There’s always the discussion of poetics in blogdom, and I try to follow the discussion since I have no formal (or informal) background in poetry. I probably couldn’t name one or two characteristics of most poetic schools – Avant, Post-Avant, L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E, New Sincerity, or plain ol’ free verse, much less anything to do with formal poetry (can you say tin ear?) – so trying to define my poetics is like trying to remove my own kidney with Operation’s plastic tweezers. There are probably elements of surrealism and “experimentalism” in most of my writing, and while the subject matter is generally serious, I hope the sarcasm and humor isn’t lost on readers. And I always try to use an organic form with each piece. That’s about as close to an objective description of my poetics as possible. Woefully inadequate, I know. While my knowledge of poetics is severely lacking, I honestly don’t believe my writing fits into any one camp, at least based on my observations. My publication history points to that a little (as unimpressive as it is) since I’ve had luck in publications that seemingly have contrasting, or at least distinctly different, tastes.
Two thumbs down from Tarpaulin Sky on my latest submission. When I first began writing poetry in college (most of the poetry isn’t remotely indicative of what I write now), I submitted to many publications like Tarpaulin Sky numerous times without the slightest idea of its aesthetic leanings. So it was little wonder my hopeless imitations of Linda Pastan (who I still enjoy, btw) and other writers of a similar ilk were failing miserably at getting accepted. One, the writing was poor / beginner-ish at best, and, two, I was oblivious to a journal’s editorial tastes. What this extended tangent means: now that my writing is (marginally) better and more in line with the aesthetics of many journals that I frequently submitted to in the past, I wonder if the editors see my name, laugh, and trip over themselves with the form rejection letter. Paranoia, I know.
And I'm not saying any of this as a big middle finger to the poetic community; some of it borders on embarrassing. I desperately need a poetics primer so I could at least have a solid reason for dismissing the whole conversation. And the old warning not to publish too quickly is all too true.
I haven’t had a free second to read Minima Moralia this week, and this weekend is equally as full: I have an HRM assignment to complete as well as a Legal Environment midterm. In between, I’ll be bombarding myself with Civ IV to unwind or coaxing a poem out of hiding. B will also be busy writing two papers this weekend, so we’ll be a big bundle of happiness.
Oh, Brangelina have decided to adopt me. Excitement abounds. Sorry B.
Much love,
-j
3 comments:
J -
Yes, YES, I still have a response to your unmerited bashing of Stanley Fish. Only it'll take me longer to type it now. But it's coming - oh yes, it's coming, take that with what innuendo you will.
Brandy said you had suggested lunch Sat.? Sadly I already had plans for that day (I'm leaving Sun. and, in a desperate attempt to get laid before my departure, have to spend Saturday watching movies and doing sensitive bonding things with my current...special friend...of choice). I was going to suggest the week after because I'll be back in town after a few days, but she says you'll be gone. Damn. Maybe sometime at the beginning of spring quarter? I'd love to meet up, definitely.
Also, love some of your turns of phrase. Removing that kidney is a bitch, ne?
Will you be posting any of your poetry in your blog here?
- Daya
Daya,
The problem regarding your Stanley Fish reply is that I've already taken your silence as an acceptance of my stated position. More than likely, I'll have to moderate any statements to the contrary out of existence for fear of having my god-like status in this domain challenged.
That is too bad about not being able to get together for lunch, though your rationale is convincing. Yes, I will be golfing the following week, so I won't be available, but certainly we'll get together some Friday night or Saturday afternoon in the spring. Good luck getting laid in your condition -- better have a safe word.
I'm inclined to say no about posting new drafts of poems at the moment. Obviously, the narcissistic link to places where I've published provides some of my poems, and I'm hesitant to post any final drafts for fear of an editor finding it and crying foul. I could be convinced otherwise though.
Good luck in your conquests,
-j
J -
Alright. I was just curious about some of your other work, but I do understand the intricacies of editorial ownership.
Also,god-like status or not, I've accidentally started a book list for you. I think you'd benefit from reading some of Fish's other stuff. His arguments ARE nebulous, but that's precisely the point vis-a-vis his conceptualized interpretive communities.
And oh GAWD, the kink. Thanks for the well wishes. But what makes you think *I'm* the one who needs the safe word? How presumptuous. ;)
Yes, yes, we will get together soon. Brandy tells me Casa would be best as there's meat there.
Barbarian.
- Daya -
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