Finishing up the tenth week of the outstanding Bob Haynes/Writers on the Net Class: "Daydreams: How Poetry Works." Bob asked us to revise the statement of our poetry aesthetic from the first week of class, to see how (if at all) it had changed from what we'd learned, the work we'd done. Below is my new aesthetic as well as my Top Ten list of things I feel the course experience showed me. In some ways, I was already on track when I began. But there have been revelations, particularly in the areas of letting go and following words around, not caring so much what they mean, what sense they make.
Revised Aesthetic Statement (January 2006)
Poetry for me is a recording of moments, a way to make sense of what I've felt, witnessed, and lived. Writing a poem begins with meandering--a journey through a world of objects, moments, memories--my fingers taking dictation from my subconscious, the language I hear in my head.
I love to play with words: their sounds and shapes, their look on a page, the space a poem inhabits, the musicality of letter and syllable, phrase and line. I am drawn to unexpected juxtapositions; I like when unrelated objects dance and sing. I believe less is more, seek to select and winnow in favor of the "one truer thing."
I look to poems for insight and wisdom, to explain what it means to be human, deeply human.* Reading a poem remains, for me, a way to stop and take a breath.
* Thanks to Bob Haynes for this lovely language.
Ten more things learned about my writing (and my aesthetic) in this class:
1. More play, less intellect. More tinkering, less cast-in-concrete. More mystery, less concern with meaning and making sense. More following the words and music around where they (not necessarily I) want to go.
2. Concrete objects jog writing, offer a place to start.
3. Line and stanza breaks have power, to (as Bob said) "slow the poem, show little leaps of thought occurring."
4. Poetic "rightness" can sometimes be found by a simple re-arrangement of stanza, line, individual word, even a syllable shift.
5. The English language is unusually malleable. Nouns can be verbs can be adjectives, that sort of thing. The word you are seeking may simply be a different form of the one you've got. Effectively deployed "grammatical brushstrokes" can make all the difference in the world.
6. It's OK to tinker to get the syntax and flow of a poem just right.
About my writing in particular:
7. I trust more that my subconscious will reveal the bigger, deeper subject to me, Richard Hugo's triggering town.
8. I am personally (surprisingly?) willing to experiment, to take risks. And willing to dig in a poem for what carries the most emotional weight.
9. I like the disruption of expectation that comes from putting the disparate side by side.
10. Readers often respond to where I let myself "riff" in a poem.
Initial Aesthetic Statement (November 2005)
Poetry for me is witness, a recording of moments, a way to climb out of and maybe even try to explain myself, what I've witnessed, what I've lived. I am drawn to unexpected juxtapositions that take me by surprise, and force me to reflect on meaning. I love words: their sounds and shapes, their look on a page, the space a poem inhabits, the musicality of letter and syllable, phrase and line. I like poetry's specificity, its idiosyncrasy, and its mystery. And the pictures its imagery can paint behind my eyes. I look to poems for insight, wisdom, and truth. Reading a poem is often like stopping and taking a deep breath.
