Scève's Blue Guitar

Leuth resonnant, et le doulx son des cordes
Et le concert de mon affection,
comment ensemble unyment tu accordes
Ton harmonie avec ma passion!
Lors que je suis sans oocupation
si vivement l'esprit tu m 'exercites,
Qu'ores à joye, ore à dueil tu m'incites
Par tes accords, non aux miens ressemblantz,
car plus, que moy, mes maulx tu luy recites
Correspondant à mes soupir tremblantz.


in the transposition of one mode of writing to the other the system falls
flat back on itself, its lack of materiality in the composition procedure
the way the words need to be carved in the resonance of others, hence
the letterings become
'substancial' objects like the lute here is getting to be a real object, you can hear
the cellist at it, count the snares if you'd want.
Syllables that are lived by the poet as autonomous units
of meaning in the convoluting anagram of the world into the dust of earth.

it's all over Scève, it's all over Marvell in a secondary move,
a recuperating way trying to transpose the exposed methods of
work that seemed to have come about haphazerdly, 'randomly '
(huh) to valid rhetorical procedures, as well as with Huygens
both works bracketed out of the estemed tradition as being
the produce of mere 'hobbyist's in such grave times all excusively
'we should't take these musings too serious when thisandthat.
Ah the lovely and eminent selfconscious pricks diese luteleute, ha.

Meanwhile print was applying an equal part of schizophrenic pressure
on the established mental moves of poetry as xml and screens are doing now.
It's the high art at the high tide of a system about to burst into
something entirely new, posed at its very end point away from
equilibrium. In spite of Eliot's blabla: grand days of opportunity.
Just pick it up, tune it some & pluck away.

The classics like Malherbe and Milton, that's a different story, but even
then Ponge seems to be the better judge.