About "That Same Nowhere"

At the beginning of “That Same Nowhere,” a panel featuring Norma Cole and Amber DiPietra, in the context of what was called “Poetics of Disablement” but then was changed to “Aesthetics As Somatic Practice,” Norma with Amber’s nodded agreement, indicated that the event would be about the literal and so it was. There was an atmosphere of support and interest and shared, if unstated, poetics. The questions were mostly personal and having to do with life. The answers were usually anecdotal. Sometimes the answers were demonstrations or tiny performances as when Norma graciously and repeatedly thanked the audience in relation to a discussion of how it is to depend on others. Words such as brain death, patient and patiency (the latter two posted by Amber as key words) became important . Actions such as getting out of bed or from one place to the other (again, Amber: “here-to-there”) were imagined. Focusing on aspects of life as opposed to an aspects of poetic practice made me long for a connection back to practice. This occasionally occurred, but it seemed to me from the discussion that physicality is both important and incidental. It doesn’t really characterize the writing of wither Amber or Norma. The connection between poetry and one’s situation or identity is not always direct, apparent or intentional. Neither Norma nor Amber have worked out a ‘poetics of disability’ and neither needs or seems inclined to do so.

Amber spoke of wanting to get to the work that she needs to do, of taking the time and observing the limits of such work. She admitted that a particular piece she read had been written in response to a deadline of the reading of the work. This made clear the desirability of imposing more such deadlines on Amber. Norma talked about the difficulty, after her stroke, of getting back to being the writer of the works she did in the past and wants to do now. That she has gotten back to it was evident from the three books by Norma on the table that have come out since then and from the poem she read at the end. I had to go and so missed the end but Norma emailed the poem to me and it is here:

Forever Amber

I heard a real poet* reading his work yesterday. Shattering. When I looked at it in the book, I saw that there were no line breaks. Not broken, shattered.

The sea captain tried to escape last night, but he was quickly captured by the pirates

1) off the coast of Somalia

2) in the Gulf of Aden

Perfume overcomes the trigger, the trauma, the shattering.

dream-->Trauma

der Traum

As the man said, a little stimulation causes the line to break.

Wraps around

A tiny song:

Man with umbrella in backpack

So it won’t rain

Nothing is reliable—look, my wrist doesn’t move, the lines break, are broken, no safety here/near (when my cane, its curve resting on the table edge, falls down—crash—no one starts, stares. I pick it up

or will

)

Shooting schedule: shots of shots: e.g. 1-second shots of shooting (guns) from familiar or unfamiliar western, adventure, period, dramatic, comedy etc. movies

In blood we trust

uncertain ground-->coherence of vibration

travelers’ report-->disruption

other logics

Everything opens up. Pretending to read in order not to talk, moving from thought to thought to thought. The line? What about it?

Your thoughts were elsewhere.

Why stop with one?

Have three.

(melt away)

I think I’ll stop here

but then go on

read “beer and sun”

for “bees and sun”

jingle of a bell on a bike

thumbtack, its shadow on the wall

the shattering—hear it

?