Paragraph One,
Speaks for
itself;
Paragraph Two,
Outlines the
basic concepts;
Paragraph
Three,
Continues to
outline the basic concepts;
Paragraph Four,
Continues to
outline the basic concepts;
Paragraph Five,
Where the basic
concepts continue to be outlined;
Paragraph Six,
Already
operates with some basic concepts;
Paragraph
Seven,
Demonstrates
the sudden effect of recognition;
Paragraph
Eight,
Secures the
sudden effect of recognition by introducing it into the circle of basic
concepts;
Paragraph Nine,
Grants the real
possibility of getting oriented in the newly outlined circle of concepts;
Paragraph Ten,
Where there is
time to think;
Paragraph
Eleven,
Notifies about
the prematurity of some initial conclusions;
Paragraph
Twelve,
Points to the
deficiency of the existing cosmogony;
Paragraph
Thirteen,
Points to the
necessity of defining the circle of alternative concepts;
Paragraph
Fourteen,
For the first
time urges one to concentrate and think;
Paragraph
Fifteen
Paragraph
Sixteen
Paragraph
Seventeen
Paragraph
Eighteen
Paragraph
Nineteen,
Where the
Author is ready to give some preliminary explanations;
Paragraph
Twenty,
Where the
Author confirms his readiness to give some preliminary explanations;
Paragraph
Twenty-one,
Testifies to
the decision of the Author to name the present text “The Regular Program”;
Paragraph
Twenty-two,
Testifies to
the decision of the Author to date the Regular Program: December, 1975;
Paragraph
Twenty-three,
Testifies to
the decision of the Author to include the Regular Program in the Program of
Activities;
Paragraph
Twenty-four,
Testifies to
the decision of the Author to dedicate the Regular Program to the German
Romantic poet Novalis (1772-1801).—Notably, this decision is accompanied by the
Author’s decisive refusal to give any comment;
Paragraph
Twenty-five,
States the
necessity of a new way of action. —Notably, the Author refuses to give any kind
of preliminary explanation about the nature of the new way of action,
announcing his lack of preparation to do so;
Paragraph
Twenty-six,
Testifies to
the decision of the Author to consider everything referred to in Paragraph Twenty-five
as “The First Preface to a New Way of Action.” —Notably, here he declines again
any explanation in this regard;
Paragraph
Twenty-seven,
Where the
Author answers with silence to the entirely possible accusation of the
vagueness of the Author’s position, as well as to various rebukes of both a
professional and personal nature.—Notably, it
remains unclear whether he accepts them or not;
Paragraph
Twenty-eight,
Where the
Author confesses to certain things, but not to the rest;
Paragraph
Twenty-nine,
Where the
Author complains for the first time about the lack of time, about his poor
physical state, and his periodic declines of energy.
Paragraph
Thirty,
Where the
Author immediately lets it be known that everything referred to in Paragraph
Twenty-nine is a purely compositional tactic/trick;
Paragraph
Thirty-one,
Where in a
state of extreme nervous agitation, the thesis of “the impossibility of future
existence” is discussed and recommendations of an obviously non-functional
nature are offered;
Paragraph
Thirty-two,
Where the same
thing is said about Paragraph Thirty-One as was said in Paragraph Thirty about
Paragraph Twenty-nine;
Paragraph
Thirty-three,
Where nothing
happens;
Paragraph
Thirty-four,
Where nothing
happens;
Paragraph
Thirty-five,
Where nothing
happens;
Paragraph
Thirty-six,
Also marked
with the absence of any kinds of events;
Paragraph
Thirty-seven,
Where even the
most insignificant event aptly acquires importance and significance;
Paragraph
Thirty-eight,
Where the
Author finds it possible to listen to a whole series of associated observations
related to the preceding Paragraphs of the Regular Program;
Paragraph
Thirty-nine,
Where the
Author expresses his agreement or disagreement with a number of observations
and lets it be known that the text of the Regular Program is uncompleted and
subject to finishing touches and revisions;
Paragraph
Forty,
Where the
Author explains in passing that the order of the Paragraphs in the Regular
Program is determined not by a sequence of corresponding events, but rather by
a sequence of authorial decisions about the inclusion in the Regular Program of
possible events and their verbal descriptions;
Paragraph
Forty-one,
Where it
becomes clear that the utmost orientation toward the object is the foundational
principle of the authorial position, so that certain corresponding
misunderstandings should be considered inevitable;
Paragraph
Forty-two,
Where the
Author experiences a series of doubts about the veracity of some postulated
positions, but doesn’t intend to express these doubts;
Paragraph
Forty-three,
Where the
Author experiences a series of doubts directly related to the Regular Program,
but once again doesn’t intend to express these doubts;
Paragraph
Forty-four,
Where the
Author complains one more time about the
lack of time and the compulsory necessity to be content with only the
necessary.—Notably, he hardly believes that what he considers the most
necessary is in reality the most necessary;
Paragraph
Forty-five,
Where the
Author states his intention to participate in various activities.—Notably, it
remains unclear in what kinds of activity and by what means of participation;
Paragraph
Forty-six,
Where the
Author tries to grasp the character and degree of his participation in the ongoing
events;
Paragraph
Forty-seven,
Where the
Author decides to participate in a certain pursuit;
Paragraph
Forty-eight,
Where the
Author experiences the necessity to understand what’s happening here;
Paragraph
Forty-nine,
Where the
Author asks us to wait for him a couple minutes. - In so many words, “Wait for
me…”
Paragraph
Fifty,
Where the
Author asks us to begin without him. –
In so many words, “Begin without me…”
Paragraph
Fifty-one,
Where the
Author joins with everyone else. – In so
many words, “I’m with you...”
Paragraph
Fifty-two,
Where the
author asks us to talk with him. - In so
many words, “Talk with me…”
Paragraph
Fifty-three,
Where the
Author asks us to call him on the phone;
Paragraph
Fifty-four,
Where the
Author asks us to write him a letter;
Paragraph
Fifty-five,
Where the
Author asks us not to ask him any questions;
Paragraph
Fifty-six,
Where the
Author asks for forgiveness.—In so many words, “Forgive me…”
Paragraph
Fifty-seven,
Where the
author confesses that he doesn’t know anything at the moment. – In so many
words, “I don’t know…”
Paragraph
Fifty-eight,
Where the
Authors asks if he is right;
Paragraph
Fifty-nine,
Where it seems
to the Author that he’s right.—In so many words,“It seems I’m right…”
Paragraph
Sixty,
Where the
Author rhetorically doubts in his rightness. – In so many words, “Perhaps I’m
not right—I don’t know…”
Paragraph
Sixty-one,
Where the
Author confesses that he doesn’t feel well. – In so many words, “I don’t feel
very well…”
Paragraph
Sixty-two,
Where it’s
asked: “Why?”
Paragraph Sixty-three,
Where the
Author asks us again not to ask any questions;
Paragraph
Sixty-four,
Where the
Author asks us again to forgive him;
Paragraph
Sixty-five,
Where the
Author begins to understand what’s happening here;
Paragraph
Sixty-six,
Where the
Author again confesses to certain things but not to the rest;
Paragraph
Sixty-seven,
Where the
Author asks us to go on without him;
Paragraph
Sixty-eight,
Where the
Author proposes that we spend time without him;
Paragraph
Sixty-nine,
In which the
Author doesn’t participate in anything;
Paragraph
Seventy,
Where just
about anything happens.
Paragraph
Seventy-one,
Where just
about anything happens.
Paragraph
Seventy-three,
Where just
about anything happens.
Paragraph Seventy-four,
Where just
about anything happens.
Paragraph
Seventy-five,
Where just
about anything happens.
Paragraph
Seventy-six
Where just
about anything happens.
Paragraph
Seventy-seven
Where just
about anything happens.
Paragraph
Seventy-eight,
Presumably the
penultimate;
Paragraph
Seventy-nine,
Presumably the
last;
Do Not Read This Poem.
The following
translation of contemporary Russian poet Lev Rubinstein, “The Regular Program,”—what he terms “poetic texts” — should rather be
engaged, installed, staged, and performed. His poems are scripts, tatters of speech, the ruins of discourses, set into
conversation with other ruins.
Rubinstein, a
former librarian at the Lenin Library in Moscow, began composing these poetic
series on library index cards in the 1970s, influenced by avant-garde
traditions, Zen, and postmodernism. What
I love about his version of conceptualism is that his poems can be read either
as a parody of discourses or as the renovation of the fragments of truth which
they attempt to illuminate; in other words, I find the poems to touch on utter
banalities which nonetheless contain elements of truth, even as they expose
official truths as banal. He’s a lot of
fun, dancing between “high” and “low,” but in the way that Frost believed
poetry should “play for mortal stakes.” He’s
been translated into nearly a dozen languages and is known as one of the
crucial experimental poets in world poetry.
We are now
expanding our selected poetry edition of Rubinstein’s work, Catalogue of Comedic Novelties (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2004), to include all his texts—a
“Compleat” edition, due out in 2014.
Since the late 1990s, Rubinstein has been writing weekly essays for
various Russian publications, and recently has been involved in the democratic movements against Vladimir Putin.
Philip Metres is the author of a number of books and chapbooks, most
recently A Concordance of Leaves (Diode 2013), abu ghraib arias (Flying Guillotine 2011), winner of the
2012 Arab American Book Award in poetry, To See the Earth (Cleveland
State 2008). His work has appeared in Best
American Poetry and has garnered two NEA fellowships, the Thomas J. Watson
Fellowship, four Ohio Arts Council Grants, the Beatrice Hawley Award (for the
forthcoming Sand Opera), the Anne Halley Prize, the Arab American Book
Award, and the Cleveland Arts Prize. He
teaches literature and creative writing at John
Carroll University
in Cleveland, Ohio. He blogs at Behind the lines Poetry.
Tatiana Tulchinsky has translated many works of fiction, poetry,
drama and non-fiction, among them Leo Tolstoy's Plays in three volumes,
Anna Politkovskaya's A Small Corner of Hell, Anthology of Russian
Verse, Selected Works of Venedict Erofeev. She received a Best
Translation of the Year Award of the American Association of Slavists, a
Winner-Brenner Foundation for the Poetry Grant, and a Creative Writing
Translation Fellowship from the NEA. Currently, she
works on a project translating and promoting English-language drama for the
Russian theater stage.
