Similar Poets to Frederick Seidel?
October 10, 2011 8:46 PM
I'm looking for more poets like Frederick Seidel. I recently read Seidel's Arabia in the previous issue of The Paris Review and was drawn to his, what I would term "Lad Poetry" - with lad being the antonym of chick, as in chick lit.
Here's the 1st stanza of Seidel's On Being Debonair:
Shirts wear themselves out being worn.
Suits fit perfectly,
But a man does
Decades of push-ups and no longer fits.
I take myself out to dinner.
It is a joy to sit alone
Without a book.
I use myself up being fine while I dine.
I am a result of the concierge at the Carlyle.
I order a bottle of Bordeaux.
I am a boulevard of elegance
In my well-known restaurants.
Here's the 1st stanza of Seidel's On Being Debonair:
Shirts wear themselves out being worn.
Suits fit perfectly,
But a man does
Decades of push-ups and no longer fits.
I take myself out to dinner.
It is a joy to sit alone
Without a book.
I use myself up being fine while I dine.
I am a result of the concierge at the Carlyle.
I order a bottle of Bordeaux.
I am a boulevard of elegance
In my well-known restaurants.
He may take for granted what Seidel finds worthy of celebration a bit too much for your taste, but I do think you might get something out of James Merrill, son of a founding partner of Merrill Lynch.
Here are the first few lines of An Urban Convalescence:
Out for a walk, after a week in bed,
I find them tearing up part of my block
And, chilled through, dazed and lonely, join the dozen
In meek attitudes, watching a huge crane
Fumble luxuriously in the filth of years.
Her jaws dribble rubble. An old man
Laughs and curses in her brain,
Bringing to mind the close of The White Goddess.
As usual in New York, everything is torn down
Before you have had time to care for it.
Head bowed, at the shrine of noise, let me try to recall
What building stood here. Was there a building at all?
I have lived on this same street for a decade.
Wait. Yes. Vaguely a presence rises ...
posted by jamjam at 11:30 PM on October 10, 2011
Here are the first few lines of An Urban Convalescence:
Out for a walk, after a week in bed,
I find them tearing up part of my block
And, chilled through, dazed and lonely, join the dozen
In meek attitudes, watching a huge crane
Fumble luxuriously in the filth of years.
Her jaws dribble rubble. An old man
Laughs and curses in her brain,
Bringing to mind the close of The White Goddess.
As usual in New York, everything is torn down
Before you have had time to care for it.
Head bowed, at the shrine of noise, let me try to recall
What building stood here. Was there a building at all?
I have lived on this same street for a decade.
Wait. Yes. Vaguely a presence rises ...
posted by jamjam at 11:30 PM on October 10, 2011
Wow, thanks guys! I'm hitting up the mid-Manhattan library tomorrow!
posted by lrnarabic at 4:39 PM on October 13, 2011
posted by lrnarabic at 4:39 PM on October 13, 2011
I'm about to complete Bukowski's SLOUCHING TOWARD NIRVANA! Bukowski is very much like the west coast Seidel sans the tailored suits and UES residence. Thanks so much for the tip! I picked up a bunch of Millers and Simpon's poetry too.
posted by lrnarabic at 6:06 PM on October 15, 2011
posted by lrnarabic at 6:06 PM on October 15, 2011
This thread is closed to new comments.
If you are attracted a rough male voice at the other end of the socieconomic ladder, then perhaps Charles Bukowski.
posted by ferdydurke at 9:21 PM on October 10, 2011