On Alfred Corn

Abstract

From the pubUcation of his first volume of poetry in 1976, Alfred Corn has striven for mastery of both the long poem and short lyric while evincing intelUgence, sophistication, and technical competence. His efforts have yielded mixed results: the ambitious and brilliant CaU in the Midst of the Crowd, the uneven but groundbreaking 1992, the overly self-conscious Notes from a ChUd of Paradise, a handful of perfect lyrics, and a host of forgettable ones. But each new coUection delineates Corn's trajectory as a poet, a pro gression marked in particular by his efforts at the long poem and poetic se quence. In Present, Corn's seventh volume, he has purged his work of most of the weaknesses that inflicted otherwise healthy poems in his earUer books. The painful syntactical contortions, the heavy-handed aUusions, the overt refer ences to his eUte education, and the relentless focus on the minutiae of his Ufe have worked against him in the past. However, in this volume, Corn seems determined to write himself out of his shortcomings, resulting in his most accomplished collection to date. When Corn demonstrates his Uterary and historical knowledge instead of talking about it, he resembles Lowell (albeit a calm cousin of Lowell). Fortunately, Corn's overt references to his education, which attained their most irritating form in the summer school reading lists and mention of his A grades in Notes from a Child of Paradise, by now have dwindled to passing remarks. In Present, he enriches our own under standing of history, music, literature, and art. Corn's poetry makes for pleasurable reading in part because it is unpredict able?a refreshing quaUty in a literary environment where most poets learn and perfect one type of poem and then fill book upon book with its clones. Although Corn is not as unpredictable as poets such as Merrill, Present reveals an attempt to grow into new forms and subjects. His long preoccupation with literature, music, visual art, history, and travel estabUshes the pulse of this volume, as with others, but he also includes a nine-page essay, a poetic fugue,