318
PART ISAN RE VI EW
as he sti cks hi s to ngue o ut, makes a face,
hurri es
to
ge t read y, shaves a nd sings,
turning thi s way and tha t changing whil e
a ll a round him cha nge a hundred things?
But my lines wi ll be va in if no one
w ill be th ere
to
whom I ca n rec ite,
I will shine in va in there if unhea rd ;
bruta ll y sha rp is th e image no one
sees, what I am, wh at the other's like.
Will a blind ma n's mirro r be th e wo rd ?
T he force of fa ith pl aced o r mi spl aced in the powe r of language
astoni shes. Sa ndo r Ka nya di 's " In to Noa h's Ark" herds la nguage a board
the famo us a rk o f sa lva ti o n a lo ng w ith th e two-by- twos, as if sav ing an
end a ngered species : " We mu st ga th er, ro und up eve rything.
I
Even
wo rd s. Not a sing le wo rd ,/ no r express io n, sho uld be left behind ." for
o nce th e wa ters ebb, asse rts th e poet, wo rd s w ill g ive back th e wo rl d
itse lf, a nd a ll th e no uri shment required to li ve in it:
from the we ll -prese rved
we ll -gua rd ed wo rd s we' ll
re-crea te the first
whea t kernel of o ur own,
when we ca n no longe r
li ve by the wo rd a lone.
To read th e poems in
I Remain
as a group is to be reminded w ha t a
lu xury it is fo r Ameri ca ns to dwell in a relentl ess ly a hi sto ri ca l, asoc ia l
conscio usness . N o t a ll the poems are ove rtl y po liti ca l; in fact, th e
a nth o logy o ffers a ri ch ama lga m o f na ture poems a nd love poems, sur–
rea li st riffs a nd imag ist gems, sc ra ps o f pretty ditti es a nd ex tended com–
pl ex odes, like Do mo kos Szil agy i's " Ba rtok in Ameri ca" o r Sa nd o r
Ka nya di 's mini -epi c "All Soul 's Day in Vi enn a." But th e contex ts of
soc iety a nd hi sto ry, the tug o f cl ose ly pac ked huma nity w ith a ll its di s–
pa ra te des ires, a nimos iti es, a nd tra diti o ns is eve rprese nt. "Euro pe," to
th e poets in thi s vo lume, is w ha t Euro pe was to, say,
T.
S. Elio t o r Henry
J ames so much ea rli er in o ur own century: a n entity to contend w ith , a
fo rce o f va lue a nd irrevoca bl e hi storic events wh ose tendril s continu e to
twine one's limbs, press a t o ne's windpipe .
