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Thoughts On Rexroth’s Prosody Essay, Research Paper
Rexroth’s art works by a technique of self-effacement. His
diction and line appear to be effortless, organic, inevitable, without seam. The lack of
ostentation he ascribes to his pietistic background finds as its formal companion this
straightforward prosody. Still, to dissect and describe how his line, ostensibly so simple
on the surface, actually works would be as difficult to do as explain Williams’ variable
foot: and Rexroth’s was surely a less self-consciously developed art.
The longer, philosophical poems operate quite successfully within the same set of
technical values as the shorter, lyrical poems. It is at least in part a function of
Rexroth’s anti-elitist politics that be never veers too far from a polished colloquial
syntax–that of an experienced, unaffected, worldly man speaking. One is conducted through
the seemingly spontaneous rhythms toward meaning. Like Blake, Whitman, and Lawrence, such
formal directness of language functions in perfect symmetry with an embracing, mystical
philosophy which thrusts the manners of that language out and away, almost into
palpability. Consider the variety of cadence and verbal tone in the opening lines of
Our canoe idles in the idling current
Of the tree and vine and rush enclosed
Backwater of a torpid midwestern stream;
Revolves slowly, and lodges in the glutted
Waterlilies. We are tired of paddling.
All afternoon we have climbed the weak current,
Up dim meanders, through woods and pastures,
Past muddy fords where the strong smell of cattle
Lay thick across the water; singing the songs
Of perfect, habitual motion; ski songs,
Nightherding songs, songs of the capstan walk,
The levee, and the roll of the voyageurs.
For all its rhythmic diversity the lines do not vary beyond nine to eleven syllables
(two thirds of the passage is comprised of hendecasyllables); there are four or five
stresses per line, mostly four. Yet by unstrained employment of different punctuation,
enjambment, and variable balancing of syllabic stresses Rexroth invokes in the reader an
actual physical feeling, the sensation of being in this idle canoe, buffeted by irregular,
lazy currents, exhausted but alert. It is a remarkable achievement of form, and is carried
off with effortless sanguinity. The final four lines constitute such a balance of
differing weights–the second line triadic, the third of almost equal proportions mounted
on the fulcrum of that comma and balanced out from the middle by the repeated "songs,
songs"–they can be compared to a Calder mobile. Similarly line-breaks are commonly
intensified in Rexroth’s work by intuitively perfect serializations of the various parts
California rolls into
Sleepy summer, and the air
Is full of the bitter sweet
Smoke of the grass fires burning
On the San Francisco hills.
We see in the terminal positions of these opening lines of "Delia"–each of
which has exactly seven syllables–movement from preposition to noun to adjective (though
at first appearance "sweet" reads curiously like a substantive, until the eye
moves back to the beginning of the next line and reads "smoke"–making
"sweet" adjectival) to gerundial verb to noun. Thus the various points of
stress, as one moves down through the lines of the single sentence, are here accomplished
less by sheer rhythm than the grammatical expectations felt in each end-word, and the
consequent "weight" intuited by the reader in those words.
None of these effects is possible, of course, in a verse that suppresses linear syntax.
It is for this reason, as much as any other, that Rexroth abandoned the asyntactical
techniques (cubist in origin) of the "half decade of foreboding—1927-1932,"
most of which were published in The Art of Worldly Wisdom in 1949. Although he
proposed that the elements of his cubist verse (see "Prolegomenon to a
Theodicy") "are as simple as the elementary shapes of a cubist painting and the
total poem is as definite and apprehensible as the finished picture," it was the
measured, syntactical line of "Floating" and "Delia" he was to develop
and largely use from the thirties on. Even in the later poems in The Heart’s Garden,
The Garden’s Heart, On Flower Wreath Hill, and The Silver Swan–so thoroughly
influenced by Japanese and Chinese models (after Waley and Pound, Rexroth was the great
bringer of East Asian poetry into our culture)–he maintains much the same voice and
cadences and line of the earlier work.
The simplicity of exact pronouncement may allow for particularly complex thought.
Precision of fact in observation, as well as in syntax or form, is perhaps nowhere more
evident than in Rexroth’s crucial book-length poem, The Dragon and the Unicorn.
That this poem is now so seldom read, even by Rexroth aficionados and practitioners of the
craft of poetry, troubled Rexroth, and depressed him. For in The Dragon and the Unicorn
we find the most complete formulation of his personal, mystical philosophy, the most
extensive indictment of Western civilization (comparable to, if not as fiery and
incantatory as "Thou Shalt Not Kill"), and perhaps the closest approximation to
his speaking voice there is in his poetical works. (An Autobiographical Novel is
the most perfect mirror to Rexroth’s spoken word, as it was dictated, and edited only
enough to get it past Doubleday’s libel lawyers.) Set as a running travelog of his
year-long journey through Wales, England, France, Italy, Switzerland, and back to America,
The Dragon and the Unicorn is a meditation on the nature of love, of time and
knowledge, of will and the responsibilities of the self-defining individual, of community
(the moral opposite of the collective, the State), and ethics. Juxtapositions are abrupt;
the life of the traveler’s mind is pingponged against crisply drawn episodes on the
road–the latter of which are in turn ribald, poignant, engaging, scientific, very
opinionately lived moments. Together the contemplation and the travelog comprise what
Rexroth himself has suggested is a Whitmanesque "interior autobiography." And
nowhere in his work is the dictum "Epistomology is moral" more intricately
played out than this poem.
However important The Dragon and the Unicorn may be for one hoping to gain some
understanding of Rexroth’s general philosophy, there is little doubt that his reputation
as a poet rests, at least for the present, more on his love and nature poems (too, on his
translations from Chinese and Japanese which, for lack of space, I was unable to include
in this selection).
Clearly, he has written some of the most beautiful love poems in the century. His lyric
celebrates not merely the disembodied metaphysic nor simply the corporeal erotic, but a
synthetic and human whole, composed of both these elements. As a religious poet, Rexroth’s
love poems are primarily of conjugal love:
Let me celebrate you. I
Have never known anyone
More beautiful than you. I
Walking beside you, watching
You move beside me, watching
That still grace of hand and thigh.
Watching your face change with words
You do not say, watching your
Solemn eyes as they turn to me,
Or turn inward, full of knowing,
Slow or quick, watching your full
Lips part and smile or turn grave,
Watching your narrow waist, your
Proud buttocks in their grace . . .
Fundamentally sacramental, seldom does the poet’s contemplation of his love of his wife
distinguish between body and soul. In the above passage from "A Dialogue of
Love" (written for Rexroth’s third wife, Marthe) the usual dichotomy between the
observing mind and the tactile flesh is consciously played down: each reflects the other.
In an earlier poem, "Between Myself and Death," the dichotomy is altogether
It is wonderful to watch you,
A living woman in a room
Full of frantic sterile people,
And think of your arching buttocks
Under your velvet evening dress,
And the beautiful fire spreading
From your sex, burning flesh and bone,
The unbelievably complex
Tissues of your brain all alive
Under your coiling, splendid hair.
I like to think of you naked.
I put your naked body
Between myself alone and death.
It is the most original and persuasive synthesis of transcendent metaphysical and
erotic verse written by an American poet this century.
From the Introduction to Rexroth’s Selected Poems, ed. Bradford Morrow (New
Directions, 1984). Copyright ? 1984 by Bradford Morrow.
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