Mary Walker Graham: Two Poems in "Poetry", September '05
Every once in a while, I find hard evidence that MOR isn't completely dead. Mary Walker Graham's two poems in the September issue of "Poetry" are such proof. Graham subverts MOR convention by positing an "anti-epiphanic I". That is, these are (more or less) lyric poems, that pay close and loving attention to syntax, craft, and melopoeia; but the protagonist of the poems goes out of her way to "preserve the mystery", keep the reader at a distance. Stanley Kubrick used camera angles to create a mood of alienation and unease; Graham uses her "I" in much the same way. These are the closing lines of "No where, No one":
Drowned or owned,
I'm now here. My face breaks with a bit of blue--
a bit of bruise and some rawness in the rushes.
Most MOR poems are puppy dogs, slobbering all over us in an attempt to gain love and acceptance. Graham's aren't. Graham throws a veil over herself and dares us to peek beneath, dares us to care. It's a dare because Graham is complete and self-sufficient in her isolated stasis; she doesn't need us. Exquisite alliterations in these lines, but they don't cloy, because Graham seems to be throwing them out just for the hell of it. She's moved beyond the faux-intimacy of Confessional poetry, into a realm of Impressionistic, free-associative chance. The "anti-epiphanic I" is sustained (though slightly diluted by hints of "approval seeking") in "Parts of a Story", but "No where, No one" is the essential piece, the most pure expression of Graham's original talent. It's nice to see "Poetry" taking a chance with some fresh, compelling new voices. It's even nicer to see Ms. Graham deconstruct the MOR lyric poem and put it back together in such an interesting, anti-ephiphanic fashion.
Drowned or owned,
I'm now here. My face breaks with a bit of blue--
a bit of bruise and some rawness in the rushes.
Most MOR poems are puppy dogs, slobbering all over us in an attempt to gain love and acceptance. Graham's aren't. Graham throws a veil over herself and dares us to peek beneath, dares us to care. It's a dare because Graham is complete and self-sufficient in her isolated stasis; she doesn't need us. Exquisite alliterations in these lines, but they don't cloy, because Graham seems to be throwing them out just for the hell of it. She's moved beyond the faux-intimacy of Confessional poetry, into a realm of Impressionistic, free-associative chance. The "anti-epiphanic I" is sustained (though slightly diluted by hints of "approval seeking") in "Parts of a Story", but "No where, No one" is the essential piece, the most pure expression of Graham's original talent. It's nice to see "Poetry" taking a chance with some fresh, compelling new voices. It's even nicer to see Ms. Graham deconstruct the MOR lyric poem and put it back together in such an interesting, anti-ephiphanic fashion.
<< Home