Fredericton NB: There is
something that endures in the work of Fredericton poet, editor, publisher, radio host and visual artist Joe Blades, producing work now for a couple of
decades. His newest chapbook, produced through the BS Poetry Society is CAUTION: paper (Fredericton NB: BS
Poetry Society, 2013), a small collection of poems and artworks, a number of
which have appeared previously as various mail-art projects, ads in New Muse of Contempt and other venues.
The “Danger Be Alert!” (2007) warning, for example, that announces that “Every
Season is Poet Mating Season” has appeared previously in a couple of places.
There is an element of travel and transit to this small collection, with poems
such as “roadkill tribute,” “forest? what forest?” and “capital” (on visiting
Ottawa a few months ago) suggest an ongoing journal-keeping through the space
of the poem, composing an ongoing lyric much in the same way Gerry Gilbert
record-kept Vancouver through his decades of writing.
in
srbija
for
Marjorie Agosin
in zenta i stop on cobblestones
in front of
colour-patterned brick
and roof tiles of
jewish merchant
house in now royal city
where jews
no longer live—monument
at medical
clinic build where
synagogue once
stood—gymnasium
repurposed & i
photograph house
wanting story
at beograd book
fair or
related event david—only
ever meet in beograd
though he
now live in
calgary alberta—tells
me his family lost 60
of 65
relatives to germans
during wwII
& i overheard
someone say he’s
not
a serbian writer he’s a jew
in kragujevac german rifles
point at me within
shadowed
long lines of
rounded-up jews
gypsies homosexuals
artists
and more—over 2700
killed mass
grave buried after
giving up identity
papers jewellery money
freedom
them lives—remember
them now
Calgary AB: I’ve been
enjoying some of the small items that Paul William Zits has been producing
through his 100 têtes Press, all produced very much in the vein of derek
beaulieu’s work through the late, lamented housepress and current NO Press. The
seventh 100 têtes Press item is the hand-sewn chapbook Silent Suite by Eugene Stickland (June, 2013), a small
collection of poems on silence, printed with faded text. Between the
strike-outs and the faded text, these poems are almost entirely built on a
premise of erasure, taking away even before anything is presented.
You fall
so far into silence some times
So deep
it feels liquid
Like the
temperature of darkness
Like the
texture of the night
Like the
taste of the stars
Like the
smell of God.
Sometimes,
thus
Up so
falling
You land
on the surface of the moon
And howl
down on the un- and other-
Worldliness
of the broken planet
You once
called home.
And if
you didn’t know before
Your
silent scream reminds you
There is
nothing left to say.
The
ideas are somewhat interesting, but on the whole the poems aren’t strong enough
to allow for the full force of what Stickland is attempting to present. I am
hoping that this is simply the first in what will develop to be many more works
by the author. On the other hand, I’ve become more and more intrigued by the
works of Paul William Zits himself, from the chapbook of visual poems, Bullets (Calgary AB: 100 têtes Press,
March 2013) and LEAP-SECONDS (Calgary
AB: NO Press, May 2013). After going through his first trade collection
recently [see my review of such here], and these two small items, I’m
fascinated by Zits’ willingness to explore, experiment and stretch out his
skills. The pieces in Bullets strike
and fragment, quite literally, in the shape of a bullet that has been fired
from a gun. The second small chapbook, on the other hand, LEAP-SECONDS, is a mass of text that very nearly overwhelms, opening
almost immediately with both beginning and end before continuing on.
I am in one of the
innumerable rooms, and the outstanding characteristic of these rooms is that
the doors are always open, or nearly always. From, at least, this, I recall
that at one time, work was done by collaboration, by exchange of ideas. Someone
was once as likely to be working here at six in the morning as at midnight, if
the spirit so moved him elsewhere. At times there would have been feverish
physical activity, with experimental testees following schedules from one room
to another as if they were trotting in a maze, calculating machines ticking
away upstairs, and hidden cameras and microphones recording responses. However
the spirit moves, and perhaps to facilitate this movement, the doors are always
open, while the calculating machines tick away upstairs and the cameras and
microphones recording responses are no longer hidden. The spirit moved them
elsewhere. Experimental testees do not follow schedules nor move from room to room
as if trotting in a maze. The spirit no longer moves them, or moves them about
in places further than can be observed. The spirit moves the feverish physical
activity in the calculating machines ticking away upstairs and the cameras and
microphones recording, still, in places that can.
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