Describing my poetics is about as easy as describing the taste of purple. Actually, purple is grape to me, so that’s probably not an apt comparison. Before I digress further, the original topic: my poetics.
I feel inclined to discuss poetics through a goal-oriented lens. By writing poetry, I hope to destabilize traditional poetic structure by bringing language, styles, and themes into conflict. While I possess no hermeneutics to accomplish this goal, my underlying principle is to rely on surreal or absurd techniques in order to “jar” (as B would say) the reader. Generally, I’m not attempting Edson-esque surrealism; rather, I prefer a more dream-like scenario where scene shifts are frequent, where characters interact with completely impractical situations. This partially explains why some of my favorite poems are my “Dream Sequence” poems and their related offspring (follow the No Tell Motel link for examples if you like). I’ve found this style demands vigilance from me as it is easy to escape to transition from surreal to silly, but pitfalls akin to this are found in all types of poetry (forced rhymes, reliance on clichés, etc.).
A difficult I’ve always had is trying to find an authentic method to convince the reader to take the poem so literally, which is normal with more “mainstream” poetry where the reader can take the text literally and then derive something greater from the whole. I don’t want this literal, true-as-the-Gospel artifice, though I hope the sentences themselves form some cogent whole that builds on what is generally considered normal or real. (I have a fascination with “the real,” another reasons why I prefer dream sequences and breaking from traditional narrative structure.) I’m experimenting with a thoroughly removed, objective voice to force the reader to consider the text as it is: surreal, absurd, quasi-real, quasi-drug induced fantasy world.
Dealing with the online poetry workshops: this is where I’ve learned about 75% of what I know about poetry (the rest, and it is growing, is simply from reading other poets who I admire). While I’ve generally made a foray back into the online workshop world, I remember why I withdrew quite clearly after one post. All too often, I receive one of two main complaints:
The poem is too removed, emotionless, or, just recently, academic. The last term is loaded beyond all measure, so I usually interpret it as one of the first terms.
“If you are actually referring to this” or “If this is an actual . . .” – in other words, people that have difficulty considering the work from a non-narrative perspective.
(As an aside, it is very tempting to simply dismiss critics b/c, with online workshops, you can review the critic’s own writing and determine a) whether the critic is competent by their own writing or even b) if the critic is working with a similar style or on a similar project. However, as B has taught me, those that do not enjoy a particular style or poetry or even write modern poetry often make wonderful critics. So this type of judgment is something I attempt to avoid.)
For the most part, both complaints boil down to a matter of aesthetics. I’m confident in my ability to craft good verse, and I don’t flagrantly violate the sacred commandments of poetry (thou shall avoid abstractions, thou shall not use the word ebony to describe night) except when it serves my purposes. I can generally catch technical errors, weed out weak sentences, and determine whether or not a poem is even working. Why I like other readers is to determine how well the poem really works: does the surreal scene allow objects to interact in a good manner, does the voice enhance the poem, what do you take away from this poem, etc. Generally, I don’t get this except from B. And I wonder if I will get this in a workshop where the vast majority of posters have difficult accepting “experimental” work – don’t’ get me started on how many times I’ve heard complaints about using the second person in a poem.
I enjoy online workshop communities, though, b/c there is occasionally a good experimental poem or b/c I’ve found many other “normal” poets whose work I enjoy and whose opinion I value. It’s always a conundrum: sacrifice a few hours a week participating for minimal poetic feedback or, otherwise, lose that sense of community that is nice since Huntington has no poetry community worth mentioning.
FWIW, the poetics of my most recent project involves a conversation between an “I” and “you” over a series of (approximately) 25 poems or so. Two main forms used with an emphasis on terse statements and quick observations. I’m regarding the “you” as Nothing or a non-entity, and the two are attempting to discover what they have in common. As referenced earlier, the working title is Psalms to No One and I’d like to turn it into a chapbook. Would someone like to take it out on a date when it's of age?
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I always feel so haughty when talking poetics. I’m always uncomfortable, too, b/c it seems like I’m setting myself apart from all other poets in existence b/c of the online workshops I frequent. That’s simply untrue: almost every journal and poet I read is “experimental” in some form or another. I’m very much aware of the aesthetic sphere I inhibit, so don’t think I’m ignorant of the wide world outside my window. Sometimes I think it’s easier to work with more experimental forms if you have a support group of some sort. I admire many small presses and bloggers who obviously have a tight-nit community. It’s easy to see how well many presses / editors get along: Unpleasant Event Schedule, Octopus, Pilot, H_NGM_N, Forklift, OH, horse less review, and The Canary all get along remarkably well insofar as you’re likely to see any number of familiar faces in each issue, and the editors obviously know each other quite a bit. I’m not envious so much for the publication aspect of things – I’ve been in a couple of those zines and many others that I value just as much as those – as much as the networking advantage, of knowing people who write similarly. I'd rather be published for the quality of my work, not b/c I know the editor. Having work solicited, though, is always fun, though, when you're not in bed with the editor. Couple that isolation with the inevitable rejections from this biz, and I find myself prone to far too many doubts about the worth of my writing.
Sometimes I need to remind myself that I write poetry for ME first and foremost. Publication is secondary.
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Speaking of networking, I get to go schmooze it up with some suits tonight at a business reception. Partners will talk with partners, underlings with underlings. Merriment by all, except I hate networking and business types in general. The last think I want to discuss after work is work, how can I help your business so you can help mine, and other superficial nonsense. I’m an introvert by nature, and though I can open up nicely in the right environments, this isn’t one of them.
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But I’ll always be open to my anonymous blog acolytes.
Be good, y’all.
-j
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