The Origin of the World
19.10.16
collaged from blurbs on books that were in my bedroom on February 2nd, 2012
I’m overwhelmed.
You think you know where you are
and then you don’t, and it’s inexplicably sad.
The private self – detached, hot, normally glimpsed
in sections, as if through window slats –
finds itself face to face with an entirely new
recasting of life: a maze of thoughts and feelings
while the familiar truths you had leaned on
reveal themselves to be horribly self-indulgent
and sad. Desire as melancholia. Progress as slippage.
Wanting for wanting’s sake. We’re faced with time’s inability
to undo the massive knot formed in cities and towns
by heartbreaking placements of furniture, telephones, exaggerated
compassion and perpetual victims, men, women, images, mages,
and a world broken wide open, more intimate and desperate than ever.
Although it lets us into spaces and meanings we couldn’t approach
in any other way, this era of reality TV and incessant simulacra
can make us feel that our role in the world is falsified, unreal, and inauthentic.
Everything is in doubt. You don’t even have to be a poet or an artist
to be a poet or an artist. Instead, a satiric alter-ego
orbiting the failed authority of culture – poised, listening only to yourself,
all the light, sound, thought, and feeling passing through you,
no longer satisfied by the merely beautiful, the singularly clever,
or the one big thought purely rendered.
It reminds us that life is not narrative
but forays into pure abstraction
and we’re all transformed into images somewhere.
The eye, the skull, the earth, the universe:
circumference is everywhere,
the center not to be located.
Like apples, our lives fall on the ground
and lie in the sun. The floodgates crumble.
It’s like looking into a lake: you can see
your own outline and the perforated shapes of an empirical world
reflected among rocks, leaves, and the ghostly stuff
of profound moral insight.
Slowly then,
almost without knowing it: the unpredictable
surfaces and depths of a rising wave.
Nobody else could have seen it coming
and to no one else is it apparent.
The gathering consciousness is omnivorous.
Through the cracked surfaces of visible matter
the intransigence of the years will climb out
and carry you home.
Life is more than just a chronological
arrangement.
Next year’s book awards have already been decided.
So what will life feel like the day after tomorrow?
I don’t know.
You hear people calling for so much sincerity
you’ll have to learn how to sleep with your eyes open.
You’ll need sunglasses and a body double.
They’ll fill you with lettuce and gin.
You’ll struggle. You’ll go crazy.
You’ll change.
But self-discovery’s always about empire
anyways, so if this is the rose period
it’s also the time in which blood rains down
on peoples’ heads. An open mind
is an atrocious act of love.
There’s only longing in its observation.
The future teems with every tragic possibility,
melting imperceptibly into the present
to haunt the lives of men and women everywhere.
It’s arsenal is imposing and effective.
In your own childhood home
you can laugh, tingle, and cry
while right next door the whipper
whips his perpetual victim in The Trial.
It makes me think we’ve lost the keys
to the central metaphor of art since time shouldn’t exist
if it can dissolve in verse, painting,
or simply a shady spot under a tree.
Tu Fu once said “A poet’s ideas are noble and simple.”
But Tu Fu never read Eliot or Joyce.
We’ve been to the moon and come back.
There are no more mistakes to make.
Now we’re in desperate need of real vision.
But isn’t poetry supposed to be a way forward?
A way to perceive life’s pains and pleasures
even though they get lost? Or is anti-poetry
the best friend poetry ever had?
Where is my rule book?
This is serious.
The theory and ideology I keep underlining
and underlining feels so much like living,
but really it’s about needing to touch something
I know my hand will go through.
My troubles may be deep
(no one will ever be prepared for
the death of a parent) but you can’t run
from a sadness that has nowhere else to go.
Even when your own biography
is breaking and entering
into taboo areas, blazing and
stabbing and juicing the days
into their glistening parts
our stories deepen as they go, finally
revealing something not unlike
the origin of the world.
Remember, we make our way
by thinking and speaking to each other.
Your sentences can only be yours.
You don’t need anything more.
And when you die, you might not
want that back.
The Origin of the World (annotated)
collaged from blurbs on books that were in my bedroom on February 2nd, 2012
I’m overwhelmed[1].
You think you know where you are
and then you don’t, and it’s inexplicably sad[2].
The private self[3] – detached, hot[4], normally glimpsed
in sections[5], as if[6] through window slats[7] –
finds itself face to face with[8] an entirely new
recasting of life[9]: a maze of[10] thoughts and feelings[11]
while[12] the familiar truths[13] you had leaned on[14]
reveal[15] themselves[16] to be horribly[17] self-indulgent[18]
and sad[19]. Desire as melancholia. Progress as slippage.
Wanting for wanting’s sake[20]. We’re faced with[21] time’s inability[22]
to un[23]do[24] the massive[25] knot formed[26] in cities and towns[27]
by heartbreaking[28] placements of furniture, telephones[29], exaggerated[30]
compassion and[31] perpetual victims[32], men[33], women[34], images[35], mages[36],
and a world broken wide open[37], more intimate and desperate than ever[38].
Although[39] it lets us into spaces and meanings we couldn’t approach
in any other way[40], this era of reality TV and incessant simulacra[41]
can make us feel that our role in the world is falsified, unreal, and inauthentic.[42]
Everything is in doubt.[43] You don’t[44] even[45] have to be a poet or an artist
to be a poet or an artist[46]. Instead[47], a satiric[48] alter-ego[49]
orbiting the failed authority of culture[50] – poised, listening[51] only[52] to[53] yourself[54],
all the light, sound, thought, and feeling passing through you[55],
no longer satisfied by the merely beautiful, the singularly clever,
or the one big thought purely rendered[56].
It reminds us that life is not narrative
but[57] forays into pure abstraction[58]
and we’re all transformed into images somewhere[59].
The eye, the skull, the earth, the universe:
circumference is everywhere
the center not to be located[60].
Like[61] apples[62], our lives[63] fall on the ground
and lie in the sun[64]. The floodgates crumble[65].
It’s like looking into a lake: you can see
your own outline and the[66] perforated[67] shapes[68] of an empirical[69] world
reflected among rocks, leaves, and[70] the ghostly[71] stuff[72]
of profound moral insight[73].
Slowly then,
almost without knowing it[74]: the unpredictable
surfaces and depths of a rising wave[75].
Nobody else could have[76] seen[77] it coming[78]
and to no one else[79] is it apparent[80].
The gathering consciousness is omnivorous[81].
Through the cracked surfaces of visible matter[82]
the intransigence[83] of the years[84] will climb out[85]
and carry you[86] home[87].
Life[88] is more than just a chronological
arrangement[89].
Next year’s book awards have already been decided.
So what will life feel like the day after tomorrow? [90]
I don’t know[91].
You hear people calling for[92] so much[93] sincerity[94]
you’ll have to learn how to sleep with your eyes open[95].
You’ll need sunglasses[96] and a body double[97].
They’ll fill you with lettuce[98] and gin[99].
You’ll struggle[100]. You’ll go crazy[101].
You’ll change[102].
But self[103]-discovery’s[104] always about empire[105]
any[106]ways[107], so if this is the rose period
it’s also the time in which blood rains down
on peoples’ heads[108]. An open mind[109]
is an atrocious act of love[110].
There’s[111] only[112] longing[113] in its observation[114].
The future[115] teems with[116] every[117] tra[118]gic[119] possibility,
melting imperceptibly into[120] the present
to haunt[121] the lives of[122] men[123] and women[124] everywhere[125].
It’s arsenal is imposing and effective[126].
In your own[127] childhood[128] home
you can laugh, tingle, and cry[129]
while right next door the whipper
whips his perpetual victim in The Trial[130].
It makes me think[131] we’ve lost[132] the keys[133]
to the central metaphor[134] of art[135] since time shouldn’t exist
if it can dissolve[136] in verse[137], painting[138],
or simply[139] a shady spot under a tree[140].
Tu Fu once said “A poet’s ideas are noble and simple.”
But Tu Fu[141] never read[142] Eliot[143] or Joyce[144].
We’ve been[145] to the moon[146] and come back[147].
There are[148] no more[149] mistakes to make[150].
Now we’re in desperate need of real vision[151].
But isn’t[152] poetry supposed to be a way[153] forward[154]?
A way[155] to perceive[156] life’s pains and pleasures[157]
even[158] though[159] they get lost[160]? Or is anti-poetry[161]
the best friend poetry ever had[162]?
Where is my rule book[163]?
This is serious[164].
The theory[165] and ideology[166] I keep underlining
and underlining[167] feels so[168] much[169] like living[170],
but really it’s about needing to touch something
I know my hand will go through[171].
My troubles may be deep[172]
(no one will ever be prepared for
the death of a parent[173]) but you can’t[174]
run[175] from a sadness[176] that has
nowhere else[177] to go[178].
Even when[179] your own[180] biography[181]
is breaking[182] and entering
into taboo areas[183], blazing[184] and
stabbing[185] and juicing[186] the days[187]
into their glistening parts[188]
our stories[189] deepen as they go[190], finally[191]
revealing[192] something not unlike
the origin of the world[193].
Remember[194], we make our way
by thinking and speaking[195] to each other[196].
Your sentences can only be yours[197].
You don’t need anything more[198].
And when[199] you die, you might not
want[200] that[201] back[202].
[1] found on Knee High and Livin’ Large: The World According to Me by Li’l Penny Hardaway and Stacy Wall
[2] found on A Green Light by Matthew Rohrer
[3] found on Poems by Elizabeth Bishop
[5] found on Citizen Soldiers: The U. S. Army from the Normandy Beaches to the Bulge to the Surrender of Germany by Stephen Ambrose
[5] found on The Early Stories: 1953-1975 by John Updike
[6] found on Becoming Weather by Chris Martin
[7] found on The Early Stories: 1953-1975 by John Updike
[8] found on Selected Poems by Dara Wier
[9] found on Tender Buttons by Gertrude Stein
[10] found on Chilly Scenes of Winter by Ann Beattie
[11] found on Complete Poems by Emily Dickinson
[12] found on Japanese Poetic Diaries edited by Earl Miner
[13] found on Chilly Scenes of Winter
[14] found on Self Portraits: Fictions by Frederic Tuten
[15] found on Young Romantics: The Shelleys, Byron and Other Tangled Lives by Daisy Hay
[16] found on Selected Poems by Dara Wier
[17] found on A Fan’s Notes by Frederick Exley
[18] found on Cognitive Behavioral Therapy by Tao Lin
[19] found on The Breaks of the Game by David Halberstam
[20] found on An Island of Fifty by Ben Brooks
[21] found on Selected Poems by Dara Wier
[22] found on The Sonnets by Ted Berrigan
[23] found on Young Romantics: The Shelleys, Byron and Other Tangled Lives by Daisy Hay
[24] found on The Oblivion Ha-Ha by James Tate
[25] found on Faces of the Revolution: Personalities & Themes in the Struggle for American Independence by Bernard Bailyn
[26] found on Young Romantics: The Shelleys, Byron and Other Tangled Lives by Daisy Hay
[27] found on The Pajamaist by Matthew Zapruder
[28] found on Keep This Forever by Mark Halliday
[29] found on Power! How to Get It, How to Use It by Michael Korda
[30] found on Byron by Lord Byron edited by A.S.B. Glover
[31] found on The Collected Stories of Richard Yates by Richard Yates
[32] found on Penthouse F by Richard Kalich
[33] found on Franklin and Winston: An Intimate Portrait of an Epic Friendship by Jon Meachem
[34] found on Complete Poems by Emily Dickinson
[35] found on Complete Novels by Carson McCullers
[36] found on Miss America by Catherine Wagner
[37] found on Miss America by Catherine Wagner
[38] found on Zim Zum by Gordon Lish
[39] found on The Origin of the World by Lewis Warsh
[40] found on Break the Glass by Jean Valentine
[41] found on Penthouse F by Richard Kalich
[42] found on Leaving the Atocha Station by Ben Lerner
[43] found on The Way Through Doors by Jesse Ball
[44] found on The Last Avant-Garde: The Making of the New York School of Poets by David Lehman
[45] found on The Fatalist by Lyn Hejinian
[46] found on The Last Avant-Garde: The Making of the New York School of Poets by David Lehman
[47] found on Mean Free Path by Ben Lerner
[48] found on Complete Poems by Marianne Moore
[49] found on I is to Vorticism by Ben Mirov
[50] found on Mean Free Path by Ben Lerner
[51] found on Big Bright Sun by Nate Pritts
[52] found on We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live: Collected Nonfiction by Joan Didion
[53] found on The Trees The Trees by Heather Christle
[54] found on Pee on Water by Rachel Glaser
[55] found on Big Bright Sun by Nate Pritts
[56] found on AM/PM by Amelia Gray
[57] found on Today I Wrote Nothing: The Selected Writings of Daniil Kharms by Daniil Kharms
[58] found on Great Balls of Fire by Ron Padgett
[59] found on Entrance to a colonial pageant in which we all begin to intricate by Johannes Göransson
[60] found on Sphere by A.R. Ammons
[61] found on Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace
[62] found on The Fatalist by Lyn Hejinian
[63] found on The Ghost Soldiers by James Tate
[64] found on The Fatalist by Lyn Hejinian
[65] found on An Island of Fifty by Ben Brooks
[66] found on Break the Glass by Jean Valentine
[67] found on Becoming Weather by Chris Martin
[68] found on Break the Glass by Jean Valentine
[69] found on Dear Ra by Johannes Göransson
[70] found on Break the Glass by Jean Valentine
[71] found on The Slide by Kyle Beachy
[72] found on The Easter Parade by Richard Yates
[73] found on Complete Poems by Marianne Moore
[74] found on Leaving the Atocha Station by Ben Lerner
[75] found on The Anthologist by Nicholson Baker
[76] found on The Marbled Swarm by Dennis Cooper
[77] found on Byron by Lord Byron edited by A.S.B. Glover
[78] found on Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett
[79] found on Deepstep Come Shining by C.D. Wright
[80] found on Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu, translated by Stephen Mitchell
[81] found on Satellite by Matthew Rohrer
[82] found on Water’s Leaves and Other Poems by Geoffrey Nutter
[83] found on Penthouse F by Richard Kalich
[84] found on Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
[85] found on What He’s Poised to Do by Ben Greenman
[86] found on American Music by Chris Martin
[87] found on What He’s Poised to Do by Ben Greenman
[88] found on Tender Buttons by Gertrude Stein
[89] found on Complete Poems by Emily Dickinson
[90] found on Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace
[91] found on The Oblivion Ha-Ha by James Tate
[92] found on The Drunk Sonnets by Daniel Bailey
[93] found on Borrowed Love Poems by John Yau
[94] found on The Drunk Sonnets by Daniel Bailey
[95] found on I is to Vorticism by Ben Mirov
[96] found on Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace
[97] found on Entrance to a colonial pageant in which we all begin to intricate by Johannes Göransson
[98] found on A Plate of Chicken by Matthew Rohrer
[99] found on The History of the Growth of Heaven by Andrei Codrescu
[100] found on The Slide by Kyle Beachy
[101] found on This Is About the Body, the Mind, the Soul, the World, Time, and Fate by Diane Williams
[102] found on Transcendence: Healing and Transformation Through Transcendental Meditation by Norman Rosenthal
[103] found on Cognitive Behavioral Therapy by Tao Lin
[104] found on The Difficult Farm by Heather Christle
[105] found on Dear Ra by Johannes Göransson
[106] found on Collected Stories by Carson McCullers
[107] found on Transcendental Studies: A Trilogy by Keith Waldrop
[108] found on Coeur de Lion by Ariana Reines
[109] found on Locus Solus by Raymond Roussel
[110] found on Distance from Loved Ones by James Tate
[111] found on Nothing: A Portrait of Insomnia by Blake Butler
[112] found on Byron by Lord Byron edited by A.S.B. Glover
[113] found on What He’s Poised to Do by Ben Greenman
[114] found on Complete Poems by Marianne Moore
[115] found on Leaving the Atocha Station by Ben Lerner
[116] found on Deepstep Come Shining by C.D. Wright
[117] found on Chronic City by Jonathan Lethem
[118] found on The Book of Songs translated by Arthur Waley
[119] found on Illuminations by Arthur Rimbaud translated by John Ashbery
[120] found on Poems by Elizabeth Bishop
[121] found on Mosquito and Ant by Kimiko Hahn
[122] found on Bats out of Hell by Barry Hannah
[123] found on Franklin and Winston: An Intimate Portrait of an Epic Friendship by Jon Meachem
[124] found on Complete Poems by Emily Dickinson
[125] found on Sphere by A.R. Ammons
[126] found on Citizen Soldiers: The U. S. Army from the Normandy Beaches to the Bulge to the Surrender of Germany by Stephen Ambrose
[127] found on Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan
[128] found on Dubliners by James Joyce
[129] found on Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan
[130] found on Penthouse F by Richard Kalich
[131] found on The Ghost Soldiers by James Tate
[132] found on Break the Glass by Jean Valentine
[133] found on Illuminations by Arthur Rimbaud translated by John Ashbery
[134] found on Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan
[135] found on Water’s Leaves and Other Poems by Geoffrey Nutter
[136] found on A Green Light by Matthew Rohrer
[137] found on Meditations in an Emergency by Frank O’Hara
[138] found on Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
[139] found on Transcendence: Healing and Transformation Through Transcendental Meditation by Norman Rosenthal
[140] found on The Adventures of Mao on the Long March by Frederic Tuten
[141] found on The Selected Poems of Tu Fu translated by David Hinton
[142] found on A People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn
[143] found on Reader’s Block by David Markson
[144] found on 100 Poems by E.E. Cummings
[145] found on Water’s Leaves and Other Poems by Geoffrey Nutter
[146] found on The Difficult Farm by Heather Christle
[147] found on Miss America by Catherine Wagner
[148] found on The Breaks of the Game by David Halberstam
[149] found on American Music by Chris Martin
[150] found on 100 Poems by E.E. Cummings
[151] found on Distance from Loved Ones by James Tate
[152] found on Nothing: A Portrait of Insomnia by Blake Butler
[153] found on The Fatalist by Lyn Hejinian
[154] found on Self Portraits: Fictions by Frederic Tuten
[155] found on The Fatalist by Lyn Hejinian
[156] found on Chronic City by Jonathan Lethem
[157] found on The Poems of Laura Riding by Laura Riding
[158] found on The Fatalist by Lyn Hejinian
[159] found on The Origin of the World by Lewis Warsh
[160] found on Water’s Leaves and Other Poems by Geoffrey Nutter
[161] found on The Ghost Soldiers by James Tate
[162] found on The Ghost Soldiers by James Tate
[163] found on Pee on Water by Rachel Glaser
[164] found on The Difficult Farm by Heather Christle
[165] found on Uncreative Writing by Kenneth Goldsmith
[166] found on The Radicalism of the American Revolution by Gordon Wood
[167] found on Yonder Stands Your Orphan by Barry Hannah
[168] found on Big Bright Sun by Nate Pritts
[169] found on Becoming Weather by Chris Martin
[170] found on Big Bright Sun by Nate Pritts
[171] found on Ghost Machine by Ben Mirov
[172] found on Transcendence: Healing and Transformation Through Transcendental Meditation by Norman Rosenthal
[173] found on Keep This Forever by Mark Halliday
[174] found on Bed by Tao Lin
[175] found on The Difficult Farm by Heather Christle
[176] found on Tintin in the New World by Frederic Tuten
[177] found on The Poems of Laura Riding by Laura Riding
[178] found on This Is About the Body, the Mind, the Soul, the World, Time, and Fate by Diane Williams
[179] found on Cognitive Behavioral Therapy by Tao Lin
[180] found on Break the Glass by Jean Valentine
[181] found on Complete Poems by Emily Dickinson
[182] found on Keep This Forever by Mark Halliday
[183] found on Ugly Man by Dennis Cooper
[184] found on Young Romantics: The Shelleys, Byron and Other Tangled Lives by Daisy Hay
[185] found on Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett
[186] found on The Cloud of Knowable Things by Elaine Equi
[187] found on The Drunk Sonnets by Daniel Bailey
[188] found on The Trees The Trees by Heather Christle
[189] found on When All Our Days are Numbered Marching Bands Will Fill the Streets & We Will Not Hear Them Because We Will be Upstairs in the Clouds by Sasha Fletcher
[190] found on Tintin in the New World by Frederic Tuten
[191] found on Reader’s Block by David Markson
[192] found on Young Romantics: The Shelleys, Byron and Other Tangled Lives by Daisy Hay
[193] found on The Origin of the World by Lewis Warsh
[194] found on I Remember by Joe Brainard
[195] found on Transcendental Studies: A Trilogy by Keith Waldrop
[196] found on Franklin and Winston: An Intimate Portrait of an Epic Friendship by Jon Meachem
[197] found on We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live: Collected Nonfiction by Joan Didion
[198] found on American Music by Chris Martin
[199] found on You Can Negotiate Anything by Herb Cohen
[200] found on Miss America by Catherine Wagner
[201] found on Samuel Taylor Coleridge: A Bondage of Opium by Molly Lefebrue
[202] found on Miss America by Catherine Wagner
——————-
Andrew James Weatherhead was born in Chicago, Illinois without a sense of smell.
