A poem of many plies of mediation.
6.13.2011
6.12.2011
severed vitals
Lines cut from its middle, an act of harakiri for the poem, and it was like the whole body folded over and collapsed.
6.11.2011
6.10.2011
nail driven
Fear of the period; its finality, that last nail driven.
Labels:
finality,
nail,
period,
punctuation
6.07.2011
god knows
When that poem was written, two people knew what it meant—God and Robert Browning. And now God only knows what it means.
—Robert Browning, as quoted by G. K. Chesterton in his biography Robert Browning (MacMillan, 1903)
—Robert Browning, as quoted by G. K. Chesterton in his biography Robert Browning (MacMillan, 1903)
Labels:
difficulty,
g. k. chesterton,
god,
meaning,
quote,
robert browning
6.06.2011
communiqués of the insomniac
In the morning at the café I noticed someone’s finger had traced a text, perhaps a poem, on the dew-covered tabletop.
6.05.2011
tested by the text
A reader of poetry is a serious and savvy character; has to be.
Labels:
knowledge,
poetry reader,
reader,
serious
6.03.2011
thread or read
Breaking the block: Read until you find a thread. Better yet, read until your head explodes.
6.02.2011
wide-eyed
Poetic image: That thing which would go unnoticed except to an untrained eye.
Labels:
eye,
poetic image,
thing,
untrained
6.01.2011
lily light
Light lily lily light light lily light
Imagically
Lightli ly
Outline stones for the wind
All creatures come
To mind to oneness
Light first and last, and lilies and lights along the way. The alleyway, in just that way and just that order, pleasured my eyes. Of course it was a happiness to say. “Only the lull I like” wrote Whitman. If I can see it, it must be moving; and when I see it, I am moving too. The lull is not a pause. The lull is an ensemble underway, and as I found, anything I might say would be an adverb. [157]
Donald Revell, The Art of Attention (Graywolf Press, 2007)
Imagically
Lightli ly
Outline stones for the wind
All creatures come
To mind to oneness
Light first and last, and lilies and lights along the way. The alleyway, in just that way and just that order, pleasured my eyes. Of course it was a happiness to say. “Only the lull I like” wrote Whitman. If I can see it, it must be moving; and when I see it, I am moving too. The lull is not a pause. The lull is an ensemble underway, and as I found, anything I might say would be an adverb. [157]
Donald Revell, The Art of Attention (Graywolf Press, 2007)
Labels:
adverb,
attention,
donald revell,
eyes,
happiness,
lights,
lily,
lull,
moving,
walt whitman
5.31.2011
5.30.2011
not for nothing said
The poem as an expression of consequence.
Labels:
consequence,
expression,
poem is
5.29.2011
bookcase or box
This is not a book for my bookcase, but for the box to be donated to a local booksale.
5.27.2011
poet-jockey
You could say about the poem’s ending that which too often occurs at a steeplechase race: The horse fell at the last fence.
Labels:
ending,
last line,
steeplechase
5.26.2011
not as an acrobat
Rexroth calls an "anthropological religion" the basis for his poetry. He has written that the anthropologist Edward Sapir was “the only person I have ever met who thoroughly understood what I dreamed of doing with poetry. Out of anthropology, psychology, and linguistics he had developed a kind of philosophy of interpersonal communion and communication.” Certainly there is a striking resemblance between Rexroth’s thought and that of Sapir, who, for example,…thought that the best poetic style “allows the artist’s personality to be as a presence, not as an acrobat,” because such artists fit “their deep intuition to the provincial accents of their daily speech” rather than weave “a private technical art fabric of their own.”
—Morgan Gibson, Kenneth Rexroth (Twayne Publishers, 1972)
(Edward Sapir’s words quoted from Language: an Introduction to the Study of Speech, 1921)
—Morgan Gibson, Kenneth Rexroth (Twayne Publishers, 1972)
(Edward Sapir’s words quoted from Language: an Introduction to the Study of Speech, 1921)
5.24.2011
emotional leakage
Only the relatively simple forms (e.g., sonnet, villanelle) can be vessels for our psychic impulses. They retain the lyric aspect. While elaborate forms (crown of sonnets, sestina, etc.) leak emotion in direct proportion to the complexity of their structure.
Labels:
complexity,
emotion,
form,
lyric,
sonnet,
villanelle
5.23.2011
5.21.2011
solo style
The mark of a great poet is that the work is such that it cannot set off a style. Some may imitate its most superficial aspects, but the work begins and ends with that poet.
Labels:
great poet,
imitation,
singularity,
style
5.18.2011
new poet laureate
On May 11, 2011, by proclamation, I was appointed to the honorary position of ‘Poet Laureate of the Town of West Hartford’ (CT). This being my official report of my first week on the job—
I asked the Town Council to annex the City of Hartford (which has no poet laureate) so that my realm might be expanded. [Declined]
I asked that a tiara of emeralds be crafted in the model of a laurel wreath, or, if funds were not available for such jewelry, that fresh laurels could be delivered to my house each week, so that my headdress will always be fresh & green as I go about town reciting poetry to the populace. [Declined]
I asked that a small area in the town library be designated as “Poet’s Corner,” and that this area should be appointed with a lounge chair of Danish design, reserved for my person, and in which I will, from time to time, ensconce myself, so that I may read or write as the spirit moves me, and should I be in need of refreshment, a member of the library staff would be given leave to bring me a Starbucks’ latte. [Declined]
Undeterred by these setbacks, I am determined to dispatch my duties with dignity and panache.
I asked the Town Council to annex the City of Hartford (which has no poet laureate) so that my realm might be expanded. [Declined]
I asked that a tiara of emeralds be crafted in the model of a laurel wreath, or, if funds were not available for such jewelry, that fresh laurels could be delivered to my house each week, so that my headdress will always be fresh & green as I go about town reciting poetry to the populace. [Declined]
I asked that a small area in the town library be designated as “Poet’s Corner,” and that this area should be appointed with a lounge chair of Danish design, reserved for my person, and in which I will, from time to time, ensconce myself, so that I may read or write as the spirit moves me, and should I be in need of refreshment, a member of the library staff would be given leave to bring me a Starbucks’ latte. [Declined]
Undeterred by these setbacks, I am determined to dispatch my duties with dignity and panache.
Labels:
poet laureate,
poet's life
5.16.2011
prompt and circumstance
A poetry writing prompt: A word game designed to draw out bad poetry that would otherwise arise by natural means.
Labels:
word game,
writing prompt
5.14.2011
blank look
In this poem the blank spaces are just empty space.
Labels:
blank space,
function,
technique
5.13.2011
individual, intelligible, inner need
The absence of any one of these conditions excludes a work form the category of art and relegates it to that of art's counterfeits. If the work does not transmit the artist's peculiarity of feeling and is therefore not individual, if it is unintelligibly expressed, or if it has not proceeded from the author's inner need for expression - it is not a work of art. If all these conditions are present, even in the smallest degree, then the work, even if a weak one, is yet a work of art.
—Leo Tolstoy, "What Is Art?" (translation by Alymer Maude, 1899)
—Leo Tolstoy, "What Is Art?" (translation by Alymer Maude, 1899)
Labels:
art is,
expression,
individual,
inner,
intelligibility,
leo tolstoy,
perculiarity,
quote
5.11.2011
stiff competition
It was a warm spring evening, the door was propped open behind the speaker at the poetry reading, and throughout her reading birds could be heard singing in the background.
Labels:
birds,
nature,
poetry reading
5.10.2011
5.09.2011
that once were lives
All those poems locked away in unread books: silent graves.
Labels:
lives,
poetry books,
silent graves,
unread
5.07.2011
steinian query or proposition
Poetry or prose or prose or poetry or poetry or prose.
Labels:
gertrude stein,
poetry v. prose
5.06.2011
not meteorological facts
The aim of a lyric poem in which occur the words ‘sunshine’ and ‘clouds,’ is not to inform us of certain meteorological facts, but to express certain feelings of the poet and to excite similar feelings in us. A lyric poem has no assertional sense, no theoretical sense, it does not contain knowledge.
—Rudolf Carnap, Philosophy and Logical Syntax (lectures delivered at the University of London, 1934)
—Rudolf Carnap, Philosophy and Logical Syntax (lectures delivered at the University of London, 1934)
Labels:
feelings,
knowledge,
lyric,
meteorology,
physical sense,
quote,
rudolf carnap
5.05.2011
said but not read
At the poetry reading he said very intelligent and interesting things before each poem. But when a poem was read: "That's it? That's the whole thing?"
--
I once heard Joseph Langland recount a student reading he attended (at Amherst?) when Robert Frost was in the audience: A young fellow came to the podium and gave an elaborate explanation of the poem he was about to read. Then the young poet read his rather short poem. Frost piped up: "Young man, you said a better poem than you read."
--
I once heard Joseph Langland recount a student reading he attended (at Amherst?) when Robert Frost was in the audience: A young fellow came to the podium and gave an elaborate explanation of the poem he was about to read. Then the young poet read his rather short poem. Frost piped up: "Young man, you said a better poem than you read."
5.04.2011
5.03.2011
memoir broken into lines
Apparently you believe your narrative history merits my attention, but I come to poetry for more than memoir broken into lines.
Labels:
lines,
memoir,
narrative,
personal history
5.02.2011
not easy beauty
One will tell me, perhaps, that there are great beauties which make themselves felt to everyone; for example, those that one calls particularly the beauties of sentiment. I reply first that, although everybody feels certain beauties, not everybody feels them equally. Secondly, there are a great many beauties, and some of them the highest, which are only felt by persons of great intellectual accomplishment. As for the sentiments, they are accessible to everybody only when they are simple and simply expressed. If they are a bit composite, or rendered with finesse and elegance, they escape the multitude, and sometimes they even appear to them to be false.
—l’Abbé N. C. J. Trublet, Essais sur divers sujets de littérature et de morale (Amsterdam, 1755), quoted in The Aesthetic Thought of the French Enlightenment (U. of Pittsburgh Press, 1971) by Francis X. J. Coleman
—l’Abbé N. C. J. Trublet, Essais sur divers sujets de littérature et de morale (Amsterdam, 1755), quoted in The Aesthetic Thought of the French Enlightenment (U. of Pittsburgh Press, 1971) by Francis X. J. Coleman
4.30.2011
4.28.2011
inside and out
A poetry insider is a society outsider.
Labels:
insider,
outsider,
society,
state of the art
4.27.2011
skinny volumes
Because I’m a poet, I have read many thin books and a few big fat ones.
Labels:
books,
poetry books,
reading
4.25.2011
not going anywhere
Critic-proof: the words impervious and entirely set in their ways.
Labels:
critic,
criticism,
impervious,
set,
words
4.24.2011
absolute and mortal
Poetry
Its nature is to look
both absolute and mortal
as if a boy had passed through
or the imprint of his foot
had been preserved
unchanged
under the ash of Herculaneum.
—Carl Rakosi, The Collected Poems of Carl Rakosi (National Poetry Foundation, 1986), p. 186
Its nature is to look
both absolute and mortal
as if a boy had passed through
or the imprint of his foot
had been preserved
unchanged
under the ash of Herculaneum.
—Carl Rakosi, The Collected Poems of Carl Rakosi (National Poetry Foundation, 1986), p. 186
4.22.2011
where did that come from
An anomalous element that comes to define the poem.
Labels:
anomaly,
unexpected
4.18.2011
standing stones
Sometimes I see headstones standing in cemeteries and they remind me of books displayed in bookstore windows.
Labels:
books,
end of the book,
headstones
4.17.2011
a dolphin swims under a rainbow
the haiku journal editor
openly admits his bias against
'dolphins' and 'rainbows'
openly admits his bias against
'dolphins' and 'rainbows'
Labels:
bias,
dolphins,
haiku,
poetry editors,
rainbows
4.16.2011
speak for themselves
As we say in a hand of poker, ‘the cards speak for themselves’, and so it should be with a poem, the words should speak for themselves.
Labels:
play themselves,
poker,
words
4.15.2011
imperial interference
Haiku eschews metaphor, simile, or personification. Nothing is like something else in most well-realized haiku. As Bashô said, “Learn of a pine from a pine.” Learn, that is, what a pine tree is, not what it is like—one supposes this is what Bashô meant. This avoidance of metaphor or simile arises, I feel, from the poet’s need to render directly and concretely the vision he has had, and only that vision. Almost he seems to aim at the paring down of his medium to the absolute minimum, so that the least words stand between the reader and the experience! The result can be what Babette Deutsch has called a “naked poem” as she noted in speaking of the art of William Carlos Williams: “Not merely rhyme and metre but sometimes metaphor itself became an imperial interference between him and the sun.”
—Kenneth Yasuda, The Japanese Haiku (Chas. L. Tuttle & Co, 1957)
—Kenneth Yasuda, The Japanese Haiku (Chas. L. Tuttle & Co, 1957)
Labels:
babette deutsch,
bashô,
experience,
haiku,
kenneth yasuda,
medium,
metaphor,
naked poetry,
sun
4.14.2011
4.13.2011
lashing the unruly waters
Those lines of poetry lashing forth with great fury. The poet like Xerxes having the Hellespont whipped with chains, to no avail.
4.12.2011
edgy performance
He was so avant-garde he went straight to the edge of the proscenium and fell off the stage into the crowd.
Labels:
avant-garde,
edge,
edgy,
stage
4.11.2011
sleepy head
Those first few lines were still wiping the sleep from their eyes.
Labels:
eyes,
first lines,
sleep
4.10.2011
writing thaw
It was wonderfully warm & pleasant & the cockerels crowed just as in a spring day at home—I felt the winter breaking up in me & if I had been at home I should have tried to write poetry.
—Henry David Thoreau, manuscript volume 18 of the Journals
—Henry David Thoreau, manuscript volume 18 of the Journals
Labels:
henry david thoreau,
home,
journal entry,
quote,
spring,
urge to write,
winter
4.09.2011
4.06.2011
heroic couplets
Is it just me, or is there an echo in here?
Labels:
couplets,
heroic couplets,
rhyme
4.05.2011
4.04.2011
4.02.2011
moral compass
“I can’t imagine an immoral person bothering with poetry," [Lucien Stryk] shoots back, “and by ‘immoral,’ I’m not talking about trivialities. I mean in the largest sense, in the way the person relates to the world, his spirit. In the poets that affect me, there is always that element of desire and hope.”
I thirsted for seasons,
dragging a leaden shadow
into nothingness. Now,
as fire meets ice, I see.
[from “Lake Down”]
—Lucien Stryk, quoted by Susan Porterfield in “Poetry and Lentil Soup: A Profile of Lucien Stryk,” the afterword of Where We Are: Selected Poems and Zen Translations (Skoob Books, LTD, London, 1997) by Lucien Stryk
I thirsted for seasons,
dragging a leaden shadow
into nothingness. Now,
as fire meets ice, I see.
[from “Lake Down”]
—Lucien Stryk, quoted by Susan Porterfield in “Poetry and Lentil Soup: A Profile of Lucien Stryk,” the afterword of Where We Are: Selected Poems and Zen Translations (Skoob Books, LTD, London, 1997) by Lucien Stryk
3.31.2011
obscure science
The science in the poem was used superficially as metaphor; which is to say that only a handful of people in the world could understand the underlying concept. So it is that the obscurity of the poet is the obscurity of the scientist.
3.30.2011
3.29.2011
3.28.2011
unsure reader
Some poets read their poems flawlessly, with gusto and verve. Others read with hesitancy and uncertainty, stumbling over words, as though the poem was still composing itself. I respect the poet who reads with suspicion of what has been written.
Labels:
gusto,
hesitancy,
poetry reading,
suspicion,
uncertainty,
verve
3.26.2011
highest ideality
[T]he function of poetry, like that of science, can only be fulfilled by the conception of harmonies that become clearer as they grow richer. As the chance note that comes to be supported by a melody becomes in that melody determinate and necessary, and as the melody, when woven into a harmony, is explicated in that harmony and fixed beyond recall; so the single emotion, the fortuitous dream, launched by the poet into the world of recognizable and immortal forms, looks in that world for its ideal supports and affinities. It must find them or else be blown back among the ghosts. The highest ideality is the comprehension of the real. Poetry is not at its best when it depicts a further possible experience, but when it initiates us, by feigning something which as an experience is impossible, into the meaning of the experience which we have actually had.
—George Santayana, “The Elements and Function of Poetry,” Aesthetics and the Arts (McGraw-Hill Book Co., 1968), edited by Lee A. Jacobus
—George Santayana, “The Elements and Function of Poetry,” Aesthetics and the Arts (McGraw-Hill Book Co., 1968), edited by Lee A. Jacobus
Labels:
affinities,
dream,
experience,
function,
george santayana,
harmony,
quote
3.25.2011
3.24.2011
surrounding material
Generally there is a third more material than is needed in the first draft. Think of a model airplane kit: The wing, once separated from the surrounding material, is all the wing needed to lift the aircraft.
Labels:
first draft,
revision,
wing
3.23.2011
3.22.2011
3.21.2011
real relationship
Classified ad for print-on-demand (POD) poetry book: “Lonely file in cyberspace seeks physical relationship with illusory reader.”
3.20.2011
emphasis needed
[Hopkins’] inventiveness worked…in the main line which the adjectival poets had established. Keats’s carved, wing’d, hid, faded, unseen, moss’d, became Hopkins’ carved, winged, dogged, cursed, freckled, fetched, plumed, in all a somewhat rarer lot; and Keats’s eager-eyed, hot-blooded, half-anguished, deep-delved, purple-stained, wild-ridged, became Hopkins’ more complicated and special carrier-witted, scroll-leaved, whirl-wind-swivelled, else-minded, heart-forsook, care-coiled, bell-swarmed, dapple-dawn-drawn, no-man-fathomed, five-lived, rarest-veined. The change is not one, as far as I can see, toward greater metaphysical farfetchedness but rather is an intensification of quality statement, an emphasis on the special perceivable nature of things, the physical sense of whirlwind, leaf, care, bell qualities. Emphasis is just what Hopkins said, in his early essay on “Poetic Diction,” the accented past participle is good for. Poetry needs more emphasis of all sorts he said there, more 18th Century liveliness, more 19th Century vividness to make mere flat “Parnassian” descriptiveness come alive.
[…]
Hopkins, like Ruskin, was a notebook sketcher and painter, by nature as by convention a wordpainter. When he was in a hurry and had little to say of the day that was closing, if it were fine he often wrote Fine in his Journal, but often Bright.
—Josephine Miles, “The Sweet and Lovely Language,” Gerard Manley Hopkins by the Kenyon Critics (New Directions, 1945)
[…]
Hopkins, like Ruskin, was a notebook sketcher and painter, by nature as by convention a wordpainter. When he was in a hurry and had little to say of the day that was closing, if it were fine he often wrote Fine in his Journal, but often Bright.
—Josephine Miles, “The Sweet and Lovely Language,” Gerard Manley Hopkins by the Kenyon Critics (New Directions, 1945)
3.19.2011
3.18.2011
3.17.2011
humble thing
Poet, be proud of that humble thing you have made from the poor material we call language.
3.15.2011
3.12.2011
close sailing
You cannot say it all, in poetry. Where you cannot say it all, you are stinted irremediably in how seriously you can speak. There is that something of lightness in the poetic presentation of themes, be they of the uttermost of inspiring seriousness. The verbal versatility that bejewels the process of poem-making, by requisition, produces an almost continual close sailing to the wind of word-play. The use of metaphor, its tempting relief to the mind so often at a loss for the immediate right provision for the fixed, patterned, poetic word-course, becomes a chronic virtue of permitted caprice of statement.
—Laura (Riding) Jackson, ”Reading for the University of Florida Library (1975),” from “The Failure of Poetry: Selection from the Manuscripts,” edited by John Nolan (Chelsea #69, 2000).
—Laura (Riding) Jackson, ”Reading for the University of Florida Library (1975),” from “The Failure of Poetry: Selection from the Manuscripts,” edited by John Nolan (Chelsea #69, 2000).
Labels:
caprice,
laura (riding) jackson,
lightness,
metaphor,
quote,
seriousness,
word play
3.11.2011
not a matter of modulation
A poem that could be whispered just as well as shouted.
Labels:
modulation,
shout,
whisper
3.10.2011
duly noted
By the novelty of his work, the poet had secured for himself a footnote in any overview of literature of the times. For some poets, I’m afraid, that’s all they aspire to.
Labels:
aspiration,
footnote,
novelty,
times
3.08.2011
traveling call
If one could be called for ‘traveling’ in metrical poetry, he would have been called for steps.
3.07.2011
low bar
Of all the arts, poetry has the least barrier to entry, which is part of its attraction. One of the problems with poetry is that the barrier to entry is so low.
Labels:
arts,
barrier of entry
3.05.2011
telltale childlike qualities
“Like a woman,” said Rilke, without fearing that the comparison would demean him. He has been called the poet of the child and the woman. He understood us better than the sensualists. It has been said that he who gets too close to an object ceases to see it. The memory of his own childhood helped him to love children. Does not the hardening that ruins us come when we forget this? Rilke remembered the child with marvelous tenderness, and this freed him from the monstrous condition of being entirely adult, absolute man or woman, without the golden fringe of telltale childlike qualities, without the elvish sands of a five-year old explorer swirling in the chambers of an old heart.
—Gabriela Mistral, “An Invitation to the Work of Rainer Maria Rilke”, A Gabriela Mistral Reader (White Pine Press, 1993), translated by Maria Giachetti and edited by Marjorie Agosin
—Gabriela Mistral, “An Invitation to the Work of Rainer Maria Rilke”, A Gabriela Mistral Reader (White Pine Press, 1993), translated by Maria Giachetti and edited by Marjorie Agosin
Labels:
adult,
child,
childhood,
elvish,
gabriela mistral,
quote,
rainer maria rilke,
woman
3.04.2011
3.02.2011
cover up
Poems are not buttressed for being pressed between glossy covers.
Labels:
book,
book cover,
publication
3.01.2011
sound sleeper
Inured by clamor and din, sometimes it is the nearly silent things that startle and wake us.
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