Posts Tagged ‘Poetics’

Entry 203 — Random Thoughts

Friday, August 27th, 2010

Random thoughts today because I want to get this entry out of the way and work on my dissertation on the evolution of intelligence, or try to do so, since I’m still not out of my null zone, unless I’m slightly out but having trouble keeping from falling back into it.

First, two new Grummanisms: “utilinguist” and “alphasemanticry.”  The first is my antonym for a previous coinage of mine, “nullinguist,” for linguist out to make language useless; ergo, a utilinguist is a linguist out to make language useful.  By trying to prevent “poetry” from meaning no more than “anything somebody thinks suggests language concerns” instead meaning, to begin with,  “something constructed of words,” before getting much more detailed, for example.

“Alphasemanticry” is my word for what”poetry” should mean if the nullinguists win: “highest use of language.”  From whence, “Visual Alphasemanticry” for a combination of graphics and words yielding significant aesthetic pleasure that is simultaneously verbal and visual.”

I popped off today against one of Frost’s “dark” poems, or maybe it is a passage from one of them:  “. . . A man can’t speak of his own child that’s dead”–the kind academics bring up to show Frost was Important, after all.   “Wow,” I said, “Wow, he confronts death!  He must be major! “  I then added, “Frost is in my top ten all-time best poets in English that I’ve read but not for his Learic Poems.”

James Finnegan then corrected me, stating (I believe) that the poem didn’t confront death but showed its effects.   I replied, “Okay, a poem about the effect of death on two people.   What I would call a wisdom poem.  I’m biased against them.  I like poems that enlarge my world, not ones that repeat sentiment about what’s wrong with it, or difficult about it.   Frost knew a lot about reg’lar folks, but I never learned anything from him about them that I didn’t already know.  In other words, I’m also somewhat biased against people-centered poems.  But mostly, I don’t go to poems to learn, I go to them for pleasure.”

I would add that I’m an elitist, believing with Aristotle that the hero of a tragedy needs to be of great consequence, although I disagree with him that political leaders are that, and I would add that narrative literature of any kind requires either a hero or an anti-hero (like Falstaff) of great consequence.

I’m not big on poems of consolation, either.

Entry 150 — More Discussion with Gregory

Saturday, June 19th, 2010

Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino and I are continuing our discussion about mathematical poetry at his blog. Below is the reply I made to his latest comment (with a little minor editing), him in regular type, me in italics:

You say you are “speaking of the set of language-objects used to represent the real world and that you and I differ in what those objects are.”

Would you explain that, please. And, by “language objects” do you mean words and symbols? Are numbers language objects? Are the names we call numbers by language objects?

The things used to express oneself with language: words, punctuation marks, numerals, whatever things like ampersands are called, square root symbols, etc.  Numbers if you mean numerals–that is, written numbers.  But there are also the numbers in the environment the words for numbers, and numerals, represent.

You say, “poets can be ungrammatical and not wrong but logicians, using words, can’t. You’re just finding users of language who use certain rules and ignore others, and other users whose use and non-use is different.” Would you explain that, please.

All great animals are male.  George is a green animal.  Therefore George is male.  Those are a logical statements.  They have to be grammatical.  Mathematicians similarly have to abide by their rules–their “grammatical” rules if you want to call them that.  Actually, anyone using words has to be reasonably grammatical in order to communicate.

A point of difference between “math grammar” and poetry grammar is that in the case of poetry grammar we can be ungrammatical and still be poetical — and not only that, we can still be meaningful — while if we are “mathematically ungrammatical” we then fall into error. I wish you had addressed this more fully.

I’m afraid I don’t see how I could have discussed it more fully.  I’m saying so what if a poet can be ungrammatical and still be meaningful, and a mathematician can’t.  A logician can’t, either.  I’m saying different specialists use different parts of the grammar of a language, and use it with different degrees of rigor.  Actually, I would say that poetry grammar is specialized grammar and that poets don’t break the rules when they break schoolroom grammatical rules.

I wonder:

Is the correctness of math but a matter of the correctness of “grammar”?

Is the correctness of math but a matter of the correctness of operation (of application of operational principle)?

I don’t know.  I don’t see what this has to do with your definition of mathematical poetry.

(Axiomatical?)

When I write math I am “doing” math. (So to be “mathematically ungrammatical” would apply here.)

When I read math I am “doing” math. (How could it apply here? Or does it: what if I don’t know the rules?)

Sorry, Gregory, dunno where you’re going.

So according to you “mathematical poetry” is a sub-category of “visio-textual art”?

I can’t imagine where you get that.

According to me, “mathematical poetry” is a sub-category of poetry.  It has

no more connection to visio-textual art than to music.

Sometimes you make up your own terms (“texteme”) and other times you use common terms or combining forms like “visio” and “textual.”

Why don’t you use, for example, “semanteme,” “sememe,” “morpheme,” “phoneme” and so on?

I try to use the available terms I know.  I believe there is no term for what I mean by “texteme.”  I’m not understanding why you are bringing this up.

You say, “no analogy need be involved.” How then do your math poems work, how do they signify, how do they function? Or are they, in the end, just pictures? (Visio-textual pictures.)

When I said no analogy need be involved, I meant–as the context, I think, makes clear–an analogy between the “mathematical sentence” and the “linguistic sentence.”  My mathematical sentences don’t act LIKE linguistic sentences, they ARE linguistic sentences.  Or so I claim, and that’s why I (at this point) don’t fully accept your definition of mathematical poems.

My mathematical poems work, signify, function just like any poem: they provide a reader with words and symbols (and sometimes other elements, when, for example, they are also visual poems) which the reader decodes just as he would a conventional poem.

How would you describe the grammar of your math poems?

One side of an equation has to equal the other.  I don’t know.  Some of my math poems use verbal grammar.  The “grammar” of mathematics is very simple, for the most part–at the mostly sub-calculus level of my math poems.  You follow algebraic rules like multiply both x and y by z in the expression z(x + y).  These rules, for me, are just an extension of “normal” grammatical rules, like putting an adjective next to the noun it modifies, using a pronoun in such a way as to make clear what its referent is, etc.  I don’t think of them as I use them.

My brain may not be working well, which may be why I’m having a little trouble following what you’re saying here and there.  (My doctor thinks I may be anemic.  It’s being checked.  In the meantime, I’m using that as my excuse.)

all best, Bob



Entry 148 — Response to Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino, Part 2

Thursday, June 17th, 2010

You say, “The ‘mathematical poem,’ if it is to be, or to contain, poetry, must have some poetic elements, as well as some formal symbols and operations of math.”

I don’t understand why you have, “if it is to be, or to contain, poetry.” If you call it a poem, claim I, you are saying that it is a poem, so much have poetic elements, however defined. That such a poem should have “some formal symbols and operations of math,” follows from its being called a “mathematical poem.” Ergo, I would rephrase your definition as “A mathematical poem is a poem containing mathematical elements.”

I would then ask you to say what you mean by “having” mathematical operations in a mathematical poem. That is, would a poem about a child who has to do five long division problems for homework “have” a mathematical operation in it?

Also, to be fastidious, I would want you to spell out whether the symbols and operations should be overtly in the poem. Some, as you probably know, seem to think a sonnet is a mathematical poem because the poet has to be able to count up to 14 to make one.

Which leads to the next important thing I think needs to be done: sort out all the kinds of math-related poems it seems reasonable to distinguish from one another. I would list the following five:

(1) poems that discuss math

(2) poems generated by mathematical operations.

(3) poems that use mathematical symbols but use them unmathematically: e.g., a poem with a square root sign next to the word “Sunday,” which is followed by seven plus-signs, whereupon the poem becomes standard verbal expression.

(4) poems that one or more persons claim arouse some kind of “mathematical feeling.”

(5) poems that perform one or more mathematical operation central to its aesthetic meaning.

Entry 146 — Discussing Mathematics and Poetry

Wednesday, June 16th, 2010

Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino has been blogging about mathematics and poetry at his Eratio blog.  When he told me about it on the phone yesterday,  I said I’d check it out, which I’ve now done.  I left my first comment on it.  Fortunately, for once I cut what I said before hitting the button telling his blog to accept it, for my post got rejected.  I’ll try in a little while to post it again.  Meanwhile I want to post it here, to make sure it’s somewhere, and because maybe one of my two regular visitors doesn’t also read Gregory, or misses posts to it because it’s irregular, which is my excuse.

Hi, Gregory.  I’ve decided to tear into your commentary on mathematics and poetry Very Slowly, one idea at a time, to facilitate coherence.

I’ll begin with your statement that “Already (‘mathematical sentence’) (you’re) thinking analogically.”

This is where you and I first disagree, for (as revealed in our long & interesting phone conversation of yesterday) I believe numerals and mathematical symbols are part of our verbal language, just as, in my opinion, typographical symbols for punctuation or to abbreviate are.  The mathematical symbol, “+,” for instance, is just a different way of writing, “plus,” or “&.”  It therefore follows that for me, a mathematical equation is a literal sentence differing from unmathematical sentences only in the words in it.  “a – b = c,” for instance, is a very simple sentence and not significantly different from, “Mary cried when she lost her lamb.”

Obviously, it’s just a case of your opinion versus mine, but I think acceptance of my opinion makes more sense, because it keeps thing more simple than your does.  I would say that what most people mean by “words” are “general words,” while words like “sineA” or “=” are “specialized words” or mathematical words–like punctuation marks.

I think in my linguistics, these “words” are all called “textemes,” But it’s been a while since I read Grumman on the matter, so I’m not sure.

Hey, I found a glossary in which I define many terms like “texteme.”  It’s not a word but a typographical symbol: “any textual symbol, or unified combination of textual symbols–letters, punctuation marks, spaces, etc.–that is smaller than a syllable of two or more letters: e.g., ‘g,’ ‘&h(7:kk,’ ‘GH,’ ‘jd.’”  I coined the term for discussion of various odd kinds of symbols and symbol-combinations like some of those among my examples that not infrequently occur in visual or infraverbal poems.

So, I don’t have a special term for word, as I define it.  Yet.

To continue my argument in favor of my take on mathematical expression as an extension of verbal expression, not something different in kind, I would saimply ask what is special about mathematical symbols that should require us to think of them as elements of a special kind of expression?  They do nothing that ordinary verbalization can’t do, although they do it more clearly, compactly and elegantly.

Graphs would be mathematical expression–a form of visio-conceptual expression, as is written music.  Chemical diagrams but not chemical notation. . . .

I don’t see that there’s any difference between the syntax of mathematical expression (other than graphs and probably other similar things I’m not into Math enough to think of right now) and normal verbal expression.  There’s no inflection, I don’t think, in mathematical expression.  Which is a triviality.

Conclusion: we need a carefully formed taxonomy of human modes of expression.

Entry 142 — Notes on Yesterday’s Entry

Wednesday, June 9th, 2010

Here’s yesterday’s entry again, with explanatory notes added in Italics:

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Anthrocentric Reality

It’s up to each individual taxonomist what he wants to classify.  In this case,  it was the universe we human beings are at the center of–and there is such a universe.  I had at first thought to taxonomize all of reality, but gave up after all the problems I ran into–for instance,
What to do with biological taxonomy, which takes many ranks to get down to where I more or less start.

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Universe: Matter

Other Universe Member: Mind

Yes, Children, the universe consists of two things, mind and matter (or matter/energy).  But there are two ways of saying this: one is to say the two are two things; the other is to say the two are two aspects of one thing.  The meaning of each way of putting it is identical.  (I assume that mind and matter are inseparable since a universe of mind not in contact with matter in some way would be empty, and for all practical matters non-existent.)
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Domain: Life

Other Domain Member: Non-Life

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Kingdom: Human Life

Other Kingdom Member: Non-Human Life

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Phylum: Mentascendancy

Other Phylum Members: Survival, Utilitry, Reproduction, Sociodominance

By “mentascendancy,” I mean basically the pursuit of meaningfulness.  Utilitry is the endeavor to make survival easier and more secure–medicine, roadmaking, farming . . .  Sociodominance my bias against politics causes me to consider not a form of mentascendancy; it’s a combination of most human beings’ need to either tell others what to do or be told what to do.  (Warmaking, incidentally, can be either a form of sociodominance or of utilitry–or a combination of both.)

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Class: Art

Other Class Members: Verosophy, Religion

Verosophy is the search for significant truths.  So is Religion my bias against religion caused me to make verosophy the use of reason and one’s senses in the search for significant truths, and religion the use of reason and one’s sense’s and faith in things beyond reason and one’s senses in the search for significant truths.

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Order: Literature

Other Order Members: Visimagery, Music, Viscerexpression

“Visimagery” is my term for visual art; by “viscerexpression,” I mean all forms of giving sensual pleasure other than literature, music and visimagery, such as cooking (where it is not a form of utilitry), perfume-making, and so on

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Family: Poetry

Other Family Member: Prose

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Genus: Plurexpressive Poetry

Other Genus Member: Linguexpressive Poetry

“Plurexpressive” is a shortening of “plurally expressive,” “linguexpressive” of “linguistically expressive.”

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Species: Visual Poetry

Other Species Members: Sound Poetry, Mathematical Poetry, Performance Poetry, Others

I’ll need help with the other members of this species, such as cyber poetry.


Entry 141 — The Location of the Species, Visual Poetry

Tuesday, June 8th, 2010
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Anthrocentric Reality


Universe: Matter

Other Universe Member: Mind
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Domain: Life

Other Domain Member: Non-Life

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Kingdom: Human Life

Other Kingdom Member: Non-Human Life

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Phylum: Mentascendancy

Other Phylum Members: Survival, Utilitry, Reproduction, Sociodominance

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Class: Art

Other Class Members:  Verosophy, Religion

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Order: Literature

Other Order Members: Visimagery, Music, Viscerexpression

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Family: Poetry

Other Family Member: Prose

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Genus: Plurexpressive Poetry

Other Genus Member: Linguexpressive Poetry

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Species:  Visual Poetry

Other Species Members: Sound Poetry, Mathematical Poetry, Performance Poetry, Others

Entry 140 — Taxonomic Omission

Monday, June 7th, 2010

Weird.  In my long dissertation on where visual poetry fits in my taxonomy, I left out a major level of categories, the one in which I divide poetry into linguexpressive and plurexpressive poetry, the first containing nothing but words, the other using other modes of expression as well.  So visual poetry is not a subcategory of poetry, but a subcategory of plurexpressive poetry–along with poetries like mathematical, sound and performance poetry.  This is weird because this level of the system is the one I’ve worked the longest on and am proudest of.  It’s also where conventional poetry “breaks down.”

Oh, the rationale for having this layer is that I believe the main difference between current poetries is that some are words only, some more than words.  I consider the split into these two kinds of poetry, in fact, the one truly revolutionary occurrence in poetry since the split into formal verse and free verse.   Same standard response: the new kind isn’t poetry.  Yeah, that’s the way I respond to the alleged split of visual poetry into verbal visual poetry and averbal visual poetry.  I would have the same response to music’s being said to split into auditory music and silent music.  Sometimes it’s better to be reactionary than idiotic.

Entry 139 — Politicking for My Definition of Visual Poetry Again

Sunday, June 6th, 2010

I feel my definition of visual poetry is set.  My task for years has been to convince others how sensible that definition is.  So today I’m having another go at getting the vispo public behind me.

It seems to me that to properly define a term, one must do it systematically.  The first step, then, would be to find some large, significant category to place the term in.   To orient you to my thinking, let me say that the initial category would be, simply, “Reality.”  I would divide that into “Mind” and “Matter” (and forget about the first because I believe a category containing just one item–with no subcategories under it).

Note: I consider it mandatory that each category split into as few categories immediately below it as possible, preferably just two, and more than three as little as possible.  Simplicity is the goal.

To try to avoid getting too confusing, let me now jump several levels down the system to what I call “Human Expression,” the subcategories of which are Visual, Auditory, Tactile, Gustatory, Olfactory and Verbal Expression.  The latter of these is understood to be the use of words, and Auditory and Visual Expression to be visual and/or auditory expression of everything but words.  I believe that verbality is almost a sixth sense–that we perceive things verbally sometimes–verbally only!  Visual expression is the use of “visimagery,” as I call it, or painting, drawing, sculpture, the dance.  Auditory expression is music.  Tactile expression would be petting, love-making, and the like.  I don’t really think there is much gustatory or olfactory expression but suppose a great chef expresses himself in his cooking, as might some creator of scents.  Actually, I see no reason why someone might not make an artwork out of scents–a kind of music in which scents replace sounds.  Difficult in the past but perhaps simple with computers, either now, or in the not distant future.

At this point we need, in my opinion, to distinguish our kinds of expression in one other way.  Otherwise, my experience has shown, things get taxonomically confusing at the lower levels of the system.  We have to distinguish kinds of expression according to their intention.  Some expression is clearly informative only,  some aimed entirely at giving pleasure (music, for example), and some–in my view, significantly different from these two in being neither primarily informative nor entertaining, but in being designed to persuade.  In short, we have information, art and propaganda.

I place literature under art.  It is a form of verbal expression intended (mainly) to give pleasure.  Note well my “(mainly).”  None of these categories is for information, art or propaganda only, but just for one of those things more than for anything else.

There are, in my system, two kinds of literature, prose and poetry.  I think almost everyone agrees to that.  The problem is defining the two.  This I’ve done to my satisfaction if not to that of many others.  Most poets, for instance, are nulliguists who refuse to accept that their sacred art can be, gasp, defined.

At which point I suppose I need to define “defining.”  It is not saying what some X is so well that everyone must agree that anything called an X indeed is, and that there is nothing not called an X that should be.  It is not saying that an absolutely valid definition of anything is possible.  What it is saying is that everything whatever can be defined sufficiently rigorously for all sane persons to agree that it is sufficiently well-defined to be employed to communicate to any sane person knowing the language used for the definition to know what is being represented well enough for his needs, whatever they are. A simple example: if I define my house as the green structure located at 1708 Hayworth Road in Port Charlotte Florida, it will allow anyone who wants to who can speak or read English to get to my house and recognize it.

It is sometimes difficult to define something more complicated in such a way as permanently to avoid confusion.  I simply say that it ultimately is, and that the fact that many definitions are inadequate does not make the process futile, nor does the fact that nullinguists will always refuse to accept definitions, or the fact that the majority of people use the language badly, and reject rational definitions.

Okay, we’re to my definition of “poetry.”  It’s simple: poetry is literature that makes significant use of flow-breaks such as lineation.  Defining flow-breaks is hairy and I’m going to skip it here as not relevant to the definition of “visual poetry.”  At the borblur that every definition must have between it and like things that are not it. subjectivity will always rule.  Hence what I said about no definition’s being absolutely valid.  The definition of many intricacies will always be tentative at borblurs, but sufficient for the use of the term in almost every important (and unimportant) circumstance.  (However many morons use words to try to convince us words are useless.)

I do want to say a little more about the use of flow-breaks to separate poetry from prose.  The division is artificial division, but it makes sense because almost every feels intuitively that poetry differs from prose in a major way.  Moreover, poetry is expected to be read slowly, all of its words meant to please as sounds and bundles of connotations unhurriedly savored as well as for what they denote, while prose is much more concerned with conveying meanings quickly, of being transparent, and lineations (and the other forms of flow-breaks in my system) must slog a read–while also clearly, rather emphatically signaling that the reader is in something different from ordinary literature.

With that, I’m finally to “visual poetry.”  (The great difficulty in persuading even the best readers of what one is saying about something like this is that close argument is unavoidable to the extent that one wants to be unassailably right.)  Visual poetry, at that most superficial level, is simply poetry that makes significant use of visual elements.

Remember that in my system, words are not visual, they are verbal (to the extent that they are used denotatively and connotatively and not as visual images that happen to have a verbal function in some contexts).

I place visual poetry under poetry because that’s the best place for it.  I arbitrarily presume that a person experiencing something more or less equally visual and verbal will attend to its verbal meaning more than to its visual meaning.  Words, for me, are the most important kind of human expression.  I believe that most philosophers would agree with me.  Anyway, it’s one of my dogmas.

Also, I’m speaking of visual poetry.  When a term consists of an adjective and a noun, the noun is taken to be the determinant, finally, of what it more is.

So, I place it under literature, not under visimagery.  Where else, I ask, might I place it?  The only possibility is not to place it but give it its own category.  I simply don’t think it’s different enough from previous kinds of poetry to rate a separate category.  It is like drama in this respect–drama is also a combination of the visual and the verbal yet considered a kind of literature, not given its own category.  To be fair, ballet, a form of auditory/visual art (but not drama because not verbal),  does seem to have its own category.  Although I would call it visimagery–visual art with a strong component of music.

I would only say, that giving visual poetry its own category makes sense, but that I just don’t like it.  As a critic of what I call visual poetry, I always discuss it as poetry before turning to what it is and does visually.  The words of a visual poem tell us its meaning, its colors and shapes are secondary to that.  With that I leave this phase of the argument, certain that a neutral observer would not be able easily to decide whether I’m right or not.

My need now is to deal with those who won’t accept that a “visual poem” need to have anything to do with “poetry,” in spite of my proceding arguments.  Such people want it to cover . . . well, Im not sure what–just about anything on paper someone wants to call visual poetry, it would seem.  One of my taxonomical problems with this is where to place this category in my scheme, or any scheme.  Is it literature, visimagery–or something that is neither.

My opponents in this controversy never say.  Basically, they merely say that visual poetry need not have words.  None has yet answered my frequent return question, “Why isn’t it?”  I can only repeat that I prefer a taxonomy with multi-element categories deferred as long as possible.  That is to say, I want to wait as long as possible before giving a category many sub-categories.  In this case, I want hold my art category to . . . four categories, visimagery, music, literature and visceraltainment.  Okay, dumb, but the best I can do right now.  I mean cooking, perfume-creation and the like all together.

Let’s keep all mixtures out of this level.

Whatever level we put visual poetry as just about anything on paper, it leave the need to subdivide it.  We will have to distinguish kinds of visual poetry.  The process has in fact begun with people defining “visual poetry” that lacks significant verbal content as “asemic writing.”  But they don’t say what “visual poetry” that has significant verbal content should be called.  Why not call it “visual poetry” in the first place, and this other stuff “asemic writing?”  Or “Textual designage” as I term it?

A pr consideration seems important to me here.  So much art called visual poetry that lacks words is being attacked by academics and average people for not having words.  It is understandable that people would expect words in something called a poem and be disappointed and frustrated at not finding them.  Why do this to them when you don’t have to? Why give them reason for ignoring everything called visual poetry because you don’t want to name it rationally?  This prevents them from coming to terms with both verbal visual poetry, which word-people may very well like, and textual designage by whatever name, which even word people might like if not coming to it with the idea that they need to be able to read it.

In self-defense against a common charge that anyone trying to define something intelligently is some kind of fascist, I want to say that obsession with convincing everyone that mine is the best definition of visual poetry has nothing to do with some kind of egotistical desire to impose my will on others but with a desire that the definition flow smoothly and logically out of a rational system–that it seem right not only considered by itself but as a piece in a larger whole.  Hence, it is that I sneak up on my definition beginning high above it with my definition of literature as a form of verbal expression intended to cause aesthetic pleasure (rather than intended to persuade or provide information, the two other kinds of verbal expression in my taxonomy of modes of communication).

Whew.  This turned out to be a monster of a job.  I don’t feel at all satisfied with how I’ve carried it out.  I am satisfied that I’ve made a pretty good start toward what I wanted to do.

Entry 122 — Line 12, Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18

Monday, March 29th, 2010

My first  question about line 12 is whether we should take “to time” to go with “eternal lines” or with “thou grow’st.”  That is, is it “eternal lines to time” or “thou grow’st to time.”  the first comes closer to making sense to me but doesn’t make it well enough.  Vendler is somewhat interesting about about this sonnet, by the way, but does not offer a close reading of it, and says nothing about line 12.

When I asked about the line at the poetry discussion group, New-Poetry, I got some good responses as to the gist of the line but they weren’t as specific as I wanted.  For instance, what I really wanted to know was what “to” and “grow’st.” mean.  I’m sure “lines” must mean lines of poetry, with hints of lineage and maybe lines in faces.  And the line is saying the addressee has been immortalized by poetry.  But how can the lines be “to” time?  A poem to X usually is taken as a poem addressed to X and this one is addressed to a person, “thee.”  I can see “grow’st” as (sort of) having to do with increasing in stature.  Also as actually growing due to the summer
in the addressee’s day although that seems awkward to me.

Brian Hawkins suggested a reading of “time” as “effectively meaning eternity, i.e. you’ll keep growing till eternity)” and thus to be taken as part of “to time thous grow’st” rather than “eternal lines to time.”  Robin Hamilton went with this, in part because the he found a strong metrical pause after “lines,” which I can’t say I do.

Later Brian added  his thought that ”to’ means ‘into’, ‘grow’st’ means ‘continues growing’ (not necessarily getting bigger, but growing, as things do in summer), and time means, rather than eternity as I said earlier, more simply ‘the future.’  So that ‘to time thou grow’st’ means, more or less, ‘you keep growing into the future.’ ”

Robin then, having consulted Abbott, A Shakespearean Grammar (1870), http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/cgi-bin/ptext?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.03.0080;layout=;loc=1;query=toc), interestingly suggested that “to” might mean “against,” which would allow the lines to be “against” time, or a means of defeating time; or the addressee could be thought to be growing or flourishing against (or despite) time.

Robin also gave this from the OED in support of his view:

25. Expressing impact (cf. 1, 5a) or attack: At, against, upon.

Janet Blankfield, going with this, wondered if (battle) ‘lines’ could be something to do with a military response to ‘the enemy’, time.  I like this but find it a stretch.

I’m not fully convinced that “to” can be thought to mean “against,” but would be pleased if it did, for it would settle the problem of what the line precisely means quite well.  In the usage examples in the OED like “If eny man have a quarrel to a nother” “to” could, it seems to me, readily be taken as simply indicating the object of, in this case, a quarrel–the same way “quarrel with another” would (and few, I think, would take “with” ever to mean “against.”  Today.  Maybe then.

So I remain uncertain about the line.  Booth has “line 12, where the beloved, bound to time the destroyer, grows to–fuses with–time, as a grafted scion grows to–and thus along with–a tree.  I find this forced.  I think a metaphor like that either needs to be clearer or fore-shadowed, or shown in some way by the context that it plausibly could be there.

I also thought (or read someone else who suggested) the addressee could be growing to time as to full size–that is, the addressee is becoming time.  But that makes no sense, to me.

According to Robin, Kerrigan (Penguin) and Duncan-Jones (Oxford) both agree that the primary meaning of “lines” is ‘lines of poetry’, with a possible secondary meaning of ‘lineage’.  There are also the lines that Time draws on the human face (in 19: 10, “draw no lines there,” which Duncan-Jones notes).

“Overall,” Robin surmises, “the line would seem to mean (Death shall not brag) ‘when you grow older’ (so long as men breath and see).”  But there’d be no reason for Death to brag he’s captured the addressee while the addressee were still alive.  The context seems to require the line to say that the addressee will still be alive and beautiful after he dies, so (to confuse everyting all the more) “When in eternal lines to time” might be some kind of expression for “when you have left life for eternity.”

Someone (Robin?) made the point that “the line reads succinctly & clearly without ‘to time’ and that should tell us something.  It may be cop out to say so, but?maybe the ‘to time’ operates as a quick bridge built by the Bard to fill out the meter.”  I like that.

My final comment was that I leaned toward “thou growest to time” and hope it was a standard phrase of the time that meant something like take a place in a culture’s permanent memory or the like.

Entry 119 — Defining Visual Poetry Again

Tuesday, March 16th, 2010

In a month or so, John Bennett’s and my selection for a gallery of visual poems in The Pedestal should be appearing.  John and I each will be providing a preface for it, as I understand it.  In any case, I started thinking about mine last night.  Once again I returned to my obsession with defining “visual poetry.”  This time, though, I wasn’t concerned with my main definitional obsession, the requirement of visual poetry to contain words, but with a lesser obsession, the requirement that a visual poem be more than an illustrated poem, or poetically captioned illustration–because of an excellent submission I got consisting of several arresting visual images, each with a haiku running across its bottom.

Dogma#1: a visual poem must consist of a significant graphic element significantly interacting with a significant verbal element.  Dogma #2: a reader of the poem must experience the poem’s graphic and verbal elements simultaneously.  There will come a day when neurophysiologists will be able to detect this simultaneous experience.  Thereupon we will have an objective way of determining whether a not a given work is a visual poem–for a given person.

This simultaneous experience seems to me the whole point of visual poetry, difficult though it be to provide it.   My “Nocturne” demonstrates how it is done, so that’s the poem I’ll be using as my “Editor’s Poem” for the gallery.  It’s based on the simple idea of dotting all the letters in “night” to suggest stars, then doing the same with “voice” to indicate a voice with stars in it.  Very sentimental, but a favorite of mine.  For some reason, though, I can’t find it in my computer files, so apparently have not yet saved it digitally.