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Commentary
Exchange
We are both interested in all kinds of poetic
exchange—as editors, participants in organizing reading series, educators,
and, of course, as writers. And because we are also old friends and frequent readers
of one another’s work in various stages of development and undress, this
exchange intrigued us as a way to formalize the conversation we have had for
years, with its sharing of poems-in-progress, ideas, questions. Rather than
stick to the formal character of one another’s poem, then, we decided to try
and get at the spirit of our on-going conversation about poetry and writing,
which has been engaging, thought-provoking, and surprising. We did so by
giving our own poems over to be stretched and folded into something new. The
pleasure of this project has been, in part, to write against, into, and
around one another’s work, which we both take as a different way to attend
thoughtfully to one another’s poems. In our own poetics, reading is always a
kind of response, but this project provided an opportunity to enact that
truth inside one of the significant literary friendships that compose our
immediate poetic community.
Joel Bettridge
Nancy Kuhl
*
1.
Bettridge to Kuhl
Thoughts of the Quantum Mechanic by Joel
Bettridge
Lord make me a wave
Make me a line, a shape, a surface that bends in
one direction and then another
Lord, a series of ripples
Make me frequent curves
An oscillation that travels from one to a
different point with no permanent
displacement of the
medium—Lord
A transfer of energy
A sudden occurrence repeated endlessly, Lord make
me a particle
Make me a very small piece
A
minute body
Lord, smaller than any main
component
Make me any basic unit of matter
Make me a finite mass of negligible size
Photography and the Problem of Time by
Nancy Kuhl
Flash, a displacement
a momentary change
in every seam, series
of ripples, a wave.
And the lens all
focus and grip.
The medium is light,
the question: how
it bends, and the trick
of it, how it caught
me,
caught us—we lean
together into the
center.
Paper relic: I
recognize
my same face and
his, nearly familiar.
Time’s frequent
curves never ceasing,
another transfer
of energy: memory
slips has slipped. And
now I am red-eyed,
unwavering; I am
—still or only—
(o lord make me)
small enough
**

Archived at http://lit.konundrum.com/poetry/kuhlbett_trans1.php
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