On Pollen Memory: Author's Note

Pollen Memory was written primarily during the summer of 1992. I wished to locate a form which would approach, and continue itself. It looked something like a square, but behaved more like a spinning wheel. This was my first book-length endeavor. I worked in part from notebooks. Lines were pulled from pages, poems coaxed from lines—until a process emerged. The small weight of the breath line, followed by the body, or the demi-weight of the poem. The work seemed to generate itself. Returning to a passage I was met, as if expected.   

 

From Journals During the Time of Composition   

Let me not argue with form now. Occurrences restrain themselves meaningfully so. 

. . .

a b a b a b a b a b

. . .

Remember always, these words, my allies.

. . .

Inclusivity.

. . .

Things cannot always go as planned, but must they always go?

. . .

Would it or would it not be good if a person could actually read all there is to read in one lifetime? What would be remembered?

. . .

A voice which came before, which came after, one cannot remember. 

. . .

The job of the writer; we are guests here (on earth) and must meet the other inhabitants.

. . .

What are my thoughts during sleep?

. . .

There is no natural light in the city.

. . .

Pulling up anchorage from blue vasts of chemical. I too hung on a word tree.

. . .

Why make an image still if you do not allow the observer to move its dimensions at will?

. . .

Clock or promise; calculation or meditation?

Light poured out into a meadow, much subletting.

. . .

Which music will provide the proper setting?

. . .

Unwrapping the forest, a mirror. Uncovering the lens, a jewel.

 

—Laynie Browne

Pollen Memory is available in the

T E N D E R   O M N I B U S

First editions of Pollen Memory are available here.

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