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PARTISAN REVIEW
the words, one feels almost that the explanation is a rationalization of sorts.
The simple truth is that one is hooked on the words and that Wright 's power
as a poet lies in just this ability to hook us, to intoxicate us with a language
that radiates paradox-that is , the realm of symbol. To accomplish this de–
mands , I think , a kind of surrender on the part of the poet , a loosening of
intent, a trusting in the mad sense of language . And , in fact, .Wright 's
poetry fails when he refuses to surrender enough, when he holds the reins on
the words too tightly, when he seems too intent upon getting an idea across
and, ironically, ends up writing poems less rich in meaning. But when the
right balance between abandon and control is achieved, the nature of the
tension is erotic:
Carafe, compotier, sea shell, vase :
Blank spaces, white objects ;
Luminous knots along the black rope.
The clouds, great piles of oblivion , cruise
Over the world, the wind at their backs
Forever. They darken whomever they please .
"White "
The connective threads, the concepts, that run through Wright's
poems and make his collection read, asJames Tate puts it, "like a book not
a miscellany," have to do with Wright's insistence that the human is but
one system, one way of ordering, one center exerting its force while simul–
taneously being permeated by the force of other systems, that progress in
terms of any single system is an illusion ; the center is always shifting. There
is simply process, displacement, the perpetual turning of transformation:
You thought you climbed, and all the while you descended
Go up and go down , what other work is there
For you to do, what other work in this world?
The seasons back off. The hills
Debase themselves , and keep on growing. Over the land,
Your feet touch down like feathers,
A brushstroke here, a gouge there, lacking a print
Always , and always without direction .
Or so
It
seems . But what, for one meandering man ,
Is all that, who looks for the willow 's change ,
The drift and slip of smoke through the poplar leaves.
