Also, why are they up all night? "The best" And the moderns? Pound worked on the Cantos for more than fifty years, from about 1915 until his death. The cycle goes on and on. dry friable earth going from dust to more dust, is there a blacker or was it merely San Juan with a belly ache. “one might do worse than open a pub on Lake Garda” hope for the future? Le Paradis n'est pas artificiel. the wild birds wd not eat the white bread, plowed in the sacred field and unwound the silk worms early, the paraclete that was present in Yao, the precision, sd/Isaiah. Lastly, the patient retains a firm sense of self in that he expresses very strong opinions about Jews, the economy, and has even requested a meeting with President Truman concerning the state of the Japanese campaign. Therefore, it is my professional opinion that Ezra Weston Loomis Pound is not insane, he is just an incredibly talented poet. He is like Moses descended from the surrounding mountains into the valley below to bring the true law – righteousness – to those who have been starved with false faith in the bombed-out desert wasteland they themselves created. “but he climbed about 200 steps of the tower to see what he had seen thru the roof of a barn no longer standing … where he had fired that howitzer and the large eye that found him at its level was a giraffe’s eye at dawn, in his nest, hunting leopards” The killer / soldier has remorse? “The word is made perfect” – he uses Chinese symbols, multiple languages, uncommon grammar – all in trying to make the word(s) perfect. And in this sense Pound and the farmer are deeply connected at the center beating heart of this Canto. It cannot be done. The patient believes he has suffered great psychological trauma and is thus using this passage to express his pain through the image of a small, beautiful flower, which may represent himself, being tangled in a field of grass, which may be significant as he has been detained in cramped, exposed conditions. 7103rd Disciplinary Training Company Linus = 2nd Pope. “the army vocabulary contains almost 48 words” almost like those apes that can use some sign language – just trained well enough to amuse the zoo keepers, but emotional infants ready to kill. M. Butterfly: Post-structuralism: ‘Textualized’ subjects of post-structuralism and other ‘metanarratives’, Saussure's "arbitrary” nature of the sign, Structuralism: Barthes definition of the intermediate; the ethics of signs, Dreaming of My Deceased Wife on the Night of the 20th Day of the First Month, Emily Dickinson's Poems: As She Preserved Them, The Woman Hanging from the Thirteenth Floor Window. “a bang, not a whimper” – his friend Eliot. “the warp / and the woof / with a sky wet as ocean / flowing with liquid slate” Beautiful image, if strange. Whom did he kill? “We” only “talked of every boy and girl in the valley”, not acted in their defense. Detailed sources for all annotated cantos, Calendars of composition Ur-I to canto 52, Comprehensive bibliographies for the whole Cantos, Illustrated Companion from Ur-I to 41 now available, Ezra Pound Papers at the Harry Ransom Center, Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License. God? “and God knows what else is left of our London, my London, your London” civilization wrecked? More Poems by Ezra Pound. When Ezra Pound wrote his Pisan Cantos during his imprisonment at the Disciplinary Training Center, Pisa, in 1945, he remembered the Japanese Noh plays which he had translated in the 1910s. Far from turning inward and morose, the patient is keenly aware of every sensation and stimulation around him, but like a SCR-300 used by our Signal Corps which is somehow tuned to every open channel, the patient’s mind seems to be like a new Signal Corps Private who is frantically trying to transpose everything coming in over that SCR-300 receiver faithfully but due to the sheer volume of information is experiencing enormous stress in trying to keep up. How much life is even left in the earth which has been bombed and blasted and turned into a moonscape of rubble? Words are important. “nothing counts save the quality of the affection” I wonder if this is what Jesus thought / felt as he took on everyone’s sin? The enormous tragedy of the dream in the peasant's bent, DIGONOS, Διγονοσ, but the twice crucified. Who is tending that flock? “periplum” is as good a word as any, even if it’s not (formally) a word. Ezra Pound(30 October 1885 – 1 November 1972) Ezra Weston Loomis Pound was an American expatriate poet and critic and a major figure in the early modernist movement in poetry. And now “We” reap what “We” have sown: a God who seems to have turned his back on all of humanity as he did with Cain, a starving cow, and a blind farmer who laments his fate because whom he placed his faith in turned out to be a false God, like the golden calf in the desert. Homer as doctor for the men with PTSD – gotta keep their spirits up so they’ll keep fighting. Taishan ??? Owing to the extraordinary conditions of its composition and transmission, approximately five hundred corruptions of Pound’s typescript text survived into the poem’s first English and American publications. Dying cow? Humanity split in two. Fear god and the stupidity of the populace, thus Duccio, thus Zuan Bellin, or trastevere with La Sposa, Sponsa Cristi in mosaic till our time / deification of emperors, but a snotty barbarian ignorant of T'ang history need not deceive, nor Charlie Sung's money on loan from anonimo, and in India the rate down to 18 per hundred, but the local loan lice provided from imported bankers, so the total interest sweated out of the Indian farmers, as when, and plus when, he returned to the putrid gold standard, that free speech without free radio speech is as zero. While in custody in Italy, Pound began work on sections of The Cantos that were published as The Pisan Cantos (1948), for which he was awarded the Bollingen Prize for Poetry in 1949 by the Library of Congress, causing enormous controversy. and this I had from the monument, and Amber Rives is dead, the end of that chapter, on a horse, an ear and the beard's point showing, of the Baluba mask: "doan you tell no one, to be found among those who have not observed, who putteth not out his money on interest, 300 years culture at the mercy of a tack hammer, Cloud over mountain, mountain over the cloud, I surrender neither the empire nor the temples, nor the constitution nor yet the city of Dioce, as by Terracina rose from the sea Zephyr behind her, till the shrine be again white with marble, being given a new green katydid of a Sunday, Manet painted the bar at La Cigale or at Les Folies in that year. War travels faster than everything. ", From the law, by the law, so build yr/ temple, and the two largest rackets are the alternation, (of the unit of money METATHEMENON TE TON, by Athens for the building of the Salamis fleet, where it has got to the state need not borrow, nor do the veterans need state guarantees, and whose wife sold shirts and short breeches, and on whose book-shelf was the Life of Henry Ford, a nice little town in the Tyrol in a wide flat-lying valley. “but the gas cut off” is a great image of the wreck of nobility sitting around with no money to pay the bills or, at least, because the utilities / utility of the nation has been destroyed. now in the mind indestructible, Gassir, Hoooo Fasa, seen thru a pair of breeches. My dog tags still have the R.C. “as witness the bombardment at Frascati after the armistice / had been signed” As fast as news / rumor travels, it isn’t faster than our ability to kill each other when we disagree. “so kissed the earth after sleeping on concrete.” & “in limbo no victories, there, are no victories -” We can change our physical situation but we’re still trapped in the same mind. Pound creates a humble scene of this blind farmer caressing his cow between the gentle sloping green-grassy hills below the snowy mountain peaks as if the entire weight of this single act of human kindness was enough to impress a sacred spot “in the valley” that could shelter and nurture all those with enough faith who chose to live there. We all freely serve, we’re all in some sort of cage. Noté /5. Perhaps the farmer senses the beast’s exposed ribs as evidence of the distance he and God have grown apart and he is reminded of how much killing he was involved with during the war. “there / are / no / righteous / wars” No, there aren’t. Also it reminds me of an old Roman soldier returning home after a war and though he’s put down his sword for a plow, he has very little to work with- almost as if war was better. Imprisoned for some weeks in a wire cage open to the elements, Pound suffered a nervous collapse from the physical and emotional strain. We are not truths. War can kill us, but it’s our language which really changes things – governments, law, literature, love letters. That old H. had heard from the ass eared militarist in Byzantium: "Why stop?" Thus the farmer seems to be existing in two possible states: one in which he has been forsaken in a wilderness of death, and another where he is like the shepherd who, though blind, through kindness, can lead his starving flock out of the valley of the shadow of death because he has faith God is still with him, will restore his soul, and will prepare a table for him in the presence of his enemies. Yet while this poor farmer took up the call of his nation, would it not have been better had he stayed home? Ed. He equates the Russian NEP with “the immolation of men to machinery” – excellent line and observation to equate man, machine, fire, life, death, rebirth all in one. on them. As it were to dream of, morticians' daughters raddled but amorous, To study with the white wings of time passing, filial, fraternal affection is the root of humaneness. under the olives, by cypress, mare Tirreno, Past Malmaison in field by the river the tables, To the left of la bella Torre the tower of Ugolino, and the only people who did anything of any interest were H., M. and, and Monsieur Jean wrote a play now and then or the, pouvrette et ancienne oncques lettre ne lus, without a painted paradise at the end of it, the dwarf morning-glory twines round the grass blade. Leviticus 19: Here’s all the rules, follow them because I am the Lord – until I come again and then you wan’t have to. While this may sound alarming and does seem to reek of arrogance and the grandiose, his opinions remain consistent, strangely coherent, and while often reprehensible and perhaps even treasonous, do not seem to, so far, present an imminent threat to himself or others. Is he asking us to look deeper? all of 'em fascists", ivi in harum ego ac vidi cadaveres animae. it shines and divides . “R.C. Second, the patient is a highly empathetic individual as evidenced in these Cantos with astute observations of idiomatic speech, such as his mimicry of the black prisoners, one of which he transcribes as saying “Hey Snag, what’s in the bibl’ ? Good thing Homer was blind to not see how terrible the war was for them men – his poems would be different. To build the city of Dioce whose terraces are the colour of stars. But who will visit it? “filial, fraternal affection is the root of humaneness” – yes! Line 705-726″ War is over, “Now that there’s room for doubt” we can see the wreckage left behind after fighting that war, see all the laws we trampled over to win, the rights lost, the history lost, the humanity lost. Gassir, Hoooo Fasa, seen thru a pair of breeches 52 now online - Tuesday, 27 2020. 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