Enter 550 — Marton’s “Cursive” Again
Marton got back to me about his “cursive” yesterday, giving me enough material for a full entry.
He pointed out the direction of the leaves is not consistent. I had not noticed it. Which is a good lead-in to one of my much-repeated dogmas: there’s more to every good poem, however seemingly simple, than even a good critic will find on his own. Marton believes that “the first and the second leaf are connected in a way which is not possible in nature.” Hence, for him, the poem is displaying “the surmounting (or appeasing) of that impossibility.” This is a reading in addition tomine, not a counter-reading since it is does not contradict my reading. (Dogma #2: there is more than one good reading of any good poem-but there is only one main reading–to which all the other readings must conform. That said, I read the change of the direction of the ellipsis to suggest oneleaf’s rebelliousness. It doesn’t want to be part of an ellipsis. Or, in my main reading, it it is eager for winter, and the other two leaves are not? as for the linkage of the leaves being impossible in Nature, I’m confused: I view their stems as touching. But is the image of a vine? These leaves don’t look like a vine’s leaves to me.
They don’t look like autumn leaves, as my main reading of the poem has it, either. But they are detached leaves, so can’t be summer or spring leaves.
Marton also reminded me that he had dedicated the poem to me. That, he added, “is an important piece of information. 
” I was being modest, but I see that the dedication actually is important, for it connects the poem to my series, “Cursive Mathemaku.” Thinking about that connection, I thought of something else to mention about the poem–the fact that cursive writing is personal. The Nature in the poem is not a machine typing out falling leaves but an individual writing a poem with her leaves.
” I was being modest, but I see that the dedication actually is important, for it connects the poem to my series, “Cursive Mathemaku.” Thinking about that connection, I thought of something else to mention about the poem–the fact that cursive writing is personal. The Nature in the poem is not a machine typing out falling leaves but an individual writing a poem with her leaves..
As I announced when I first posted this, I am hoping to publish an anthology of mathematical poems, like this one, so if you have one or know of one, send me a copy of it, or tell me about it.
karl kempton 
“certain kinds of semantically meaningless texts that somehow act like language are a form of visual poetry.”
what’s wrong with that?
actually, id be more interested in a report of marton’s presentation during his stay in this country.
As you ought to know by now, Nico, I have this absurd idea that poetry is a literary art, and therefore must have a semantic meaning. But I might have to accept certain kinds of “semantically meaningless texts that somehow act like language are a form of visual poetry” as poetry if there’s no other category for it. If it does something aesthetically interesting visually, then I’d call it “visimagery,” my word for visual art. If it is strictly textual but averbal, then, perhaps, “asemic poetry” would be the proper category for it. Justified by its having “near-words”–and having to have some category.
As for what I put in my blog, there’s a lot of stuff I’d like to see in it but am habitually too tired to post. I should be up to saying more about my day with Marton (and Clark) eventually, but not about Marton’s presentation, because I could only afford to stay a day, so missed it. It may have been recorded, though. By now he has probably given a second presentation in Chicago. His tour includes a third city–Milwaukee, I think. Anyway, he’ll be meeting Karl Young.
–Bob
–Bob
i know i stepped in your definition field, but wouldnt a “foreign” language be considered meaningless to someone without the semantic keys. though, of course, it would still be language.
im glad to hear marton’s visiting mr young..
thanks,
n
My impulse was to joke that all poems have to be in English. But in a way, that’s true: a poem is FOR ITS ENGAGENT a collection of wrods (and perhaps other elements) that he can read. A text in Spanish is not a poem for me, but can certainly be one for a person who speaks Spanish. Just as a painting can be a work of art for someone who can see but not for someone who is blind.
I maintain that everything has a personal definition and social definition. For me, a poem has to be in English. For the world, a poem has to be in some language more than one person can read.
It reduces to the silly philosophical question about whether real things exist where no conscious mind can witness them. I say they do simply because it’s easier to think things are stable, and don’t disappear when no one is looking at them. But the latter could happen. It doesn’t matter, though. Existence stays exactly the same regardless of what happens.
–Bob