Don Domanski
Biography
Don Domanski - Photo courtesy of Author
Don Domanski was born and raised in Sydney, Nova Scotia, and resided in Halifax, Nova Scotia. His first book, The Cape Breton Book of the Dead, came out in 1975, and since then Domanski produced eight collections of poetry: Heaven (1978), War in an Empty House (1982), Hammerstroke (1986), Wolf-Ladder (1991), Stations of the Left Hand (1994), Parish of the Psychic Moon (1998), All Our Wonder Unavenged (2007) and Bite Down Little Whisper (2013). His work has been anthologized many times in collections such as The New Oxford Book of Canadian Verse, Fiddlehead Gold, and The Atlantic Anthology: Poetry. Four of his books have been shortlisted for the Governor General’s Prize in English Language Poetry; All Our Wonder Unavenged was a recipient of that prize in 2007. Bite Down Little Whisper received the JM Abraham Poetry Prize in 2014.
Domanski’s interests included the natural sciences, religion, mythology, and the visual arts. He enjoys collecting fossils, meteorites, and Stone Age tools. These interests led him to discover the neural arch of a 350-million-year-old amphibian previously thought to be extinct. He used his experiences with all of his pursuits to inspire his writing.
Dan Domanski passed away September 7th, 2020.
Domanski’s interests included the natural sciences, religion, mythology, and the visual arts. He enjoys collecting fossils, meteorites, and Stone Age tools. These interests led him to discover the neural arch of a 350-million-year-old amphibian previously thought to be extinct. He used his experiences with all of his pursuits to inspire his writing.
Dan Domanski passed away September 7th, 2020.
Additional Information:
Author's Personal website
Author's Wikipedia
Bite Down Little Whisper
All Our Wonder Unavenged
Author's Personal website
Author's Wikipedia
Bite Down Little Whisper
All Our Wonder Unavenged
I know a wood where each leaf is the distance between two dark
towns, where each branch contains what is granted to kingdoms
and I know the wind that carries all of that way. I know a tree in
that wood and a stone in that wood, because we have sat long
hours and together we have the energy of a shaken man, the
energy I wouldn’t have, seated just by myself. I know a house at
the edge of that wood, a small house with a woman whose heart
is saddened in slow motion, broken in places the blood doesn’t
know. I’ve heard her weeping through the crickets and the vetch,
because they carry what is hidden out into the world. I’ve heard
the sound of silk in her throat when she struggles for words, and
the sound of firelight spreading across water when she’s sleeping.
I’ve seen her up close and I’ve seen her far away, and I’ve seen her
hands adjust that distance with a motion. She wrote this small
poem in her small house, but she doesn’t know. She wrote it with
whatever is akin to breathing , sighs and breath against the panes,
the fog that rolls out of that original ocean fathoms down in the
body. I know these waters, the covering waves, the fish that carry
the language through. We come from there with our words and
our deeds, all the fin-trailings of what is left unspoken. The light
down there is like a small house lit by a candle, just enough
brightness to read by, to write by with invisible ink, enough glow
to allow for the soul to go further than the fingertips, to bend over
the answers and hesitate, and to pick up the pen which isn’t there.
Published in All Our Wonder Unavenged, Brick Books, 2007.
Used with permission of the Author and Publisher.
towns, where each branch contains what is granted to kingdoms
and I know the wind that carries all of that way. I know a tree in
that wood and a stone in that wood, because we have sat long
hours and together we have the energy of a shaken man, the
energy I wouldn’t have, seated just by myself. I know a house at
the edge of that wood, a small house with a woman whose heart
is saddened in slow motion, broken in places the blood doesn’t
know. I’ve heard her weeping through the crickets and the vetch,
because they carry what is hidden out into the world. I’ve heard
the sound of silk in her throat when she struggles for words, and
the sound of firelight spreading across water when she’s sleeping.
I’ve seen her up close and I’ve seen her far away, and I’ve seen her
hands adjust that distance with a motion. She wrote this small
poem in her small house, but she doesn’t know. She wrote it with
whatever is akin to breathing , sighs and breath against the panes,
the fog that rolls out of that original ocean fathoms down in the
body. I know these waters, the covering waves, the fish that carry
the language through. We come from there with our words and
our deeds, all the fin-trailings of what is left unspoken. The light
down there is like a small house lit by a candle, just enough
brightness to read by, to write by with invisible ink, enough glow
to allow for the soul to go further than the fingertips, to bend over
the answers and hesitate, and to pick up the pen which isn’t there.
Published in All Our Wonder Unavenged, Brick Books, 2007.
Used with permission of the Author and Publisher.
Critical Analysis: Progression Beyond Conscious Thought in "Untitled with Invisible Ink"
Molly Strickland (for English 4426)
Don Domanski has long been interested in the progression that takes thought beyond consciousness. In the Introduction to Domanski’s 2007 collection Earthly Pages, Brian Bartlett states, “In Domanski’s poetry and prose, silence and intuition beyond language—rather than language without metaphor—is where a fuller understanding resides” (xiv). Domanski often uses silence to take the reader to the uncannily familiar that lies beyond the descriptions of language. For example, “Untitled with Invisible Ink” (All Our Wonder Unavenged, 35) is a progression of images from the known to the unknown, showing Domanski’s fascination for that which is simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar.
Places in the poem progress from large to small and from outside to inside. It begins with the image of a place that the narrator knows well: “knowing a tree in/that wood and a stone in that wood, because we have sat for long/hours and together we have the energy of a shaken man” (3-5). This image is relatively large and external. The next image is a house at the edge of the wood, “with a woman whose heart is saddened in slow motion” (7-8). Not only is this image that of a place smaller than the wood because it is contained within it, but it is also where the poem moves from the external to the internal ending, ending with the description of the woman’s heart. The poem then moves to an image of the “original ocean” fathoms down the body which is a concurrently external and internal image. The narrator creates an image of the self by stating, “We come from there with our words and/our deeds, all the fin-trailings of what is left unspoken” (19-20). The “original ocean” is amniotic, which evokes beginnings of humanity. Finally, the last image of the soul, but “further than the fingertips,” is something that humans simultaneously understand and do not understand, and this progression of images of places that range from large to small and from external to internal also mirrors the progression of the poem from what is known to what is unknown (23).
“Untitled with Invisible Ink” also progresses from sensual to metaphysical descriptions. Examination of the pronouns in this poem shows movement from certainty to uncertainty. Most of the sentences begin with the subjective pronoun “I” and an action; for example, the first three subject verb pairings are “I know,” “I’ve heard,” and “ I’ve seen” (1, 9, 13). These all describe certainty from the position of the narrator, including Domanski’s use of the plural “we,” which specifically refers to the narrator, tree, and rock, giving subjectivity to inanimate objects. However, each of these certainties begins to change with the character of the woman. After the description of her and her house, lines 14-15 state, “She wrote this small/poem in her small house, but she doesn’t know.” At this point the narrator moves into the mind of the woman. The next “I know,” from line 18, does not describe a tangible concept, but “those waters, the covering waves” of the “original ocean” (18). A plural pronoun takes the last action, with “We come,” which is not definite about whom it describes, but rather implies all people (19). The last sentence does not begin with an action by a pronoun, but is in the passive voice, and begins with the description of light (20). The pronoun changes used to begin sentences of the poem chant a movement from subjectivity to uncertainty, and then into the unknowable.
Finally, images and metaphors of the unknown iterate across levels from micro to macro over the course of the poem. The first image of the wood, “each leaf is the distance between two dark/towns” evokes obscurity and a sense of the unknown (1-2). Unknown elements populate the rest of the poem, as the woman in the small house has a heart that is broken in places the “blood doesn’t/know,” and the crickets and vetch “carry what is hidden out into the world” (7-9, 9-10). Later, the poem states that the woman “wrote this small poem in her small house, but she doesn’t know” (14-15). When the poem progresses to the “original ocean,” it describes the “fin-trailings of what is left unspoken” (20). The metaphors of the unknown finish moving beyond conscious understanding with the invitation “to read by, to write by with invisible ink,” for the soul to “go further than the fingertips,” and to “pick up the pen which isn’t there” (22-24). These images and metaphors show the poem’s progression to the unknown which lies beyond conscious thought, be it grand or sublime, or small and domestic.
In his Afterword to Earthly Pages, Domanski comments, “Intuition, that non-linguistic gnosis, places us deeply within nature; we find our roots in a pre-verbal reality and gradually work towards lexical design” (54). In “Untitled with Invisible Ink,” Domanski uses the poem as a progression to work back to those uncanny roots that he suspects have existed outside of language.
Works Cited (for analysis):
Brian Bartlett. “Introduction: The Trees are Full of Rings.” Earthly Pages: The Poetry of Don Domanski. Ed. Brian Bartlett. Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2007.
Domanski, Don. “Afterword: Flying Over Language.” Earthly Pages: The Poetry of Don Domanski. Ed. Brian Bartlett. Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2007.
Domanski, Don. “Untitled with Invisible Ink.” All Our Wonder Unavenged. London: Brick Books, 2007. 35.
Don Domanski has long been interested in the progression that takes thought beyond consciousness. In the Introduction to Domanski’s 2007 collection Earthly Pages, Brian Bartlett states, “In Domanski’s poetry and prose, silence and intuition beyond language—rather than language without metaphor—is where a fuller understanding resides” (xiv). Domanski often uses silence to take the reader to the uncannily familiar that lies beyond the descriptions of language. For example, “Untitled with Invisible Ink” (All Our Wonder Unavenged, 35) is a progression of images from the known to the unknown, showing Domanski’s fascination for that which is simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar.
Places in the poem progress from large to small and from outside to inside. It begins with the image of a place that the narrator knows well: “knowing a tree in/that wood and a stone in that wood, because we have sat for long/hours and together we have the energy of a shaken man” (3-5). This image is relatively large and external. The next image is a house at the edge of the wood, “with a woman whose heart is saddened in slow motion” (7-8). Not only is this image that of a place smaller than the wood because it is contained within it, but it is also where the poem moves from the external to the internal ending, ending with the description of the woman’s heart. The poem then moves to an image of the “original ocean” fathoms down the body which is a concurrently external and internal image. The narrator creates an image of the self by stating, “We come from there with our words and/our deeds, all the fin-trailings of what is left unspoken” (19-20). The “original ocean” is amniotic, which evokes beginnings of humanity. Finally, the last image of the soul, but “further than the fingertips,” is something that humans simultaneously understand and do not understand, and this progression of images of places that range from large to small and from external to internal also mirrors the progression of the poem from what is known to what is unknown (23).
“Untitled with Invisible Ink” also progresses from sensual to metaphysical descriptions. Examination of the pronouns in this poem shows movement from certainty to uncertainty. Most of the sentences begin with the subjective pronoun “I” and an action; for example, the first three subject verb pairings are “I know,” “I’ve heard,” and “ I’ve seen” (1, 9, 13). These all describe certainty from the position of the narrator, including Domanski’s use of the plural “we,” which specifically refers to the narrator, tree, and rock, giving subjectivity to inanimate objects. However, each of these certainties begins to change with the character of the woman. After the description of her and her house, lines 14-15 state, “She wrote this small/poem in her small house, but she doesn’t know.” At this point the narrator moves into the mind of the woman. The next “I know,” from line 18, does not describe a tangible concept, but “those waters, the covering waves” of the “original ocean” (18). A plural pronoun takes the last action, with “We come,” which is not definite about whom it describes, but rather implies all people (19). The last sentence does not begin with an action by a pronoun, but is in the passive voice, and begins with the description of light (20). The pronoun changes used to begin sentences of the poem chant a movement from subjectivity to uncertainty, and then into the unknowable.
Finally, images and metaphors of the unknown iterate across levels from micro to macro over the course of the poem. The first image of the wood, “each leaf is the distance between two dark/towns” evokes obscurity and a sense of the unknown (1-2). Unknown elements populate the rest of the poem, as the woman in the small house has a heart that is broken in places the “blood doesn’t/know,” and the crickets and vetch “carry what is hidden out into the world” (7-9, 9-10). Later, the poem states that the woman “wrote this small poem in her small house, but she doesn’t know” (14-15). When the poem progresses to the “original ocean,” it describes the “fin-trailings of what is left unspoken” (20). The metaphors of the unknown finish moving beyond conscious understanding with the invitation “to read by, to write by with invisible ink,” for the soul to “go further than the fingertips,” and to “pick up the pen which isn’t there” (22-24). These images and metaphors show the poem’s progression to the unknown which lies beyond conscious thought, be it grand or sublime, or small and domestic.
In his Afterword to Earthly Pages, Domanski comments, “Intuition, that non-linguistic gnosis, places us deeply within nature; we find our roots in a pre-verbal reality and gradually work towards lexical design” (54). In “Untitled with Invisible Ink,” Domanski uses the poem as a progression to work back to those uncanny roots that he suspects have existed outside of language.
Works Cited (for analysis):
Brian Bartlett. “Introduction: The Trees are Full of Rings.” Earthly Pages: The Poetry of Don Domanski. Ed. Brian Bartlett. Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2007.
Domanski, Don. “Afterword: Flying Over Language.” Earthly Pages: The Poetry of Don Domanski. Ed. Brian Bartlett. Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2007.
Domanski, Don. “Untitled with Invisible Ink.” All Our Wonder Unavenged. London: Brick Books, 2007. 35.
Bibliography
Primary Sources
Domanski, Don. “A Feral Trance”. The Malahat Review 182 (Spring 2013): 68.
---. All Our Wonder Unavenged. London: Brick Books, 2007.
---. Bite Down Little Whisper. London: Brick Books, 2013.
---. The Cape Breton Book of the Dead. Toronto: Anansi, 1975.
---. “Deadsong”. The New Oxford Book of Canadian Verse in English. Ed. Margaret Atwood. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1982.
---. Earthly Pages: The Poetry of Don Domanski. Ed. Brian Bartlett. Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2007.
---. Hammerstroke. Toronto: Anansi, 1986.
---. Heaven. Toronto: House of Anansi Press, 1978.
---. Parish of the Physic Moon. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1998.
---. Stations of the Left Hand. Toronto: Coach House Press, 1994.
---. “Three Songs From the Temple.” The New Oxford Book of Canadian Verse in English. Ed. Margaret Atwood. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1982.
---. “Unborn”. The Malahat Review 182 (Spring 2013): 67.
---. War in an Empty House. Toronto: Anansi, 1982.
---. Wolf-Ladder. Toronto: Coach House Press, 1991.
Secondary Sources
Almon, Bert. "From Nova Scotia to The Cosmos." Canadian Literature 198 (2008): 118-19. Academic Search Premier.
Armstrong, Tammy Lynn. Atlantic Canada’s poetic menagerie: animal presence in the poetry of John Thompson, Don Domanski, John Steffler, and Harry Thurston. Fredericton: University of New Brunswick, 2014.
Bartlett, Brian. “Introduction: The Trees are Full of Rings.” Earthly Pages: The Poetry of Don Domanski. Ed. Brian Bartlett. Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2007.
Domanski, Don. Poetry and the Sacred. Vancouver: Nanaimo: Institute for Coastal Research, 2006.
Goldstein, David B. "Bite Down Little Whisper." Rev. of Bite Down Little Whisper, by Don Domanski. Malahat Review. (2014): 87.
Keeney, Patricia. "Rich Biodiversity in a Parallel Universe." Rev. of Bite Down Little Whisper by Don Domanski. Arc Poetry Magazine, arcpoetry.ca, 17 July 2014.
Milton, Paul. "Wonder and The Sacred." Canadian Literature 198 (2008): 123-24. Academic Search Premier.
“Poets in Profile: Don Domanski.” Poets in Profile. By Open Book Ontario. Toronto: Open Book Ontario, 2013.
Domanski, Don. “A Feral Trance”. The Malahat Review 182 (Spring 2013): 68.
---. All Our Wonder Unavenged. London: Brick Books, 2007.
---. Bite Down Little Whisper. London: Brick Books, 2013.
---. The Cape Breton Book of the Dead. Toronto: Anansi, 1975.
---. “Deadsong”. The New Oxford Book of Canadian Verse in English. Ed. Margaret Atwood. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1982.
---. Earthly Pages: The Poetry of Don Domanski. Ed. Brian Bartlett. Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2007.
---. Hammerstroke. Toronto: Anansi, 1986.
---. Heaven. Toronto: House of Anansi Press, 1978.
---. Parish of the Physic Moon. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1998.
---. Stations of the Left Hand. Toronto: Coach House Press, 1994.
---. “Three Songs From the Temple.” The New Oxford Book of Canadian Verse in English. Ed. Margaret Atwood. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1982.
---. “Unborn”. The Malahat Review 182 (Spring 2013): 67.
---. War in an Empty House. Toronto: Anansi, 1982.
---. Wolf-Ladder. Toronto: Coach House Press, 1991.
Secondary Sources
Almon, Bert. "From Nova Scotia to The Cosmos." Canadian Literature 198 (2008): 118-19. Academic Search Premier.
Armstrong, Tammy Lynn. Atlantic Canada’s poetic menagerie: animal presence in the poetry of John Thompson, Don Domanski, John Steffler, and Harry Thurston. Fredericton: University of New Brunswick, 2014.
Bartlett, Brian. “Introduction: The Trees are Full of Rings.” Earthly Pages: The Poetry of Don Domanski. Ed. Brian Bartlett. Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2007.
Domanski, Don. Poetry and the Sacred. Vancouver: Nanaimo: Institute for Coastal Research, 2006.
Goldstein, David B. "Bite Down Little Whisper." Rev. of Bite Down Little Whisper, by Don Domanski. Malahat Review. (2014): 87.
Keeney, Patricia. "Rich Biodiversity in a Parallel Universe." Rev. of Bite Down Little Whisper by Don Domanski. Arc Poetry Magazine, arcpoetry.ca, 17 July 2014.
Milton, Paul. "Wonder and The Sacred." Canadian Literature 198 (2008): 123-24. Academic Search Premier.
“Poets in Profile: Don Domanski.” Poets in Profile. By Open Book Ontario. Toronto: Open Book Ontario, 2013.
