Poetry from the opencast lignite mine: Jürgen Nendza’s “Flying Grass” – culture

At first sight the “INDESCO OCEAN” looks like a misprint. But when the poet Jürgen Nendza, born in Essen in 1957, puts a word in capital letters, it is usually a found object from reality. That’s how it was in his last volume, “picnic” (2017), when he looked back at the Ruhr area of ​​his childhood in the “Head Album” section. If the course of the shifts in the seams led in the direction of the MONTAGSloch, the Montagsloch did not come from the blue skies, but rather referred to the spot in Essen’s Grugapark where Russian forced laborers were murdered in March 1945. And in the lines “Episodical, gruga red / a tulip drives FREEDOM / in memory” freedom was not a general term, but the long-dead name of a tram stop.

Nendza now lives in Aachen. In the new volume “Aufflydes Gras” the first cycle of poems is called “Abraum”. It is an extremely precise poetic visualization of the disappearing landscapes and villages in the areas of the Rhenish brown coal mines. The “Indian Ocean” does not exist yet, it is to be created as an artificial lake near the municipality of Inden in the district of Düren. But you can already guess: “You/ feel the proximity to the shore, / washed up / local recreation”.

The “vibratory compaction”, according to the encyclopedia of geosciences, is a measure to increase the strength of the soil by means of horizontal, machine-generated vibrations. For Jürgen Nendza, the word is a readymade, found language material from the regions of opencast mining. He doesn’t just pick it up, he adds layers of meaning to it. “And vibratory compaction, / the embankment / flattened in the following landscape: // a child at the window / puzzles the village / with a church.” That is, in abbreviation, the text movement. It leads through the overburden worlds to the landscapes released from the mountain supervision, which are called “follow-up landscapes”. If you return from the end of the overburden cycle to the beginning, you will no longer overlook the fact that the seal is in the vibratory compaction. Nendza has made a cipher for his own poetic procedure out of the encyclopedia term.

Down-to-earthness has always characterized this poet, he has always ordered word fields, taking advantage of the openness of the German language to form compounds. This also benefits him here, where “fire-fighting water, factory premises, / bound dust” catches the eye. “Broken edge, your gaze / rotates, seeks topography. // and still childhood: horizon of remaining houses.” Thus a new compound marks the signature of disappearing localities. They are not deserted in times of migration, houses that are still intact are converted into refugee accommodation: “On the curb a boy / turns earth, turns Syrian time / on a rear wheel / by BRUDER JOHN.” Again the signal effect of the capital letters. The German company that produces toy-sized vehicles for an American agricultural machinery manufacturer is called Brother John.

“And no firmness / of the surface: settlement flow / behind the forehead, the after-trembling…”. Can floors flow? Yes, if the groundwater rises. Previously, “reading finds” can be made on them, which is what archaeologists call unintended excavation finds. Showerheads, sprinklers are part of it, “hairbrushes filled with / dust: head souvenirs.” In the end, dead silence will envelop the Indian Ocean, but before that, the “Overburden” cycle has set an entire landscape vibrating.

Open detailed view

In the “Arboretum”, the second section of the volume, white willow and aspen, black poplar and white birch, common oak and copper beech, field elm and mountain ash, horse chestnut and ash are gathered. Statutory they do not work. They are surrounded by two-liners that merge into one another, sparingly dotted. More like a comma or no character than a period, more like a colon looking for a continuation. The verses do not trace the outlines, the physiognomy of the trees, as if they had to illustrate a guide, but rather explore their environment. This is what the silver birch looks like: “An early one is in this pioneer tree: /excessive in its mobility / screwed by branch and leaf into shaggy / maned branches: a fan of relief / hung and tapered to the crown / to light enjoyment and imagination.. .”.

The section “Before the night quarters” contains a long poem, but not very long, only a good three printed pages. It unfolds a situation, a couple’s gaze at the sky in the evening light, it does not cross the threshold of a narrative. A cloud of stars flies by, an “airship made of noise” that does not open up in perception, but rather triggers flights of thought. Only in the last section of the volume, “Cretan terrain”, does the title turn up. There is no wind in Café Alyggos in Mirabello Bay when the guest leaves: “You get up. Sparrows are raising dust / thoughts of flying grass.” It may be the hour of Pan. Because with Jürgen Nendza there is also the discreet presence of mythology. It contributes to the fact that this narrow, vibration-compacted volume is difficult to read.