Reinventing the Life of a Poet in the Modern World

Tag: experimental poetry

The Essay Project: Concepts vs. Identities

I hear there’s a saying in recovery therapy that says, “don’t should on me.”

And I think about this phrase a lot when I’m reading and hearing how poems should be this way or that way, how people should be this way or that way, or how the problem with X,Y or Z is that it should be. Men should be. Women should be. The Other Side should be.

I’m slowly reading a book called Advanced Poetry, a sort of poetry course put together by Kathryn Nuernberger and Maya Jewell Zeller.

Each chapter has writing exercises and extra readings online and so reading it is taking me time. In fact, I’m only up to the chapter about a poet’s “voice” where they spend time discussing the New York School poets, specifically Frank O’Hara and all the experimental alternatives to writing confessional poetry. The chapter explores the tensions between the two exercises, writing confessional/identity poetry and writing experimental/modernist poetry, illustrated most clearly in two essays the author’s have included online.

Delusions of Whiteness in the Avant-Garde” by Cathy Park Hong  was a somewhat ground-breaking article that calls out conceptual or experimentalist poets for being clueless, and alternatively insensitive or rude, on the issue of identity politics, for not producing pure-language experiments, as they do, or for writing, as Stephen Colbert’s character would say on his old Comedy Central show, from the vantage point where “I don’t even see race.”

However you feel about the term “identity politics,” marginalized groups sharply feel their status in the world. For example, I can’t forget at any time that I am a woman. Honestly, I’ve led a pretty easy and privileged life. But I can still face obstacles as a woman. What if I get pregnant? What if I apply for a manly job, like kicker on a football team? What if I piss-off either other women or men but saying something perceived to be wrong for my gender? My womanness is very much a part of my idea of myself.

And my ideas of myself are always tricky. I get tangled up in them when I try to seek out a religious or cultural identity for myself because my father grew up on Indian reservations (as a white boy) and passed a lot of cultural artifacts down from the Hopi and Tohono Oʼodham (which is the childhood and young adulthood he experienced). That was passed down with our New Mexico heritage which is very hybrid as well. However, genetically I am not Hispanic or Native American. So what am I, culturally speaking? You can’t escape focus on your identity when it is blurred or marginalized or hated. You don’t have the luxury to not think about it. The world forces your identity upon you. And then you can criticized for talking about it.

From the point of view of modernists and experimentalists, we should be able to shred our identities and write in an authorless, language-based way. Hong calls this out as clueless. It is possible we will never get to a place of social equity ever and pretending this can be so (through art manifestos) doesn’t ever make it so.

The other essay is “Delusions of Progress” by Daniel Borzutsky which really takes some time to unpack Hong’s statements.

The experimentalists (or conceptualists) are pretty cliquey. That’s another issue. They can be pretty dismissive of other poetries. On the other had, political writers operate with such urgency, they often feel the same way. And their point can be well taken. For example, if we don’t solve the environment crisis and we all die off, there will be no humans to make the poetry experiments. So there.

This is not a new problem. I’m also reading about the beginnings of modernism. Modernist poets like T.S. Eliot wanted to push back against “sentimental poets,” women poets of the time. Poetry should be to escape the personal, he believed. Confessional poetry sprouted up to push back against that. Also, there were some women and minority poets during the time of Eliot who were using non-experimental or traditional forms and structures to talk about their lives in political ways.

It has always seemed to me more a matter of privilege than overt racism, although you could draw political lines between the two groups. The modernists were ironically very politically conservative. Eliot and Pound were famously antisemitic during WW2. They latter-day New Critics not only believed a poem should stand as an artifact free of biography, but as a critical force they shut down the poetry of the political left which disappeared from the canon and the academy for almost 100 years, along with popular poets of the day, whatever their politics were, poets like Edna St. Vincent Millay, Louise Bogan…etc. More recent modernists evaluations and anthologies in both America and England are just beginning to bring those poets back into our critical awareness.

This is not to say some experimentalists are not racist. But many of them just have the privilege of their race or sex not being a barrier or under threat. They can’t or don’t want to write about their whiteness. So they tool around with words instead. I just want to say that their doing this isn’t the problem. Their experiments in and of themselves are not clueless or wrong. It is all their critical judgements, their exclusive shoulding, their grand ideas about their own place in the poetry canon that is clueless.

I do get energized, myself, from procedural and language experiments but I have always sympathized with poets who want or need to write poems of witness and social concern. And now that I feel my own future jeopardized as a person in the new era of aggressive incels, I understand this much more viscerally.

Borzurtsky’s article is a good discussion on these struggles and he comes to conclude that maybe this isn’t a discussion about poetry at all, but how you “position yourself in the world, about how you want to live your life.”  He says, “the politics of form is really a discussion about the politics of content.”

To dismiss identity poetry is tragic, he feels, because he has seen “poetry have a transformative effect on individuals because of a poet’s willingness to speak, directly and honestly and vulnerability, about ‘identity,’ about political and social experience, about what it means to survive in a world that wants to kill you.” (or enslave you, or make rape legal…)

And we have to remember, in some countries you were (and still are) killed or jailed for writing witness  or political poetry. To say this kind of poetry isn’t “serious” enough is just absurd. No government is going to kill you for writing a procedural poem.

Borzurtsky goes on to say “I think about how small and incremental it feels to write poetry in our over-saturated, a-political landscape.”

Which reminds me of the joke, “Why are poets so cutthroat? Because the stakes are so small.” Poets are already marginalized. This becomes a nonsensical skirmish at some point. Because I would never want to see the poetries of witness vs. experiment made into opposing camps. Not only are there excellent and important poets who traffic in both exercises, we desperately need them both to exist.

I’ll say that again: we desperately need them all to exit.

We absolutely need a poetry of witness, identity, and social concern. But we also need the laboratory poets, the scientists’ scientist, the poets’ poets like Marianne Moore and Gertrude Stein (who ironically supported some antisemetic bad actors herself because she was so vehemently anti-left). Many Harlem Renaissance writers and women writers at the onset of modernism used traditional poetry forms to protest the idea that they were not smart or genius enough to write in forms (Claude McKay, Edna St. Vincent Millay). We need all the things.

Forms (like music genres) have no politics. It’s the judgement about them that has politics.

By the way, Advanced Poetry as a text-book is happily inclusive of British and American poets of all kinds. It really puts the “trans” in trans-Atlantic.

Experimental Poetry

We’ve still some things to catch up on since I had to divert my attention to moving all my websites earlier this year.  I kept on reading and now I have a big stack of books to review, so big that I had to divey them up into a traditional poetry stack and  an experimental stack.

I’ll start with the experimental ones, because even that stack had sub-stacks: the ones I liked and the ones I didn’t. Sometimes I think I have a love-hate relationship with experimental poetry. If the experiment seems generous and comprehensible, I tend to really love it and it inspires me to try similar things: like strike-out experiments, experiments with bilingualism, footnote experiments, poems working side-by-side itself on the page.

However, if the experiments seem solipsistic or just an extension of the meaning-making experiments of parataxis or repeats of 100-year-old strategies modernism, I get annoyed.

Meaning-making is clugey, we get it. It’s hardly following Ezra Pound’s adage to “make it new.” Not that we have to keep up that death-march anyway.

But in any case, this all seems very subjective. Experiments I like fall flat with others.

Yield Architecture by Jake Syersak falls into the later category for me. The book itself is beautiful, which is why I picked it up at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books earlier this year. But I didn’t even finish it. And there are only a handful of poetry books I can say that about. I can usually stick it out (or skim it out).

This book is described as “an unyielding investigation of how linguistic and material structures intersect to shape one’s perception of reality” which sounds like part of  L.A.N.G.U.A.G.E. experiments again. There are four sections with names like “Skins, Skeins, History, Hysteria & Dust” that seems mostly juxtipositional sound experiments, like one called “Soldered Opposite of Weather Was Yourself” which contains this untitled snippet:

architecture
              dear architecture,

to begin, I’ve written two-words side-by-side on yellow-lined
              notebook paper:

violet: violence

as a way of testing the bruises a colloseum’s pillars bury into a
              hillside, how the grass gathers around it

(what anchors me in all this?—alarms of nausea, nausea the likes of
              which can only be described as: nausea describes

For example: I wonder, how calmly your waters hold a swan’s gristle

And there’s much more like this going on for 81 pages but we’re done.

Watch Me Trick Ghosts by Robert Krut was also beautifully printed and does follow a thin kind of sensical narrative but the poems still didn’t quite connect for me.

From “Pedagogy” first stanzas:

He wants to be a teacher, but what
to teach when the world is a tiger,

when even walking out to sneak a smoke
is met by a town where someone

behind a mailbox whips batteries
or unsuspecting afternoon walkers,

The poem “Ghost Does”

Sky ghost prepares lightning.
Electricity ghost is acid on steel.
Thunder ghost speaks to tree ghost.
Tree ghost is you.
Foundation ghost stretches, contracts.
Wind ghost inhales.
Blanket ghost is bandaging.
Slate ghost marks in chalk.
Bone ghost is an echo.
Moon ghost is moon.
Sun ghost is moon ghost.
I am moon ghost.
Branch ghost is arm as body.
Rain ghost is a footprint on cement.
Leaf ghost lifts eyeline.
Tree ghost is waiting.
Tree ghost awaits.
Tree ghost is you.
I am tree ghost.
Tree ghost is moon ghost.
We hide, appear.

More excerpts: https://www.hypertextmag.com/excerpt-robert-kruts-watch-me-trick-ghosts/

Some people still really enjoy these things of almost-meanings. I remember my friend Laura and I used to write these almost-sensical poems in the third grade when we were trying to feel our way into language and didn’t have any real meanings to work with yet. They weren’t quite poems, but wordiness we would put in clouds, like thought clouds but they were really like simulacrums of what we imagined sounding deep and thoughtful writings would be (without any actual deep thoughts because we were eight).

But, at the end of the day, I do support any kind of poet lab/pure experiments no matter whether I can find a practical use for their ideas or not. Everyone is on their own path.

Janet Kaplan’s Ecotones (given to me as a gift in NYC this year for my birthday), is about half-and-half successful for me. There are three sections called Plasma, Chronicles and Technopastoral. Plasma used collages with quotes to make very faint points. Her concern with the vocabulary and typography of technology inspired me to think more about technology poems, especially the connective tissue of communicating in code. I really liked the Chronicles section where there seemed to be more of a person writing there. Technopastoral contained various spatial experiments.

And I think this book helped to clarify for me what it is I’m looking for in experiments, not too much abstraction and intellectualism at the expense of finding a breathing, feeling person somewhere in there living a life. This kind of personhood has been so lacking in experimental poetries (especially but not exclusively the digital ones).

I did love the word pictures in You Would Say That by Robin Tomens, which I received for entering a contest last year. These are completely typographical experiments, literally using words as a visual medium, (which I would usually just classify as visual art), but Tomens does something extra to give a snippet here or there meaning, and so we felt a person was coming through. Some poems were  commentary on the process of thinking but not so much that they didn’t strike me as still touching, maybe due to the way they were drawn into the typographical art.

Samples of the text from the pieces:

POETIC GLAMOUR IS NO LONGER WHAT COUNTS MOST
BUT THE INTRINSIC INTERST IN THE THOUGHT

~~~

A KNOWS HE IS NOT READING, AND HAS A
SENSE OF JUST THIS WHILE PRETENDING
TO READ

~~~

IF SOMEONE COULD SEE THE MENTAL PROCESS OF
EXPECTATION

~~~

HOLD THAT THOUGHT

Some images from the book:

James Thomas Stevens’ The Golden Book was a take on the intersection of grammar and love poems, an experiment I was doing myself last year. Stevens’ poems seemed to be so personal, however, as to be almost cryptic.

Based on David Lambuth’s The Golden Book on Writing, a writing guide from 1923, these poems shared titles like The Paragraph, The Sentence, Words, Punctuation.

The opening poem called “A Warning

Isn’t every
encounter a cross
                            to bear,
a cultural one?

The small battles.
The volleys.
The flag raisings.

They poems are pretty far removed from their source material, which seems more like a jumping-off point than any attempt to address the rules of writing directly. One I really liked was called “Set Up Sign-Posts” which is an adage of writing any kind of persuasive thesis paper.

Point to your beloved.
Remind him of his progress.
At the end tell him that
you have arrived – and see
that he understand it.

Don’t have him turning over the sheets and
saying with a start: “Oh, that’s all there was to it.

From “Know Where You Are Going”

Know which He you are writing of:

He, the pianist carpenter, or
He, the poet violinist.

In like lions, out like lambs.

I also liked a poem called “Simple Words for Big Ideas” which it hard to even summarize but a poem that covers sex, language and colonization.

Personal story, I worked with Stevens when I was a faculty secretary at the Institute of American Indian Art (IAIA) in Santa Fe back in 2013-14. There was tension there between the dean and both the art and writing faculty around who got access to the copier (and me), all which made some of the teachers a bit grouchy. Stevens was initially very grouchy about this and I remember some chastising he gave me for taking over the copier for one of the Dean’s projects. Stevens had an exceptionally messy office. I told him his office was itself a Language poem. But I really liked his poems and he became less grouchy (as did the other faculty) as the semester went on (and I learned to make copies after the faculty left for the day).

More excerpts from the book: https://courtgreen.net/issue-14/james-thomas-stevens

A few weeks ago I picked up the $30 Anne Carson book Float from the local library.  It comes in a plastic box and has about 27 loose booklets and front matter pieces inside. They were all disorganized and in disarray.

It was very satisfying to my Skittles-organizing mind to sort all the front matter out. The little booklets could be read in any order although there was a Table of Contents. “Reading can be freefall” the title page claims.

I used the same reading strategy as when our book blub read The Unfortunates by B. S. Johnson, which was to read the smallest booklets first, working up to the longest ones. It’s the low-hanging-fruit of reading strategies. The book was like the detritus of Anne Carson’s writing drawer, stuff too small to put anywhere else, culled together to Float in one package. It was only loosely cohesive and again connections depended upon the principle of parataxis, random connections of proximity.

There were ordered lists, long poems, poem sets, theatrical scripts and essays. The booklets kept slipping out of the plastic container all over the floor.

Understandably the book had less cohesion than other Anne Carson collections and I can’t say this was my favorite “book” of hers but it did inspire me to try a few things. I loved “Maintenance,” “Eras of Yves Klein”   and “Merce Sonnet,” “Reticent Sonnet”   and “Sonnet of the English-Made Cabinet with Drawers (In Prose)”   from the booklet called “Possessive Used as Drink (Me), A Lecture on Pronouns in the Form of 15 Sonnets.” A few of the essay pieces even inspired me to create an Essay poem and there will be a Cheras poem one day, no doubt.

My favorite experimental book this year was from Unincorporated Territory [guma] by Craig Santos Perez. I picked up this book at the Museum of Contemporary Native Arts (MoCNA), the museum extension of IAIA, along with the Stevens book.

This is a book about the status of Guam as part of and not part of the United States and how its citizens can feel diaspora even while living in their own place, beyond what even some post-colonized aboriginal groups might feel due to continued militarization. It’s colonization in real time and the book explores what it means to “be home” when the definition of your country is changing. Perez weaves in document-speak and impact statements into a kind of meaning collage. The poems are too difficult to type out so here are some images of my favorite pieces:

The first poem, from the legends of juan malo [a malologue]:

ginen ta(la)ya:

ginen fatal impact statements

And here’s a poem on spam: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/57827/ginen-the-legends-of-juan-malo-a-malologue

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