"Such was the place where I fell. It became “place” in the act of falling. A place where I could fall and keep falling. Where I wrote poems that were palimpsests, markings and echoes bearing the shiver of the archive. For origin is always already lost here, lost again and again, and its very losing makes origin possible. And if this fallen trajectory of origin stabilizes at all, it is somewhere far ahead of it. At the time of reading. No wonder we fall.For the full postface go here--buy the book of course, but it isn't there, you have to download the postface yourself. And here's a review of said book. Poor Lily! Please y'all, write some poems she can understand will you?! (perhaps she'll provide notes on what would bring her clarity?).
As Derrida urges: “. . . The question of the archive is the question of the future, of the future itself, a question of a response, of a promise and a responsibility for tomorrow. If we wish to know what the archive is trying to tell us, we cannot know but in the time to come. Perhaps.”
Is this the reason why I find myself, again, and ever, in the falling-down-place? The place poetry is made. The “not-yet.” The very falling poses the question of the future. The Peninsular is not an island, but part of the Maine. Here, in its turning from the certainties of God to a human insufficiency, it is a promise and a responsibility for tomorrow. Maine...
By the way, Geist is actually one of the best magazines in Canada and it looks like they've recently decided to give the online site some attention. Bravo! It seems we're poised to get some actual thinking content on a Canadian site! Anyone can google poetry and literary news can't they? Content! We want content! Go Geist.