Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Slow Poetry

“Systems disruption, made effective superempowerment, has now gained control of pricing on global energy markets,” writes John Robb at Global Guerrillas. His blog entry looks at recent open source methods of attack used by MEND 75 miles off the coast of Nigeria to disrupt oil production.

Just as warfare in contemporary global cultures transforms to correspond to dynamic regional situations, poets look for ways to disrupt systems of thought, bring reflection to habitual patterns of action, and extend capacities in audiences to help show other modal perceptions of the world where ideological conflicts erupt. While conceptual poetry and flarf provide contemporary approaches to poetry, it seems that more radical uses of the poem could be theorized.

The slow food and slow biking movements offer possible models. By turning away from innovations that increase the speed of production, poets could rediscover valuable skills from older methods. Pace in this slow poetry sense becomes a greater concern. Value could be placed on the withholding of vital details and the slow release of vivid particulars within rhetorical situations driven by a desire to disclose new knowledge. Such disclosures of knowledge, feeling, and perceptions help expand capacities for living in contemporary cultures, empowering potential agents for other forms of disruptive acts. Poetry, if concentrated on plausible conjectures of reality, can help transform other conjectural definitions of it. Poetry can prepare readers for disruptive shocks to systems—"black swan" events—that increase as global open source warfare increases in sophistication.

Systems analysts in other fields are engaged with accurate analyses of global events and their consequences. I’m not sure why poets often turn away from such confrontations with reality. Certainly, our special kind of irrelevance has a value of sorts—in its necessary obscurity, cultural definitions and expressions of value, and so on. As artists, we need to ask more complicated questions and form practices with greater potential for ourselves—if no one else—to prepare for confrontations with global disruptions of communications, distribution systems, and political and social tyrannies.

A Slow Poetry movement (SP for short), would bring focus to immediately accessible regions using technology such as letterpress and Xeroxing to reach local audiences. The computer can be used, of course, to spread words of particular value for addressing the potential capacities of distant readers. But instead of thinking of poetry as an instrument of transformation, we might start by using it as a means of understanding our own capacities of mind and feeling. Instead of forming arguments of resistance, we might consider what is common with ourselves and others in places like Nigeria as we respond, locally, to the ongoing erosion of Constitutional rights. SP contributes to systems disruptions by generating an open source platform for self-reflection in contexts where such meditations are more frequently discouraged. SP perhaps could salvage ancient technes of poetics in order to create imaginative approaches to living locally. While poets in the U. S. for a long time have turned to letterpress, mimeo, and other production sources, these relatively inexpensive printing costs have produced a glut in term of over-production of work with an under-production of relative value. SP embraces greater consideration of the compositional process and the poem’s value to audiences beyond supportive coteries. SP takes seriously the current impact of global financial crises and oil supply shortages and seeks to produce texts that address our predicament as individuals reliant upon diverse systems. SP promotes irrelevance, but in less aggressive ways, perhaps, than others. SP provides a method of observing slower movements of thought and conversation with diverse minds in other fields to help extend reflection on our situation today as global systems come under increasing attack from outside and within.

16 comments:

D Hadbawnik said...

well said.

i'm all for the experiments of latter-day language poetry such as flarf et al. as theory and concept, i.e. picking up the shards of language in our decaying culture and seeing what can be made of them, but i'm not real sure they work as poetry. not sure, that is, they tell us anything beyond being a canary in the coal mine of language.

there's something to be said for patience and i think we're gonna need clarity and cohesiveness -- craft -- again pretty soon.

we may be headed for a cultural hiccup that will bump us out of this warped and unsustainable moment, or we may be headed all the way to a medieval sort of mind- and landscape. back to the future!

let slow poetry lead the way.

John Tipton said...

Dale, this is a really compelling idea--less for the call to restablish artisan values than for what it says about mass production. Flarf does remind me of frozen dinners or, worse, Humvees. Too much of a bad thing.

It's telling that you feel the need to bring us back to more basic modes of production. As someone who spends a fair amount of time with old material, I'm all about 'salvaging ancient technes of poetics.' Time to stop and think for a minute before we pick up our pencils.

Joseph Harrington said...

Great idea, Dale. Sign me up.

I notice that your comments mostly relate to production - and I like what you have to say about it. But what about consumption? I'm an incredibly slow reader (and re-reader), esp. when it comes to poetry. What if everyone took a vow to only read one book of poetry a month, but read it well? Like, so well as to teach a course on it, or at least write a review essay. Surely the coteries' (our) desire "to keep up with" what everyone else is doing (both in the sense of keeping current and the sense of keeping up with the joneses) leads most of us to skim, dismiss, & miss a lot of what we ostensibly "read."

Or: what if everyone only wrote one poem a month - and published it in the local mimeo? The example of Open Field is a good one.

Kent Johnson said...

Dale,

Brilliant.

Could you save a seat for me at the table?

Kent

Dale said...

Thanks for these comments, everyone. I've been thinking about Slow Poetry (or SloPo I'm calling it now) all weekend. Joseph, your point about consumption is essential. I'm guilty of ingesting too much too quickly and processing it into reviews and essays. So much exists at this moment I am compelled to try and meet it--particularly the works of folks I know--many of them who do remarkable work. But really, one book a month is plenty. I think Whitman observed the importance of loafing to poets. I like loafing--it provides a space for recharge. I think we should all be lucky to write 10 really good poems a year. In a decade there would be enough for a small volume. One poem requires probably several hundred hours of loafing, attention to one's domestic space, one's labor for survival, and commitment to expanding capacities to read the world in its diverse complexities. Anyway, thanks to all who have commented here....

dale

K. Silem Mohammad said...

David, I like the coal mine analogy, but I like to imagine the canaries wearing little gas masks. Not so much because it's accurate, but just because it would be so darned cute.

Jordan said...

What does a local response to a centralized erosion of Constitutional rights look like? I understand placing calls and sending e-mails to elected officials -- and I understand that unless there is a massive coordinated campaign of millions to make sure those calls, e-mails and letters keep coming, elected officials have a very easy time saying "There there."

There is an undercurrent through most discussions of poetics I've ever seen, that whichever method or set of beliefs about writing is under discussion, it is either more or less efficacious toward the goals of the side of the angels. (Scratch an American, find a cop.)

I'm interested in what you're saying, Dale, and I agree with your observation that there is a tendency toward arguments of resistance, and I would go further and connect this tendency with the glut you mention. No Journal indeed. My sense is that the under-production of value, as you politely put it, has everything to do with a consensus that the way the Cold War was won is the way all future conflicts will be decided -- the winner will have contained, and spent, the other side to death.

If a practicing poet has formulated a poetics that actually respects the possibility that other poetics might yield worthwhile poetry, I'm unaware of it.

Hey, do you know the Carroll Young American Poets anthology (1968)? Carroll asked all those contributors (what was it, 80% of em men?) for a statement of poetics, and for the most part they were happy to respond that they found ludicrous the very idea of a poetics statement. Sure, that was ideology talking, but after the tragedy of Pound and the Barnumizing of the beats, there was some historical basis for the rejection.

Anyway. I enjoy the emphasis you place on slowness, even as the shadow of Ron S's quietude passes over it. If the real impact of slow poetry is to reduce the general anxiety to publish, even if it means increasing the anxiety to make the work meet some imaginary standard of quality, I suppose it will have been more than an amusing argument.

Dale said...

Jordan, I hope these speculative and improvisory notes are indeed amusing--if nothing else. But I feel, as you must, that I am standing on a platform in a comments field yelling:

"You're not listening to me."

And perhaps you will respond the same to me.

And Gary Sullivan likewise continues in another comments field, with performative intensity: "You're not listening to me."

Jordan said...

No more daisy pulling, Dale. We're listening.

Henry Gould said...

Dale,

why does everything have to be a "movement"?

Movements speed things up.

I've been making various arguments against "innovation" for some time now, but then I'm not on the side of the progressive angels.

A recent notion on this score (posted in a comment at the Harriet blog) is that American poets, since the time of Emerson & maybe before, have approached LITERATURE itself with an extreme (colonial-interloper) sense of unease, suspicion and awkwardness. "I, too, dislike it." "No book, but a man." etc. etc. etc. etc.....

American writing is terminally awkward, "colonial". That's another kind of local.

Dale said...

Henry, thanks for your comments.

Maybe I should more carefully consider the metaphor, though I have tried to vary it somewhat. Instead of movement we could talk about networks or platforms. Also, it might be better put to articulate SloPo as a common. Actually, that may be it: the SloPo Common is an open source platform through which to reflect on existing global networks.

KPrevallet said...

While we're busy reflecting, the dominoes are cascading through the system, and a lot of people are getting left behind. I say show up -- meaning, I take you to mean "confront reality" quite seriously. What was it C.A. Conrad wrote about fielding all the shit of this slide into deluge into HIS body, absorbing it, feeling it, spewing it out, being present with it? That's where I'm at with slow poetry. I take it to mean resisting production for the sake of production; engaging the page not as white space where I can spew whatever language comes into my head at the moment, but as limited resource, fallen oak, it won't be there forever (the page.)

Isn't the most ancient technique of poetry the memorized and passed down song? What are people doing to create/foster poetry within non-writing communities? Is that important to slow poetry?

Dale said...

"What are people doing to create/foster poetry within non-writing communities? Is that important to slow poetry?"

Absolutely. SP, I think, values the communicative possibilities in all aspects of life. SP, if I can "boil it down," supports ways of looking at situations from multiple perspectives and through whatever means of mediation are available. The formal products, then, will be variable--necessary byproducts of the event of communication. This is a poetics of the gesture, the look, the expression, the shrug--as much as anything else....

patrick said...

Dale thanks for this great post.

Black swan events have much in common with Joseph Schumpeter's ideas about creative desstruction. One might even go so far as to say that the core of the cruelty and inhumanity of capital markets is for their dependency on radical upheavals. the rise of google as a search engine is an example of a black swan that imparts creative destruction. It rose as if out of nowhere and laid to waste the entire search industry before it and now lays to waste the rest of the internet economy.

We have entered a space-time that is much like a black hole, if we are to think about Manuel Castell's brilliant analysis of the network economy in which we live. It is time in a sense that has become the space over which we move and space has been rendered irrelevant. We have entered a space of flows, a space where attachments to locale (e.g., ideas of the traditional nation-state) are but mere bits of nostalgia being rapidly deterritorialized.

If poets choose to externalize themselves from the space of flows, from the network economy, from its methods, and in so doing choose to remove themselves from having any impact locally or globally, we might as well choose to silence ourselves. I think that's a cop out, becoming silent, excluding ourselves from the space of flows. Do you stay out, maintaining a sense of moral self-purity, or do you dive in, get dirty, make mistakes, but ultimately become a node of influence on the direction of global flows?

This is akin to the problem of alternative media. It seems sufficient to many to merely create a source of alternative media and hope someone will come, and maybe even there will be some black swan migration of attention. But that doesn't work, because the FOXes and ABCs have the lion's share of global flow. SO what do you do? Well, if you want to foster an alternative black swan, and actually have a shot, you need to proliferate many forms of alternative media, proliferate, and aim to steer people into the alternative network. The moral of the black swan is that you can never predict them or time them. You can only be positioned well to respond to them. Proliferation and spread of identities and techniques seems the only way to out-position the global multinational corporation, itself a now-antiquated structure deep in the throws of being deterritorialized and reterritorialized and atomized. So how do you get into the big flow pipelines? What if Bill O'Reilly were a guest on Bruce Andrews Show?

I ultimately believe this illustrates a divide between self-regard and social regard and how hard it is to tell which is which. What is more likely to start an impact, who knows. If you start with yourself, or you start at a global level...there are trade-offs and unlikelihoods either way.

So after all of this ramble, what I'd ultimately encourage is the proliferation of alternatives that strive to work both inside and outside the global flows. The more alternatives the more likely we are to survive. Slow poetry isn't for me but I'm glad you're putting this idea out there for others.

Dale said...

Patrick, thanks for this thoughtful comment. It gives me much to think about. I'm not sure Slow Poetry should be for anyone--it's just a way to generate this--conversation and strategies of engagement and and survival. I appreciate the references you note here too.

All best,

Dale

patrick said...

Hell, Dale, maybe it is for me. I do like slow foods, for example. If I could afford to buy exclusively local I would! And I do try at least.

I thought about what what made me excited about this idea and then, naturally, my skepticism of my own excitement sets in. I guess what I'm saying when I resort to flows is that maybe I want to get away from linguistic maps. Namely, the alternative of slow follows the lines of linguistic/logic maps: the logical neighbor of fast is slow, because it's just a negation of fast. It's a powerful means of generating alternatives and I'm by no stretch anti-logical. But I also wonder what these things seems like if we imagine them geographically, over time? And what happens when time takes over space?

This idea is a pwoerful one and maybe it will gobble up a chunnk of the network flow, much in the way "slow foods" has. Yum!