Wallace Stevens is a very unique and perplexing poet, or so he seems to me. Some of his poems are straightforward while others force me to struggle to gain even a glimmer of his point. Some grab me immediately while others move me not at all. And this one?
The Poems of Our Climate
I
Clear water in a brilliant bowl,
Pink and white carnations. The light
In the room more like a snowy air,
Reflecting snow. A newly-fallen snow
At the end of winter when afternoons return.
Pink and white carnations--one desires
So much more than that. The day itself
is simplified: a bowl of white,
Cold, a cold porcelain, low and round,
With nothing more than the carnations there.
II
Say even that this complete simplicity
Stripped one of all one's torments, concealed
The evilly compounded, vital I
And made it fresh in a world of white,
A world of clear water, brilliant-edged,
Still one would want more, one would need more,
More than world of white and snowy scents.
III
There would still remain the never-ending mind,
So that one would want to escape, come back
To what had been so long composed.
The imperfect is our paradise.
Note that, in this bitterness, delight,
Since the imperfect is so hot in us,
Lies in flawed words and stubborn sounds.
-- Wallace Stevens --
from Wallace Stevens: The Collected Poems
I see a strong element of Eastern religious, aesthetic or cultural traditions. The water, the bowl, the flowers create an image that reminds me of many Japanese paintings: very simple, only a few items, uncluttered, with light being important.
While my knowledge of Buddhism is minimal and incomplete, I think its main theme is that if one removes all desires, to want nothing, even the need to remove all desires, one would free oneself from the world's pains. That seems to be the point of the first stanza.
Yet, in the second stanza
Still one would want more, one would need more,
More than world of white and snowy scents.
It is the ego, the I, that delights in variety and desires. It would reject that peace of the simple and uncluttered life for what? The third stanza seems to answer that question:
The imperfect is our paradise.
Note that, in this bitterness, delight,
Since the imperfect is so hot in us,
Lies in flawed words and stubborn sounds.
Is this a poem that reflects the difficulty and the obstacles to enlightenment or is it an outright rejection of that way of life?
As far as aesthetic sensibility goes, Stevens and I would get along grandly. So far as our spiritual natures go, we'd probably not have so good a fit, but as you noted, with Stevens, there's so much mutability poem to poem, it's hard to say.
ReplyDeleteThe last three lines of this poem lead me to believe that he would reject any spiritual notion beyond that of poetry itself. Although the surroundings suggest that he is struggling with that notion.
Steven,
DeleteThere definitely is a struggle here. I wonder if he rejects the spiritual element or considers it impossible to achieve.
But that last line is joined to the one two above by the exhortation: Note that. . . delight /. . . Lies in flawed words and stubborn sounds." Thus the pleasure comes not from any cold and still spiritual meandering, but from the constructs of words. Or so it seems.
ReplyDeletei think so, also, Tim... what you said is about what i thought, except i'd add that he does'nt seem too happy with his life...
ReplyDeleteI've never been good at analyzing poetry but I love the beautiful imagery.
ReplyDeleteSharon,
DeleteImagery is most important in poetry--everything else must come second. Imagery makes the poem work.
I agree with Steven. In the end there seems to be a strong sense that such spiritual enlightenment and perfection is unattainable.
ReplyDeleteReading it in context with much of the rest of Stevens's poetry, I would say that it is consistent with Stevens's general message (see for example The Man with the Blue Guitar, Disillusionment of 10 O'Clock, Sunday Morning, and The Idea of Order in Key West. His consolation seems to be in the art of poetry and in the words.
ReplyDeleteIn general, I'd agree with Mudpuddle's conclusion about Stevens's general satisfaction with life. But he also seemed to have a major struggle with spirituality and religious issues that result in poems like this. It appears that in this one, he didn't find much consolation in Buddhism and reports on what I would call "the usual problems." (They aren't problems, but they are common experiences of people trying to understand and incorporate Buddhist teachings--kept me away for nearly thirty years.)
Tim,
ReplyDeleteI don't know, but he seems to suggest, to me anyway, that
"delight,
Since the imperfect is so hot in us,
Lies in flawed words and stubborn sounds"
He seems here to prefer those "flawed words and stubborn sounds" to that spiritual state brought out in the first stanza.
Steven,
ReplyDeleteEnlightenment seems to be a cold, clear, and austere state, perhaps too much so for humans? Or at least that human?
Fred--
DeleteIndeed, Stevens does for buddhist thought here what he did for Christian ideas in Sunday Morning. A systematic dismantling of their convicting power, at least as far as the poet is concerned. And he comes back to salvation--art--whether cold and austere as in the arrangement of flowers in a bowl or inadequate, as most of our language--art transforms and therefore offers salvation--of a sort. And at a minimum the rare delight that is to be had. I think this chimes well with Man with the Blue Guitar and Dillusionment of 10 O'Clock.
Steven: probably not news to you, but there is no enlightenment nor salvation: just chopping wood and carrying water... the four noble truths have some application, i think...
DeleteSteven,
DeleteI haven't read Sunday Morning yet. From what you say, it might be a good idea to take a look at it. I wasn't aware that he had questioned Christianity.
"Disillusionment at 10 O'Clock" is one that I had read and even commented on several years ago.
Perhaps I should take another look at "Disillusionment...," and then read "The Man with the Blue Guitar," and "Sunday Morning."
"The Man with the Blue Guitar" sounds like it should be the title for a painting--Picasso perhaps?
He seems to be saying there are only two options:
ReplyDeletethat "world of white and snowy scents" and those "flawed words and stubborn sounds."
Are there other options?
Within the poem? I think so--arrangement, the creation of beauty typified the bowl, which while austere, is also dramatic and lovely. All of these words, arrangment, art, are but imperfect, half-formed things, but for Stevens, it is all there is. At least until he tries to convince us that Christianity doesn't work, and then, we have an extremely complex poem that leaves one wondering where the poet may actually be. An interesting thematic thread in one of my very favorite poets.
DeleteSteven,
DeleteI haven't looked that closely at WS, mainly just opening a collection of his poetry and browsing. I haven't read enough by him to start thinking about themes or thematic threads.
The usual problem--too few hours and too many books.
Steven,
ReplyDeleteThe bowl, the arrangement, the color, the light: all appear to be perfect, yet he ends by saying that the self, the I, the ego seems to desire the incomplete,incomplete, and the flawed.