Ron Silliman (born August 5, 1946) is an American poet. He has written and edited over 30 books, and has had his poetry and criticism translated into 12 languages. He is often associated with language poetry. Between 1979 and 2004, Silliman wrote a single poem, The Alphabet. He has now begun writing a new poem, Universe, the first section of which appears to be called Revelator.
Life and Work
In the 1960s, Silliman attended Merritt College, San Francisco State University and the University of California, Berkeley, but left without attaining a degree. He lived in the San Francisco Bay area for more than 40 years.
As a published poet, he has taught in the Graduate Writing Program at San Francisco State University, at the University of California at San Diego, at New College of California and, in shorter stints, at Naropa University and Brown University.
Silliman has worked as a political organizer, a lobbyist, an ethnographer, a newspaper editor, a director of development, and as the executive editor of the Socialist Review (US). While in San Francisco, he served on numerous community boards, including the 1980 Census Oversight Committee, the Arson Task Force of the San Francisco Fire Department, and the State Department of Health's Task Force on Health Conditions in Locale Detention Facilities. Silliman worked as a market analyst in the computer industry before retiring at the end of 2011.
Silliman classifies his poetry as being part of a lifework, which he calls Ketjak (the name refers to a form of Balinese dance drama based on an ancient text.) "Ketjak" is also the name of the first poem of The Age of Huts. If and when completed, the entire work will consist of The Age of Huts (1974–1980), Tjanting (1979–1981), The Alphabet (1979–2004), and Universe (2005-).
Marriage and family
In 1995 Silliman moved to Chester County, Pennsylvania, where he resides with his wife Krishna and two sons, Colin and Jesse.
The flower sermon:
critique is like a swoon
but with a step increase,
...
Hard dreams. The moment at which you recognize that your own death lies
in wait somewhere within your body. A lone ship defines the horizon. The
rain is not safe to drink.
...
A guide to the sky under full nondisclosure.
Dawn in the bare birch trees, the sun, swollen, throbs over the horizon. Hotel
buffet doodah. Two dogs dancing, sniffing one another's genitalia.
...
Canyons, paths
dug thru the snow
Tunnels
the walls as high as
...