Miscellaneous Literary Thoughts « POETICKS

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Entry 1517 — Interruptions

Thursday, July 24th, 2014

I’m interrupting my reading of an essay by Jan Baetens about minimalist poetry to say that it just made me see that there are two kinds of minimalist poetry: poetry whose form is minimal in size, and poetry whose content is minimal in size.  The letter “a” repeated 1776 times in a font a foot high would be an example of the latter, the kind of poems I’ve always thought of as the only kind of minimalist poem–“lighght,” for instance–are the other kind.  Then there are poems like “tundra,” which takes up a whole page (and at its best should probably take up a page ten feet wide), so is larger than many conventional poems, but whose content is not minimal in size, or John M. Bennett’s “The Shirt, The Sheet.” which is a sound poem consisting of those four words repeated indefinitely, so with an unminimal form but with variations that make its content nowhere near minimal in content.

Conclusion: I must define a minimalist poem as one whose content approaches zero and/or whose form does.

Meanwhile, I suddenly want to write an essay on the innate morality I believe we all have.  I hope to have it here tomorrow.  Then, maybe, I will return to what I may be calling “The Poetry Enterprise in America.”

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AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1239 — The Dwindle Continues

Thursday, October 10th, 2013

As I continue this blog, I try to think why.  All I can come up with is that maybe it will be a useful record of the dwindle of a mind once not-so-bad.  Anyway, I do have some more SASEs, I’m pretty sure but I thought I’d take care of this entry with something I said two days ago instead:

Comment to Richard Kostelanetz When He Disagreed With Me That Rating a Poet’s Inventiveness Would Be Difficult

Well, I guess it’s all in how one defines “poetic inventiveness.”  I should think it difficult to rate one invention against another, too.  And, of course, how to determine who invented what.  I think I could claim up to a thousand inventions–but there isn’t one of them that I’m sure is my invention.  How about Gertrude?  Two inventions–ignoring grammar and hyper-repetition?  Or was each of her tender buttons an invention?  If the latter, is it possible each of her buttons contained two or more inventions?

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Entry 1204 — The Exerioddicist, July 1993, P.1

Thursday, September 5th, 2013

While looking for a poem for use in my Scientific American blog, I came across the following, an issue of Jake Berry’s 4-page The Experioddicist from July 1993 that was entirely devoted to Me:

ExperioddicistPage1

I think it pretty danged fine, and not entirely self-centered, for it has criticism of material by others. I hope that by holding down the control button and clicking the + button, you can get an enlargement you can read. My next three blog entries will have the other three pages–and give me extra time to work on other things.
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Entry 1087 — P&B, Series . . . Call It 5

Sunday, April 28th, 2013

P&B is short for “pronouncements and blither.”

At some point in a long Internet discussion with Richard Kostelanetz about the Establishment, I remarked that, “Academic and commercial presses ARE the establishment, or essentially if many time implicitly told what to publish by it. Actually, on reflection (gee, I had that word ready to use then lost it for a full two minutes, except for the “re”), I see that it might make sense to divide the Establishment in two, although they overlap: the academic/commercial establishment that rules contemporary literature, and the one that rules the art of the past. You’ve built your reputation, it seems to me, in the latter (which is where academia is at its best, and often splendid), but not so much in the former–not because of lack of support but because the morons in charge of the former are thirty to fifty years behind what’s going on where most of the best art is coming into existence.

In another discussion, this one at New-Poetry, with a number of participants, Sam Gwynn disagreed with me that “if a poet wants maximal musicality, formal poetry is for him,” with the claim that Whitman achieved maximal musicality in his free verse.

You know, Sam, after really really thinking this over, which is uncharacteristic of me, I concluded that I disagree. It seems to me that if I were a composer, and wanted to achieve maximal musical beauty, I would write for a symphony orchestra, not a quartet–or for a piano, not a flute. Someone will throw Beethoven’s quartets at me, or some glorious melody for a flute, but my point is that a formal poet has all possible auditory devices know to poetry (I think) to work with, a free verser doesn’t. A free verser, or composer for quartet or flute, may still achieve things some subjectively find better than anything else (Hey, I think Thomas Wolfe was wonderfully musical–although that was when I was under 25), but what can he do to achieve what, say, Frost does with rhyme in his Snowy Evening poem? I suppose it’s subjective, although I believe it will not too long from now be objectively provable by comparing what happens in the brain listening to Whitman versus listen to Frost, that nothing in poetry can surpass the music of Frost’s rhymes. I further claim they do what chords do in real music, a rhyme causes you to hear two related notes together in a way nothing else does–and in Frost’s poem, you get THREE together.

Did I show that in my knowlecular poetics discussion of the rhyme?  I can’t recall. . . .

Okay, maybe my gush above is due my bias in favor of Frost, who seems to me to do just about everything word-only poets do better than Whitman, however admirable in so many ways that Whitman may be.

I note now that I’ve quoted myself, that I forgot that, for me, Whitman is a formal poet, albeit a borderline one, due to his use of Psalmic parallelism.

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Entry 1049 — Back to the Nuthouse Fellow

Thursday, March 21st, 2013

I stole the material below fromThe Public Domain Review

These two images are from the book On the Writing of the Insane (1870) by G. Mackenzie Bacon, medical superintendant at an asylum (now Fulbourn Hospital) located near Cambridge, England. The pictures are the product of a “respectable artisan of considerable intelligence [who] was sent to the Cambridgeshire Asylum after being nearly three years in a melancholy mood”. Bacon describes how the unnamed patient, for the two years he was committed, spent “much of his time writing — sometimes verses, at others long letters of the most rambling character, and in drawing extraordinary diagrams.” The two images shown here were drawn on both sides of the same small half sheet of paper, and the patient, “as though anxious, in the exuberance of his fancy, to make the fullest use of his opportunities, […] filled up every morsel of the surface — to the very edge — not leaving an atom of margin.”


Bacon goes on to explain that the man, after leaving the asylum, went “to work at his trade, and, by steady application, succeeded in arriving at a certain degree of prosperity, but some two or three years later he began to write very strangely again, and had some of his odd productions printed ; yet all this time he kept at work, earned plenty of money, conducted his business very sensibly, and would converse reasonably.”

After a visit from a medical man who tried to dissuade him from writing this way the man wrote the following letter:

Dear Doctor, To write or not to write, that is the question. Whether tis nobler in the mind to follow the visit of the great ‘Fulbourn’ with ‘chronic melancholy’ expressions of regret (withheld when he was here) that, as the Fates would have it, we were so little prepared to receive him, and to evince my humble desire to do honour to his visit. My Fulbourn star, but an instant seen, like a meteor’s flash, a blank when gone. The dust of ages covering my little sanctum parlour room, the available drapery to greet the Doctor, stowed away through the midst of the regenerating (water and scrubbing – cleanliness next to godliness, political and spiritual) cleansing of a little world. The Great Physician walked, bedimmed by the ‘dark ages’ the long passage of Western Enterprise, leading to the curvatures of rising Eastern morn. The rounded configuration of Lunar (tics) garden’s lives an o’ershadowment on Britannia’s vortex…

Unfortunately things ended sadly for the man. As Bacon recounts: “In the course of another year he had some domestic troubles, which upset him a good deal, and he ended by drowning himself one day in a public spot”.

(Images taken from On the Writing of the Insane (1870), housed at the Internet Archive, contributed by the Francis A. Countway Library of Medicine via the Medical Heritage Library. Hat-tip to Pinterest user Marisela Norte).

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A hat-tip from me to Karl Kempton, too, for discovering this site and directing me to it.

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I thought I’d add a few thoughts–

———–Hey, remember me quest to find 26 words, each with a different silenced letter of the alphabet?  “Thought” reminds me that I found “although” wherein the u is silent.  Before that I thought of “squire,” then disqualified it on the grounds that its u partakes of the pronunciation of its q.  As I wrote that, I thought of quixote as a word in which an x is silent, but am not quite willing to accept it because it’s a name.  It does suggest that there must be more normal words from Spanish in our language in which an x is silent.

Back to my thoughts on the asylum patient’s works.  They seem to me special instances of shaped poems, or not really very poetic because essentially decorative arrangements of informrature.   That tends to be my problem with the many Christian arrangements of Jesus’s name or religious texts from medieval times.  Even if we take the asylum patient’s work as visual poetry, I would not call him a precursor of Modern Visual Poetry.  The most important reason I would not is that he influenced no one that we know of in modern visual poetry.  I hold that an artist must not only make major art to be major, but influence others.  He must have not only a talent for art, but a talent for making that art sufficiently a part of the culture of to influence other artists.  Eventually influence them, as Dickinson did, with a minimal talent for making her art part of the culture of her times, but enough to get just enough of it known–particularly to Higginson (if, going from memory, I have his name right), her one influential friend–to make it available to influence other poets after her death.

I don’t think the mental patient has influenced anyone even though others have done works like his because they made their works without knowing his, nor knowing works like his by people influenced by him.

Similarly, it’s questionable that Lewis Carroll’s visual poetry influenced any serious poet.  The first full-scale modern visual poet in my view (so far as I know) was Apollinaire, and I don’t think he was aware of Carroll’s work.  I deem Apollinaire full-scale, Mallarme not, by the way, because I (quite subjectively) consider Mallarme using words in a visually connotative but not really metaphorical way, whereas Apollinaire took a partial step from visual connotative use of words to metaphorical use of them.  I think I’m saying Mallarme was visieopoetically suggestive, Apollinaire visiopoetically explicit.

To create a visual sprawl around what I’m trying to say in hopes it will be enough to help me (or someone using what I’ve said here) to improved expression. . . .

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Entry 1032 — Paraphrasing, Etc.

Monday, March 4th, 2013

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At New-Poetry this morning, Mike Snyder asked me partway into the discussion there I wrote about in my last entry, “why, if (I) think the non-specialist but educated reader’s being able to paraphrase the poem is an important part of his or her appreciation of the poem, (I) don’t see that as a problem for ‘lighght.’”
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My (quick) response: “Such a reader should consult a paraphrase by someone who can paraphrase the poem just as he would consult someone more knowledgeable about words for the meaning of any word in a poem he doesn’t understand and which prevents him from comprehending the poem. I believe a poem should be paraphrasable by someone. That it can’t be, as I’m sure many formal poems can’t be, by the insufficiently knowledgeable or the unfortunately endowed mentally should not concern a poet.”

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Mike went on to say that while he personally has “little or no interest in poems as puzzles or as deliberate sabotages of understanding, but obviously Ron Silliman and his tribe have found at least as good a market for their work as have most other schools of poets, so what do I know?”
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“I doubt many,” said I, “if any, really enjoy poems as deliberate sabotages although many will enjoy them as puzzles. I think no serious poet makes poems that are nothing but puzzles. Anti-poets, I suppose, make poems as deliberate sabotages of understanding only, but the best poets certainly try their best to sabotage too easily gained understanding—which is really what almost all the language poets are doing. And making a poem in part a puzzle, as I would claim Emily among many others have, is one good way of doing that.
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“As for lighght, I think my incomplete paraphrase of it may not help someone befuddled by it, but that my pluraphrase, which shows where the paraphrase comes from, absolutely will help those capable of experiencing a haiku moment to come to terms with it. Remember that there are people who can intellectually understand first-rate poems but not be able to enjoy them.
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Entry 979 — A New Poetry Submission Procedure

Wednesday, January 9th, 2013

I was reading about an editor of Poetry who was talking about how many poems he has to read each year–something like 30,000, if I remember rightly.  It struck me that it would be impossible for him to choose the best from so many, even if he didn’t quickly recognize most otherstream poems without reading them and automatically reject them.  Thinking further about it, I came up with an idea I think quite brilliant, albeit 100% unfeasible.  Require each person submitting a poem to include with it his answers to the following questions: “what, if anything, is in your poem that is in extremely few other poems, and why is it of value?” and “what are you doing in your poem that many poets are also doing but which you are doing better than just about any of them, and why is it of value?”

Actually, that wouldn’t save the editor much time since he’d just be trading poem-reading time for answer-reading time.  But it might reduce the number of poets submitting since it might force at least some of them to recognize that their poems neither have anything valuably new in them or do anything of value better than almost any other poet.   And some of those who have no idea what they’re doing as poets would be intimidated sufficiently by the questions not to submit.

Maybe the submitter could be required to provide evidence of whatever claim he was making–a sample of what made his poem superiorly conventional or new.

Just thoughts.

I don’t think there are too many people composing poems, by the way–just too many mediocrities publishing them.  What would be really nice would be only a dozen or so publications devoted to poetry, all of them edited by genuine experts in poetry.   But leave the Internet open to all comers in the field.

As I was thinking about all this, I wondered about making a computer program for sifting mediocre and sub-mediocre poems from poems with a chance of being good.  I believe an effective program that could do this is possible.  I’d flow-chart it myself if financed.  It’d be pretty interesting even if never used.  It wouldn’t be easy to make.  One would have to find ways the computer could recognize various components of any poem.  I wonder if spell-checkers could provide a basis, at least in part, for such a program.  They are ridiculously poor at times, but actually quite sophisticated, and improving all the time, I’m sure.  Again call I for a Patron!  Wherefore are the ears of the Cultured Rich as stone unto mine pleas?

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Entry 900 — The Anthology from Fantagraphics

Tuesday, October 23rd, 2012

I got my contributor’s copy of this yesterday.  I don’t love every work in it but I think there are almost no works in it that I’d call poor, and many that I think terrific.  My highest rating is always for works I want to steal from, or steal completely, and I’ve already come across more than ten of these, in just a few fast skims.  My favorite so far in one by Kathy Ernst, “Viole(n)t,” which is . .  I was just about to say  unstealable because anything you could use it or a part of it in would look stupit compared with it.  Then I thought of one way you could steal from it, or from any work: steal just a detail, or–better–a fraction of a detail, just enough so a viewer knowing Kathy’s work wiykd recognize it; this way you could use it as an allusion that might make everything near it seem minor, but not the whole work it was in due to how small it was.  Hey, I think I could make it work!

Note: I think every good poem has stolen elements in it.  It may be the  the more stolen elements it has, the better it is.  No, make that the best poems have the most stolen elements, but some bad poems have a lot of stolen elements, too.

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Entry 872 — Making a List of Literary “Bests”

Tuesday, September 25th, 2012

Marcus Bales’s facebook page has a link to a silly list of the 20th-century’s best works of fiction in English.  The Great Gatsby came in first, I believe–or else very high up.  It isn’t even Fitzgerald’s best work–Tender is the Night is.  I like This Side of Paradise better than Gatsby, too, although or because it’s so obviously a not-yet fully-adult writer’s work.  I liked many of his short stories, too- the ones most critics consider commercial fluff.  I don’t know novels well enough to be sure, but I don’t think I’d put any of his in the top fifty anglophonic novels of the last century.  But even The Great Gatsby is superior to most of the other novels on the list.T

It was a consensus of four lists of “experts.”  It got me thinking about some better way of ranking works: prepare a detailed test of works in English of the time and give it to anyone who wants to contribute to the list.  Then ask each of them for 5,000 words on the kind of work to be listed.  Give each person all the papers resulting, asking each to rank them in reverse order.  Find each person’s average score.  Multiply each score a given person gives to a work by the average score his paper receives.   Add up the scores.  The one with the highest total points is number one.  A little complicated, but the list resulting would be ten times better than the one Fitzgerald’s novel was first on.  The point is simple: ratings by intelligent knowledgeable people should count more than ratings by dolts. 

A better way I think I’ve already discussed here: work out a formula for an effective novel and program a computer to use it on all the works to be ranked.  Test it on a hundred works just about everyone considers great, and a hundred just about everyone thinks terrible.  Eventually, one could have many programs ranking works, each based on a different critic’s criteria.  Then maybe a moron-vote to determine to rank the lists.  Or my previous method.  Probably by the time anything a computer could do to get a reasonable list, a computer could give a true evaluation of a person’s over-all intelligence, and literary intelligence, if that were indeed a different sort of intelligence, which I tend to doubt.  Visimagistic and musical intelligence, I’m sure, would be.  Then a list could be compiled based on the evaluations of the hundred scoring the highest in literary intelligence, with penalites for not having read any work among the contestants.

Saying that makes me realize that a big problem with these lists is that, so far as I know, works left off a given lister’s list because he’s not familiar with it count against the work.  Any evaluation should be of the works on a huge list, and those works only, with some way of making up for works not known to many.   The problem is that they may not be known to many because they’re no good,  so, you can’t just go by the average score each work gets.  Maybe have one give the mean score to each work he’s unfamiliar with–if rating  999 books,  that would be 500.  Or try something else.  I’m more indicating something to be worked out than giving anything like a final solution.

Then there is my ongoing problem with ranking artworks, one that apparently on one else has: factoring in the difference between a work’s direct value to the general public, and the work’s direct value to the art.  The Great Gatsby will score much more than Finnegans Wake in direct value to the public, but much less than Finnegans Wake to the art.  As I’ve said before, I would opt for two separate lists, one for the most effective books, and one for the most important books. 

Another problem is which should count more, individual works, or oeuvres.  I suppose that could be taken care of simply by having lists for each.  As I’ve also said before, Stevens would finish first for pre-1960 poets in English on the effective oeuvre list but I’m not sure what poem would.  “Tintern Abbey” would be a contender as would “Stopping by Woods.”  Nothing by Stevens, I don’t think, though several of his in the top hundred.  Cummings would be first on my list of most important poets in English, and his oeuvre wouldn’t do badly on the most effective oeuvre list, but he’d only have only two or three high-ranking poems on the effective list.  On the other hand, maybe his “in just-spring” would compete for first there.  I guess it would depend on my mood where I placed it.   Choosing poems would be incredibly hard–there wouldn’t be that much difference between the most effective, and the thousandth most effective.  I’m not sure there’d be as many as a hundred poems eligible for a list of the most important poems.  Even Ginsberg’s “Howl” would have to be on it.  Half the poems on it would be by Cummings.

Urp. 

.track internet visits

American Singles Onlie

Entry 788 — Poets & Writers Questionnaire

Tuesday, July 3rd, 2012

Here it is:

1. Yes, I am interested in participating in either a phone interview (30 minutes) or focus group (90 minutes) or both
2. Please tell us what you write. Poetry, Fiction
3. Do you write genre fiction? Yes
4. If you write genre fiction, please indicate which type.  Science Fiction
5. Are you a translator? No
6. Do you write books for children?
7. Do you write books for young adults? Not yet
8. Have you published a book? Yes
9. If you’ve published one or more books, how were they published?
Both Published by a publisher and Self-published
10. Would you be willing to participate in a focus group in Manhattan? Could not afford to
11. Would you be willing to participate in a focus group in downtown Los Angeles.? Could not afford to
12. Do you use Google+ Hangouts? No (Don’t know what these are.)
13. Would you be willing to participate in a virtual focus group using Google+ Hangouts? Don’t know what it is.
14. On weekdays, what time of day would be best for you to participate in a focus group? Any time
15. Do you subscribe to Poets & Writers Magazine? No
16. Do you subscribe to our e-newsletter? No
17. Have you received payment from Poets & Writers for a reading you’ve given or a workshop you’ve conducted? That’s a laugh.
18. Are you listed in our Directory of Poets & Writers? Yes
19. Do you participate in our online Speakeasy? No
20. Your age? Over 65
21. Your ethnic background? White, not Hispanic
22. Your gender? Male
23. Please provide your name, email address and information on where you live. Provided

I find nothing in it to indicate Poets & Writers has a genuine interest in finding out what it can do to help poets and writers. They should, at the very least, have someone answering their questionnaire tell how he rates their magazine from 1 for I think it very bad to 5 for I think it very good, to be sure of getting a few people who could actually help them do what they say they want to do. They should ask for comments, too. Such as a yes/no question about whether the answerer has ever published any kind of opinion piece on the state of literature in America, with a follow-up determining how often he has, if he has. More specific question on the kind of poetry done would help–a list of the Wilshberian poetries and “other.”  If I had time, I’m sure I could think of other good questions.  The results of P&W’s effort to improve should be amusing.

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Entry 465 — A Long Walk « POETICKS

Entry 465 — A Long Walk

I walked four miles today. My physical therapist and my surgeon are agreed that I shouldn’t walk more than half a mile. But I had somewhere to go, and have this weird self-belief in my ability to walk. I don’t have the same self-belief in any other physical ability so haven’t done and won’t do anything else I’m not supposed to. I’m not sure what my point is–maybe something about  aconceptual knowledge versus conceptual expertise.

But also to explain why I’m too tired to say more, today, about William Logan in the latest issue of New Criterion except that he has finally actually written about a poet I consider avant-garde (albeit, barely), Rae Armantrout. I guess he had to since she’s a Pulitzer Prize winner and has been a member of the Academy of American Poets and otherwise credentialed for quite a while. He pans her, of course. Ignorantly, of course. Okay, semi-ignorantly. The main thing is that he discusses her–for over a page. Bringing the New Criterion briefly up to 1980.

He also discusses Wilbur’s latest, but I only read the part about Armantrout. Tired. I’ll read the rest of Logan’s commentary, though–I read every word of every issue of the New Criterion. I figure it gives me a good anchor in 1950 to sail into newer things from. I truly wish there were a magazine around as good about 2000 as it is about 1950 (and cultural figures repeating it in 2011).

Later Note:  The book was Broken English, by Heather McHugh.  It showed up.  I had left it in the car of the friends who’d driven me home from the healthcare center with a lot of other stuff in a large shopping bag.  I guess I’m glad I found it.  I’m very glad of the stuff that turned up with it, which included some magazines and two other books that it would have driven me beserk to have looked for and not found.  I wasn’t totally stupid, by the way: I called Linda, my ride home, and asked her to check her car.

One Response to “Entry 465 — A Long Walk”

  1. Ed Baker says:

    hey

    hang in, Man as,
    I too spend most of my time (now) looking for things “lost”
    &usually find them in the last place that I left them..

    .

    I wrote a poem/ a fragment back in 1968 I KNOW that
    I did
    as I remember it
    is on a slip of yellow legal pad-paper

    again

    hang in & keepontruckin and

    I’ll write again when I have less time…

    look for me in the funnies !

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Entry 472 — Sentences « POETICKS

Entry 472 — Sentences

I’m now very self-conscious about my sentences.  Joseph Epstein, one of the chief Philistines on my list of enemies of poetry, has an article of writing good sentences in the latest issue of The New Criterion, that mentions the value of having a strong word at the beginning and end of your sentences.  Not “it” or “there.”  I’ve never thought about that.  Now, alas, I am.  I’m always using “there” and “it” to start sentences.  I end sentences with prepositions, as well.  They’re weak, says Epstein.  He’s never seen mine, though.   Most sentences with “however” in the middle of them are “dead on arrival,” according to Epstein.  That worried me.  If midstream “however’s” are so over-used to bother a mediocrity like Epstein, I had bad problems, for I’ve always used them so much that for years I’ve tried to cut them down.  I immediately read the firt few pages of my book on the Shakespeare authorship question to see how many “however’s” I’d committed.  None.  Whew.  But I do know they are a weakness of mine.  I think primarily on-one-hand-on-the-other terms.  That makes avoidance of “however,” difficult.

I think a problem for me is too diligently trying to keep cliches out of my writing.  Shakespeare probably used more cliches per word than any writer ever.  Possibly what most counts is ratio of fresh to cliched language.

I’ve gone by intuitive feel mostly in my writing.  On the look-out, however, for complex sentences that can be chopped up into two or three shorter sentences–because I tend not to think in short steps but long convoluted lopes.  I also try to stay alert for spots I can break convention at.  Interestingly.

Too much of the time I’m too concerned with saying everything I think needs to be said.   Which it rarely does.

As Evidence of Epstein’s Philistinism is his chestnutting Tolstoy’s “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is alike in its own way” as “the best first sentence in literature.”  Must be, if every mediocrity writing on style has said so for the past fifty years or whatever.  Who knows, maybe Epstein was the first to say it.  In any case, it’s crap.  The sentence is a clever half-truth,” nothing more.   True, it signals Philistine that he’s going to be reading about families so unlikely to have to go very far outside the little world he inhabits, but it also tends to warn certain others that it won’t be of much interest to them.  I tend to think Raymond Chandler wrote some unbeatable first lines, but would never advance any of them as “the best first sentence in literature.”  There are many terrific first sentences.  (Oops, there’s a “there” at the beginning of a sentence!)  “It began feebly for an undertaking of Final Importance,” is the first sentence in my Of Manywhere-at-Once.  One defense of it for first-place is the way it flows from “it” (can you start weaklier than that?!), into something about as bannered as can be.  (A fellow member of my local writers’ group found it and the rest my first page unexciting–because it was about a poet’s waking up with what he considered a great idea for a poem.)

The first sentence of Finnegans Wake is ridiculously superior in every which way to Tolstoy’s.

Epstein later favorably quotes Joseph Conrad’s “My task which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word, to make you hear, to make you feel–it is, before all, to make you see.  That–and no more, and it is everything.”  The sentiment is nice (but limited and, of course, not true) , the expression clumsy.

As a Philistine (and thus incapable of rising above moralism), he automatically applauds F. L. Lucas’s notion that “without good character superior writing is impossible.”  But I agree with him about Gertrude Stein’s misguided attempt “to use boring repetitions as if filling in a canvas”–but he doesn’t commend her for her exploration.  No Philistine could ever recognize failed explorations as superior to successful verifications of the value of previous explorations.

I’m with him against idiocies like “chairperson,” HOWEVER, and grateful he brought Lucas’s “faulty greatness in a writer stands above narrower perfections” to my attention.

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Entry 481 — A Few New Thoughts « POETICKS

Entry 481 — A Few New Thoughts

A little while ago, Stephen Russell posted the following at New-Poetry:

Bob, they let me out of rehab to do a math poem: It’s very simple (after Basho). A Ven diagram. The frog: (small circle) enclosed within a (  larger circle ): the pond. & a tear between the intersecting circles, the s p l a s h. Text for all 3 words: frog/pond/splash. & perhaps a larger circle enclosing the 2 smaller circles: Universe. A math poem that approximates Basho’s vision … But I’m having problems getting it done in word instead of paintshop (much user friendly).

“Sounds fun,” I said back. ” I don’t do nothin’ graphic in word, but jpeg converts once done in paintshop.  I think where to go with Venn poetry would be surrealistic overlaps.  Having said that, I can’t think of an example, even a bad one. “

Because, in another post, Stephen had mentioned someone’s bewailing the death of the novel,  I wrote, “As for the death of the novel, I can’t see it.  Nor of poetry.  There’s the crucial importance of abstraction–experiencing reality sensually and abstractly.  Crucial for art and science. “

This led to a few further words about a third post of Stephen’s about getting people to appreciate poetry: “I don’t see any way of making serious poetry popular.  As I’ve always said, it’s like classical music or superior jazz or ballet or mathematics.  The only problem is getting people able to appreciate it to try it!  Which means, among other things, every once in a while giving a lot of money to a person making it (because the media only pays attention to things people get a lot of money for).  Maybe I’ve said things like this before?

“Meanwhile, I just had a one-man show at my local library, and drew four or five people to it, two of whom actually discussed any of the items in it.  Poeticks.com has photographs of it.  It wasn’t really a one-man show, but 17 or my 18 framed works hung in an event with many other tables for authors (and non-authors) celebrating the library’s 50th anniversary.  It made me think about why nobody was drawn to it.  Two thoughts on that: (1) I did nothing to promote it, like running around in a costume with visual poems on it–after getting the library to hang a few of my accessible poems up in advance (and I do have a few) and (2) creating a “lesson in visual poetry” like the one I’ve started work on which will consist of seven or eight posters, each showing some detail of the poem they are about, with commentary I attempt to make entertaining with personal comments, little jokes but also solid poetics; the whole idea would be to take someone encountering the work through the poem step by step.

“I hope to have it soon at my blog.  First I have to separate the purely graphic matter from the textual matter overlaid on it, which will take a while.”

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POETICKS

Entry 465 — A Long Walk

July 8th, 2011

I walked four miles today. My physical therapist and my surgeon are agreed that I shouldn’t walk more than half a mile. But I had somewhere to go, and have this weird self-belief in my ability to walk. I don’t have the same self-belief in any other physical ability so haven’t done and won’t do anything else I’m not supposed to. I’m not sure what my point is–maybe something about  aconceptual knowledge versus conceptual expertise.

But also to explain why I’m too tired to say more, today, about William Logan in the latest issue of New Criterion except that he has finally actually written about a poet I consider avant-garde (albeit, barely), Rae Armantrout. I guess he had to since she’s a Pulitzer Prize winner and has been a member of the Academy of American Poets and otherwise credentialed for quite a while. He pans her, of course. Ignorantly, of course. Okay, semi-ignorantly. The main thing is that he discusses her–for over a page. Bringing the New Criterion briefly up to 1980.

He also discusses Wilbur’s latest, but I only read the part about Armantrout. Tired. I’ll read the rest of Logan’s commentary, though–I read every word of every issue of the New Criterion. I figure it gives me a good anchor in 1950 to sail into newer things from. I truly wish there were a magazine around as good about 2000 as it is about 1950 (and cultural figures repeating it in 2011).

Later Note:  The book was Broken English, by Heather McHugh.  It showed up.  I had left it in the car of the friends who’d driven me home from the healthcare center with a lot of other stuff in a large shopping bag.  I guess I’m glad I found it.  I’m very glad of the stuff that turned up with it, which included some magazines and two other books that it would have driven me beserk to have looked for and not found.  I wasn’t totally stupid, by the way: I called Linda, my ride home, and asked her to check her car.

Entry 464 — A Follow-Up Visit to the Surgeon

July 6th, 2011

I saw my surgeon yesterday.   He was very pleased with my progress.  But he said it’d be three or four more months before I would be a non-gimp.  He had told me before the operation that it’d take two to five months for me to reach that point, so I felt I’d make it in two with hard work, if the operation went well.  I’ve worked hard and the operation went well but am not considered likely to be able to do more than I’m doing now, which is walk fast in a straight line, and take care of myself in my home.  Sure doesn’t give me much motivation to continue going all-out on my exercise program.

Meanwhile, my old lethargy is still with me.  I’ve done a little work on my Shakespeare book since getting home, but not much else.   I’m hoping I’m just suffering from the stress any change in one’s circumstances tends to cause, even a good change like getting home from a care facility.

 

Entry 463 — I’m Home

July 2nd, 2011

Just a note to say I got back from the rehab center yesterday, and after putting the stuff I brought home with me away, walked a mile–at a blazing 3 miles and hour.  But I’m not allowed to go much faster.  Running will be forbidden for another week.  Not allowed to twist, either.  I’m supposedly ahead of schedule.  I feel good about my progress.  I feel good about most everything, in fact.

Had a therapist make a house call yesterday.  He gave me some exercises that seem good ones.  Gotta do two of them once an hour, though, so I’ve been busy.  Also walked another mile and did some writing.

More tomorrow, I hope.

 

 

Entry 462 — A New Saying

June 27th, 2011

Criticism of criticism: the mediocrity’s primary defense against being found out.

Entry 461 — The Latest from the Rehab Center

June 19th, 2011

I guess it’s about ime I posted another entry.  Not much going on here.  I had hoped to be home from now–was making good progress with my physical therapy.   The a setback: my surgical incision was infected.  Result: an IV anti-biotic has been administered to me each day for the past five days.  Five more round of it, then I get to go home, assuming it has worked, and all signs are that it will have.

I was pretty disgusted.  So much time going by with little or nothing accomplished, even compared to some of my recent poor days at home.  Then I remembered a chore I could do here: posting all my Small Press Review columns here at my new blog, something I’ve been meaning to do for some time.  It’s been hard getting them properly formatted, but I’m getting them much more quickly posted now than when I did four days or so ago when I started the chore.  They are in the Pages, under “Bob Grumman’s Small Press Review Columns,” 21 so far, but I hope to add a few more today.

I’ve read most of them as I posted them, relieved to find they seem pretty good to me.  I hope to published two books of them, with commentary.  They remain about the only published commentary on avant garde poetry anywhere in this country as far as I know.     

 

Entry 460 — I’m an Avant Garde Poet

June 18th, 2011

Geof  Huth recently claimed at his blog that there’s no such thing as avant garde poetry–because (as I understand him) all poetry issues from prior poetry.  He instantly persuaded me of the existence of avant garde poetry, about which I’d been previously skeptical because nothing significantly new seemed to have been happening or even capable of happening in the arts anymore.  I still believe the latter but what I suddenly realized is that “avant garde” means, or should mean, not significantly new but merely more new than the status quo.  As, for instance, my mathematical and cryptograhic poetry are.  I’m with Geof, though, in not thinking that considering onelf avant garde is that big a deal.  An avant garde poet is not necessarily superior to a status quo poet.

Supporting Note: if Finnegans Wake was not avant garde, what was it?  (I would add that it’s still avant garde.

 

 

Entry 459 — Week No. 2 at the Rehab Center

June 13th, 2011

I’m doing all the exercises I’ve been asked to do.   Today I got my own walker.  This means I’m allowed to walk everywhere in the building on my own–so long a s I use the walker.  I can walk, slowly, without it, but am not supposed to.  There are all kinds of movements I’m supposed to avoid (and do).  I seem in good shape but can’t walk naturally, or unnaturally without thinking about what I’m doing.  No word yet on when I’ll be able to go home.  I don’t mind being here much.  Not getting anything done, though–unless you count finishing reading beautiful & pointless, by David Orr, which may be the worst book about poetry ever written.  Orr thinks there’s no reason for poets to think they know anything more about using words than the man in the street does.  Granted, many do not.  Still . . .

Entry 458 — A Quick In&Out

June 7th, 2011

I’m okay.  Took me a long time to get access to a computer, and from it to the Internet.  Am now trying to delete items in my server’s inbox so as not to go over my limit and I apparently don’t know how to do it because I’m doing it one e.mail at a time.  I know I’ve at other times deleted many more at one time but can’t now.  When done, almost certainly not until tomorrow, will say more about my current situation.

Entry 457 — Off to the Hospital

June 1st, 2011

I’ll be off to the hospital in another half hour or so.  I feel good.  Things should go well.  If everything works out maximally well, I’ll be able to make a blog entry from the hospital tomorrow.  Don’t bank on that, though.

 

Entry 456 — My Latest Poem

May 31st, 2011

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I posted it at New-Poetry early this morning.  No comments back yet.  I was hoping someone would say, “Wow, that’s great!”  I really think it’s possible that few if anyone at New-Poetry–or maybe anywhere, can appreciate it as I do.  I really do think that few people are not segreceptual, or incapable of quickly darting from one sensual modality to another, in this case from verboceptuality to wherever we process spelling and the conceptual significance of spellings quickly enough to appreciate the poem.  A word-frame as the house of vowels, and then vacant.

I will be leaving my house tomorrow morning around six for the hospital and my hip surgery, so may not post an entry then, or for a while.  I am not sure when I’ll next have access to the Internet.   So don’t be surprised if there’s nothing new here for a week or more.

Note: I got all the things written I felt I had to before going to the hospital–after dawdling on all of them for days or weeks.  Weird.  I just couldn’t get them done–until I had to.  Same thing happened most of the time with me in high school.

 

 

Entry 575 — A Half-An-Insight « POETICKS

Entry 575 — A Half-An-Insight

A thought regarding Ashbery’s admirers, which is probably very unfair (but possibly a half-truth): there are two kinds of poetry-lovers: those who want to take a ride in the mind of a poet who will take them to places they wouldn’t otherwise have gotten to, and those who want to get into the mind of a poet that they can take control of—because they can then drive it to places that are safe because they’ve already been to them.  In other words, lovers of poems with destinations like those of Frost, and lovers of anywhere-going poems like (most of) those of Ashbery.

Diary Entry for Friday, 25 November 2011, 1 P.M.: I got another entry posted (I wrote it yesterday but it still counts for today!), and did another exhibition hand-out, which was fun to do.  I needed a nap of about two hours, maybe more, to get the zip to do it, though.  I feel okay now, but haven’t yet started on my book.  I’ve posted to the Internet on the authorship controversy and the Dove anthology, read some more of the Clancy novel I’m reading, and continued the game of Civilization I’m playing where my Greeks are now at war with the Arabs–but America and the Maya are on our side, so we should win.

5 P.M., Mine quest continues.  I did some good clarification on my book, but the going has been painfully slow.  I have a headache.  I’m resisting taking pain pills of any kind.  I keep thinking I’ve gotten everything straight, then at once running into a problem.

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Entry 368 — Of Signifliture and Other Matters « POETICKS

Entry 368 — Of Signifliture and Other Matters

Yesterday, I posted the following snide comment to The Best American Poetry website: “It seems to me that a Worst American Poetry series would be beneficial–composing a kind of poetry ignored by the editors of the Best American Poetry series is not anywhere enough of an affirmation.”

Later I read that “Nobel laureate Seamus Heaney. Famous for retelling that medieval dragon drama Beowulf, the Irish poet, 71, declared in 2003 that Eminem ‘”created a sense of what is possible. He has sent a voltage around a generation. He has done this not just through his subversive attitude but also his verbal energy.’”  The subject header for the poet quoting the above was “Eminem becoming a force in the literary world.”

That inspired a new coinage: “signifliture,” for significant literature.  The adjective would be “signiflerary.”  Distinguished from “literary” because not including people like Eminem . . . and Nobel Prize Winners.

Meanwhile, I visited Geof Huth’s dbqp blog yesterday.  He does a piece on me every Groundhog Day.  This one was Very Nice–although he as usual said a few things I do not entirely agree with.   He also featured one of my mathemaku, one–in fact–that I changed after sending him the version he posted.  Now I more and more feel his version is better.  What I changed (or maybe it’s the main thing I changed–I’m too lazy to try to find my later version) was the quotient–from “soon” to (I think) “Persephone.”  I always liked “soon, but Geof told me that one of the Poetry editors who rejected it for their magazine dissed “soon” for rhyming with “June,” and I agreed that it shouldn’t for a while.  I can be very suggestible, however stubborn many think me.

Oddly, I hadn’t even noticed that “soon” rhymed with “June” when I picked it–I was revved up by the way I’d converted it from an adjective to an image.  I’m almost sure I’ll bring it back.  Should I cancel the other version or label it a variation?  I don’t know.

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Entry 572 — A Future for Poetry Anthologies « POETICKS

Entry 572 — A Future for Poetry Anthologies

I think there’s good cause to be optimistic about the future, for I believe the Internet will solve the poetry anthology problem before long. All that is necessary is a superior search engine, connected to a much better version of the software Amazon uses to tell its customers about books they would be interested in based on their buying histories. I foresee a person’s having a poetry-interest profile based on a questionnaire and all kinds of other information that would analyze all books and websites of poetry and rate how much the person would like each one on a scale of zero to a thousand. The person could enter critiques of material encountered, and the profile would be connected to other persons’ critiques to allow the system to be self-correcting. The person would still have the option of checking some poet whose rating is two on his scale, out of curiosity, and just in case. If he wanted an anthology, he could have the program find and transmit three to six pages of poetry by each of the 175 20th-century American poets he’d most like likely enjoy as in the recent Penguin anthology (or 20, as there’d be in mine, or 500, as there’d be in Ron Silliman’s). A teacher could have a separate teacher’s profile that would reflect not the teacher’s taste but the teacher’s idea of what poetry a student ought to be exposed to. (there are poets I don’t think much of, at all, but still believe everyone with an interest in poetry should be exposed to.)  There could even be totalitarian profiles listing poems people should avoid, or—in the kind of world the politically correct want—eliminating such poems and making people aware of the names of their authors.

Diary for Tuesday, 22 November 2011, 2 P.M.:  Tennis is the morning.  I’m still not running the way I feel I should, and my reactions are slow.  7 P.M.: I got this entry done, one exhibition hand-out done, and a little work on the book–but it was fairly consequential, for my section on the socioplex is now reasonably well-organized.  I did a lot of authorship arguing on the Internet, too, none of it at the highest level, I fear.  A little escape reading, a bit of Civilization.  Feeling sleepy all day.

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Entry 515 — The Null Zone: Still Dominant « POETICKS

Entry 515 — The Null Zone: Still Dominant

I actually got two-and-a-half brief reviews done yesterday.  None even started yet today although it’s a little after three in the afternoon.  Forty minutes ago I took two APCs, so maybe I’ll get going now. 

I have nothing much to write about today, just some old thoughts about world cultural peaks.  I think about them fairly often, mostly when comparing my country against others, with the low evaluation of it of so many liberals in mind.  While I do believe America is the greatest nation in the world right now, and has been for over a century, I feel it has only achieved one cultural peak, the period from around 1910 until 1960 in poetry.  Well, maybe also a technological one I’d call the Edison Era.  Getting back to the poetic period, it required many more people than England from around 1810 until 1840 had when England had its one great period of poetry.  (Elizabethan England achieved maximal greatness in the drama, not poetry, in my view.)   I don’t know of any other nations’ comparable poetic peaks but I’m not dumb enough to imagine that isn’t almost entirely due to my ignorance.   

Actually, I don’t really think of the recent peaking of anglophonic poetry in America as belonging culturally to America, but to the British Empire.  In any event, I always wonder in conjunction with my admiration of that period, how my period compares.  I don’t think anything much was going on in anglophonic poetry between 1960 and 1990, although the next period of superior poetry was shaping up then.  From 1990 til now, anglophonic poetry has been sizzling, I’m sure of that.  It’s been at least an orderof magnitude better than the poetry of the preceding 30 years.  Whether it has gotten or will get to the level or the early twentieth centure period, I can’t say.  Don’t know enough about it, and am too close to it to be as objective as I should be.  Certainly its poetry has been by far the most varied, the most valuably varied, poetry ever.  If it’s a lesser period, it will be because most of its best poets have been too esoteric.  It lacks its Yeatses and Frosts, although I hold Richard Wilbur in high esteem.  And the sonnets of Michael Snider.  In fact, there are probably many excellent “Frosts” out there I’ve been too busy with my own poetry to know much about.   And many of our most unconventional poets have composed first-rate, accessible (or reasonably accessible) conventional poetry, too.  The first name that occurs to me is Sheila Murphy.  Karl Kempton and Geof Huth, as well.  Who knows, too, how “accessible” posterity will find the now seemingly difficult work of others.  I must remember to live to the age of 130 to find out.

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Entry 566 — Vendler on Dove « POETICKS

Entry 566 — Vendler on Dove

I got hold of a copy of Vendler’s review of Dove’s Penguin anthology and have now read it.  So far I just have random impressions of it.  One is that Vendler is not nearly as cruel as some posts I’ve read at New-Poetry make her seem.  Certainly she gives much more than just her side on many issues.  For instance, she merely suggests the value of a more exclusive anthology, but gives reasons for other kinds.  She even voices my belief that we already can find canonized works, so don’t need them repeated in an anthology, and I was wrong to take an out-of-context quotation to indicate she herself would rather read an anthology with many more Stevens poems in it and fewer by lessers in it; actually she opined that for a young new-comer- to-poetry would enjoy the anthology more if that were the case.  Basically, she uses the anthology as an excuse to correct Dove about Stevens and other poets.  She takes pains to show that Stevens could be a “tragic poet,” too, not just the aesthete that Dove described him as.  The usual standard nonsense that no work of art is of the highest value unless death is in it.

 

Vendler didn’t seem as arrogant as I thought she might be.  But opinionated, that’s for sure.  Doesn’t think much of Dove as an essayist.  But supports the contention with examples of her flaws, and why they are flaws—like an English teacher with a student’s paper.  The worst thing she did in my view was claim a dead passage by Baraka “turns sentimental, in the manner of E. E. Cummings,” which is crap.  Cummings seems to me too sentimental at times, but his sentimentality was far superior in expression and much different from Baraka’s.  But I’m as sensitive to remarks about Cummings as Vendler is to remarks  about Stevens.  Needless to say, I didn’t change my mind about how narrow Vendler’s taste is.

 

Oh, like so many members of an establishment, she sneers at the idea that such a thing as an Establishment exists in the world of poetry.  Thinking about the absurdity of that, I realized that I, believe it or not, am a member of a literary establishment, the visual poetry establishment. A tiny, uninfluential establishment, to be sure, but one, nonetheless.  With factions, me fairly high in one, Kenny Goldsmith probably similar high in the other main one.   With people in both factions, others in neither.  Kind of interesting.  In any case, I think it insane to poo poo the idea of a poetry establishment.  No field exists—unless less than a few years old—that lacks an establishment.   Which doesn’t mean they are formal or conscious or conspiracies.  They are just there, almost always with more power than they should have.
 
Diary for 16 November 2011, 2 P.M.: today, as usual, I felt sluggish all morning.  Generally the skin on my face feels slightly swollen, my eyes tired.  After luch, though, I finally did some work on my book.  A difficult section I’m resting from right now.  It’s going well, but it started confusing me again.  My one previous good bit of work today was mostly mental, most of it carrying on from late last night after I’d gone to bed, and just about all of it due to excellent comments I got at the writer’s group meeting I went to.  It had to do with the hand-out I’d done for the Arts & Humanities Council Exhibition (the “A&H Show”).  I thought I’d written something clear and easy to follow but found out I had not.  I’ve got most of the graphics done that I’ll be using, but none of the revised text although I know pretty fully what I’ll be saying. 
 
8 P.M.  I did a little more work on the book.  I’d jump in and get three or four sentences done, then find I didn’t know what I was talking about.  I’d take a break, realize I’d left out preliminary information, and gone back to type a paragraph on that–only to have the same thing happen again.   I suppose that only happened three times but it didn’t make me feel I was making progress, and I still have to explain the process I began the day hoping to explain.  Should go easier tomorrow, but my tennis team has a match, and who knows what that will do to me.   I won’t mind losing, but I will mind playing lousy, and I’ve been playing exceptionally lousy lately.  Even though my new hip seems fine.

 

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