With Gold and Silver Pain
To prove the presence of the Ore
In Particles — 'tis when
A Value struggle — it exist —
Perhaps this short poem screams “Pain” on a level deeper than any exegesis could provide. On one level, it is Dickinson at her most formal, as it scans perfectly to the tune of “Amazing Grace,” yet the “off rhymes” (pain and when/ proclaim and him), and the enjambed sentence, or at least clause, between stanzas, and the use of dashes, in the 5th an 6th line especially:
In Particles — 'tis when
A Value struggle — it exist —
A Power — will proclaim
exhibit a grammatical stumbling like marbles on the floor,, largely due to the phrase “it exist.” Although the “argument of the poem,” suggests the necessary value of decoration (which reminds me of a John Ashbery line about “metal that will rust if not painted”), the decoration does not cover or hide the pain, but rather reveals (and perhaps amplifies) it. Is the pain in a value struggle with the power? Or may the pain be said to proclaim the power? Adam DeGraff argues that ‘ the silver and gold pain might be alchemically transmuted poetry, ‘proving’ the ore.” He reminds me that “ore doesn't rust. Ore is strength against chaoses. (or rather it already IS rust. Most ore is already iron oxide, meaning it's already rusted in its natural state, just in solid rock form.)”
If this poem sings the necessity of diversification, does the ore become “the one?” Certainly, this poem, with its artful alternations of singular and plurals is concerned with the relationship between the many and the one. Nonetheless, although there is a celebration of this power, the poem seems to be more interested in evoking the annihilation that piles “whole chaoses,” which get the last words, and spell check reminds me that chaos is not supposed to be spoken in the plural.
Given that the poem mentions gold and silver, as well as a value struggle, it is perhaps tempting to consider a mercantile dimension to this poem, of how “pain” may have a currency, a power, in lyric effusions, and I am curious what others have to say about that.
-Chris Stroffolino
A Power — will proclaim
Although Annihilation pile
Whole Chaoses on Him —
Although Annihilation pile
Whole Chaoses on Him —
-Fr864, J806, Fascicle 48, 1864
For this poem we reached out to the great poet and musician Chris Stroffolino. Chris has written about Dickinson beautifully elsewhere so I asked him to write for Prowling Bee and he kindly said yes. (Fun fact: I referenced the band Silver Jews in the commentary for Fr 860, which I posted a couple of weeks ago, and it so happens that Chris played keyboard and trumpet on their album American Water, one of the best of the '90s.)
For this poem we reached out to the great poet and musician Chris Stroffolino. Chris has written about Dickinson beautifully elsewhere so I asked him to write for Prowling Bee and he kindly said yes. (Fun fact: I referenced the band Silver Jews in the commentary for Fr 860, which I posted a couple of weeks ago, and it so happens that Chris played keyboard and trumpet on their album American Water, one of the best of the '90s.)
Perhaps this short poem screams “Pain” on a level deeper than any exegesis could provide. On one level, it is Dickinson at her most formal, as it scans perfectly to the tune of “Amazing Grace,” yet the “off rhymes” (pain and when/ proclaim and him), and the enjambed sentence, or at least clause, between stanzas, and the use of dashes, in the 5th an 6th line especially:
In Particles — 'tis when
A Value struggle — it exist —
A Power — will proclaim
exhibit a grammatical stumbling like marbles on the floor,, largely due to the phrase “it exist.” Although the “argument of the poem,” suggests the necessary value of decoration (which reminds me of a John Ashbery line about “metal that will rust if not painted”), the decoration does not cover or hide the pain, but rather reveals (and perhaps amplifies) it. Is the pain in a value struggle with the power? Or may the pain be said to proclaim the power? Adam DeGraff argues that ‘ the silver and gold pain might be alchemically transmuted poetry, ‘proving’ the ore.” He reminds me that “ore doesn't rust. Ore is strength against chaoses. (or rather it already IS rust. Most ore is already iron oxide, meaning it's already rusted in its natural state, just in solid rock form.)”
If this poem sings the necessity of diversification, does the ore become “the one?” Certainly, this poem, with its artful alternations of singular and plurals is concerned with the relationship between the many and the one. Nonetheless, although there is a celebration of this power, the poem seems to be more interested in evoking the annihilation that piles “whole chaoses,” which get the last words, and spell check reminds me that chaos is not supposed to be spoken in the plural.
Given that the poem mentions gold and silver, as well as a value struggle, it is perhaps tempting to consider a mercantile dimension to this poem, of how “pain” may have a currency, a power, in lyric effusions, and I am curious what others have to say about that.
-Chris Stroffolino
Whole chaoses. An oxymoron worth chewing on.
ReplyDeleteagree! yes
ReplyDeleteyes, "whole chaoses" is a glorious oxymoron
ReplyDeleteAnd yet that is life isn't it? Oxy moronic and wholly chaotic with our dreams, hopes, aspirations annihated and lying smashed all around us like broken glass. The Japanese art of kiintsugi fills up cracks woth golden hues. Similarly Emily says that the pain is decorous just gold and silver plating to your life. Like Hafiz said that I wish that I could show you the astonishing light of your being when your lonely and in darkness. And underneath all this plating, chaos and piles of devastation is the basic ore that is life itself. With its divine value, tremendous will and great power. Life will always struggle and life will always triumph. And understanding all this will give us great poetry
ReplyDeletes! I love your Hafizesque reading! Maybe I am too negative, but I don't think Dickinson would say 'life will always triumph.'
DeleteEmily is normally considered to be a poet fascinated with funerals and death. However her poems about nature are so loving and life affirming. Her poetry on flowers, birds, bees, gnats, butterflies etc are all upbeat and positive. And in this poem she's written about the alchemy of pain and then used words like power, value etc which are all very positive words. I guess all of us and especially poets are allowed to be self contradictory and oxygen moronic
DeletePlease forgive the typos
Deleteyes, so many upbeat poems. I agree that she's oxymoronic
DeleteS, Love the Hafiz and the connection with kiintsugi. Rich. Also life as an oxymoron is good. Thank you. I'm beginning to see that this poem itself proclaims Power.
ReplyDeleteNot sure whether it exactly fits the poem, but I'm reminded of 2 Corinthians 12:9–10.
ReplyDelete"And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong."
I like your use of scripture here. another friend reads this poem as about the crucifixion.
DeleteFirst stanza: Pain gives spice (variety) and shine (worth) to life. Pain is elemental, so, the more you’ve hurt, the deeper you’ve mined experience, and the more richly you’ve lived. Kinda grim. Do we buy it?
ReplyDeleteThe second stanza tries to convince us. The argument is that there is no value (shine) to anything without conflict.
Some things (like gold in the bronze age) are valuable only because they we compete for them. So, if conflict is value-generating (it can make something worthless dear), then conflict must be inherently valuable.
Some things are valuable only because a value system has been foisted on us (by a Power who benefits from it). The foisting usually involves struggle. Also, any arbitrary value system is constantly as risk of being ripped apart by the Truth. Another link between value and struggle.
Some things are valuable because they directly serve life (like avocados). Of course life itself is a struggle against death.
So, yeah, I buy it. Value comes from struggle. That doesn’t necessarily mean you get bonus points for painful living. (Every bite of guacamole is a punch in death's guts.) And too much pain makes for a dull life. I guess, what we’re looking for is a life well seasoned, with just enough pain, and with just enough ease to let us ruminate on its value.
thank you
DeleteOne idea is that the struggle becomes gold and silver when it is alchemically transformed into poetry. And this is what "proves" the ore. There are many ways to transmute pain into something good I guess, any resultant empathy and action.
ReplyDeleteED Lexicon Def. 1 of “plated”:
ReplyDelete“Impure; covered with a thin layer of precious metal on the surface which deceptively conceals an interior of baser metal; [fig.] counterfeit; hypocritical; dissembling; duplicitous; two-faced.”
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My biographical interpretation of F785:
Stanza 1.
A Plated Life - diversified
With Gold and Silver Pain
To prove the presence of the Ore
In Particles - 'tis when [enjambed with Stanza 2]
S1.
Wadsworth leads a hypocritical life, a charismatic minister in public and a seducer of troubled young women in private. Yes, his personality includes bits of gold and silver Christianity, which suggests sincerity, but he uses those qualities to gain and betray trust, causing much pain. I know . . . [enjambed with Stanza 2]
Stanza 2
A Value struggle - it exist -
A Power - will proclaim
Although Annihilation pile
Whole Chaoses on Him –
S2.
. . . a value struggle exists his soul, a struggle between good and evil, but when he dies annihilation will pile whole chaoses on his soul.
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An immediate clue to the gist of this poem is the capitalized “Him” at the end of this poem. ED honors only God and Reverend Wadsworth with the capitalized pronoun, “Him”, and the context proves ED’s not talking about God.
A further clue is in Line 1 of F785, ‘It dropped so low — in my Regard —', where ED castigates Reverend Wadsworth for seducing her in summer 1860, then leaving town and not responding to her letters and poems sent to him.
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P.S. In 1879, 15 years after she wrote F864, 'A Plated Life - diversified', ED composed a camouflaged quatrain that said she would like to know how Wadsworth was doing. For the 12th and last time she used her codeword for him: Calvary:
Spurn the temerity –
Rashness of Calvary –
Gay were Gethsemane
Knew we of thee –
Apparently, ED sent the poem to Wadsworth who took her poem as an invitation to visit because he arrived unannounced at her front door in 1880. No doubt, after the 20-year hiatus, the maturer twosome spent an afternoon strolling down memory lane.
In an 1886 letter, written to George Clark one month before her death, ED described Wadsworth’s visit in endearing terms:
“. . . . . Going Home,” was he not an Aborigine of the Sky? The last time he came in Life [summer 1880], I was with my Lilies and Heliotropes, said my Sister to me, “the Gentleman with the deep voice wants to see you, Emily,” hearing him ask of the Servant. “Where did you come from,” I said, for he spoke like an Apparition.
“I stepped from my Pulpit [an invited sermon in Northampton, MA, 12 miles SW of Amherst] the Train” was [his] simple reply, and when I asked “how long”, “Twenty Years” said he with inscrutable roguery – but the loved Voice has ceased . . . . .".
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