Arnzen versus William Carlos Williams, Part 2

(Seton Hill U. Students probably (please!) should go here first and read the first part of this two-fer. It may be too late, but I figure if you're going to read the Arnzen v. WCW post, you probably should read the earlier, mostly WCW part first. And yes. This is all minimally proofread, sorry! I don't get paid to write this stuff, and I don't have a degree hanging in the balance with teachers looking over my shoulder. I do this for fun, =) believe, or not.)

Several posts have gone by between this and the original. So, basically, to refesh, it is my contention that "The Red WheelBarrow":

So much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

besides the white
chickens.

is the skeleton key that can help unlock just about any contemporary American poem. Earlier, I noted that the poem is a string of images that locks together to form a greater picture/story intent of capturing a moment in time. Since this isn't syllabic or metrical verse, the stress -- or organizing principal, one might say -- comes from how the lines are broken. Each break either enjambs down to the next line, or, but themselves, comprises one "unit" that offers an idea or an image or both.

So, lets see how this stacks up. Michael Arnzen is a writer of note, and the following little poem has been pulled out of his email newsletter, Gorelets (And this is being used in a critical/review essay, so I shouldn't be violating the fair use provisions of any copyrights):

The Fall Down the Stairs
of the House of Usher

When I push her down the stairs
she swims in the air for a moment
like we're dancing
and I play a little song in my head
to accompany it
before the erratic thud of her skull
against the steps
breaks my waltzing daydream
with its own offbeat tempo
and I hear another voice sing
as I stumble forward

First, I chose this poem because it's relatively short, but the concept I think could applied to most poets writing lineated free verse that uses much longer lines...like, say Mark Halliday, Robert Hass, and even, at times, Allen Ginsburg. Anyhow, here goes...

The first line, "When I push her down the stairs" is one complete action. As a thought, it may not be complete, but as a concept, from the beginning of the line to the end, it is one entire thing. A lot can be infered from the line. After all, the first person singular "I" is doing the pushing, and "down the stairs"acts as a subtle bit of scenary. Still, the most important thing to remember here is that the action is deliberate. It would be safe to assume that this line is also describing an attempt at murder. This, of course elicits a response:

"She swims in the air for a moment"

This naturally is a line that's delivering an evocative image. Basically, the woman, the "her" of the poem becomes frantic as she falls, and much of that depends on Arnzen's specific word choice. "She" is "Swiminging." As an action, that would require either vigorous or leisuring kicking of the legs and waving of the arms. Since, much like the WCW poem, this is building off the line before, we can safely assume that she's wildly flailing . Still, the line break freezes her in the air for a moment. But, then, the poem begins to shift:

"like we're dancing"

Now this is odd. If we take "swim" at its surface value, the motions are not completely compatable with "dancing." One also needs to keep in mind that the speaker is still at the top of the stairs. Perhaps -- and this is a bit of stretch -- one thinks of the spastic, flinging motions of jitterbugging or the throws involved in pairs figure skating? Still, this line is one unit, one idea, and one motion cue. "We" is also an important word here. A relationship, or a partnership, is infered by a pronoun like "we." Still, however awkward, the line works as a unit, and the readers sees, for a split second, dancing. While it's a stark contrast with the line preceding it, it flows nicely into:

"and I play a little song in my head / to accompany it"

These two lines build on the crazy other-reality in the murderer's head. Basically, he's watching her fall, and he's imagining that it's all a song and dance. If one is thinking of the whole WCW concept of line organization, it plays out with another complete action, followed by an idea that redefines that action. "To accompany it" also links the song with the dancing and the falling down the stairs. If the song and the dance is an illusion or imagined, hard reality intercedes quickly:

"before the erratic thud of her skull"

This is a sonic detail, giving us the definate sound of her head hitting something. More detail ensues:

"against the steps."

this line is one concept that redefines the preceding line. Much like in "The Red Wheelbarrow," this is a moment like where Williams is cutting "Barrow" off of "red wheel," or towards the end, where he's putting a pause between "white" and "chickens." "Against the steps" redefines" "... the erratic thud of her skull" from sound into something that's sound and image. "The steps" is a location, and one can only imagine that "the her" of this poem his cracked her skull against that edge. It's important to note, now, that for such a short poem, Arnzen has set up two separate realities that are coexisting. The "I" has pushed "the she" down the stairs and his either killed her or done her serious injury. In a sense, these two realities collide:

"breaks my waltzing daydream"

So now, the "dance" has been defined as "waltzing," which is particular and formal, even down to the steps and how they are taken. So, again, this is a full idea, but one that not only builds on the poem that comes before, but is also redefined by it. This conintues into the next line, where "waltzing daydream" is given the aural sound:

"with it's off-beat tempo."

This is a specific type of sonic imagery. "Tempo" suggests a rythymm, but "off-beat" makes it irregular. Then again, this is one idea limited to one line, but it's facilitating the development of the poem as it stretches towards its (anti-climatic) conclusion:

"and I hear another voice sing / as I stumble forward"

Now, a wholly new element is intruding into the poem. We, as readers, can't possibly know whether the new voice is the woman that's been pushed down the stairs, or whether it's possibly a voice in the first person singular's head. Much of the poem, really, is about the interior of the "I." In total, the "her" only has a few lines all to herself. Basically, she gets pushed, and she smacks her head on the stairs. The rest is just delusions of the "I."

Still, this poem couldn't exist if Williams had never written "The Red Wheelbarrow" and invented the Imagist movement, which has had a profound influence on American poetry. Arnzen's poem, like Williams, is actually a string of images and ideas the interconnects as it moves down the page. The linebreaks heightens this, and it also goes a long way in creating a psychological sense of tension. Like "The Red Wheelbarrow," "The Fall Down the Stairs of the House of Usher" is really a singular moment in time, and if that is the organizational principle of the poem, there can be no moral resolution for the crime committed.

So there you go. Michael A. Arnzen, whether he knows or not, has written a poem in the shadow of "The Red Wheelbarrow" and all those other snappy little wonders Williams used to jot on his perscription pad, whiling away the moments between seeing patients as a baby doctor.