Field Hollers - Argüelles, Iván; Rino, Solomon
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The authors describe this long poem like this: "Field Hollers was born of insomnia, trading stanzas largely predawn, back and forth before light harrowed." This sequence of stanzas consists of a sort of dialogue, a back-and-forth between 2 "twins" (ie, 2 voices, not 2 sets of twins) who constantly switch places, go into reverse, or speak as one voice, so much so that there is little distinction, really, between them. They become a single double voice, and talk on a metaphoric and metaphysical plane in language that is achingly beautiful and resonant. This is a unique and extraordinary work,…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
The authors describe this long poem like this: "Field Hollers was born of insomnia, trading stanzas largely predawn, back and forth before light harrowed." This sequence of stanzas consists of a sort of dialogue, a back-and-forth between 2 "twins" (ie, 2 voices, not 2 sets of twins) who constantly switch places, go into reverse, or speak as one voice, so much so that there is little distinction, really, between them. They become a single double voice, and talk on a metaphoric and metaphysical plane in language that is achingly beautiful and resonant. This is a unique and extraordinary work, and can be read, and reread, in one sitting, and again and again and again. - John M. Bennett
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Autorenporträt
Author statement: I borrow what I can from multiple sources, from Virgil and James Joyce to Cesar Vallejo and Philip Lamantia. I often write at white-hot speed, and indeed at times in epic furlongs. The experimental often automatic nature of my writing is always looking for new spatial extensions. I consider each new piece to be a challenge, for I do not want to repeat what I have already done, but rather hope to embark on some new direction each time. I would be remiss if I did not emphasize the emotional nature of my work: the fundamental dimensions of the universe dilate with great unspoken sorrows. The intellect is a poor excuse, and reason has no place in this cosmos. Words are merely sounds open to interpretation. Each vowel has its own meaning. All languages say the same thing, embroidered with retroflex consonants, clicks, glottal stops and missing punctuation. The author of some 48 titles, I remain an enigmatic, marginalized figure in the illusory world of official literature. - Iván Argüelles