The
preposition “in” proposes two entities (one thing is in another);
“only,” which can be broken up into the morphemes 'one' and '-ly'
proposes one entity; the affix “un,” signifying negation,
suggests no entities. As such, Dennis Lee's poem “Wordly” begins
- “If inly, if only, if unly” (1-2) - as a countdown. That, and
the fact that, towards its end, Lee brings up the concept of the
reckoning (punning with “rekenning,” found in the ninth line of
the poem), gives the poem an apocalyptic feel. Following this
intuition, one may interpret the poem as Lee's examination of the
ultimate state of the world; he envisions it as fragmentary and
somewhat absurd, but among these qualities he highlights the
possibility for creativity and happiness. His envisioning of the
world as such is done through a self-reflexive examination of
something intrinsic to the human world: language.
What
any reader is likely to immediately notice about the poem is that it
defies comprehension, mainly because the poet breaks language down,
playing with the “emes” (4) – the sounds and bits of words –
in an attempt to forcefully create new meaning. For example, Lee
constructs the adjective “cripcryptic” (7). When first reading
through the poem and coming upon this, one might exasperatedly think
that the poem itself is cryptic. In fact, I think Lee is here
speaking about the poem, or, more broadly, about language –
alluding to the idea that words are signs which try to capture and
convey some truth; that is, words are cryptic. However, the addition
of “crip,” a word, according to the Oxford English Dictionary,
derived from “cripple,” indicates, also, that the crypticness of
language is crippling, confusing, so that to speak is merely to
stutter - “cripcryp-.” This goes to explaining the sense of
incomprehensibility in this poem and, I think, in many postmodernist
works, generally: postmodernists believe that language is incapable
of conveying truth. Language presents a deconstructed version of
truth.
Despite
the fragmentariness one finds in language, one also finds
“ec-/statisyllabic largesse” (7-8). That is, within the “emes,”
the syllables, one finds lavishness, an abundance of something.
Perhaps this something is meaning; this is suggested in the word
“heart-/iculates” (2-3). “Heart-/iculates” replaces the “art”
in “articulate” with “heart” - denoting perhaps the insertion
of the heart into language's articulations. At the same time, the
only difference between “heart” and “art” is the addition of
the phoneme /h/. It is a very minimal addition; phonologically, the
sound /h/ is merely an unobstructed exhalation of air. This indicates
the close association between art – language – and the heart. As
such, Lee suggests that language is an intrinsic part of human
nature.
That
said, there is still the element of the absurd in language, as
evidenced by the ending of Lee's poem: “rekenning, rekeening,
re-/meaning our worldly demesne.” With “rekenning, rekeening,
re-/meaning,” Lee encapsulates his notion of language. A kenning is
a compound metaphor; as such, it represents putting things together –
literally, putting words, or free morphemes, together. To keen is to
wail, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, particularly over
someone's death – and as such, the use of this word signifies
things falling apart. “Remeaning,” again, entails putting things
together, restructuring after things have fallen apart. Lee's
repetition of the prefix “re-” indicates that this happens again
and again; furthermore, that he uses the gerundive forms of these
verbs indicates that this repetitive process is ongoing, neverending.
Finally, the poem ends with Lee referring to our “worldly demesne,”
suggesting that there is no possibility of transcendence. In fact, as
the entire poem can be seen as a self-reflexive examination of the
nature of language, Lee might possibly be suggesting that our
“demesne,” our only true possession we have to work with, is
language.
In
Lee's vision, humanity is like a child with a single set of building
blocks – a set of “emes.” The only thing he or she can do is
structure and restructure those blocks into various forms, various
words, various meanings. This is both a hopeless, resigned view of
existence, yet also absurdly hopeful, for as a child plays, he or she
derives happiness and employs limitless creativity, as, I believe,
Lee did in writing this poem.
SOURCE
Lee, Dennis. “Worldly.” An Anthology of Canadian Literature in English. Eds. Donna Bennet and Russel Brown. Don Mills: Oxford University Press, 2010. 868-869.
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