Alan Sondheim « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Alan Sondheim’ Category

Entry 948 — Pronouncements & Blither, Part 9

Monday, December 10th, 2012

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Back at New-Poetry someone advanced a silly poem as the equal of the Sondheim.  At the same time a few shrugged off my case for the value of the latter as entirely subjective and thus of no importance.  Others made comments I considered equally inane.  So, yesterday evening, I responded with:
Would any of you who have been contributed to this thread (or only read portions of it) be willing (be brave enough) to carry out the following experiment:
.
(1) Select two poems, one you consider significantly better than the other;

 .
(2) Support your view with references to what is explicitly in each poem, bad and good (in your opinion)?

 .
Second challenge to those unwilling to do this because it would be meaninglessly subjective: be honest enough to go on record with the view that all poems are equally good.

 .
I’ve already half-done this with a very flawed quick reaction to the Sondheim poem indicating why I consider it at least not bad. (I now consider it a superior poem, having found more virtues in it by thinking of it more focusedly as a conceptual poem.) I will now say why—objectively, because supported by what’s objectively in or not in each of the two poems as opposed to anything that may be subjectively in them like sincerity.) I will now compare it with the other poem posted:

PHOTOSYNTHESIS
by Banana Jones
You have a head,
mountain goats eat fudge,
I spread toe jelly on my wrist,
Concrete angel,
You ain’t got nothing on me,
Oh right…
Babies come from vagina’s.
.
Sondheim inserts (_) into his poem, as I’m now sure it is, in accordance with a logical plan—i.e., after every word or phrase in order that a person doing the task of reading it will be able to check off each read bit of the poem. This slows the read (a virtue in the opinion of most I’m fairly sure) and also almost forces a reader to pay more than normal attention to each bit, and think about the task of reading. The poem explicitly tells the reader to take extra pains while he’s reading, so the claim that pressure to pay more than normal attention to one’s journey through the text seems to me objectively true. I feel I could support most of my reactions to the poem similarly, but am not up to doing that right now. My aim now is simply to compare this one thing the Sondheim text objectively does I believe any reasonable person would agree to what seems to me an absence of any thing like it.
.
The Jones poem does nothing according to any logic I can see. It jump-cuts from one clause-length narrative to another entirely unconnected to it in any meaningful sense (I say with a fair confidence that I am here being objective in the reasonable sense that (verbal) meaninglessness can be objectively defined as words arranged in such a way as to confuse a large majority of readers or listeners, and no defense of their meaningfulness will change any but a very few minds about that).
.
The Sondheim contains one fresh element, or perhaps can be said to carry out a fresh design; and every poem needs something fresh–objectively. If we start with the dogma that a poem needs to move one, and know objectively from a study of the effects of poetry on human beings that a poem that does absolutely nothing new will rarely move anyone, even those who claim to like some such poem.
 .
The Jones poem is not fresh—because although its particular images are wildly different from the images in conventional poems—they lack all coherence and therefore result in chaos—objectively result in it, I say, using the same argument I previously used—and chaos is never fresh however different its elements, one chaos being perceived by the sane as just about entirely the same as any other chaos. I think this observation important (and especially like it because it just occurred to me as I was writing this): the Sondheim is not chaos (although possibly not cohering here and there.
.
I think I could find some virtues in the Jones poem if I tried, but I’m sure they wouldn’t equal the virtues in the Sondheim I’ve already written about in this thread, and I’ve found more since then. I claim they are objectively superior to any virtues in the Jones I’m now intuitively aware of, but that’s admittedly just an assertion, but one made because I’m not up to a full dissertation on the two poems—here.
.
Frankly, I think that I’ve shown beyond reasonable doubt that the Sondheim is the better of the two poems. Which makes me think maybe my challenge would have been that someone show why they are equal. Or of what value any discussion of the merits of any poem is if we agree in advance than nobody’s opinion means anything. 
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Conceptual Poetry « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Conceptual Poetry’ Category

Entry 1285 — The Conceptaphor

Saturday, November 30th, 2013

Those familiar with my poetics coinages will know about my use of “phor” as a suffix for “variety of equaphor,” “equaphor” itself being one of them–and meaning, basically, “analogy presented as an identity,” the metaphor being the classic example.  Hence, my latest means “conceptual metaphor.  And example is the dividend shed I use in my long division poems as a metaphor equating the poem it’s in to a mathematical machine, or–perhaps more exactly–equating  what happens to the dividend as an inevitable, absolutely valid, concrete process.  Similarly, a log division poem’s long division paraphernalia is a metaphor for the poem as a whole, equating it to a mathematical process.  The idea is to generate connotations counter to the sensual denotations and connotations the rest of the poem’s elements are generating. . . .  It’s hard to explain, but I know what I’m doing!

I figure I need the term now for three different pieces I’m writing: my next post-SciAm entry, a review of an anthology of mathematics-related poetry, and an essay on the value of such poetry.  In the meantime, I’m still working on a definition of conceptual poetry.  I may now have it: poetry making central use of a conceptaphor.  Or: poetry whose central aesthetic effect is due more to one or more conceptaphors than to anything else.  Conceptual Poem: poem built around a conceptaphor, or conceptaphorical cluster.  (I never get anything right the first time.  Well, rarely.)

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Entry 952 — Pronouncements & Blither, Part 13

Friday, December 14th, 2012

First of all, something I posted at Argotist Online: “Here’s a good discussion point: why are poets so unwilling to discuss poetry on the Internet? Do they discuss it in some length elsewhere? Perhaps they do like talking about it, but not where what they say will become part of a permanent record?”

Another: ““Is it possible for someone whose poetry is at the level of Pound’s or Yeats’s to publish his poetry anywhere more than a few will see it? Or have it intelligently reviewed in a publication reaching more than a hundred readers?”

Next, a corrected version of something I said in my last entry: “A poem is good in proportion to the ratio of the (unified) largeness of the beauty it evokes for its best engagents to the size of the poem.”

Finally, a work from Marton Koppany’s latest collection, Addenda–which I’m not yet ready to say anything about except that it’s terrific:

Addenda, by the way, is as certainly a major collection of poetry by a living author as any other collection I’ve seen in the past forty years.

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Entry 948 — Pronouncements & Blither, Part 9

Monday, December 10th, 2012

.
Back at New-Poetry someone advanced a silly poem as the equal of the Sondheim.  At the same time a few shrugged off my case for the value of the latter as entirely subjective and thus of no importance.  Others made comments I considered equally inane.  So, yesterday evening, I responded with:
Would any of you who have been contributed to this thread (or only read portions of it) be willing (be brave enough) to carry out the following experiment:
.
(1) Select two poems, one you consider significantly better than the other;

 .
(2) Support your view with references to what is explicitly in each poem, bad and good (in your opinion)?

 .
Second challenge to those unwilling to do this because it would be meaninglessly subjective: be honest enough to go on record with the view that all poems are equally good.

 .
I’ve already half-done this with a very flawed quick reaction to the Sondheim poem indicating why I consider it at least not bad. (I now consider it a superior poem, having found more virtues in it by thinking of it more focusedly as a conceptual poem.) I will now say why—objectively, because supported by what’s objectively in or not in each of the two poems as opposed to anything that may be subjectively in them like sincerity.) I will now compare it with the other poem posted:

PHOTOSYNTHESIS
by Banana Jones
You have a head,
mountain goats eat fudge,
I spread toe jelly on my wrist,
Concrete angel,
You ain’t got nothing on me,
Oh right…
Babies come from vagina’s.
.
Sondheim inserts (_) into his poem, as I’m now sure it is, in accordance with a logical plan—i.e., after every word or phrase in order that a person doing the task of reading it will be able to check off each read bit of the poem. This slows the read (a virtue in the opinion of most I’m fairly sure) and also almost forces a reader to pay more than normal attention to each bit, and think about the task of reading. The poem explicitly tells the reader to take extra pains while he’s reading, so the claim that pressure to pay more than normal attention to one’s journey through the text seems to me objectively true. I feel I could support most of my reactions to the poem similarly, but am not up to doing that right now. My aim now is simply to compare this one thing the Sondheim text objectively does I believe any reasonable person would agree to what seems to me an absence of any thing like it.
.
The Jones poem does nothing according to any logic I can see. It jump-cuts from one clause-length narrative to another entirely unconnected to it in any meaningful sense (I say with a fair confidence that I am here being objective in the reasonable sense that (verbal) meaninglessness can be objectively defined as words arranged in such a way as to confuse a large majority of readers or listeners, and no defense of their meaningfulness will change any but a very few minds about that).
.
The Sondheim contains one fresh element, or perhaps can be said to carry out a fresh design; and every poem needs something fresh–objectively. If we start with the dogma that a poem needs to move one, and know objectively from a study of the effects of poetry on human beings that a poem that does absolutely nothing new will rarely move anyone, even those who claim to like some such poem.
 .
The Jones poem is not fresh—because although its particular images are wildly different from the images in conventional poems—they lack all coherence and therefore result in chaos—objectively result in it, I say, using the same argument I previously used—and chaos is never fresh however different its elements, one chaos being perceived by the sane as just about entirely the same as any other chaos. I think this observation important (and especially like it because it just occurred to me as I was writing this): the Sondheim is not chaos (although possibly not cohering here and there.
.
I think I could find some virtues in the Jones poem if I tried, but I’m sure they wouldn’t equal the virtues in the Sondheim I’ve already written about in this thread, and I’ve found more since then. I claim they are objectively superior to any virtues in the Jones I’m now intuitively aware of, but that’s admittedly just an assertion, but one made because I’m not up to a full dissertation on the two poems—here.
.
Frankly, I think that I’ve shown beyond reasonable doubt that the Sondheim is the better of the two poems. Which makes me think maybe my challenge would have been that someone show why they are equal. Or of what value any discussion of the merits of any poem is if we agree in advance than nobody’s opinion means anything. 
.

Entry 947 — Pronouncements & Blither, Part 8

Sunday, December 9th, 2012

Two days ago I posted what follows to a thread at New-Poetry concererning experimentality in which the poem discussed was inserted:

I threw the commentary following the text below (which is by Alan Sondheim) in one writing, and left it as is without checking it to try for an authentic initial response—although it’s not quite initial as I have skimmed the poem two or three times before writing about it.—Bob

when (_) you (_) read (_) this (_)

when (_) you (_) read (_) this (_) if (_) you (_) read (_)
this (_) please (_) do (_) check (_) where (_) you (_) do
(_) check (_) so (_) you (_) will (_) track (_) your (_)
reading (_) where (_) you (_) check (_) in (_) the (_)
midst (_) of (_) parentheses (_) in (_) the (_) midst (_)
of (_) bodies (_) you (_) will (_) check. (_) and (_) two
(_) you (_) will (_) know (_) you (_) have (_) then (_)
read (_) and (_) will (_) have (_) been (_) read (_) by
(_) the (_) checks (_) both (_) useful (_) and (_) against
(_) all (_) interference (_) which (_) you (_) might (_)
now. (_) three (_) you (_) will (_) check (_) here (_) and
(_) then (_) here (_) and (_) you (_) will (_) fill (_) in
(_) checks (_) and (_) blanks (_) and (_) you (_) will.
(_) four (_) and (_) fecund (_) and (_) cornucopia (_) and
(_) the (_) great (_) fullness (_) of (_) life (_) and (_)
desire (_) will (_) result (_) with (_) all (_) words (_)
checked (_) that (_) you (_) have (_) read (_) them (_)
and (_) you (_) have (_) been (_) there. (_) and (_) you
(_) will (_) have (_) read (_) them. (_) five (_) and (_)
you (_) will (_) have (_) been (_) there, (_) you (_) can
(_) check, (_) you (_) will (_) have (_) been (_) there.
(_) (_)


To avoid getting into whether this work by Alan Sondheim is a poem or not, I will refer to it simply as a “text.” The speaker of the text expects us to read it. He wants you to do something as you do, put checks in the parentheses. You will already be disconcerted by the strange appearance of the text. Every effective aesthetic experience begins with a “hunh,” however small and usually too short-lasting to be noticed, which turns into pleasure when one gets one’s bearings. Sometimes the hunh lasts a long time. One may never get one’s bearings, in which case the text, or whatever it is, has failed one as a work of art—at that point. But one sincerely wishing to understand the text may finally get his bearings, with help if not on his own, if he persists.

As happened with “The Wasteland” for many, and—I’m sure—with poems of Stevens’s. Can it happen with the text above? It did quickly for me because I have a lot of experience with poems like it. It’s hard to say why, but I’ll try, because I don’t think any poem genuinely any good if it can’t eventually be explained.

If one actually reads it and at least imagines himself making checks, one will enter a kind of mood I don’t have a name for (yet). A mood based on exploring ideas, and/or carrying out an analysis. Here, what reading is—metaphorically related, it seems to me (and this is a first draft of my understanding of the text), to ones over-all experience of going through life.

Think of the text as one’s life, which you are being asked fully to examine. So, the text is at least a joke on those (like me) who may spend too much time evaluating everything they do. On the other hand, it may be straight didacticism about the value of attending to every detail of one’s life

Perhaps it’s only a text that the strongly analytical can enjoy. Those with a strong reducticeptual awareness, as I call it. The joy of working one’s way to the solution of a challenging math problem.

It poses a question for me, how does one really know that he has “been there?” Have you ever stopped long enough in your life to make a check mark—which will mean that you took time to better your experience of wherever you stopped.

I don’t yet know what is meant by having “been read by all checks, and I wonder if “now” is a typo for “know.” One should not expect complete clarity from a poem, and certainly not at once.

It becomes lyrical at the end, at least for me, climaxing in the joy I now find to be the sense of fulfillment when you look over something important you’ve done and realize from the memories you formed (like boxes checked) that you have truly been somewhere. As, when the text works for you, it becomes at the end, once you come sufficiently to terms with it, a there you have fully been at/in.

Okay, this is disorganized and possibly not too coherent in places. But it shows how a mind with a little of the necessary background and a willingness to wade into something not immediately nice can form some kind of appreciation of the text by giving it a chance, and express that appreciation however poorly, which seems to me proof that the text is not worthless.

In any case, I consider it well worth returning to, and likely to lead me to greater appreciation of it.

Last thought because I just had it: line 22 is absolutely terrific.

I haven’t had time since to fix it, but eventually will, expanding on it at the same time–at length, I hope.  Fascinating poem.  I have decided, by the way, to give it its own class, “conceptual poetry,” although it is an infraverbal poem, and probably a visual one, as well.

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