more familiar with film, and as such have an easier time picking apart the pieces and analyzing them.
In other words, I am fully aware that any lack of interpretation is my own fault, and I hope all of you out there who are a) smarter than me, b) more familiar with poetry, and/or c) true literary researchers will forgive my lazy brains.
The Cleveland Memory Project has a subsite dedicated to levy which includes a digital gallery of his poetry, artwork, newspaper clippings, in general artifacts from his life. He also has a Facebook page for some unknown reason. Despite my WTFery with half of his poetry, I do think he is a very intriguing man, so I would recommend checking him out.
That is a killer bio. But I know EXACTLY the feeling that you are talking about with the poetry. I've felt the same way quite a few times. I feel like I got a glimmer of what the poet was trying to say but it was only a glimmer and nothing more.
ReplyDeleteI didn't understand that either, so don't feel bad. I am hard pressed to think of someone who would understand that, as it only seems like disjointed words and unpleasant imagery. I admire you for trying though, as I probably would have read the first two lines and given up!
ReplyDeleteI don't understand the piece of poetry you quote, but it's certainly got some amazing imagery in it (gross, but amazing).
ReplyDeleteI've never been the biggest fan of poetry either -- certainly not the contemporary stuff. I prefer Shakespeare, Byron, Tennyson, etc. Their poetry is just easier for me to read and appreciate.
You mention that poetry often gives you a "feeling" rather than a "true understanding." I wonder, why not be satisfied with the feeling? If that feeling is something that brings you pleasure, is it necessary to keep digging in the hope of reaching some "true understanding"? What if the feeling IS the true understanding? What if that's what the author himself/herself wanted?
Poetry is difficult simply because it's so subjective -- a single poem can mean many different things to many different people. It can be frustrating.
"Sometimes the language is so esoteric, so metaphoric and figurative and non-linear, that my little brain poops out on itself." I always get irritated when I run into writing like that. That's when I want to tell the writer, "You know, writing something that's impossible to understand doesn't actually make you brilliant. It makes you an insufferable ass."
ReplyDeleteI don't totally follow the poem you quoted, either, and I'm not intrigued enough by it to spend much time trying to decipher it. I feel a little bad about being so dismissive, especially since he sounds like such a fascinating person. Oh, well . . .