“. . . the purpose of abstraction in any field—art, science, mathematics—is, out of incredible richness and complexity and detail of reality, ‘to separate,’ ‘to select from’ the complexity of reality that which you want to emphasize . . .” (Robert Motherwell, “On the Humanism of Abstraction”)
The Motherwell Sonnets considers what this kind of abstraction can mean within a poem—taking inspiration from Robert Motherwell’s writings and artwork—looking at the world with a related sense of monument and ephemera, improvisation and pose.
the shriek you said perseverates the snap the subject was the paper ____________________________________________________________ A life is one page. Each day draws on it. The path is the top of a wall and a trench. Birth was one cart of the ferris wheel. You move to another cart every six months. With someone exactly six months closer to death and someone six months further. Who they are changes. Right before you die, you meet a baby. No need for mirrors. Now we’re traveling together, she said, and moved beside me, gave me an earbud, stole my camera. The things I want most were at no point always happening but at some points could have happened at any point. or fishing line in a tree and the tree candelabra breeze ____________________________________________________________ The silent auction. You can see people talking. Winner gets to hear. Assume we’re blessed, except when cursed. Baudelaire, “The Consolation of Bitterness”: “when I can see quite clearly nothing’s flawless / but, up close, there are pocks and flecks and tatters.” My aesthetics is removing the first comma. Make the second a period. Who translated that. The way to back out of the tight alley, with all those pipes and spouts protruding on one side, is focus on the other side. I think of the trope from throughout recorded time of though x may occur we because of y ultimately cannot be harmed. Our house has been a Y. The meanings of that “ultimately.” Out now from The Economy Press Zach Savich is the author of nine books of poetry and nonfiction. He teaches at the Cleveland Institute of Art. Excerpted from The Motherwell Sonnets, originally published by The Economy Press (2023). Check out HFR’s book catalog, publicity list, submission manager, and buy merch from our Spring store. Follow us on Instagram and YouTube. Disclosure: HFR is an affiliate of Bookshop.org and we will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase. Sales from Bookshop.org help support independent bookstores and small presses.
and at one miraculous point the fell tree held
on a birdhouse wire sapling thrash and thrush
in the seep a basic whistle where
it’s split shard ark as
water in a headlight seen through
where the road was
left alone bare blot
until all aperture is edge the withered upholding
stakes for example a hammock
in synthetic polymer blue feather in tall grass
bird bones below mourning acorns
by crushing them whole
cast out much as a cold breeze
warms the fire snow radiates
prismatic tendons of compact disc pieces in summer
pollen on a tire grows cold and overall vision
strips masquerades costumes status begins in rejection
amused remember this was made on a brick-
colored canvas
on mud platelets it half-paints itself
seep with me seam the marsh
in the final year when as far as gone to goes
a circle suggests oh
a local solar modification or room tone
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