I just made myself a spinach, pesto, and pepperjack cheese panini which is a nice thing to have by my side as I sit down to write this. Just thought you'd want to know all my little details.Anyways. Robert Haas. What a guy. The first poem in his book, Time and Materials, is so short, one could argue that it isn't even a poem. This is all that is on the big, blank page:
IOWA, JANUARY
In the long winter nights, a farmer's dreams are narrow.
Over and over, he enters the furrow.
That's it. There's a lot of nice white space underneath this little blurb which adds to the flavor of loneliness and winter. I like thinking of writing outside the box. The next poem in the series is a bit larger, but still simple.
AFTER TRAKL
October night, the sun going down,
Evening with its brown and blue
(Music from another room),
Evening with its blue and brown.
October night, the sun going down.
What the heck is a trakl? I asked myself. I bet you're wondering too. I looked it up. Georg Trakl (I did not forget the e, he simply does not have an e on the end of his first name. Who knows what's going on with his last name) was an Austrian poet who was considered one of the most important Austrian Expressionists. I suppose Haas must have truly liked him.
It's not until Haas' third poem in the collection that things start to get a bit more complicated, both in diction and length. I started reading a heap of poems by Yusef Komunyakaa also (I'll share one at the end of this post - just because it's wonderful), and it all made me think of what goes into making a collection of poems. Why did Haas start simple and get more complicated with his poetry? What effect does that have on me, the reader? It's easy for me to think that a poet can just slap his or her poems all together and choose a common thread without putting much work into it. But I think if I assume that, I'm not reading deeply enough.
A book of poems is such an art form. I want to know what goes in to the structure and design of one. Besides a common thread of theme, what else makes up a collection of poems? Do poems lose their stark beauty when placed in a heap, a book, of many rather than by themselves?
Okay, while you're dwelling on that, enjoy this poem by Yusef Komuyahkaa (his name is fun to say). It's deep and sad, I think, but a good one to string meaning out of.
POETICS
Beauty, I’ve seen you
pressed hard against the windowpane.
But the ugliness was unsolved
in the heart & mouth.
I’ve seen the quick-draw artist
crouch among the chrysanthemums.
Do I need to say more?
Everything isn’t ha-ha
in this valley. The striptease
on stage at the Blue Movie
is your sweet little Sara Lee.
An argument of eyes
cut through the metaphor,
& I hear someone crying
among crystal trees & confetti.
The sack of bones in the magnolia,
What’s more true than that?
Before you can see
her long pretty legs,
look into her unlit eyes.
A song of B-flat breath
staggers on death row. Real
men, voices that limp
behind the one-way glass wall.
I’ve seen the legless beggar
chopped down to his four wheels.
What does go into a book of poetry? I hadn't really thought of that, but it is an interesting topic. I think it varies from book to book, poet to poet, and theme to theme. But one nice thing about reading through a book of poetry is looking for those common threads and trying to piece it together, putting the book into one whole portrait of words. I feel like the picture grows with each poem, and it is a fun thing to watch while still enjoying the poems individually.
ReplyDeleteAfter reading Tevis's Wet Collection, I am more confused than ever in the ordering of poetry. She has some mixed in with essays and memoirs and holy guacamole I was lost. I do think some of her more beautiful pieces were lodged in odd places, but I can't imagine I would have any sort of idea how to do it better. Sounds aggravating to me. A collection of poetry doesn't seem to require the same common theme throughout the entire book. But what is good and what is not? I suppose that McCann would know!
ReplyDeletePretty poems Lauren :)
I've wondered about the whole collection of poems question before, and if I'm being honest, I guess I just assumed a poet said, "well, there's poem number 37. That should be enough to turn into a collection." In reality, I'm sure much more thought goes into the process than that. But still, I don't like to think of trying to find a theme in a collection (this applies for short stories as well, though I think themes are sometimes temptingly easy to find there). It just reminds me of so many authors who say that book clubs and lit teachers find things in their works which they never intended to put there. Perhaps there are no intentional themes, so that when one shining nugget of truth is found in all those poems bound together, it really means something. I also like to think of it as a "seeing the forest versus the trees" kind of thing. If one poem is one way the author view the world, then all the poems come together to reveal a large picture of the author's overall perception.
ReplyDeleteYou say that one could argue that the first poem is too short to be a poem, and that begs the question: what makes a poem a poem? Is there really a minimum length? Who decides?
ReplyDeleteI'm not much of a poet, but the idea of a book of poetry fascinates me, as have some of the short collections I've read. Where are the connections, and where are they just a random collection, not necessarily tied together? Can there be some of both? Can the same idea be found in a collection of short fiction? I can't answer any of the questions yet, but theme is something I'll add to my list-of-things-to-play-with.
I think it's true that if poems were just shoved into a heap as a collection, they wouldn't be nearly as pretty, or trying to read them together as a collection would be a jarring experience. I think poets put great thought into what should be put into a collection of poems, which is a special kind of genius. I agree with you that when the poems start out simple and get more complex, it seems like easing into the poetry, like adjusting to the hot water in a bath.
ReplyDeleteAll of the poems together have such a warm and yet emptying feeling; not necessarily "empty," but more like hinting at something that isn't quite there, so you try to make room for it, waiting for it to show up. Thanks for sharing these! They're beautiful!
And another thought on collections... I'm reading Love Medicine by Louise Erdrich, a collection of short stories, and they are all intertwined, either by characters and their families or events that happen throughout time. I can't imagine all the time and thought that went into making each story a stand-alone, and yet fit in so perfectly with all the others. I don't know if I recommend the collection or not (it's pretty promiscuous), but her writing is deep and raw, and the stories all mesh together, even if it isn't linear.
I've always found it difficult to read through pages of poetry. I'd much rather just dwell on one deeply than blaze through a "heap." Of course, just because there's a whole book of poems doesn't mean I need to read them like a book (and I don't). I think to me a collection connotes some sort of joining thread throughout, no matter how fragile it may be. I know not everyone follows this, and that's okay. I just know I appreciate it because I'm more of a linear thinker in that way.
ReplyDeleteThe main thing I got out of everything you wrote is the idea of simplicity. I know you were communicating more than that, but this idea will stay with me. Poetry (and any writing, for that matter) can get so complicated. But sometimes we just need to slow down and really let something speak for itself. It's good to stay away from the superfluous words and just be simple. Like in the poem you shared: "October night, the sun going down,/Evening with its brown and blue." And then the repetition. It is so simple. Not much more needs to be said. Just read it slowly and we can understand it. Slowly, and dwell on it. Simplicity.
ReplyDelete