Five lines of a George Oppen poem about bereavement continually amaze Jeffrey Yang, the author of An Aquarium and Vanishing-Line—and even connected him to a fellow poet.
By Heart is a series in which authors share and discuss their all-time favorite passages in literature.
The new poetry anthology Time of Grief: Mourning Poems is an unusual, inventive take on a familiar subject: It explores grief in its various shades and incarnations. Structured like a calendar over a span of 49 days—a traditional mourning period in some Buddhist and Judaic traditions—the book includes a diverse sequence of poems written in more than 20 countries. With authors ranging from an 11th-century Chinese poet to Tomas Tranströmer, the Swedish winner of the 2011 Nobel Prize for Literature, Time of Grief presents human bereavement in unprecedented scale and scope.
When I asked Time of Grief's editor, the poet Jeffrey Yang, to choose a favorite from the anthology, he selected a piece by the American poet George Oppen. The poem ends by transforming a dour line from T.S. Eliot's "Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" into a more open-ended, generous, and mysterious conception of loss.
Jeffrey Yang works as an editor at New Directions Publishing and at New York Review Books. He is the author of two books of poetry, Vanishing-Line and An Aquarium. His poem "Untitled" was chosen by the New York MTA's "Poetry in Motion" series and appears in subways throughout New York.
Jeffrey Yang: A couple years ago a close friend of the publisher at New Directions unexpectedly lost her husband of 25 years. The pain and loss she felt was totally devastating, as if an enormous wave had crashed over her and she could find no way to surface. Her despair seemed complete and endless. Seeking refuge in words, she suggested to our publisher that, as we've been publishing poetry from all over the world from the deep past to the present for so long (over 75 years), we should bring out an edition of poems on grief and mourning. The result is this new anthology of poems Time of Grief: Mourning Poems.
Certain lines immediately came to mind when thinking about what to include in such a thematically structured book. Among them was a couplet by the American poet George Oppen (1908-1984).
I first read Oppen's work as a student at UC San Diego, in an anthology Rae Armantrout assigned in her poetry class called From the Other Side of the Century, edited by Douglas Messerli. Like seeing Rothko's paintings in person for the first time, it was more an experience of disorientation than of pleasure for me. But the poems (and those paintings) stayed under my skin—Oppen's dislocating lines, so evidently wrought with care; the mystery conveyed in such spare music while each turn of the line somehow radiated a luminous intensity of thought and emotion. Later I started to work for his publishing house, New Directions, and by the fate of the gods was the in-house editor for his Selected Poems that Robert Creeley edited. By then I had read all seven slim but far from slight collections of Oppen's poetry multiple times. His work, along with his wife Mary Oppen's memoir Meaning: A Life, had become a part of my subconscious, embedded in my existence at a cellular level.