In this house, everything is said.
The plastic animals are arranged in conference
on the wooden stool near the toilet seat.
They have been curated to speak.
Speak.
The
latest from Providence, Rhode Island poet Eleni Sikelianos is the book-length
meditation What I Knew (Brooklyn NY:
Nightboat Books, 2019). Her ninth poetry title to date [see my review of her previous poetry title here; another here and her memoir here], What I Knew
composes a collage counter to the isolation that emerges from a wealth of data,
but little in the way of knowledge, instead composing a wealth of knowledge
that comes from an engaged curiosity and open attention. “Now I tell everything
/ I heard & knew,” she writes, early on, setting the scene for the purpose
of the collection. What I Knew is a
poem that has returned home, wishing to impart the wisdoms gathered along the
way, as Sikelianos writes a body, a house, a poem and a perspective that is
engaged with the world, one that refuses to isolate for any of the
short-sighted arguments that might be presented. Sikelianos offers her What I Knew as a counter to the current
political climate of the United States, one that has been rising in a variety
of countries around the world, of isolationists, self-protectionists and right
wing ideologues: to isolate is to, inevitably, reduce. And a world (or a body
or a house or a poem) can’t live or thrive in fear.
Build my house of consciousness
Build my house of language-states from scrap
Build me clean, clean water
What I Knew is a steady lyric
stream: a regalia, of facts and facets, experiences lived and wisdoms,
postcards, truths and suppositions. Her poem-in-fragments is legion, for it is
filled with multitudes, from the dark corners of violence to a sequence of
friends to how different cities might smell. As she writes: “And in Seattle
where it always sounds like someone’s taking a shower / it smells like dumb
luck / in muscular Seattle rooted down in its piney ground // the light is
blind / & she is there [.]” What I Knew
is vibrant, sensual and lyric, and travels the length and breadth of the United
States, and internationally as well, listing and listening and absorbing facts,
figures and experience, in a poem that seeks to absorb and articulate the
lessons that only a series of connections can provide.
in the dusty light of Cuisnahuat
Soaring Homicide Rate in U.S. Cities
Oil Rig’s Owner Settles Gulf Spill Case
Malala Yousafzai’s Parents Arrive at UK
Hospital
Murder Charges Are Filed in New Delhi Gang Rape
And what I know anywhere
the world is a dangerous place for a girl
In Colorado or in Salt Lake City a girl splits
herself in two
to protect herself in Swat
to tell if he’s killed before
examine
the crime scene
he knows how to dismember a girl near Ketner
Lake
he’s killed before
he’s killed before
Don’t write those words
Don’t write those words
why take my emotion away (grey)
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