{"id":135823,"date":"2019-04-24T13:07:31","date_gmt":"2019-04-24T17:07:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=135823"},"modified":"2019-04-26T11:01:15","modified_gmt":"2019-04-26T15:01:15","slug":"waterman-redux","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2019\/04\/24\/waterman-redux\/","title":{"rendered":"Waterman Redux"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\"\"<\/a>

Waterman at Cornell, 1926<\/p><\/div>\n

There are times I am facetious in these articles. It\u2019s not always perceived. Therefore, allow me to take a moment to clarify my last piece about the limericks of the poet Paul Waterman<\/a>. I do not actually think Waterman was crazy, and neither do I think all, most, or even any of his limericks are gibberish. They all<\/i>\u00a0make sense. They\u2019re obscure, that\u2019s all. He was eccentric, that\u2019s all.<\/p>\n

My first piece was written at an early stage of the Waterman Renaissance. It\u2019s been three weeks; much has happened. As you can see from the photograph above, an image of Waterman has surfaced. He is roughly twenty-three years old in that picture. His dates are now known to be July 3, 1903\u2013February 17, 1987. He went to Cornell on a scholarship. For a great many years he owned a small farm in a town called Maryland, New York. He had a twin brother, John Waterman, whom he outlived by twenty-five years. And he is now known to have published ten<\/i>\u00a0books, all of them poetry, all of them printed at his own expense:<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n

Boy for a Blonde<\/i>\u00a0<\/i>(1932)
\nCabin for Two<\/i> (1934)<\/p>\n

\u2014twenty-one-year hiatus\u2014
\n
\nLove to the Town<\/i> (1955)<\/p>\n

\u2014eight-year hiatus\u2014<\/p>\n

The Limerick Trilogy:
\n\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Mad Land of Limerick<\/i> (1963)
\n\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Those Brats from Limerick<\/i> (1964)
\n\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Five Lines to Limerick<\/i> (1965)<\/p>\n

Four Books of Haiku:
\n\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Wee Wings<\/i> (1966)
\n\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Brief Candles<\/i> (1967)
\n\u00a0 \u00a0 Whimseys<\/i>\u00a0[sic<\/i>] (1968; second edition 1973)
\n\u00a0 \u00a0 Thus and Now<\/i> (1974)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\n
\n

<\/p>\n

It should be noted that almost all this information (and a great deal more) has come to light through the efforts of my newest friend, a retired librarian, quite legendary in Wisconsin, named David Lull. Mr. Lull also reports that Cornell University is in possession of Waterman\u2019s undergraduate diaries (1920\u20131925, and part of 1928). We also happen to know Waterman\u2019s last two mailing addresses, and the names of many of his family members. Also that he is buried in Maple Grove Cemetery in Worcester, New York.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

The Magnolia Hotel in Starke, Florida, where Waterman wintered for thirty or forty years<\/p><\/div>\n

Perhaps none of this would matter, except for those ten books. And even\u00a0with<\/i> the ten books\u2014or six of \u2019em, anyhow\u2014it probably doesn\u2019t matter.<\/p>\n

Why do I say six? Because that\u2019s how many are in my collection:<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Three of the four that are currently preventing me from owning the whole catalogue\u2014Wee Wings<\/i>,\u00a0Brief Candles<\/i>, and\u00a0Whimseys<\/i>\u2014apparently cannot be purchased at any price. The only way to read\u00a0those<\/i>\u00a0bad boys is to use interlibrary loan and get \u2019em from Brown University, which keeps an especially complete collection of American haiku books.<\/p>\n

Since I mention haiku, let me share the results of some of my own research. Waterman published haiku in many different magazines, but none was more welcoming of his work than\u00a0Modern Haiku<\/i>, currently celebrating fifty years of continuous publication, and widely considered the preeminent organ of English-language haiku and haiku-related art. Waterman was in the very first issue, Winter 1969. Furthermore, he was in every issue <\/i>of the magazine, without exception, through the first six years of publication. There was literally no one who was a more regular contributor than Paul Waterman.<\/p>\n

I was extremely curious as to what his haiku were going to be like, given the relentless oddity of his limericks. Lucky for me,\u00a0Thus and Now<\/i>, his last book, is all haiku, and I have it. (This is indeed the item in my Waterman collection upon which I dropped the most money: something like $29 for forty-eight haiku and one tanka. One could comfortably print the whole book on three or four sheets of typing paper, if you used columns.)<\/p>\n

What are the poems like? Completely normal, accomplished, standard-issue. Here, I\u2019ll throw down some specimens:<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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The weathered cupola
\ndoves flying in and out
\nthrough broken shutters.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Two gulls
\nperching on piling
\npiggy back.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Tom cat
\nin my easy chair
\nglaring back.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
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Gorged with snow melt
\nthe spring freshet
\nclatters stones against stones.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Great pine with two trunks
\ncasting long shadows
\nthat connect snow islands.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Leaping fish
\nbreaking through clutter
\nof floating leaves.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Rain against the pane
\nkitten on the window seat
\npawing at splashes.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Rising and falling
\nthe edge of the lily pad
\nbends with the ripples.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

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These are representative. They ran against my expectations, because I had decided Waterman\u2019s commitments with regard to writing were uniformly \u201clite.\u201d I would have confidently bet twenty bucks his haiku would all be modeled on those of Kobayashi Issa, and I mean Issa at his most personal and witty. Yet Waterman frequently has a surprise up his sleeve. Who knows what haiku he had read, but his<\/i> haiku mainly remind me of those by the most austere of the Japanese greats: Yosa Buson. The self is elsewhere; nature is all.<\/p>\n

Who was<\/em> this Waterman?<\/p>\n

Let me tell you something, my excitement was very great when I got Boy for a Blonde<\/i> (his first book) out of its envelope. My question was: Will the poems he wrote when he was in his twenties and early thirties bear any resemblance to the limericks? Or are the limericks strictly sui generis<\/i>\u2014?<\/p>\n

Those limericks, let me remind you, all look like this:<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cLONG AGO\u201d GIRL<\/b><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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I\u2019m praying that \u201cAtom-the-bomb\u201d
\nWill stick to her knitting and broom.
\nIf \u201cAtom\u201d should fall,
\nMy knitting and all
\nWould all to the top of the room.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u2014Mad Land of Limerick<\/i>, p. 22<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

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and this:<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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I\u2019D LIKE TO \u201cRIDE BACK\u201d<\/b><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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I\u2019d like to \u201cride back\u201d to the kid
\nAnd ride on Old Dick as a kid.
\nI\u2019d like to return,
\nNot fancy or yearn\u2014
\nI\u2019d like to \u201cride back\u201d to the kid.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u2014Those Brats from Limerick<\/i>, p. 38<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

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and this:<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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1908\u2014AFTER THE SMALL ACCIDENT<\/b><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\u2019Twas only the ghost of a jar\u2014
\nNo threat to the life of the car . . .
\nBut mother, of course,
\nDeclared for a horse
\nAnd left the old \u201cgasser\u201d for Star!<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n
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\u2014Five Lines to Limerick<\/i>, p. 48<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

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In a word, they represent a poetical-technological breakthrough of the very first rank: a different way to be funny in a limerick. Namely: write some key part of the thing in crossword-puzzle English, so the reader has to read the piece twice, and then three times, to get at its literal meaning. The bewilderment during the delay reliably causes happy laughter.<\/p>\n

Good. So, was he like that in 1932? Answer: Yes, kinda! Just like with the limericks, the poems\u00a0seem<\/i>\u00a0easy, but there\u2019s always some nondescript preposition or conjunction that throws the whole thing into a dizzy semiotic stagger.<\/p>\n

Just consider the title\u00a0Boy for a Blonde<\/i>. What does that mean? Are we engaged in barter (\u201cI\u2019ll swap ya a boy for a blonde, whaddaya say?\u201d)? Or is the construction more like in the phrase \u201cHe is a man for all occasions\u201d\u2014is the idea that the boy is specially fit for (or suitable to) a blonde? So turn to page 13 (the book\u2019s first page of poetry) and look at the piece itself. Here\u2019s the whole thing, all eight lines:<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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BOY FOR A BLONDE<\/b><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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O, let him bear the thrusts of fate
\nNor know a wife\u2019s caress,
\nFor there shall come to man alone
\nThe spears of loneliness.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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And let the arrows miss the heart
\nThough days become a year,
\nFor there\u2019s a golden Nemesis
\nTo hurl the proper spear!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\n
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Is that\u00a0light verse<\/i>? I think not. For starters, it\u2019s hard as Yeats. Or some of Yeats, anyhow. It\u2019s not as hard as the hardest Yeats, okay, but still. I translate: \u201cLet a man be lonely, lest he not experience the desirable and proper spearing<\/i>\u00a0from Golden-Aphrodite-turned-Nemesis (who might, just possibly, be Death).\u201d First poem, first book; whoa.<\/p>\n

A lot of\u00a0Boy for a Blonde<\/i>\u00a0is like this. Likewise,\u00a0Love to the Town<\/i>. Philosophical, perverse, oddly obscure, sometimes naughty, metrically clean and lucid everywhere \u2026 but mainly oddly obscure.<\/p>\n

Then come those strange three years of limericks, miraculous limericks that manage a feat not accomplished since Christmas 1872. Namely, they stand up to a hundred readings.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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IRISH CAT ON A DIET<\/b><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
A cat by the name of De Kitten
\nGrew light as a leprechaun\u2019s mitten
\nTill one of his ears
\nAnd two of his cares
\nWere more than the weight of De Kitten.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u2014Mad Land of Limerick<\/i>, p. 27.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

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THE JAYWALKER AND THE SMOOTH CARS<\/b><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
Incredibly playing the \u201cwalker\u201d,
\nHe had all the cars in a flutter
\nExcept for the smooth
\nWhich rode in a groove
\nBisecting the rump of the \u201cwalker\u201d.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u2014Those Brats from Limerick<\/i>, p. 4<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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THE CONTENTED POMERANIAN<\/b><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\u201cWho\u201d wants to be cute as a poodle,
\n\u201cWho\u201d wiggles his nose for a noodle\u2014
\nYou\u2019re meeting a \u201cpom\u201d,
\n\u201cWho\u201d shops for a mom
\nAnd pays with a bark for the \u201cboodle\u201d.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n

\u2014Mad Land of Limerick<\/i>, p. 25.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

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Waterman is no more, my friends. The man who told a reporter in 1955 that he believed the people who would most enjoy his work were \u201cshut-ins and those who are hospitalized\u201d is no more. Yet Waterman can never wholly leave us, not while we read him to ourselves and to each other. And now, even now, his last book of limericks falls open to page 42…<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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BRIDGE<\/b><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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You build your own bridge from your birth.
\nYou build with small thought of its worth.
\nTread lightly, my friend,
\nWhen close to the end:
\nTread lightly when leaving the earth.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Waterman’s tombstone<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

Anthony Madrid lives in Victoria, Texas. His second book is\u00a0<\/em>Try Never<\/a>. He is a correspondent for the\u00a0<\/em>Daily.<\/em><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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