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Marginality and Manifesto
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156 Marginality and Manifesto Can the manifesto matter? Or is it an outdated weapon in the arsenal of the poets, a rusted blunderbuss only to be displayed under glass in the museum of cultural oddities? Questions like these seem to lurk just below the surface in “Eight Manifestos,” a special section of the February 2009 issue of Poetry, a feature edited and introduced by Mary Ann Caws, the unquestioned dean of manifesto studies. On the one hand, the section gestures toward the idea of the manifesto as a museum piece, both figuratively and literally: a note tells us that the section commemorates the centennial of F. T. Marinetti’s “Futurist Manifesto,” and if we read all the fine print we find that several of the poets who wrote items for the section presented them at New York’s Museum of Modern Art. On the other hand, what we have aren’t essays on the nature and history of the manifesto: they’re manifestos proper, or seem to be. If the manifesto is indeed an old blunderbuss, the poets seem to have pried it out of its display case and fired off a few live rounds. Even a cursory look at the nature of the manifestos, though, raises some doubts about how much faith poets still place in the manifesto. By and large, the manifestos are either parodic, or dead-set against the historical roles manifestos have played in history, or elegaic about the death of the manifesto. Joshua Mehigan’s contribution, “The Final Manifesto,” parodies the Oedipal struggle inherent in the writing of 157 Poetry in a Difficult World manifestos by stripping away any specific theoretical content and offering only such statements of naked generational ambition as “You are a museum of irrelevance,” “We are here and now,” and “History will forget you and salute us.” It really doesn’t matter what specific poetic program a manifesto offers, Mehigan seems to say: they’re really just a means for young poets to slay the old monarchs and make names for themselves. Much of Thomas Sayers Ellis’ manifesto seems more sincere, but he raises some doubts about this sincerity with comments about how followers of his manifesto’s program adhere to it in part to keep their “professional opportunities (in publishing and employment)” open. In the end, he makes a case much like Mehigan’s, highlighting the barefaced careerism of some manifesto writers. Other poets reject the ideas of progress and innovation so dear to the hearts of most manifesto writers in history. Ange Mlinko, for example, argues that when it comes to styles, “the pendulum swings back and forth,” and rejects the prophetic, authoritative role of the manifesto writer, saying that she “can’t really say anything more definite for the time being.” A. E. Stallings actually does speak in the voice of assured authority, but does so not in the name of a break with the past, but in the name of continuity, tradition, and unabashed rhyme. “Rhymes do not need to be hidden or disguised,” she declares, “they are nothing to be ashamed of.” She takes the bullhorn voice of the manifesto to argue against the content of a thousand experimentalist manifestos. Another set of poets argue, in different ways, against the idea of group action inherent in the idea of the manifesto. “Shouldn’t there be a greater variety of life, a greater variety of art, a greater variety of poetry than what gathers in schools?” asks D. A. Powell; while Michael Hofmann assures us that “there are no plurals” in poetry, except for mere “functionaries” and “hacks.” Even Charles Bernstein, the poet in the “Eight Manifestos” selection most likely to be associated with a group, denies the possibility of group action. Midway into his manifesto he pauses to define Language Poetry as “a loose affiliation of unlike individuals.” Finally, Joshua Clover and Juliana Spahr (writing “on behalf of Hate Socialist Collective”) lament the demise of the manifesto . They admire many of the things manifestos stood for—innovation, social criticism, and as the moniker “Hate Socialist Collective” indicates, [107.23.85.179] Project MUSE (2024-03-19 13:52 GMT) 158 The Poet Resigns group action. But everything in their contribution is anger and elegy. They feel keenly the loss of a time when, in their view, the openness of political possibilities fostered an openness of poetic possibilities. “The manifesto is dead,” they declare, and “we will not celebrate the end of that era with you.” Poor...