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The Black Herald 3 –

The Black Herald
Literary magazine – Revue de littérature

Issue #3 – September 2012 – Septembre 2012
190 pages – 15€ / £13 / $19 – ISBN 978-2-919582-04-4

Poetry, short fiction, prose, essays, translations.
Poésie, fiction courte, prose, essais, traductions.

With / avec W.S. Graham, Gregory Corso, Andrew Fentham, Louis Calaferte, Iain Britton, Jos Roy, Tristan Corbière, Michael Lee Rattigan, Clayton Eshleman, Denis Buican, John Taylor, César Vallejo, Anne-Sylvie Homassel, Cécile Lombard, Gary J. Shipley, Rosemary Lloyd, Bernard Bourrit, Mylène Catel, Nicolas Cavaillès, Ernest Delahaye, Sébastien Doubinsky, Gerburg Garmann, Michel Gerbal, Allan Graubard, Sadie Hoagland, James Joyce, João Melo, Andrew O’Donnell, Kirby Olson, Devin Horan, Dominique Quélen, Nathalie Riera, Paul B. Roth, Alexandra Sashe, Will Stone, Anthony Seidman, Ingrid Soren, August Stramm, Pierre Troullier, Romain Verger, Anthony Vivis, Elisabeth Willenz, Mark Wilson, Paul Stubbs, Blandine Longre et des essais sur / and essays about Charles Baudelaire, Francis Bacon. ImagesÁgnes Cserháti, Olivier Longre, Will Stone, Devin Horan. Design: Sandrine Duvillier.

The Black Herald is edited by Paul Stubbs and Blandine Longre
Comité de Rédaction : Paul Stubbs et Blandine Longre

 Now available / Disponible 

Imagination – Gaston Bachelard

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« On veut toujours que l’imagination soit la faculté de former des images. Or elle est plutôt la faculté de déformer les images fournies par la perception, elle est surtout la faculté de nous libérer des images premières, de changer les images. S’il n’y a pas changement d’images, union inattendue des images, il n’y a pas imagination, il n’y a pas d’action imaginante. Si une image présente ne fait pas penser à une image absente, si une image occasionnelle ne détermine pas une prodigalité d’images aberrantes, une explosion d’images, il n’y a pas imagination. »

— Gaston bachelard, L’Air et les Songes, Essai sur l’imagination du mouvement, 1943.

 *

“We always think of the imagination as the faculty that forms images. On the contrary, it is a faculty that deforms the images that we perceive; it is, above all, the faculty that frees us from immediate images and changes them. If there is no change, or unexpected fusion of images, there is no imagination; there is no imaginative process. If the image that is present does not make us think of one that is absent, if an image does not determine an abundance—an explosion— of atypical images, then there is no imagination.”

—Gaston Bachelard, Air and Dreams: An Essay on the Imagination of Movement, 1943.

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‘Cacophony of tongues’ – Paul Stubbs reviews Michael Lee Rattigan’s ‘Liminal’

LIMINAL
Michael Lee Rattigan
Rufus books, September 2012

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‘Poetry’, wrote Octavio Paz, ‘is the other voice. Not the voice of history or of anti-history, but the voice which, in history, is always saying something different’. He was of course talking of what is re-created in silence, beyond History and of what governs its conversations and logical discourse. Michael Lee Rattigan also is seeking to pinpoint that ‘other’ voice, for everything that he writes it seems exists only to advance silence, or at least our unmediated access to it—while consciousness is no more than a fine vessel of flesh and blood stretched over the diaphanous musculature of each word; for this poet does not produce a merely verbal language, no, rather he is writing the syntax of listening, the anti-aesthetics of un-naming and sucking back into the lungs the protean impulse of a visible mind. In this collection, Rattigan is in many ways attempting to cross what the French poet Philippe Jaccottet described as ‘the unique uncrossable space’, that which constitutes our ‘elsewhere’, the incongruously familiar place that occurs when our reality-horizons are wheeled out of the mind. It is in fact the logocentric destination that a writer like Rattigan would like one day to return from.
Paul Stubbs

To read the review

‘The Eternal Procession’ – Paul Stubbs reviews Yves Bonnefoy’s ‘The Arrière-pays’

The Arrière-pays
Yves Bonnefoy

Translated by Stephen Romer – Seagull Books, 2012

‘Yves Bonnefoy is first an abstract form, then a poet. Therefore a work such as The Arrièrepays is but a shadow giving notice of his shapes still to locate a sundial. He is what Jean-Paul Sartre said of  Baudelaire, that he had the posture of ‘a leaning man’ (‘d’un homme penché’); one acutely adrift of the comet of his own flesh and who, burning up in the drag of his own sentences, holds within his fist only the shredded remains of each exploded space. When Rimbaud wrote ‘To every being, several other lives seemed to me to be due’ he opened up in knowledge and in poetry the first true terror-pores of gnosis, allowing a poet like Bonnefoy to access his own unpurged mind, to conceive of what Yeats revealed in Vision—‘all things dying each other’s life, living each other’s death’. To witness the mirage of this elsewhere in time and space (this place which Bonnefoy names ‘the arrière-pays’ i.e. an imaginary hinterland born of what he calls the ‘unknown feeling’), this poet has first to return to Eden, to locate the one tree in which the fruit is still flesh, and whose bark, if peeled back, reveals only his own still unused bone.’
Paul Stubbs

To read the review

Chaos in Poetry – D.H. Lawrence

“Poetry, they say, is a matter of words. And this is just as much true as that pictures are a matter of paint, and frescoes a matter of water and colour-wash. It is such a long way from being the whole truth that it is slightly silly if uttered sententiously.

Poetry is a matter of words. Poetry is a stringing together of words into a ripple and jingle and a run of colours. Poetry is an interplay of images. Poetry is the iridescent suggestion of an idea. Poetry is all these things, and still it is something else. Given all these ingredients, you have something very like poetry, something for which we might borrow the old romantic name of poesy. And poesy, like bric-à-brac, will for ever be in fashion. But poetry is still another thing.

The essential quality of poetry is that it makes a new effort of attention, and “discovers” a new world within the known world. Man, and the animals, and the flowers, all live within a strange and for ever surging chaos. The chaos which we have got used to we call a cosmos. The unspeakable inner chaos of which we are composed we call consciousness, and mind, and even civilisation. But it is, ultimately, chaos, lit up by visions, or not lit up by visions. Just as the rainbow may or may not light up the storm. And, like the rainbow, the vision perisheth.

(…)

What about the poets, then, at this juncture? They reveal the inward desire of mankind. What do they reveal? They show the desire for chaos, and the fear of chaos. The desire for chaos is the breath of their poetry. The fear of chaos is in their parade of forms and techniques. Poetry is made of words, they say. So they blow bubbles of sound and image, which soon burst with the breath of longing for chaos, which fills them. But the poetasters can make pretty shiny bubbles for the Christmas-tree, which never burst, because there is not breath of poetry in them, but they remain till we drop them.”

DH Lawrence, “Chaos in Poetry, published in Exchanges, December 1929

The Black Herald – 3

Le numéro est disponible en pré-commande.

The issue is now available for pre-order.

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The Black Herald 3

The Black Herald

Literary magazine – Revue de littérature

Issue #3 – September 2012 – Septembre 2012

190 pages – 15€ / £13 / $19 – ISBN 978-2-919582-04-4

 ***

Poetry, short fiction, prose, essays, translations.

Poésie, fiction courte, prose, essais, traductions.

http://blackheraldpress.wordpress.com/magazine/the-black-herald-3/

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