There will be a
revolution or there will not. If the latter these poems were nothing but
entertainments. If the former it will succeed or fail. If the latter these poems
were better than nothing. If the former it will feature riots fire and looting
at these will spread or they will not. If the latter these poems were
curiosities. If the former it will feature further riots manifestos barricades
and slogans and these will leap into popular songs or they will not. If the
latter that’s that. If the former these popular songs will be overcome or they
will not. If the latter these poems were no different than the songs. If the
former the popular itself will be abolished via riots barricades manifestos
occupations and fire or it will not. If the latter we will spend several more
decades talking about culture. If the former the revolution will at this point
be destroyed from within or without. If the latter these poems went down
fighting. If the former it will feature awful confrontations with former
friends and there will be further manifestoes new slogans ongoing occupations
and communes and lovers will be enemies. We do not know what will happen after
this point but surely this is enough to draw some preliminary conclusions. The poem
must be on the side of riots looting barricades occupations manifestos communes
slogans fire and enemies. (“The Fire Sermon”)
The
first title from Oakland, Californian publisher Commune Editions, an imprint of
Edinburgh, Scotland publisher AK Press, is poet, film critic, translator and cultural
theorist Joshua Clover’s Red Epic (2015).
As their press release provides introduction:
Commune Editions began
with friendships formed in struggle, with the antagonisms that define the last
five years of the San Francisco Bay Area: the occupations formed in resistance
to University of California tuition hikes in 2009-2011, the anti-police
uprisings after the shooting of Oscar Grant that continued with the deaths of
Mike Brown and Eric Garner, and the local version of Occupy, referred to by
some as the Oakland Commune. All of these antagonisms have been poet-heavy in
the Bay Area. And they are producing their own poetries, ones full of ruptures,
strange beauties—and also strangenesses, defined by explicit politics, the ones
shaped by anarchist and communist organizing, theorizing, and struggle. This work
inspires. And poets Juliana Spahr, Joshua Clover, and Jasper Bernes formed
Commune Editions to publish anticapitalist poetries and poetics. And to also
put this work in dialogue with poetries from other countries and from other
historical moments, times and places where the politicization of poetry and the
participation of poets in uprisings large and small was the conversation.
We want to avoid
self-important claims about poetry changing the world. Poetry is no replacement
for forms of action: strikes, blockades, occupations, protests, as well as the
meetings, houses, libraries, and sharing of resources that enable them. But poetry
can be a companion to these activities. Like the “riot dogs” of Athens, it can
accompany the movements of the streets, provide support and pleasure, loud
barking too.
Through
such a declaration, Clover’s Red Epic,
even before one begins, connects to an intriguing collection of writers,
publications and activities, whether Stephen Collis and Christine Leclerc as
part of Enridge Pipeline activism, capitalist critiques by poets such as Jeff
Derksen, donato mancini, Roy Miki and Clint Burnham, a variety of Aboriginal
issues explored through works by Jordan Abel, Marie AnnHarte Baker, Shane
Rhodes and Liz Howard, or even the explorations into Vancouver’s missing and
murdered women by writers such as Sachiko Murakami, Shannon Stewart and Anne
Stone (I know there are far more examples for all than what I have mentioned).
Poetry-as-activism has a rich history, and it is good to see contemporary
writers pushing to explore further what might be possible, especially in the place
where poetry and activism might intersect. As he writes to open the poem “Apology”:
Oh capital let’s kiss
and make up
And I’ll take back all
those terrible things I said about you
To my friends in poems.
Or
elsewhere, as he ends the poem “Fab, Beta, Equity Vol”:
The world which
extruded six story apartment blocks
and warehouses of brick
and filthy glass which made
making and finally
faded when we used the word
real behind the back of
consciousness we meant that
we meant industry and
the industrial age you want
a total philosophy well
there is my metaphysics
Red Epic covers
issues surrounding the global economic crises, political upheavals both current
and historical, the Occupy movement and a series of barricades, by turns infused
with both wreckage and hope as he spins a “Top 40 soundtrack full of Robyn and
MIA.” The author of two previous poetry collections—The Totality for Kids (University of California Press, 2006), and Madonna anno domini (Louisiana State
University Press, 1997), which was chosen by Jorie Graham to receive the 1996 Walt
Whitman Award—there is a rush and a push to Clover’s lines, from breathless
prose to poems constructed from a series of staggered phrases to the compact
lyric. His cultural and critical theory background allows his poetry to
articulate a series of critiques against capitalism, equity and equality, pop
culture and labour, utilizing all as material in which he is able to craft
poems constructed to question, argue and pry open conversation. As he writes in
the opening poem, “My Life in the New Millennium,” “Once fire is the form of
the spectacle the problem / becomes how to set fire to fire.”
(We lived in a cloud of
recklessness)
We lived in a cloud of
recklessness south of Market in a house with an accent when he said Taylorism
it sounded like terrorism we lived in a cloud of restlessness and felt
ourselves to be adrift east of China west of France south of Market north of
Chance we lived in a fog of remorselessness in a long wave of a K-wave we sang I’m
going back to Cali to Cali to Calligrammes we saw the world through
world-colored glasses it was a situation known as snowglobalization down there
south of the Market in a cloud of recklessness on a sea of credit and
correlation in the winter of the long wave in the deep sea swell of the Market
and the candidates threw roses and we ate the roses in the jaws of the present
as we once ate Robespierre’s raspberries
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