“I speak of the intimate relationship between salmons and humans, / between humans and icebergs, between icebergs and salmons, and / how this is just the beginning of the circular list” (21).
This is truly just the beginning of the revolving references that encompass the poems of
This Connection of Everyone with Lungs; in her book, Juliana Spahr brings awareness to “suspended dust spores” (9), the square footage of a city, Burkina Faso, foot soldiers, parrots, beloveds, the Oscars, Nazi Germany, bus bombs, Celine Dion, those exiled, those evacuated, those lost, and those who lie in their beds and worry about war.
The first section filled with a single poem, a tribute to September 11, Spahr hypnotizes the reader in a repetitive form that mimics the rhythm of breathing as “everyone with lungs breathes…in and out” (4) the distance between molecules, cities, bodies, and islands, exhaling out to the mesosphere and inhaling back again, a connection of everyone that is both “lovely” and “doomed” (10). The second section is a compilation of “Poems Written From November 30, 2002 to March 27, 2003,” an account of America’s invasion of Iraq and the experience of watching the war unfold, both on a universal level and on a personal level; the speaker feels both distant and utterly close to the war in the middle east as she watches the news from her home in Hawaii.
On the scale of contemporary American poetry, Spahr seems to fall somewhere in the middle of the line between transcendent and immanent styles; while the multitude of cultural references - events of war, politics, the media - all embody the world we live in, Spahr’s specific play of language, the music of her hypnosis poem and her usage of “yous” in addressing her audience, both constitute a type of poetry that reaches outward to the events of daily life, as well as challenges the reader to experience this collection in a way that connects him or her to the speaker, the war, the many “lovely” and “doomed” subjects of this book.
For example, Spahr uses both transcendent and immanent styles according to her form and content in the poem “January 20, 2003” as she draws upon lists of images of love and war while questioning what is beautiful. She writes, “some say the thing most lovely is the thirty / thousand assault troops from Britain today joining the sixty-two / thousand from the US mobilized in the past ten days and a further / sixty thousand from the US on their way” (46) a compilation of statistics, the “thousands” and “thousands” of “cavalry” of “foot soldiers” of a “fleet” (45) that concentrates on the idea of a group of people, a faceless, strong thousand parallel to a ship as a whole or an army of “self-propelled guns” (46). In the second half of the poem, Spahr contrasts the images of war with what is said to be most beautiful, opinions compiled in a very repetitive form: Spahr says, “But I say it’s whatever you love best. / I say it is the persons you love. /…I say it’s what one loves. / It’s what one loves, the most beautiful is whomever one loves. / I say it is whatsoever a person loves. / …For me naught else, it is my beloveds, it is the loveliest sight” (46-7). Also containing a hypnotic element much like her first poem, “January 20, 2003”’s rebounding form brings the idea of priority, of the world full of thousands of soldiers or the specific “ones you love” (47), our perspective on love and war, of people and what is “the most beautiful thing upon the dark earth” (46) to the reader, who creates his or her own meaning by considering this question. Spahr even admits her repetition: “I say it again, the sight of the ones you love, those you’ve met and / those you haven’t. / I say it again and again. / Again and again. / I try to keep saying it to keep making it happen. / I say it again, the sight of the ones you love, those you’ve met and / those you haven’t” (47). Both transcendent in reaching to the throngs of armies gathered in war to the collection of personal beloveds, this poem immanently repeats its form in questioning what is beautiful, what is valued on a global and personal scale, and how a lover is the same as one of the thousands of soldiers; Spahr encourages the reader to love these soldiers, which are both “the sight of the ones you love” and “those you’ve met and / those you haven’t” (47).
This Connection of Everyone with Lungs is successful at bringing awareness to the war, to cultural events spanning the course of two years, to the connection we have with strangers, friends, our own “beloveds,” soldiers, victims, and ourselves and our actions, or lack of actions. Spahr’s “Poem Written After September 11, 2001” is successful in its immanent style, the rising and falling intonation of the “entering in and out of the space of the stratosphere in the entering / in and out of the space of the troposphere in the entering in and / out…” (9), capturing the swinging sound of breathing that happens when exhaling, speaking, or reading poetry aloud.