Dara Wier, 1981
POETRY MISCELLANY: The last poem in Blood, Hook & Eye ends: "You look at the mountain / miss the mountainless space, / the mountain holding mountain in place." Something is always absent in your very concrete language that gives that language its sense of mystery; the invisible or the absent seems to order space, to hold things in place. There seems to be an invisible marginal script that links the intimacy of the moment with an immensity which is all that lies behind or beyond it, to steal a concept from Bachelard Poetics of Space. In a more recent poem, "In Obedience to Absence," you talk about mirrors that "revise space"--"These mirrors will show you where / you would have been." Always, more or less is shown--"You've turned toward seeing / what you never intended." Perhaps we could begin by talking about this mystery that so characterizes your language.
DARA WIER: A mystery is something I wish to contemplate and to ask a reader to contemplate; it's not a puzzle to be solved. If you solve a mystery you're done with it, and I want the mystery to be one that resists a solution, that allows you to take off in other directions.
I think this may originate in the Catholic theology I learned in a very unsophisticated way when I was young. I was always told that you were supposed to contemplate a mystery, and I always wanted something to happen to me when I was sitting, waiting. The thing I missed was that I was supposed to make something happen. One day I realized that the body