Smith & Nguyen are two San Francisco poets who relocated a couple of years back to Austin , Texas , where they publish a range of
American poetry under the banner of Skanky Possum (http://www.skankypossum.com/). While
there are many poets today who have become established as writers in relative
isolation far from the major writing centers of New York & San Francisco
(or even secondary ones such as Washington , Philadelphia , San Diego or Boston ), it’s an exceptionally challenging task, especially
for someone who is working within alternative or post-avant traditions. Poets
such as Tom Beckett, Lorenzo Thomas, Charles Alexander and Sheila Murphy all
have demonstrated that it is possible to craft a successful poetic career in
such a context that is not local in its scope, but they all also can probably
attest to just how difficult this can be. Or see Juliana Spahr’s
comments on the blog for September 14 on the use of Chain as a mechanism for keeping her connected to the literary
community “over there (continent).” Nguyen & Smith are like Thomas, in that
they’ve used their pre-move literary connections wisely to keep them plugged
in. And they have the advantage, historically, of the web’s erasure of physical
distance – there is more connectivity, for example, between poets as distant as Ireland and New Zealand today than has ever been the case before in history. But it’s a
challenge that I as a young poet would not have had the courage to tackle.
Smith & Nguyen have
distinct voices and are given to working on different sorts of projects.
Listening or reading to Smith, one hears the influence, say, of the late Ed
Dorn, in Smith’s uses of scholarship, though not in the actual devices or
strategies of the poem. That a poet under the age of 40
thinks to make use of the work of Haniel Long, for
example, ought to be grounds for celebration for that fact alone. After
reading from her chapbooks, Nguyen sampled fragments from a piece in progress,
a narrative about the life of her mother*, that promises to turn into something
fabulous.
But the problem with two
readings in one night in Philadelphia is that the audience isn’t quite there to support both equally. The
event at Writers House had no more than 20 people – no one at Penn is
apparently teaching Nguyen & Smith’s work this term – while there were 100
crammed into the oxygen-deprived Temple Gallery** to hear Joan Retallack. Matt
Chambers, a “second-year writer” at Temple (and formerly of SUNY Buffalo),
opened with a piece filled with dense philosophic metalanguage, undercut by the
presence of multiple tape players scattered throughout the audience that echoed
elements of the reading.
Retallack has arrived at
that wonderful moment in a poet’s life – she is at the top her game, completely
confident in what she’s doing (& with good reason) while continuing to go
new places with every project she takes on. The excitement is both palpable and
contagious. Hearing her read was the perfect capstone to the evening – and made
me realize that had the four readers shared a single stage, the order could not
have been better.
*”I haven’t
even gotten to the part where she runs away with the circus yet…”
**The
Temple Gallery can be an especially difficult space to hear poetry and
exacerbates this by being the only venue I’ve ever been to that lacks
restrooms, drinking fountains and
wheelchair accessibility all at once. This is not what Zukofsky meant by the
“test of poetry.”