Huuklyeand Cinquor's First Published Poem?

"The Fascination of Difficult Questions"

Because I have spent my life

Struggling with insurmountable difficulties—

Women’s sexual hang-ups, straggling girdles,

My own rattling knock-knees—

Will I be able?

Because I have met riddles threatening to ruin me—

How to pour out ketchup or how to spell it,

The getting rid of prune pits and gum gracefully—

Will I succeed?

And because I have seen nightmares

Flying at me in daydreams—

Yeats riding sidesaddle,

Beating a dead and falling horse—

Shall I now say t. s. and eat another peach?

Moderator’s comments: A reader (whom I suspect is writing under a pseudonym) recently sent me the above poem together with the following note:

Dear Mr. Vazambam:

I have been following with great interest your posts dedicated to the so-called Apophthegmata of Huuklyeand Cinquor, not because I’m a fan of his work—far from it—deep down I’ve always had the gut feeling he’s a sham and fake and over the past three months I’ve been trying to dig up enough evidence to support these accusations. I think what I’ve unearthed so far is damning enough evidence to reveal him as purveyor of base metals and plagiarist par excellence. Take the above poem, for example. It claims to be his first published work, appearing in the early 70s in one of the most prestigious poetry magazines of its day—Poetry Northwest. Even a cursory examination shows that it has all the necessary conceits befitting a mainstream poem of its period—wit, irony, puns, overblown literary metaphors, a slight dose of male chauvinism, snide allusions to Yeats’ masculinity and Eliot’s bowel movements, rhetorical questions up the bung hole, etc.—in short, just the prescription needed to fit this particular editor’s bill. This is all fine and well but the riddle remains—is this poem really Cinquor’s?

The table of contents states that it is indeed written by one Huuklyeand Cinquor, but when the reader goes to the contributors’ notes, he is duly informed that Cinquor was a graduate student at the University of Washington when this particular poem was published; however, an extensive search of the files of the Registrar’s Office conducted by yours truly shows that there is no record of anybody named Huuklyeand Cinquor ever having attended the University of Washington!

I shall be presenting more evidence supporting my claims re Mr. Cinquor in due time. In the meanwhile, I remain

Yours truly,

I.M. Sully-Maculate Zaengmac

What's in a Name?

Well, if it’s Huuklyeand Cinquor’s, just the sight of it should be enough to send most readers into convulsions; those who get over the initial shock of seeing such an odd name are still faced with the daunting task of pronouncing it, not to mention examining its etymological roots. As a matter of fact, ever since Cinquor selected me as a conduit for his apophthegmata, my incoming email box has been inundated by a steady stream of inquiries about his unconventional moniker, so I think it’s high time I did some serious speculating about it.

So where is one to start? For a start, let’s examine the spelling and separate the words into their five respective syllables: Huuk-lye-and Cin-quor. Stress? ( ’- -’- ) To my romantic ear, this meter sounds suspiciously like Byron’s romping anapestics in his poem "The Destruction of Sennacherib" i.e., “The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, and his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold”, but I could be mistaken. However, if it is anapestic, we must examine the possibility of Huuklyeand being an Assyrian name and Cinquor a Hebrew one, basing our interpretation as such on Byron’s poem, which is a rendering of the famous battle for sovereignty over Jerusalem written from the Hebrew point of view, viz. Huuklyeand (Assyrian) and Cinquor (Hebrew)—an amalgamation symbolizing the assimilative bi-polar properties of the imagination whenever it’s faced with a situation requiring the deployment of imaginal space as defined so eloquently by Joe Hutchison in one of his recent, illuminating posts.

So far so good, but we have to be a bit more cautious when approaching the thorny subject of pronunciation, so let me take a stab. The first syllable is most certainly pronounced as the double “o” in “look” rather than “Huck” as in “Finn” or “Hulk” as in The Green Giant, a claim based on the fact that there was no Huck Finn, Hulk or Green Giant when Byron composed his poem; the second syllable looks like “lye” but on closer investigation, there could be a diphthong lurking in there, making the syllable sound like “lie-in”, “line” or “lined”—your guess is as good as mine (not as in “mien”). “Cinquor” poses no problem and should be pronounced as “sinker” and certainly not “sank-her”, or worse yet, “canker”.

Of course, this blog is always open to other speculations regarding Huuklyeand’s name, as long as they have that inimitable air of gritty conviction we have all come to expect from his apophthegmata.

Coming Soon: The Apophtegmata of Huuklyeand Cinquor

Imagine my surprise when I opened my email inbox a few days ago and found a rather lengthy letter from someone I’ve always admired: Huuklyeand Cinquor. At first I really couldn’t believe a maverick poet/writer/philosopher/critic of Cinquor’s stature would stoop so low as to address such an inferior—yea—lowly paper-pushing poet such as yours truly but sure enough he’d gone up and did it. But wait—there’s more!

Not only had he written a letter in which he addressed many of those thorny issues that have pricked the fancy of seriously tormented thinkers since time immemorial, he proposed I do something no poet in his right mind would ever refuse, to wit: From time to time, he would send me original apophtegmata which I would post on my blog—MY blog, mind you—together with permission to comment on them as I might see fit. Just the thought of having that illustrious name appear on Vazambam was enough to send wave after wave of tadpoles wriggling up my nose as I dived headlong into those dizzying depths of reflective narcissism. Of course I assented right off and the intermittent thoughts that Cinquor shall send my way promise to rewrite the wrongs that my blog has impressed upon an unsuspecting public. It’s about time.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Skeletons in Closets

—after Fernando Pessoa

Heteronym,

If someone called you out

With all your hidden names,

Which one would dare to answer,

And which would take the blame?

Moderator’s comments: Readers of this blog may remember Joe Hutchison's comments on Huuklyeand Cinquor’s first offering a day ago directly below this entry and my answer back. True to form, Cinquor shot back with the above bone-chilling reply which leaves little room for evasive maneuvering by anyone, let alone the poet revealed for what he is—a skeleton in the foul rag and bone shop of the telltale heart.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on The Poentabulator

Moderator’s comments: I don’t know how or why our boy Cinquor jumped onto the poetry bandwagon to begin with, but the guy who sent me this video swears that Cinquor is the distinguished looking gentleman in the white coat making his video debut waxing poetically some forty years ago about a nebulous sounding contraption known as the Entabulator. If this is indeed true, and I see no reason to doubt it, as my informer is not a poet and thus incapable of imagining such a thing happening, we can now clearly see why Cinquor’s overriding poetic concern—adopted by so many vapid rapid versifiers over the past half-century—has been and will always be “It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it.” Mesmerizing, to say the least.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on the MO of Underground Poets

Surreptitiously 

Erase each step, better 

Still, don’t move at all. 

Moderator’s comment: The Apotheosis of the Absurd? At first glance, it might appear so to readers unfamiliar with Cinquor’s modus operandi and who might be thinking he’s being a bit facetious here; on the contrary, if we dig a bit deeper, we’ll see he’s earnestly but very carefully exploring new levels of meaning vis-à-vis the creative urge underlying the so-called school of Underground Poetry. 

Unlike his archaeologically pioneering European antipode Heinrich Schliemann—who, in his great haste to find Ancient Troy, dug right through it without realizing it—Cinquor here posits a daring New World approach in which he proposes that poets who wish to explore ancient subterranean passages leading to Hades, and who wish to do so without the fear of being detected and therefore ratted on by weasels or moles, should do nothing but stand perfectly still—a quintessential move on Cinquor’s part, if you ask me. 

Huuklyeand Cinquor On Going In Circles (Second Time Around)

I’m forever 

 

Being told something 

Like somewhere round 

 

Here is a square peg. 

 

 

Moderator’s comments: If one so wishes to compare the versions, here is the link to the original poem. https://vazambam.blogspot.com/2019/08/huuklyeand-cinquor-on-going-in-circles.html 

 

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Lives of the Poets

Who toil 
Throwing out lines jammed 
With flotsam and jetsam 

Day-after-day making their craft 
Trim, secure and lasting, 
Ending up perfect 

Shipwrecks that won’t go away. 


Moderator’s comments: I can think of no better example of the time-tested, found to be sound conceit “sink or swim” than this sparkling pearl of wisdom fished out of the murky poetic waters by our trusty trawling seafarer and sounding board, Huuklyeand Cinquor. And to think that his too, too long absence had me seriously considering abandoning all hope of ever hearing from him again. 

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Good Riddance to Bad Rubbish

Why make such a stink about leaving?

The first and only time you said 

Something worth waiting for

Was when you said goodbye.

Moderator’s comments: At times I can’t help wondering if some of Cinquor’s offerings contain references that he’s carried over from other works of art; take this one, for example. It reeks of something that might have been said by Vladimir to Estragon or vice-versa. But then again, an artist bearing such impeccable references wouldn’t be that heavy-handed in the handling of our cultural baggage, would he? Besides, the image of a fumbling Cinquor decked out as porter is so ludicrously repulsive as to be unbearable.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Practical Criticism

If I remember correctly, the last poem

You wrote was about writing a poem;

Your next one should be about forgetting it.

Moderator’s comments: I suspect few people read I. A. Richards anymore but he was the latest rage in literary criticism throughout the first half of the previous century and it seems that Cinquor is paying homage to him with this little poem. Not to belittle Richards' many talents but I don’t think he possessed that rapier wit we see Cinquor wielding with so much admirable dispensation here, to wit and to the point: Did Richards ever say anything so downright good and practical?

Huuklyeand Cinquor on A. Figwitt Cye-Cophant's Introspection: Examining a Postmodern Mythopoetic (in Blank Verse)*

*The Laistrygonian Press, Homer Loomis, Idaho, 2012.


Let us marvel at how 
A. Figwitt Cye-Cophant created 

An incredible myth by doing nothing 
But gazing at his navel: 

No people, 
No tradition, 
No story, 
No history, 
No world view, 
No explanation, 
No wonder 

His lackeys are lapping it up— 
It’s unbelievable, lacking all imagination.
 

Moderator’s comments: It would have helped immensely if Cinquor had quoted some lines from Mr. Cye-Cophant’s book of poems to give us an idea of just how he was able to create a myth without incorporating any of the ingredients that make up one; as it is, Huuk’s throwaway middle stanza does nothing but summarize what’s missing and we are left to fill in the empty spaces of Figwitt’s waste land with the detritus left behind in the wake of his “earth-shaking” effort. Nor does the reference to Mr. Cye-Cophant’s omphaloskepsis assist us in delving further into the recesses of what Cinquor describes as the poet’s non-imagination. Huuk knows better than to leave us dangling like this—the least he could have done was throw us an umbilical cord. Unfortunately, it remains but a shallow effort leading us to re-examine the criteria for permitting him to use this platform as a sounding line. 

NB: Huuk’s reference to Cye-Cophant’s lack of a “world view” reminds me of what George Seferis once said in an interview in The Paris Review #50: ” . . .I have no idea about philosophical positions and world views. You know, whenever world views begin interfering with writing—I don’t know. I prefer world views in the sort of dry, repulsive, and (I don’t know how to put it) prosaic way. I don’t like people who try to express world views in writing poetry. I remember once I had a reading in Thessalonike, and a philosopher stood up and asked: ‘But what, after all, Mr. Seferis, is your world view?’ And I said: ‘My dear friend, I’m sorry to say that I have no world view. I have to make this public confession to you that I am writing without having any world view. I don’t know, perhaps you find that scandalous, sir, but may I ask you to tell me what Homer’s world view is?’ And I didn’t get an answer.” 

NBB: Also in that issue, right after the Seferis interview, there is a long excerpt from Jim Carroll’s manuscript-in-progress of his book The Basketball Diaries and I don’t have to tell you who the poetry editor of The Paris Review was back then, do I?

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Seeing Eye Dogs

I once had one that walked blindly in front

Of a speeding car and got himself run over.

Looking back, all I can say is good riddance—

That worthless son of a bitch

Almost got me killed.

Moderator's comments: Ouch! I have to say this one really hurt; if I hadn’t given my word to Cinquor that I would  post everything he sent my way, I don’t think I would have published this cruel, callous, ungrateful and extremely unwarranted piece. There should be limits to artists, even to one of Cinquor’s towering stature, but then again, a promise is a promise, and I shall abide by it.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Negative Capability

When you think

You can’t

Swim.

Moderator’s comments: C’mon Huuklyeand, are we supposed to swallow this hook, line and sinker? No way.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on the Light at the End of the Tunnel

Hallelujah, brethren!

I tell you things

Just keep gettin’ better

And better—

Ain’t no stopping that gravy

Train headed our way, just

You wait and see.

Moderator’s comments: Okey-dokey, Huuklyeand, we poor, stranded, unenlightened masses get the picture. We have to wait in this here dark passageway till the second coming of The Super Chief.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Putting Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

Enough, I say—

Only a fool would think seriously

Of writing poems

Day in and day out

And then

Go on and do it.

Moderator’s comments: Don’t look at me, Huuklyeand—I think I’ve paid my wages; now all I have to do is sit back and wait for an eternity to see if my investment pays off.

Straight from the Horse's Mouth: Huuklyeand Cinquor on Why Valéry Is Still Valid

One thing is clear 
In your work, dude— 
This insistence on purity 

Validates absolutely nothing, 
For nothing is pure 
And it’s certainly not 

Unadulterated horseshit. 


Moderator’s comments: "Hi-ho, Cinquor away!"


 

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Levity in Poetry

Levity does have a place in poetry—

It has to be somewhere 

Between having your head stuck 

In the ground and your feet 

Ascending in air.

Moderator’s comments: I felt so giddy while reading this poem that at first I thought Cinquor had written “feat” instead of “feet”—but then again, I’ve always been a sucker for puns—like John Donne—or should that be “did?”

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Talking to One's Self

The writer is a dying man who is trying to speak.

—Michel Foucault

Phooh!

And all this time I thought

I was coeval, talking

To my immortal soul.

Moderator's comments: Well, Cinquor, I don’t have to remind you 

the beginning of a circle is also its end.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Poetic Bankruptcy

Those precious

Plays on

Words you continue

To invest in,

When will you stop

Thinking they are all

When they are nothing?

Moderator’s comments: I never knew Cinquor invested in and/or produced plays, but this moronic little poem proves he thought he could make a big hit on Broadway by simply falling flat on his face!

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Myopia and Its Existential Problems

Dude, I know it’s tough being

The butt of ugly jokes,

But look at it this way, man—

You could’ve been born with four eyes.

Moderator’s comments: In the rush to post my newest poem and to welcome two new Definitely Not Lemmings, I almost overlooked this latest Cinquor offering. Now that would have been an oversight on my part and an inexcusable one at that, seeing that I’ve been wearing glasses since the second grade and pride myself on being—I think—the oldest, shortest, most farsighted poet writing poetry in English in the Peloponnese.