{"id":148329,"date":"2020-10-13T11:00:57","date_gmt":"2020-10-13T15:00:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=148329"},"modified":"2020-10-15T15:33:51","modified_gmt":"2020-10-15T19:33:51","slug":"oath","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2020\/10\/13\/oath\/","title":{"rendered":"Oath"},"content":{"rendered":"

The following is Eileen Myles\u2019s foreword to <\/em>F Letter: New Russian Feminist Poetry, the first anthology of its kind.\u00a0<\/em>F Letter: New Russian Feminist Poetry will be released by isolarii<\/a> later this month.<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Galina Rymbu and Yes Women group (Nika Dubrovsky and David Graeber), MY VAGINA<\/em>, 2020.<\/p><\/div>\n

Only yesterday I think it was yesterday I drove here to Long Island from New York City and I stopped at a small farm that sells milk and eggs. The name of the farm is welsh\u2014Ty Llwyd.<\/p>\n

The language excited me and I couldn\u2019t stop telling the woman there about my trip to Wales same time she had moved to the states\u2014\u2019bout 1970. She showed absolutely no interest. Yeah, yeah. I was in Russia in 1995 and 2017. I digress. I\u2019m queer, and most recently I\u2019m thinking of myself as a they feminist<\/em>. I was formerly a they lesbian <\/em>wanting to suture the two groups dykes and transwomen in particular since there\u2019s a growing sense in the trans community that lesbians and trans women are in opposition and I just don\u2019t think it\u2019s true. But I\u2019m becoming more interested in attaching my transness to my feminism not my female body. I think the female body is every body\u2019s business. Yet so much of the pleasure of this book (and my own work historically and today) is all the iterations of the things that happen to a female body. The pussy in time:<\/p>\n

Her vulva resembles a large gray rabbit \u2013
\nlarge, a bit fat and gray
\nwith long hanging ears, why<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

<\/p>\n

Rabbits are vivid, they are running around the yard I\u2019m writing in. Pussies are vivid. There are two in the house I\u2019m living in. As a writer early on men got their hands on my female work. I remember a guy an editor cutting away at my poem to what he regarded as essential. I think recitations of the female body seemed unnecessary to him as did story and certain rhetorical strokes. It was like when I was buying the eggs<\/p>\n

someone once told me
\nthat a poem is a pure thing that doesn\u2019t have a single
\nunnecessary word<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I mean who is licensed to say which words are unnecessary. I remember when I published my first fiction Chelsea Girls<\/em> a reviewer (male) bemoaned how much it was just my daily lesbian life. On and on. In comparison to works of genius like Knausgaard that aim for a deeper content necessarily?<\/p>\n

I often imagine that instead of
\nbooks I\u2019m hauling dynamite<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

What are my<\/em> instruments. Existence, right. The act of inventory. Rage, paper and pens. The computer I\u2019m writing on. And I will epigraph some future book with this:<\/p>\n

write, paws<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The simplest line evokes universes of liberation. Because I want<\/p>\n

a world of different labor<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Female anger is dead serious. Female anger is funny. To put something on a T-shirt doesn\u2019t mean it\u2019s any less true. To think it could be there too instead of brilliantly being in a poem in this book. This small elegant book. So many of my best lines were hatched in the midst of talking to myself, in the day, all day and launching it in the world. Seeing who sings to it like I do:<\/p>\n

it\u2019s possible all women make up
\na secret organization working under
\nthe guise of an oppressed class<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

It gets painterly. And<\/p>\n

fog around a child\u2019s bed<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

It\u2019s incantory, complex and dirty.<\/p>\n

I love your pubes suggesting
\nprospective fucking in the semantic rye
\nand massive beetles under teeth sheets
\nrooting in gold roots for gold things
\neverything in this world makes me think of fucking<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

My friend CAConrad exists a great deal of the time in ALL CAPS<\/small>.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve only published one poem that way. It was written to be read at Occupy Wall Street where poets had the ideal situation which was to read their work and have each line repeated collectively like the human microphone. I feel this:<\/p>\n

I\u2019M PUTTING SOMETHING IN MY MOUTH
\nSOMETHING THAT\u2019S YOURS, CHECHNYA
\nONLY YOURS,
\nCHECHNYA<\/small><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I was having a nervous breakdown in 1995 when I spent the summer in Russia. I was going through a breakup and she was with me, she was femme and I was butch and men gave her space and acted like I was invisible even though it was my gig. And I don\u2019t drink and she did. People stopped speaking English once they got drunk and most of the English speakers anyhow were men. Who I met. And I was going through menopause. An episode in a female life<\/p>\n

It\u2019s only proper for a sham wedding,
\nThe last lifeboat in the immense ocean<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I\u2019m not so much embedding these fragments of your work into mine as I made a pile of some of the things I found in this book and loved here and thought I\u2019d paint the background in. Grass, intentions. Voices on the other side of the hedge. A lawnmower in the distance. Totally bourgeois. So what. I was moved that the first poem in the book was by Lida who then was named later on by Oksana in the middle of the book. I felt tossed into a community. Reading her work (Lida\u2019s) I felt<\/p>\n

impending doom eight months later he was killed in Afghanistan<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

It struck me that he was probably gay and his friend knew it and was trying to fix him before it was too late. He had sucked his friend\u2019s cock more successfully. I hope.<\/p>\n

a little boy was riding a bike down the endless hallway
\nhe looked at me with hateful eyes<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

there are lines that are just so fucking metonymic in their grace.<\/p>\n

There are lines like a curse that yodel radiantly out of the toothy mouth of the curser, way too incendiary to ever become clich\u00e9:<\/p>\n

so die for us, black sun of the pig\u2019s uniform<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

We\u2019re hopeless as we reach across that gap<\/p>\n

will it be read<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Starting there, I mean, in the lines going across the page making sound and pictures, accumulating pictures, throughout this book that propose to my mind the anti-monumentality, the wideness of a vision if not female or feeling that way, knowing oneself, someone othered who nobody knows they are looking and recording and it\u2019s in this horizontal of the battered portion of the human race that we\u2019re living closer to the likely truth of the future as opposed to politicians and developers and investment bankers killing each other in the name of family and friends<\/p>\n

I have this dream: there\u2019s no more us. Flying out into the light<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

It\u2019s a recipe, it\u2019s a formula, it\u2019s a spell<\/p>\n

2 syllables<\/p>\n

how can you lose something from nothing
\nbut that\u2019s just it<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I have been invited to witness. To smell the crowd and be charged by history, our desperate pitch. I\u2019m blasted by fragrant stillness. The smell of us inside and out, a vast interior, a bird runs across the lawn, and\u2014fucking shit\u2014<\/p>\n

The blue eyes
\nof the groundmeat saleswoman.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

Eileen Myles came to New York from Boston in 1974 to be a poet. Their books include <\/em>For Now (an essay\/talk about writing), <\/em>I Must Be Living Twice: New and Selected Poems, and <\/em>Chelsea Girls. They showed their photographs in 2019 at Bridget Donahue in New York City. Eileen has received a Guggenheim Fellowship and an award from the American Academy of Arts & Letters. They live in New York and Marfa, Texas.<\/em><\/p>\n

From the foreword to <\/em>F Letter: New Russian Feminist Poetry, edited by Galina Rymbu, Eugene Ostashevsky, and Ainsley Morse<\/em>. <\/em>F Letter: New Russian Feminist Poetry is the second work in isolarii<\/a>, a series of \u201cisland books\u201d released every two months by subscription.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Eileen Myles on \u2018F Letter: New Russian Feminist Poetry,\u2019 the first anthology of its kind.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1228,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[419],"tags":[67827],"class_list":["post-148329","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-arts-culture","tag-featured"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nOath by Eileen Myles<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Eileen Myles on \u2018F Letter: New Russian Feminist Poetry,\u2019 the first anthology of its kind.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2020\/10\/13\/oath\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta 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