ModPo 2013 #6 Choice and Desire: On Williams' "Smell!"

Nose illustration from gutenberg.org.

Note: I am currently taking a course on Coursera.org called Modern and Contemporary American Poetry taught by Al Filreis of the University of Pennsylvania. I will be posting my thoughts on the course discussions here.

Smell!
by William Carlos Williams

Oh strong-ridged and deeply hollowed
nose of mine! what will you not be smelling?
What tactless asses we are, you and I, boney nose,
always indiscriminate, always unashamed,
and now it is the souring flowers of the bedraggled
poplars: a festering pulp on the wet earth
beneath them. With what deep thirst
we quicken our desires
to that rank odor of a passing springtime!
Can you not be decent? Can you not reserve your ardors
for something less unlovely? What girl will care
for us, do you think, if we continue in these ways?
Must you taste everything? Must you know everything?
Must you have a part in everything?

--------------------------------------

I like how there are two layers in the poem: the literal nose and the "boney" appendage that seems to lead some men. Both are preoccupied with indiscriminate desire, both do not filter.

But I'd like to dwell on the chiding tone of Williams. In the video discussion, it treated as a false chiding. It is actually an expression of delight in the base experience. It is a guilty complicity with the "nose." And here, of course, is the connection to Whitman who celebrates the lowest, the cheapest, the closest to natural experience.

And, here, too, I bring up the theme of choice. For while the persona (through his nose) is delighting in and celebrating the smell of souring flowers, festering pulp and rank odors, he does call out the "you" and the "I" as separate. He is complicit, yes, maybe indulgent. But he does distinguish one from the other.

I like that he asks and does not merely state. While the answer could easily be "yes" to every question at the end of the poem, I remember that it is for someone to answer. The nose cannot help what it smells but it is the man who acts upon it. I am reminded, through this poem, that I am not beholden to my "nose." While desire is uncontrollable, choice is not.

The poem is a celebration of what is natural, what is innate in any creature of nature. But the division between the persona and the nose (even if the persona is highly sympathetic to the nose), by the very fact that the persona addresses the nose as separate, is also a marker between indiscriminate desire and choice.

I don't know if I'm over-reading! All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed the poem.

Some Mornings

by Justine C. Tajonera

Some mornings
are beautiful, suffused in
cool light,
white window curtains
rustling with wind
and the promise
of a brand new day.

Some mornings
are ugly, unbearably
bright and hot or
melancholy and
steel-gray cold,
killing any comfort
saved over
the night.

Does it matter
which one
I wake up to?

Each morning
I am born,
pulled out
from the womb
of dreaming,
facing another
series of conscious
hours,
choosing, each
time,
the quality
of the
light.

(March 23, 2010)
Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/emdot/3035769570/

The Trap

By Justine C. Tajonera

Freedom is a fearful
thing:
unlimited options,
the burden of
choice.

I take for granted
that my world
has been paid
for lifetimes
ago.

And a life by default
is as tempting as
sin.

There is a comfortable
trap wrapped around
me and I would be mad
to let it go.

But then I would
be truly free.

March 3, 2010

Pink Donut

by Justine C. Tajonera

Nothing tastes as good as
the color on this donut.
His choice overrides everything:
the taste of the donut,
the place where we buy it.
Nothing matters except that
he chooses a pink one.
Few have the privilege
of an obstinate choice,
a dedication so pure,
so free.

No one will understand
this but us,
his bewildered,
adoring parents.
The chaotic universe
looms large
in the background
but we are safe
together
gathered around
our son's
pink
donut.

(Jan. 3, 2010)

Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/7310714@N06/3741991820

The Code Of Dress

By Justine C. Tajonera

When I can wear anything,
I wear only one
thing.

My body has learned
to speak in codes
of comfort
and delight.

My toes have learned
to uncurl and
demand
freedom.

My heels, while rough
and worn,
have dug down,
close to the earth,
refusing to be put
on a pedestal.

My skin has learned
the subtleties of
temperature,
slowly warming up
or cooling down,
with not much need
for the artifice
of air conditioning.

When the rainbow
is presented
to this monarch,
she chooses
the simplicity of
denim
blues
and cotton
prints
and staple
unruffled
black.

I listen closely now
for freedom
has warranted
the absolutes
of choice.

(Dec. 22, 2009)

Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/brianteutsch/72243320/

Plain Vanilla Girl

By Justine C. Tajonera

There go the Cherry Chocolate
and the Almond Swirl
girls,
their skirts swishing,
their heels clicking,
a complicated stew
of perfume, designer
hand bags, and
glossy tinted hair.

I don't know
when I started my
state of
Plain Vanilla.
There was a time
that I aspired to be
Bubblegum and then
Coffee Brickle.


Along the way,
I dropped down
to the basics,
dangerously close to
generic.


But Plain Vanilla
works for me:
pretty much a canvas
for the day.

Really, I'm not
Plain Vanilla because
it tops the charts.

I choose my Plain
Vanilla self
just because.

Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/stevendepolo/3797233888/

Being

by Justine C. Tajonera

There is no due date
for being,
it is breathing
now,
this moment
when the air
will remain
the same.
It is this moment
when you can confront
yourself for any
unhappiness
or fear
or resignation
and open the
windows
to your own
freedom.
There is no prison cell,
there is no cage.
There is only you
holding the only
key
to your
existence.

(Oct. 29, 2009)

Image from avenueconsulting.co.uk