Original poem reprinted online here: "from Debths" by Susan Howe
Originally read: September 19, 2013
More information about the Poet: Susan Howe
Humor within the metapoetics. "A work of art is a world of signs, at least to the poet's nursery / bookshelf sheltered behind the artist's ear." The images are surreal, but there's the somewhat set distinction between art, artist, and poet. "I recall each little / motto howling its ins and outs to those of us who might as /well be on the moon illu illu illu" The last part I don't understand, but the sense of connection keeps breaking since the language seems like they flow but the context doesn't flow back.
With the second part, it's the reverse, the context makes sense, but the language is broken up, "Antique Mirror / Etce ce Tera, Forgotn quiet all." Then the commentary that doesn't allude to the past lines, "Nobody grows old and crafty / here in middle air together. Long ago ice wraith foliage. / I had such fren"
The last line seems core to the poem and tells more of how to look at the poem (note not read), "Our mother of puddled images fading away into deep blue polymer. / Seaweed, nets, shells, fish, feathers." How does context and language disappear in the mind? Through fragments, through disconnections. There are no "depths" in which the mind goes further down, but "debths" in which memory is saved, and time takes it's toll.