The Intuitive Journey and Other Works by Russell EdsonHarper and Row (1976)
Russell Edson is without a doubt a true model of the poet. Though The Olives of Oblivion has never met Mr. Edson, it's easy enough to guess that he writes what he wants, writes for himself, and answers to nothing but his own imagination and sense of purpose. While reading Edson you receive many gifts. First off, he's a true master of the prose poem. His brief, quirky fables are probing satires that carry with them both a sense of comic irreverence and deeply ironized sympathy for our bumbling human existence. Edson is also a strikingly gifted visual artist. His drawings fill many of his earlier small press editions and often adorn the covers of his numerous books.
Luckily for us, the Field Poetry Series / Oberlin College Press has published an ample selection of Edson's work in The Tunnel, thus restoring several gems that were previously out of print. In the past few years Edson has published full-length collections with both the Pitt Poetry Series (The Tormented Mirror) and BOA Editions, Ltd. (The Rooster's Wife). The Olives of Oblivion highly recommends hopping onto abebooks and ordering a used copy of The Intuitive Journey. They are a bit pricey at 25 to 50 dollars--but with 200 pages of flawless writing, how can you go wrong? Here are a few from the book:
THE LIGHTED WINDOW
A lighted window floats through the night like a piece of paper in the wind.
I want to see into it. I want to climb through into its lighted room.
As I reach for it it slips through the trees. As I chase it it rolls and tumbles into the air and skitters on through the night...
A JOURNEY BY WATER
When we set sail I had no idea that the sails would float with wind like pregnant women.
I brought this to the attention of the Captain.
He adjusted my offended modesty by saying that the sails were married, and that by no means would he allow prostitutes to bear us forth.
An immediate applause broke from my hands.
THE GENTLEMEN IN THE MEADOW
Some gentlemen are floating in the meadow over the yellow grass. They seem to hover by those wonderful blue little flowers that grow there by those rocks.
Perhaps they have floated up from that nearby graveyard?
They drift a little when the wind blows.
Butterflies flutter through them...
Ah, Russell Edson...
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