By Ron Silliman
Among the Age of Innocence and the Age of expertise comes The Age of Huts. This publication brings jointly for the 1st time the entire poems in Ron Silliman's Age of Huts cycle, together with Ketjak, sundown particles, The chinese language computer, and 2197, in addition to key satellite tv for pc texts, Sitting Up, status, Taking Steps, and BART. each one poem deals a appreciably diverse strategy towards utilizing language to discover the realm. one of many founding works of Language Poetry, The Age of Huts is set every little thing, kind of actually, as each one sentence, even every one word, embarks by itself narrative, linking jointly to shape a wide polyphonic research of up to date existence. From Ketjak, one of many first poems to hire "the new sentence," to 2197, a serial paintings that scrambles the vocabulary and grammar of its sentences, The Age of Huts questions every little thing we have now recognized approximately poetry so one can see the area anew.
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Extra info for Age of Huts (Compleat) (New California Poetry Series, Volume 21)
Watching her hand to see if there is a ring amid long, thin fingers. The possibility of terms like rooms in a house, huge Hillsborough home, doors of syntax, windows of nuance, a long, carpeted hallway lined with Persian mirrors, doors ajar through which you see, a guest in the place tho not thoroughly welcome, the furniture of usage. Piano clusters. The song of the Cessna, its propellers. Putting my shoes on last, then standing, dressed. This is or is not an object, its words as bricks. Bloody Thursday.
I am forced, each time I write, to reinvent language and form. Necessitation and contingency. That content does not intrude. Troll bridge. Residue of sinus condition. Eventually the scratches become scabs. Random sample. The brown paint yellows. The end of the freeway in the middle of the country. It’ll keep your ego going for a few days. You could start almost anywhere and find anything. On Treat Street. Signification extends the sign. Rattle of water in pipes. Architect, schoolteacher, poet, the trio wandered through Old Town, sobered by the evident despair.
Tall glass of tawny port. Headlights, streetlights, lit living rooms. A pleasure and discomfort in the knowledge of having become, by the fact of your absence, the focal point. Borate bomber’s song. Shadows between houses leave earth cool and damp. A scaffold around light. Retina burn. A tooth gone in the root. A slick gaggle of ambassadors. Tension manager’s domain. 26 K etja k Astronauts holding hands, adrift in the sky. Caves of the tuna. We ate them. Each ear pierced in four places. The flag.