Becky Hilliker and Yeats (from Ephemera: Beginning the Work)

Connecting Ephemera with anything after Modernism (but before what I call Neo-Romanticism) is a strain. The chiasmus between Ephemera and the cinema moves the piece hesitantly, delicately towards post-modernity. But the deep-seated pathos, elegiac tone, and straightforward, linear narrativity of Ephemera (linear narrativity not precluding innovation on other formal and thematic levels) all chafe against the sardonic, ironic, corrosive, and yet ultimately heartless heart of post-modernity. Indeed, putting Ephemera on the hot-seat next to ordained post-modern products is a pointless exercise. With The Prelude and The Waste Land there is a point; by The Emperor of Ice Cream (as illustrative), there is none. Not to mention other American junk-heaps like Black Mountain and San Francisco Renaissance. Let’s skip, if we shall, to the Aughts in America, and the beginning of more action (live action) more germane. I have, in a manner of speaking, affixed to the many female artists of the Aughts (American stripe) to develop a new post-feministic mold or prototype they all happen to fit. There she stands before us, if you will: the Creatrix. As I have adumbrated the Creatrix-as-construct, and the entire formulation as a subset of Neo-Romanticism, the Creatrix feeds, as post-modernity did not (neither do multi-culturalism and academic feminism), on narratives of form and passion, delivered from stances of settled self-sufficiency. Grandstanding, proselytizing, or playing to a perceived crowd is thus eschewed.  Narratives connotate stories represented in a discernible way. Form and passion remain self-explanatory. An interesting narrative, as in Ephemera, is then accredited with a sense of innovation. Forms rendered interestingly, also innovation. Entropy into incomprehensibility, nothing. Formless forays into the obviously anti-aesthetic, also nothing.

So, about this live action I have been promising. The locale happens, interestingly, to be New England, and the name of the writer is Rebecca Hilliker. Let’s take a look at Catch, and discern if we might how conventional textual tactics can be made to serve innovative ends:

The wind turns the water into an animal
and the boat rides the back of swells,
bucking wetly.
My legs absorb the push and pull,
thinking only of the fish,
sleek and dripping on the line,
neon green parachute ballooning
from its mouth.

I arch my back
and the rod dives.
The fish lifts, slimy as an egg,
spinning like a ballerina
on a silver thread,
its marble eye mute,
fixed on white.

How many times
did you find this world,
blinded, terrified?
There are hands on you
and pliers in your mouth,
metallic, blood-washed.
How many times have you waited
for the water
while everything lurches around you,
brilliant white, like the inside
of a hospital, like the underbelly
of a dream, gasping
to break the surface
toward that cold & sudden light?

Like Ephemera, physiological tension or tautness makes the poem serve a visceral end of magnetism, fascination. It might also be said that magnetism and fascination in text are impossible without narrative to hook potentially engaged consciousness. This can be done with fulsome narrative, or what Roland Barthes refers to as bits of narrative; but the narrative sector must be filled in somehow. Why Catch creates an interesting chiasmus with Ephemera, is that in Ephemera, the sense of a tense, tautened physiology plays against a formal conceit: free-verse used to create aesthetic effects usually created by end-rhymes. In Catch, the tense, tautened physiology plays against an origin-seeking phenomenological fantasy, wherein the protagonist transubstantiates herself into animal form. A visual, rather than an aural, change. In Ephemera, an elegiac effect is created by two lovers parting ways, who stay discrete, do not meld. In Catch, a sense of disorientation or dementia is created (cinematic also, as in The Fly) by a lack of cognitive discretion. The protagonist has a sense of identification that brings the poem to an intense, incandescent, partially horrific crescendo. Ephemera remain genteel; Catch does not. The sense of live action that they share, shot by shot, succession by succession, connects both pieces to a textual continuum what brings texts to the brink of the sublime, when the sublime (as in Schopenhauer) is imposing, overwhelming, either gently so (Yeats) or luridly (Hilliker).

© Adam Fieled 2025

Sex and Shadows on Side blog

Developing a rubric around post-feminist poetics, Graham, Blair, Hilliker.

Feel (I saw) remix re-pub

Jamendo has re-pubbed a large cross-section of their site on archive. org. This includes Zenboy1955's Feel (I saw) remix, which reached #8 on Soundclick's Electronic Overall chart a few years back. The Feel (I saw) remix starts with the PennSound version of my long narrative poem Feel, written from mid-Aughts Philly, not published until X-Peri in 2018, by which time the dust had still not settled. All set up by the California site CC Mixter, which puts the vaunt in avant for serious music.

Live Forever in Lothlorien

Live Forever, double sonnet from Something Solid, in Lothlorien Poetry Journal. 

Live Forever is also available in mp3 form on PennSound. 

The City For Real

Taking for granted that the creative capacities of photography are exceeded by painting, what a camera can document does become interesting in relation to cities and urban landscapes. What you might find, in an exploration of this, is an explosion of accidents, or of the accidental, wherein compositional fields or planar spaces are generated out of the contingencies of a city's workaday life. The artist's eye would be able to spot, and then document, the visual explosiveness of or by which compositions coalesce and then disintegrate in seeming solidity and then out into evanescence. The bemused epiphany which must've struck Mary Evelyn Harju as she snapped this portrait of me in Manhattan's East Village in 2007 is about all these issues. The sense of compositional rightness here, discovered by accident at an opportune moment, meant that she was doing one of the things she liked to do best— work from a seemingly simple premise on multiple levels. The portrait critiques me (singular, as myself, unlike in her paintings), critiques what an urban landscape is, then critiques Manhattan and specifically the East Village, all out of a compositional discovery coalescing spontaneously in front of her. The drollery of the cell-phone pedestrian in sandals, passing down Avenue A behind me, and as smudged, in a painterly way, as I am crisp, takes the found game and ups it even more.  

Something Solid: Apologia 2022-2026

Something Solid, unlike Apparition Poems, is a book which knows its place. The God-forsaken quality of the poems strung in numbers is replaced by a sense of consolidation with the core values which render poetry useful for most literary landscapes— incidents and situations chosen for interrogation, involving the poet in memory, sensuality, and the formality of the traditional sonnet (and newfangled double sonnet, twenty-eight lines); a downward curve, as it were, into these topos, rather than an upward curve into serious philosophical discourse. What would make the book more than a curiosity (or, perhaps, anti-curiosity) to such discourse, is a Barthes-ian acknowledgement of a basic literary principle which philosophy finds distasteful, but which nonetheless has and will always dictate individual literary economies— we tend to read and re-read what we find pleasurable to read and re-read. The pleasure principle inhering in texts and textuality may dictate that Something Solid, despite its not being angled in a strictly original way, will be read and re-read with more pleasure and avidity than Apparition Poems, which most, including discursive types, may choose to respect from a distance. The version of poetic memory explored here has as its ensign an engagement with two periods in time, one place specific— the Nineties, and Aughts Philadelphia. Built into the book’s willfully conventional dynamic, is the imposition, on these periods, of an aura of romantic chaos, of the possibility of the poet’s consciousness, in medias res in the appointed zeitgeists, conflating internal with external vicissitudes, so that the book resonates as both completely personal and ripe for universalization. The poet stands within the text and its dramas, a self-conscious synecdoche.

Where sensuality is taken in the text is to a locale configured to purify and transcendentalize its manifestation into an emergence of imaginative, dramatic reality. Bodies are not seen as real but hyperreal; the carnal acts as a portal into its own effacement, into the larger existence of Eros as an idea and ideal to mystify the objective, express the effacement also of objectivity into immediacy, drama, and the aesthetic establishing its own, rightful claim on aestheticized language, in as ideal form as the text will allow. Imagination in the text establishes its own body— possibilities glimpsed, starting from sense. Undulant, an early standout from the text, performs this task— layering sensual and imaginative data, the tactile over and under the imaginative, so as to solidify, both pleasure in the text for capable readers, immersion in time-zone or zeitgeist awareness, and formal innovation for what peregrinations can be compressed into fourteen lines. This ambitious task subsists past the manner of Keats and Wordsworth, in their respective sonnets, into a Neo-Romanticism of all these conflated elements, coalescing in simultaneity. Not philosophy, but not simple either. Frequencies begins from more sophisticated ground— the meta-aesthetic— one artist addressing another. Then, the poet’s imagination somersaults into an assaying of the imagination of the Other. That the meta-aesthetic manifests alongside a raw revelation of carnality makes Frequencies ring out or emanate, with a Manneristic, perhaps, sense of exaggeration, on double, triple, and quadruple levels.

The text’s extensive immersion in visual art, through the prominent placement in the text of Mary Evelyn Harju, Abby Heller-Burnham, and Jenny Kanzler, tilts the text towards a perpetual sense of ekphrasis, as an owned level. This level achieves a status of semi-dominance, developed along semi-dominant lines. The semi-dominance of a travelogue sensibility, from Philadelphia to New Hampshire to Montreal, is also developed in tandem. The grounded quality of the text, against Apparition Poems, answers perversion with exuberance, a haunted house with an eternal salon, down to a series of Creatrix muses who imbue the text, as has been said, with ekphrastic intention. This coloring or imbuing culminates in Starlight I and II, a miniaturized dialectic that takes (as Equations does not, exactly) the mysticism of romance and intoxication and confers judgement or an answer on the pursual of such, amid darker material. The objective is thus established as one aegis for the subjective to sit under, in a text which takes its stripes both from the cognitive and post-cognitive.

The sonnet, as a poetic form, is traditionally an enemy of philosophy. Brevity and compression of data are both adversarial to the development of discourse and discursive contexts. Why the sonnet here was chosen and set into dynamic motion was to undo preconceptions regarding what the sonnet’s possibilities are, in practice, if hinged to an imaginative premise. For the book, the poet invented a form— what he calls a double sonnet— one sonnet atop another, as a twenty-eight line poem, rather than a fourteen line poem. Precisely half the poems in Something Solid are double sonnets. The expectation horizon of twenty-eight lines is, or can be construed to be, radically dissimilar to the original mere fourteen. In twenty-eight lines, the little song, angled against intellectual expansiveness, takes on a new stripe as a vessel or vehicle more pliant, more nimble, more about widening parameters so that memory, sensuality, and drama, have a stage to perform, do their tricks on, both adequately lit and adequately built to support their weight. Yet, the precision of the form— twenty-eight lines— renders some compression necessary, so that the traditional sonnet geist of willing confinement, enforced brevity, and the phenomenological tension which ensues, for both poet and reader, still imposes that poetry remains poetry.

For Something Solid to transcend the merely tautological— poetry being poetry, long-established tropes within poetry digging in their respective heels to reestablish their subsistence— the combination of elements which inhere in the text must gather themselves together and travel, as if thrown with substantial velocity, to a unique gestalt locale. The locale, as a congeries of all its component parts, is crystallized, in miniaturized form, in Undulant and in more representatively newfangled form in Frequencies— the charm, sense of transgression or danger thwarted or neutralized, and frisson built into a life, unconventional amidst all the conventionality, consecrated against bourgeois pursuits. The poet is not domesticated. Rather, in his travels, the pursuit is for the richness of flight, and the phenomenology of flight, travel, as an end in itself. The poet, as an arrow flying through spaces at any moment enchanted or damned, is in love with the very principle of dynamism perpetuating itself. What gravitas is expressed, what objectivity is reached for, has to do with an understanding reached, through the composition of the book, what human life can offer to this form of consciousness, which craves a mien of the unsettled. Here’s how motion or dynamism is achieved, here’s how pieces may fall around it. The rogue poet is no one new, to be sure. This rogue poet is not attempting to be new. What he wants is a new kind of textual voyage, for himself, to mirror and ricochet against, and thus enhance, his fleshly voyages.

Proven: Two Artists In Montreal

 A portion of Something Solid tracking Mary and I away from home.