Poets believe that all of experience itself constitutes a form of poetry. If the poem is already immanent in this world, then it is the duty of the poet to capture it through language. The process of walking, which allows one to unite landscape with the imagination, allows the poet to apprehend experience itself. To earlier American poets like William Wordsworth, the walk serves as a means of anchoring thought in the physical world, of connecting the past with the present. Published nearly two centuries following Wordsworth’s birth, the poetry of A.R. Ammons invokes a man’s walk in the world. But while Wordsworth finds unity in experiencing the tangible, quiet, and still aspects of nature, Ammons believes that humans cannot find such unity through the physical world. This is not to say that Ammons does not recognize unity on Earth—he sees it in the aspects of the natural world that have no norm and no conclusion, those aspects which must remain in motion to be themselves. Ammons finds unity in the wind, sea, and sun, which serve as prevailing motifs in Collected Poems 1951-1971. By looking to those aspects of nature that are constantly in motion, Ammons concludes that understanding occurs not as a revelation of truth but as an ongoing process of thinking.
Ammons does not force his unique perspective upon his audience. Rather, his poetry is characterized by a search for understanding. It is fitting that Ammons chooses to begin Collected Poems with “So I Said I Am Ezra,” a poem in which a man looks to the wind and sea to confirm his own identity. [Why is this fitting?] The poem opens with the introduction of a man who is concerned, if not obsessed, with declaring himself: “So I said I am Ezra / and the wind whipped my throat / gaming for the sounds of my voice / I listened to the wind / go over my head and up into the night” (1). While the narrator attempts to assert his existence in the first line, the disruption of the wind in the following line implies that Ezra is unsure of whom he is. The verb “whipped” suggests reprimand—not only is the wind superior to Ezra, but it attempts to provide him with insight regarding his own identity. Taken alone, the line “I listened to the wind” suggests that Ezra recognizes the wind’s wisdom. Yet the addition of “go over my head and up into the night” in the following line gives new meaning to the words that precede it. The significance of “over my head” is twofold: it evokes an image of the wind’s constant motion, which contrasts with Ezra’s fixed position on Earth, but it also implies Ezra’s struggle to understand the wind’s otherworldly knowledge. In two short lines, Ezra looks to the wind for guidance, recognizes his own physical limits, and accepts that his understanding of humanity’s place in the natural world is a continual process.
As the poem progresses, Ezra declares his existence to the sea, which “swallows up” his words. The third and final statement of “I am Ezra” is not directed to the wind or sea, it simply is stated: “I moved my feet and turning from the wind...swayed as if the wind were taking me away / and said / I am Ezra.” Ezra attempts to turn from the wind, but just a few lines later he sways “as if the wind were taking [him] away.” Ezra quickly learns that while wind is nameless, indeterminate, and intangible, it also powerful in its everlasting ability to influence the physical world. Upon discovery of the wind’s awesome unity, Ezra recognizes the vacuity of his self-declaration. “As a word too much repeated / falls out of being” suggests that there is little substance in declaring what is—resolution cannot exist in a physical, and thus temporal, world. Rather, one should look to find reconciliation between their personal identity and the world around them, both of which are characterized by recurrent transformation.
“So I Said I Am Ezra” details one man’s journey of consciousness to show that resolution cannot exist in the phenomenal world. “Guide,” which invokes a man’s walk through the world, reiterates this notion unequivocally by specifically addressing the audience and the question of how “to be.” The poem opens with the line, “You cannot come to unity and remain material:”—a concept that was implied, if less explicitly, in “So I Said I Am Ezra.” Ammons continues, “in that perception is no perceiver: / when you arrive you have gone too far: / at the Source you are in the mouth of Death” (79). While resolution is impossible on Earth, Ammons believes that all humans will find unity in the afterlife. The idea that one should take direction from the natural world is restated with the stanza “the wind that is my guide said this: it / should know having / given up everything to eternal being but / direction:” (79). The wind does not dwell on what it is; it understands that “to be” is simply to stay in motion, to focus solely on direction. To Ammons, the wind is a guide, not an objective to model oneself after; he recognizes to be human is to do more than remain moving. So Ammons applies lessons learned from the wind to the human predicament:
how I said can I be glad and sad: but a man goes
from one foot to the other:
wisdom wisdom:
to be glad and sad at once is also unity
and death:
wisdom wisdom: a peachblossom blooms on a particular
tree on a particular day:
unity cannot do anything in particular: (80).
The narrator’s doubt as to how he can be “glad and sad” suggests a feeling of disunity. The wind responds by applying its own approach to the human world: “but a man goes from one foot / to the other” implies that man, like wind, is constantly in motion. The repetition in the following line, “wisdom wisdom” suggests potential for knowledge in each step a man takes; he is provided with new insights each time his foot touches the ground, that is, each time he moves forward. But man has little say in his decision to move forward; the only way to stop moving is through death. So instead of making the conscious decision to move forward, a man should simply recognize that his state of perpetual motion provides new opportunities for growth and understanding. He should focus on these new opportunities instead of attempting to find resolution between the past and present.
To walk about the natural world is not to reach a destination, but to embark on a journey. “So I Said I Am Ezra” and “Guide” evoke such a journey in which Ammons notices the coming and going of nature’s wisdom. If the beauty of the physical world was not always passing, poetry would not be necessary. Ammons captures this passing beauty and applies it to the human predicament. By looking to the wind, sun, and sea—those elements of the natural world which are always passing by—Ammons learns that he should not look to nature to find answers, but to further his own understanding.
Ammons does not force his unique perspective upon his audience. Rather, his poetry is characterized by a search for understanding. It is fitting that Ammons chooses to begin Collected Poems with “So I Said I Am Ezra,” a poem in which a man looks to the wind and sea to confirm his own identity. [Why is this fitting?] The poem opens with the introduction of a man who is concerned, if not obsessed, with declaring himself: “So I said I am Ezra / and the wind whipped my throat / gaming for the sounds of my voice / I listened to the wind / go over my head and up into the night” (1). While the narrator attempts to assert his existence in the first line, the disruption of the wind in the following line implies that Ezra is unsure of whom he is. The verb “whipped” suggests reprimand—not only is the wind superior to Ezra, but it attempts to provide him with insight regarding his own identity. Taken alone, the line “I listened to the wind” suggests that Ezra recognizes the wind’s wisdom. Yet the addition of “go over my head and up into the night” in the following line gives new meaning to the words that precede it. The significance of “over my head” is twofold: it evokes an image of the wind’s constant motion, which contrasts with Ezra’s fixed position on Earth, but it also implies Ezra’s struggle to understand the wind’s otherworldly knowledge. In two short lines, Ezra looks to the wind for guidance, recognizes his own physical limits, and accepts that his understanding of humanity’s place in the natural world is a continual process.
As the poem progresses, Ezra declares his existence to the sea, which “swallows up” his words. The third and final statement of “I am Ezra” is not directed to the wind or sea, it simply is stated: “I moved my feet and turning from the wind...swayed as if the wind were taking me away / and said / I am Ezra.” Ezra attempts to turn from the wind, but just a few lines later he sways “as if the wind were taking [him] away.” Ezra quickly learns that while wind is nameless, indeterminate, and intangible, it also powerful in its everlasting ability to influence the physical world. Upon discovery of the wind’s awesome unity, Ezra recognizes the vacuity of his self-declaration. “As a word too much repeated / falls out of being” suggests that there is little substance in declaring what is—resolution cannot exist in a physical, and thus temporal, world. Rather, one should look to find reconciliation between their personal identity and the world around them, both of which are characterized by recurrent transformation.
“So I Said I Am Ezra” details one man’s journey of consciousness to show that resolution cannot exist in the phenomenal world. “Guide,” which invokes a man’s walk through the world, reiterates this notion unequivocally by specifically addressing the audience and the question of how “to be.” The poem opens with the line, “You cannot come to unity and remain material:”—a concept that was implied, if less explicitly, in “So I Said I Am Ezra.” Ammons continues, “in that perception is no perceiver: / when you arrive you have gone too far: / at the Source you are in the mouth of Death” (79). While resolution is impossible on Earth, Ammons believes that all humans will find unity in the afterlife. The idea that one should take direction from the natural world is restated with the stanza “the wind that is my guide said this: it / should know having / given up everything to eternal being but / direction:” (79). The wind does not dwell on what it is; it understands that “to be” is simply to stay in motion, to focus solely on direction. To Ammons, the wind is a guide, not an objective to model oneself after; he recognizes to be human is to do more than remain moving. So Ammons applies lessons learned from the wind to the human predicament:
how I said can I be glad and sad: but a man goes
from one foot to the other:
wisdom wisdom:
to be glad and sad at once is also unity
and death:
wisdom wisdom: a peachblossom blooms on a particular
tree on a particular day:
unity cannot do anything in particular: (80).
The narrator’s doubt as to how he can be “glad and sad” suggests a feeling of disunity. The wind responds by applying its own approach to the human world: “but a man goes from one foot / to the other” implies that man, like wind, is constantly in motion. The repetition in the following line, “wisdom wisdom” suggests potential for knowledge in each step a man takes; he is provided with new insights each time his foot touches the ground, that is, each time he moves forward. But man has little say in his decision to move forward; the only way to stop moving is through death. So instead of making the conscious decision to move forward, a man should simply recognize that his state of perpetual motion provides new opportunities for growth and understanding. He should focus on these new opportunities instead of attempting to find resolution between the past and present.
To walk about the natural world is not to reach a destination, but to embark on a journey. “So I Said I Am Ezra” and “Guide” evoke such a journey in which Ammons notices the coming and going of nature’s wisdom. If the beauty of the physical world was not always passing, poetry would not be necessary. Ammons captures this passing beauty and applies it to the human predicament. By looking to the wind, sun, and sea—those elements of the natural world which are always passing by—Ammons learns that he should not look to nature to find answers, but to further his own understanding.