Climate Correction
By John Ashbery
So what if there
was an attempt to widen
the gap. Reel in the scenery.
It’s unlike us to reel in the difference.
the gap. Reel in the scenery.
It’s unlike us to reel in the difference.
We got the room
in other hands, to exit like a merino ghost.
What was I telling you about?
in other hands, to exit like a merino ghost.
What was I telling you about?
Walks in the reeds.
Be
contumely about it.
You need a chaser.
contumely about it.
You need a chaser.
In other words,
persist, but rather
a dense shadow fanned out.
Not exactly evil, but you get the point.
a dense shadow fanned out.
Not exactly evil, but you get the point.
'Gnomic to the end,' I commented.
Google his name and you get one of those helpful obits in a box that the big G spacialises in. It's not exactly 'Mount Parnassos' but I suppose its the best poets can hope for these days.
I liked the quote: I write with experiences in mind, but I don't write about them, I write out of them.
It's the most sensible thing I have seen written about Ashbery's work and it is pleasing that he wrote it himself. He turned the barely comprehensible into an art form; his poems turn in on themselves, enticing the reader to make sense of them, but the meaning remains elusive, like shifting shadows or an echo which refuses to fade. See, I told you what he said himself about his writing made more sense.
RIP. He was one of the greats - I have a signed first edition of 'Hotel Lautrement' published by Carcenet in 1992. Looking at his signature is a poignant moment - the presence of absence.
