“Open to Revision Mutation”
by Zach Savich | Contributing Writer
Residuum
Martin Rock
Cleveland State University Poetry Center, 2016
Martin Rockâs first collection of poetry, Residuum, is a work of what one could call âpreserved erasure.” Unlike books that black out or excise text, as though by a whimsical censorâs pen, Residuum uses the straight line of the strike-through to perform enact embody allow its resections to remain apparent. So, a reader sees layered versions, in a manner often available only in poets’ archives. This method might suggest that the unstruck phrases give us the definitive poem, a final draft. Or it could signal that there is no authoritative, underlying poem but only a record of composition. The following lines, for instance, can be seen as three attempts at a three-line section or as a single five-line passage:
To be eternally awake & substantial
in the presence of a womanI met in the ether
I love more than all the feathers on all the ducks
whose very breath is my only hope for air
However, even if you treat these lines as a single passage, their multiplicity emphasizes substitution, not accretion; the âvery breathâ that is the poetâs âonly hope of airâ belongs to the woman of the second line, not to the ducks of the fourth, or at least not to both the ducks and the woman simultaneously. And so Residuumâs variations seem to happen in sequence, line by line, unlike works that retrospectively erase a set text. Itâs like the poet is continually saying, âNo, I didnât get that quite right, let me try again.â As a result, Residuumâs style of erasure recalls the ways in which poems often refine and recast their statements, or ripple in a readerâs mind. We might read the strike-throughs as saying, ânot this, but maybe the next line,â rather than, âthis and also the next line, variously and at the same time.â
Thus, Residuum might have more in common with works that simulate a poetâs re-reading or revision than with those that use erasure to convey reticence or suppressed speech; it shows how speech takes place, not the poetâs skepticism about the sayable. In contrast, consider these lines from early in Robert Hassâs âBerkeley Eclogue,â a poem that is conflicted about lyrical utterance:
The bird sings
among the toyons in the springâs diligence
of rain. And then what? Hand on your heart.
Would you die for spring? What would you die for?
Anything?
The motivating urgency here is clear: each italicized interruption critiques Hassâs efforts at meaningful speech. Thereâs a related self-critiqueâand a related concern about linguistic accountabilityâin Lucy Ivesâs Anamnesis (Slope Editions, 2009), a self-revising consideration of identity and loss. âSuppose we write, âPaul had a great mind,ââ Ivesâs book-length poem begins. âLater we can return, strike through the word âmindâ and write â brainâ / Later we might add, before the word âhad,â the words, âthe owner of the restaurant.ââ The page ends, devastatingly, âStrike the whole sentence.â If Hassâs poem asks us to consider the nature of ethical lyricism, and Ivesâs book asks us to think about the difficulties of representation, what questions do Rockâs strike-throughs raise? The beginning of Residuum suggests some answers:
I could find you amongst a pile of leaves
sleeping animals& in the squalor of the overhanging vines
the shade of the hole in the sun
your head
These lines donât show Hassâs suspicion of poeticism, since âleavesâ and âsleeping animalsâ offer similar kinds of lyrical scenery, and âamongstâ seems stylized and slightly archaic, compared to âamong.â And they donât show Ivesâs concern about precision, about whether a âmindâ might actually be a âbrain,â since âthe squalor of the overhanging vinesâ and âthe shade of the hole in the sunâ seem more like alternatesâwhat I called substitutionsâthan like specific refinements. Rather, in this case Rockâs revisions seem to glitch the lines away from more predictable meaning: instead of âshadeâ calling to âsun,â the lines conclude with âthe hole in your head.â A bullet hole or other injury? A way to enter the eyes, and the shadow-play of the imagination, where this poem, itself, occurs? However you interpret it, the substitution of âyour headâ disorients but also extends from the earlier phrases; that is, it doesnât rupture language or reconfigure image like a Surrealist poem might, but shifts the poemâs vision by a half-step. This change fits the guiding metaphor of Residuum: to let the âgenetic materialâ of language open âitself to revision / mutation.â While the poems by Hass and Ives apply considerations about language to their texts, Residuum seems to try to record the mutations that arise from the text itself as it spoors and unwinds.
This may be why so many of the phrases in Residuum, despite their variations, stay within a similar range. For example, Rock replaces âeat breakfastâ with a parallel actionââplay hockeyâânot with a florid, outlying phrase. He subsequently strikes-through âplay hockeyâ and offers âtake part in the infinite.â That phrase matches the others, grammatically, but itâs much more general, since one might take part in the infinite through hockey or a breakfast special. Is Residuum suggesting that âmutationâ can tend toward generality, whether of implicit substructures or transcendence? There are many moments when subsequent lines run counter to the typical workshop tenet of âshow donât tell,â instead revising toward underlying abstractions. At one point, for instance, âmicroscopic robotsâ become âbiomechanical organisms,â which become the even more general âbiomechanical intelligence.â Elsewhere, an âofficial gathering of scientistsâ is replaced with the âgauntlet of my own imagination.â That phrase erases the specific scene and also folds back on itself, in two senses: it reminds us, again, that the poem is taking place within the imagination, and it does so through a phrase that would often seem redundant (âmy ownâ). Similarly, in the following lines, the strike-throughs soften the specific juxtaposition that turns a whiff of smoke into the entire world, and then soften âtheâ entire world to âaâ single one:
mere whiff of smoke
A
The whole world
becomes itself invisible in the mist
This approach to mutation is not uniform. There are times when phrases add specificity or focusâas when Rock replaces several phrases describing actions in the garden, settling on the evocative âsprays the leaves with oilââbut itâs consistent enough to sometimes move the language toward circularity and tautology, as though a mutating phrase seeks to overrun the poemâs expressive system, much as a genetic mutation, or ecological symmetry, can seem to overrun an individual instance. âThe reading of thoughts is exceedingly tantalizing,â Rock writes. He replaces the struck-through phrase with âthe act in which you are currently engaged,â canceling out both the tantalizing phrase and its tantalizing description of reading. Thereâs a similar effect in the following lines, which replace a specific action with a more general perception:
In the woods I skinned a bunny
did not skin a bunny
saw a bunny with my own two eyes & pointed out
Look!
The redundancy here seems as significant as patterns do in nature: we donât only have âmy own,â again, but an act of looking depicted three times (âsaw,â âpointed out,â âLook!â). Perhaps, then, Residuum suggests that linguistic mutation does not only add to a text but multiplies the effects within it. And there are enough references to the machine-generated (or augmented) experiences of the âselflessâ internet and the âsincerityâ of pop-up ads to suggest that thereâs an algorithmic allusion in this process, though Residuumâs permutations donât seem to have an overt mathematical basis. Its references to other literary texts suggest that literary productionâits absorbed lineages, its relationship to criticismâinvolves a related form of mutation. For instance, Rock strikes through Berrymanâs famous phrase âNobody is ever missingâ and replaces it with ânothing is ever finished.â This paraphrase, like some of those above, is more general than the original line, perhaps suggesting that critical understanding, or the application of memorable phrases, can become reductive, while still leaving a specific trace. But it also, once again, brings the text to comment on itself, on its potentially endless revisions. Through this method, Residuum suggests that linguistic mutation might help us migrate through âplains / pages / internetâ to reach an âincorporeal mindâ that lives within and through our language. It almost makes it feel wrong to speak of authorship; the strike-through can feel more geologic than personal, a striation on a cliffâs side, a fault line underfoot.
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Zach Savich‘s most recent books are the poetry collection The Orchard Green and Every Color and the memoir Diving Makes the Water Deep. He teaches in the BFA Program for Creative Writing at the University of the Arts, in Philadelphia, and co-edits Rescue Press’s Open Prose Series.