Mary Low’s book of poems and collages, “Where the Wolf Sings,” is — at least in its printed book form — defined by its relationship with the surrealist movement. Published by Black Swan Press’ Surrealist Editions, “Where the Wolf Sings” includes a long afterword by contemporary surrealist writer Franklin Rosemont, who quotes surrealist poet Benjamin Peret’s assertion that the poet must be a revolutionist.

Certainly for the first Paris surrealist group — which Low, born way back in 1912 (died early last year), took part in — politics played a big part, with its relationship with the communist party between the world wars, etc. And as a new movement with its own set of new artistic practices and methodologies, surrealism was artistically revolutionary too. Today, however, I’m not quite sure what to make of the connections between poetry, revolution, and surrealism — and the contemporary poets and artists who define themselves as members of the surrealist movement.

Rosemont’s choice to use his afterword to write a fairly detailed biography of Low’s political engagement seems to suggest that the contemporary surrealist movement requires a poet’s direct physical engagement — beyond the written text — with the politics of her time. Low as political activist was certainly revolutionary, with her left-leaning politics and association with Trotskyist and anarchist groups, and her political book “Red Spanish Notebook: the first six months of revolution and the civil war,” co-written with her then-husband Juan Breá.

But one doesn’t need to be a poet to be politically engaged. What makes a revolutionary poet? Does she need to write poems that directly wrestle with political issues? Low done that too. In the third section of “Where the Wolf Sings,” a poem titled “The Tequesta Acrostic” takes the now vanished Indian tribe as its subject; other poems point to a hope for a “global understanding.”

The first two sections of the book, however, don’t directly address political issues. The first section, “The Enchanted Life,” is a collection that can be loosely described as love poems. The second section, “Anguish,” are poems of loss. Here, I have a hard time seeing how the poems are particularly revolutionary, by any definition. The poems don’t seem to use any “traditional” surrealist techniques; the images aren’t particularly disjunctive as in automatic writing, for example. (In contrast, Low’s collages are very much reminiscent of previous surrealist artists like Max Ernst.) And if there are other formal elements that are pushing or expanding surrealist techniques, I’m having difficulty seeing what those are, exactly.

That doesn’t mean I don’t like the poems. My favorite is “Tulips Standing In Line”: The exactness of the images, with an attention not seen in a lot of poetry:

a scale of muted bells
rung in a garden closed with walls;
cups for the wine of contemplation
poured upon thorns;

Is that what a revolution is? Perhaps Low’s work is a continuing redefinition of surrealism that tries to bridge the personal and political — though if so, I’m having trouble seeing how this is a specifically revolutionary surrealist act. Once, surrealism was largely defined by its revolutionary methodologies; now, surrealism — assuming one still considers it a living movement — seems to define its work and its members by personal and political association….

Then again, maybe that’s how most movements are defined….

Comments | Email this post