Entry 354 — A Few Further Thoughts on Taxonomization « POETICKS

Entry 354 — A Few Further Thoughts on Taxonomization

First, another thought about taxonomy: an effective taxonomy will have lacuna that its structure makes readily fillable.  The Periodic Table of Elements is a prime example.

And an anecdote in support of the high value of taxonomization.  It concerns one of my many small possible discoveries while working on my knowlecular psychology.  It was that despite the standard view of certified psychologists, there is no such thing as “short-term memory,” there is only “memory.”  In other words, we don’t store recent events in one section of the brain for some short period than release the unimportant ones, and shift the important ones to another section of the brain devoted to long-term memories.  I always had trouble with this because I could see no way of evaluating short-term memories–how, for instance, could the brain pick out some memory that might be crucially important ten years down the road however irrelevant at the moment?  Where taxonomization came in was that I was at the same time driven to make my taxonomy as compact as possible.  Limit the number of classifications.  That’s a prime goal of any taxonomist.  So I worked to eliminate the short-term memory and long-term-memory as subcategories of “memory.”  It was many years before I found a very simple, elegant solution–a way the brain could tag all incoming data in such a way that one’s faculty of remembering would tend to choose recent events before older events (of equal contextual attractiveness–i.e., if you just met someone named Mary and your wife is named Mary, the name Mary will probably still more likely bring up a memory of your wife than of the new Mary you’ve met, but if your wife’s name is Judy, than the name will bring up a memory of the new Mary faster than it will bring up some other acquaintance of yours who has that name, to put it very simply).

I claim that taxonomization significantly helped me to my breakthrough this time, and many other times.  If my psychology proves invalid that may seem a so what, but I also claim that taxonomization is similarly helpful to successful theorists.

I think the reason I’m such an advocate for taxonomy is my work throughout the years to construct a full-scale psychology.  Reflecting on it, I realize that what I’ve mostly done has been taxonomization–defining items and systematically classifying them.  Such informal taxonomization is essential for any serious full understanding of a versosophy (any verosoplex, that is), including ones more respected than mine.  I’ve read about some of the research that’s been done in this area, by the way, and don’t find any of it to contradict my theory; in fact, the researchers seem to me empiricists without little idea of what they’re doing.  They’re certainly not concerned with a big picture.

When I have more pep, I hope to be a little more specific about how I’ve worked out my theory, beginning with the universe, the activity of the brain, which I divide into perception, retroception (memory) and behavior.

Leave a Reply

Knowlecular Psychology « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Knowlecular Psychology’ Category

Entry 346 — The Definition of Visual Poetry, Yet Again

Thursday, January 13th, 2011

In a comment to the entry Geof Huth made to his blog about my taxonomy, Kaz Maslanka said, “I like what I understand to be Karl Kempton and Karl Young’s definition of: ‘Visual Poetry is a Poetry that has to be seen.’ This is such a simple yet powerful definition that seems to me to be true in every case of vizpo that I have seen.”

My definition is not so simple–because while the double-Karl definition probably does cover every case of visual poetry, it fails to distinguish certain works that I do not consider visual poetry: illustrated poems and captioned or labeled visimages; ordinary poems whose visual appearance has been improved by calligraphy or special graphic touches like ornate capitals at the beginning of stanzas–poetry, in other words that has been graphically decorated enough to make it more pleasing but not enough to significantly increase its aesthetic effect; certain infraverbal texts like Joyce’s “cropse,” which must be seen to be appreciated but are not visual, if by “visual” we mean “of any special interest to the eye.”  Of course, the definition works for those for whom just about any combination of textual and graphic material is visual poetry–but then we would still need a special term for artworks in which the interrelation of words and graphics causes has a significant aesthetic effect (or is intended to).  For that, the double-Karl definition won’t work, and that more than any of the other combinations of text and graphics is what requires definition.  Because, in my view, only that will jolt an engagent in both the reading section and the seeing section of his brain simultaneously, or nearly simultaneously.

This latter, by the way, is only one example of the way that my taxonomy of poetry is, like a proper theory of science, falsifiable.   Eventually superior forms of cat-scans will be able to determine where in the brain different forms of poetry are appreciated.  I claim each of the main kinds I classify will have a unique brainprint.  Moreover, that brainprint will prove close to exactly what one would expect it to be: visual poems, by my definition, will have a visioverbal brainprint (which will be different from textual designs’ visiotextual brainprint); linguexclusive poems will have a purely verbal brainprint–initially, for most of them will give rise to visual imagery; avisual mathematical poems will have a purely verbomathematical brainprint, but visiomathematical poems will have a visioverbomathematical brainprint.   The brainprints of more specialized poems–particular kinds of visual poems should–if my taxonomy is valid and my theory of psychology right–each have its own unique visioverbal brainprint.

One brainprint that especially intrigues is the one a cryptographic poem would have.  It’d have to be verbal, of course, but also something caused by a conceptual part of the brain I haven’t worked out yet.  Okay, crazy maybe, but don’t be too sure about that until it’s tested.

Entry 276 — The Irratioplex

Saturday, November 6th, 2010

Another day in the null zone for me, perhaps because I’m going without the pain pills I’ve been on for my bad hip as an experiment.  I played tennis this morning without any more of the slight hip pain I’ve been having with the pain pills.  That was nice but since I got home from that and a little marketing (for socks and new sneakers), I I’ve been feeling blah.  A nap didn’t help.

Meanwhile, I’m been feeling bitter about my reputation as a defender of Shakespeare.  SHAKSPER, an Internet discussion group I’m in, has for several days been discussing the proper reaction to a movie coming out called Anonymous, in which the Earl of Oxford is depicted as Shakespeare–and as Queen Elizabeth’s son–and Southampton is depicted as Oxford and Elizabeth’s son.  I think it may destroy Oxfordianism the way the preposterous codes found in Shakespeare’s plays “proving” Bacon wrote them pretty much destroyed Baconism.

What irks me is that several who comment at SHAKSPER mentioned James Shapiro’s recent book on the authorship question, and books and articles on it by others, but not my book.  No doubt I’m biased, but I consider my book the best refutation of anti-Stratfordianism in print, and the only one that presents a serious theory of what makes people become anti-Stratfordianism–whether valid or not.  Yet the Shakespeare establishment, and their little followers at the two authorship sites I participate in don’t mention me, or respond to my posts to SHAKSPER.  Maybe they don’t want it known that our side has a crank like me on it.   A crank, morover, who calls anti-Stratfordians “psitchotics.”

Nonetheless, my attempt to understand what causes reasonably intelligent people to become psitchotics where Shakespeare is concerned, and–more important–find a way to express my finding entertainingly and coherently, continues, with a minor development today, the new term “irratioplex.”  This I pronounce ehr RAH shuh plehks.  Do I misspell it?  Possibly, but “irratiplex” doesn’t do it for me.

And irratioplex is an irrational knowleplex.  There are several.  Two of them are the rigidniplex and the enthusiaplex.  I now maintain that all anti-Stratfordians are afflicted with one or the other of these two irratioplexes.  The new term allows me to couple them as victims of irratioplexes, then show how they differ from one another by virtue of their (slightly) different irratioplexes.  The rigidniks’ irratioplex is forced on them by their innate psychology; the enthusiasts’ (who are frrewenders) acquire their irratioplexes during fits of enthiuiasm, making them quickly too strong thereafter to resist.  Both irratioplexes act the same once active. both nearly impossible for their victims’ to resist.

My new strategy for the description of wacks is to concentrate on irratioplexes in general, proceed to  rigidniplexes and enthusiaplexes in general, then to how the latter two specifically enslave their victims to anti-Stratfordianism.

Entry 269 — Problem-Solving

Saturday, October 30th, 2010

When faced with a mess as bad as my attempt to work of how we process language is in, as shown by yesterday’s entry, and with no idea what to do about it, a sound reaction is to drop it and go on to something else, with or without exclamations of despair.   Or one can try anyway to do something about it.  What I think is a clever response is to think of it as A General Problem, and try to work up procedures that may be of value in solving it.  That way, you can imagine that you are working out a Method of Attack which may help others, or yourself in the future–even if it fails, since then it will indicate actions not to repeat.  At the same time you can deal with a possibly intractable problem from a distance that takes some of the pressure off you.

So, my first thought is to focus on one element of the problem, with my main intent being to clarify what it is and what I need to understand in order to make sense of it rather than go all out fully to explain it.  First question: where to begin.  To decide that, I think I need to list all the elements involved.  That, in fact, was mainly what I was trying to do yesterday.  (Phooey.  That means I have to read what I wrote yesterday!)

Okay, thew elements seem to be the word-flows: heard, read, said (formerly “spoken,” but “said” rhymes with “read,” so I like it better) and . . . mathematical (because I can’t think of a nice short, or even long, verb to use–assuming “heard,” “read” and “said” are verbs, something unimportant but would like to know).  “Mathed.”  No, not really, but it’s a temptation.

My problem now is that I have this intuition that I ought to be dealing with more than the four word-flows so far named.   One might be the grammatical word-flow.  I want to add a rhythmical word-flow, but tend to consider rhythm too insignificant compared to the others to merit a word-flow.  I don’t like “rhythmical” as an adjective here, either.  Maybe I’ll try “word-beat-flow”. . .

I’m going to think about it.  I may try to finish a portion of a mathemaku I’m working on, too.  I was going to use it today but found it as difficult to get in shape as the linguistics.  I know I can get it in shape, though–it’ll just take a lot of drudgery.

Entry 268 — More Thoughts on Linguistics, Sputterfully

Friday, October 29th, 2010

Gosh, kids, I’m finding out that language-Processing is pretty durned complicated.  One thing that makes it so is its having to do with responding in kind to its input, something that doesn’t happen elsewhere in the brain, that I can think of right now, so now strikes me as particularly interesting.  I had to take a break from thinking about it to clear my synapses.  I think they’re clear now, but I still feel over-matched by my opponent.  I’m not conceding the game, though.

First, another coinage: Ultilinguiceptuality.  That’s where all the “word-flows” occurring in the Ultilinguiceptual Awareness, or final language-processing area in the brain, end up.  I propose, very tentatively, that four word-flows can arise in the cerebrum, the heard word-flow, the read word-flow, the spoken word-flow and the mathematical word-flow.

Some of what I’m now saying may contradict previous statements of mine.  But this is definitely a sketch-in-progress.

The heard word-flow starts in the auditory pre-awareness in which a syllable-identifier sensitive to sounds representing language.  When the syllable-identifiers identifies an incoming datum as a syllable (which includes what I call “nulletters”–but may call “nullybles”–for pauses between syllables that are those part of the word-flow), it forms a verbiceptual percept of the datum.  This percept it relays to a second linguistic-identificatioon mechanism which determines whether the percept is rhythmiceptual and metriceptual,  If either, a rhythmiceptual or metriceptual percept will be fashioned, or both, and sent with the verbiceptual perceptto the verbiceptual subawareness in the linguiceptual subawareness of the Reducticeptual Awareness.  The activation of the m-cells in the verbiceptual sub-awareness will be experienced as the heard word-flow.

The pre-visual awareness cointains a texteme-identifier that separates signals from stimuli that are letters and other textual data from visual data and constructs lexiceptual percepts from them which are sent to the pre-lexiceptual subawareness where a grammar identifier mechanism will tag strings of letters nouns, verbs, prepostitions and other parts of speech.  At the same time the mechanism will determine the inflection to be given verbs and give them tags indicating what tense they are.  The tags will actually be accompanying percepts.  The linguiceptual percepts and their “tags” will end in the lexiceptual sub-awareness of the linguiceptual subawareness of the Reducticeptual Awareness, froming the the read word-flow.

When a person speaks, sensors in the neck pass on data to the dicticeptual sub-awareness where they activate m-cells having to do with the sounds the vocal cords have just made.   The subject will experience the spoken word-flow.  All word-flows active at a given time will join in the ultilinguistic subawareness to form the total word-flow.  Here they will interact with input from most of the awarenesses in the Protoceptual Awareness to permit words to connect with what they symbolically represent.

Warning, what I’ve just written is a blur.  Consider it an extreme first draft intended to show the complexities involved with trying to figure out how the brain processes language.  It makes no sense.  But it is now in a form I hope I can think about effectively enough to make a better clutter–to think about until I make a still better one, and so on, until I have something that makes sense.  To me, if to no one else.  I’ve succeeded in doing that before, so maybe I can again, although this may be the most complicated problem I’ve yet dealt with.

Later note: I forgot about the mathematical word-flow.  I posit an identifier that sorts mathematical textemes from non-mathematical textemes, and sends them to a purely mathematical awareness outside the linguiceptual awareness, but sends all the mathematical textemes along with non-mathematical textemes to the linguiceptual wareness hwere they participate as words–that is, amathematically.

Also note that I am confusing stimuli with results of stimuli, and probably with transmitted energy, and neuro-transmitters.  My next task, it would seem, will be getting that straightened out–because it’s a straight-forward job which should not be difficult, although it may take a while.

Entry 267 — A Project Expansion

Thursday, October 28th, 2010

A problem of people like me is the tendency of our projects to expand.  A form of impracticality.  It’s struck me again.  I want simply to self-publish my taxonomy of poetry, mainly so my Runaway Spoon Press will get a title into print for the twenty-third year in a row, but also because it’s worth getting into print.  Immediately, it became a taxonomy of more then just poetry, although I’m not sure just what more.  Except that it would include things like “utilitry,” or man-made items to make life easier rather than better.  And the taxonomy didn’t start with poetry or literature but at the very beginning with reality, then matter and mind.

It is now expanding through a definition of poetry that I’ve decided requires me to explain how our nervous systems process poetry . . . which requires me to describe how they process words.  That now has been trying to figure out and coherently describe my theory of an innate grammar.  Which, I’ve just discovered, means I must tackle the process of generalization.  I’m excited by that, because I think it has led to a concept of a process that makes generalizations automatic that I hadn’t previously come close to thinking might be in the mix.  If I can make my idea of it work, it would elegantly explain quite a few things that our brains do.

But it makes me fear I’ll never get my taxonomy done.

I’ll keep you informed.

Entry 266 — The Pre-Awareness Revisited

Wednesday, October 27th, 2010

Long after the first organisms with protoceptuality came into being, and some of them had developed other awarenesses, the most advanced of them found it biologically useful to split their protoceptual aware-nesses in two.  One of these remained the protoceptual awareness, the other became the pre-awareness.

The Pre-Awareness gradually become quite complex in the higher species, becoming for us a sort of confederacy of primary pre-awarenesses, one for each of the senses.  Each primary pre-awareness has become in turn a confederacy of specialized secondary pre-awarenesses such as the visiolinguistic pre-awareness in the visual pre-awareness and the audiolinguistic pre-awareness in the auditory pre-awareness.  Each incoming perceptual cluster (or “pre-knowlecule,” or “knowlecule-in-progress,” by which I mean cluster of percepts, or “atoms of perception,” which have the potential to form full-scale pieces of knowledge such as the visual appearance of a robin, that I call “knowlecules”) enters one of the primary pre-awarenesses, from which it is sent to all the many secondary pre-awarenesses within that primary pre-awareness.

The secondary pre-awarenesses, in turn, screen the pre-knowlecules entering them, accepting for further processing those they are designed to, rejecting all others.  The visiolinguistic pre-awareness thus accepts percepts that pass its tests for textuality, and reject all others; the audiolinguistic pre-awareness tests for speech; and so on.  All this, remember, is as my theory describes it.  However, much of conventional neurophysiuology, especially concerning mechanisms in the eyes and areas between the eyes and the visual center in the brain (which is in the occipital lobe, if I remember rightly) has established the existence of such processes, although few, probably, act too much like my hypothetical ones.  Some do act like mine, processes in the eyes or just behind them, for instance, that recognize circles and lines.  It is a fault of mine that I can’t match my hypothetical processes to the known ones due to lack of familiarity with conventional terminology.  Another fault of mine is that I can’t draw on the evidence conventional science has turned up to support what I say about my theory’s processes.  I feel my time is much more valuably spent on thinking my way to undiscovered processes, incompletely understood known processes, and how they might be organized than on work anyone in the field could do, though.

Ideally, I could call on grad students to take care of these side-jobs, or even, if grants ever went to people actually significantly furthering knowledge, take care of them myself (which I think would be fun doing) because freed from all the things that are screwing up my life because of impoverishment, including I firmly believe my bouts of blah.

Okay, that’s it for my whining–for today, at any rate.

Back to the Pre-Awareness, which I need to give its full name, to wit: “protoceptual pre-awareness.  Aside from being a relay station for reports from all the senses, glands and muscles, the protoceptual pre-awareness has an area, the visual pre-awarreness, that I hypothesize as having broken off from the visual awareness fairly early on to become a visual detail-awareness center.  It contained processes that identified significant visual details such as the human figure, the human face, landscape features, motion, geometrical shape, and so forth.  Eventually when human beings began marking things, and the marks became ideograms and then letters, a texteme-identifier became one of the processes that evolved in the visual pre-awareness.  Textemes are the smallest units of textual meaning in my linguistics.  Basically letters, numerals and punctuation marks.  The basis of language, and hence of poetry.

Similarly, an auditory pre-awareness evolved with a syllable-identifier sensitive to sounds representing language.  This word-identifier and the texteme-identifier transmitted energy to the Linguiceptual Awareness in the reducticeptual awareness.  This area is divided into lesser sub-awarenesses, five of which are the Lexiceptual, the Verbiceptual, Dicticeptual, Vocaceptual, Rhythmiceptual and Metriceptual.  The first is an charge of the written word, the second of the spoken word, the third of vocalization, the fourth of the rhythm of speech and the fifth of the meter of speech.  All five of the linguiceptual sub-awarenesses transmit to a further sub-awareness, the Linguassociative Awareness, which receives input from most of the awarenesses in the Protoceptual Awareness to permit words to connect with what they symbolically represent.

There are also grammatical awarenesses in the linguiceptual awareness.  These are too complicated for me to deal with right now.

Entry 264 — On the Ten Awarenesses, Again

Monday, October 25th, 2010

I’ve been reworking my thoughts on the ten awarenesses (or abilities or intelligences, whatever you want to call them) that I so far posit, as part of the essay I’m writing on the taxonomy of poetry I’ve devel- oped.  Some of them will play role in my taxonomy.  Kinds of poetry, for instance, will be partially defined by what areas of the brain–what awarenesses, that is–they primarily activate.  I haven’t added much to what I previously posted here at my blog, but I added a few guesses about the evolution of the awarenesses that I consider rather interesting.

The Ten Awarenesses

I’ll begin with the protoceptual awareness because it was almost certainly the first, or “proto” awareness to evolve.  Hence, it was the ancestor of the other nine awarenesses, and the one all forms of life have in some form.  As, I believe, most real theoretical psychologists would agree.  Some but far from all would also agree with my belief in multiple awarenesses, although probably not with my specific choice of them.  It has much in common with and was no doubt influenced by Howard Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences.  It is much more advanced and much less superficial than his, however.

The protoceptual awareness deals with reality in the raw: directly with what’s out there, in other words–visual, auditory, tactile, olfactory, gustatory stimuli.  It also deals directly with what’s inside its possessor, muscular and hormonal states.  Hence, I divide it into three sub-awarenesses, the Sensoriceptual, Viscraceptual and Musclaceptual Awarenesses.  The other nine awarenesses are (2) the Behavraceptual Awareness, (3) the Evaluceptual Awareness, (4) the Cartoceptual Awareness, (5) the Anthroceptual Awareness, (6) the Sagaceptual Awareness, (7) the Objecticeptual Awareness, (8) the Reducticeptual Awareness, (9) the Scienceptual Awareness, and (10) the Compreceptual Awareness.

24 May 2011 note: I may return to “fundaceptual” from “protoceptual.”  I dropped “fundaceptual” to free “funda” up for use in another coinage of mine, but can’t remember now what coinage it was.  I’m also considering “execuceptual” in place of “behavraceptual.”

The Behavraceptual Awareness is concerned with causing behavior, and telling you of it.  It is the only awareness that does anything but store memories, and cause remembering.

At this point, I need to make a metaphysical digression.  I could skip it, because it is irrelevant, but I want to be thorough.  When I speak of “you,” I actually mean what I call your “urwareness,” or fundamental conxciousness of the universe, which is somehow connected to “your” body.”  It does nothing but observe what your brain tells is in “your” environment and what actions “your” brain has taken.  Your urwareness, no doubt, will think it was the one causing said actions, it will have had nothing to do with them, however; it will merely have observed what the brain it is attached to chose to do and did.

I believe all this because I can conceive of no way mind could have any influence on matter, since it is itself immaterial, or by definition without material effect.  The question as to how it connects in any manner to anything material is leave as an Eternal Unanswerable–a simpler unanswerable since it’s only about how an awareness can be aware of matter, not about that and how it can tell matter what to do, which matter can easily do by following the law of cause and effect without any input.

But “I” am sure “you,” like my urwareness, will feel more comfortable believing that “you” initiate “your” behavior.  No problem: I can, and will hereafter, drop the italics (which I’ve been dispensing with till now, anyway), and advance from the position that behavraceptual awareness is concerned with carrying out your orders and describing to you what you have made it do in each instance.

The Evaluceptual Awareness has, like the protoceptual awareness, been around forever, I believe, although–unlike the protoceptual awareness–it need not have been.  It measures the ratio of pain to pleasure one experiences during an “instacon” (or instant of consciousness) and causes one to feel one or the other, or neither, depending on the value of that ratio.  In other words, it is in charge of our emotional state.

The Cartoceptual Awareness tells one where one is in space and time.  I imagine this was another early awareness, but not as early as the three preceding ones.

The Sagaceptual Awareness is one’s awareness of oneself as the protagonist of  some narrative in which one has a goal one tries to achieve.  It evolved to help motivate an organism to become aware of consequential goals such as escaping a predator or defeating and devouring prey and persist in the achievement of it, something which, again, would probably have developed early in our rise to humanhood.

The Objecticeptual Awareness is sensitive to inanimate objects.  My guess is that it began a few eons after the protoceptual awareness did, in order to separate neutral entities in the environment for entities which might be predator or prey.

Sensitivity to the latter entities, as distinct from objects was the basis of what become the Anthroceptual Awareness, which has to do with our experience of ourselves as individuals and as social beings (so is divided into two sub-awareness, the egoceptual awareness and the socioceptual awareness).  The “society” it is sensitive to includes many other life-forms, some of which no doubt cohabit the society of living beings, and the company of objects that the objecticaptual awareness is concerned with.

The Reducticeptual Awareness is basically our conceptual intelligence.  It reduces protoceptual data to abstract symbols like words and numbers and deals with them (and has many sub-awarenesses).  It would seem to have come late, biologically.  On the other hand, there were probably primitive forms of it early on, such as a sense of the difference between one and many.

The Scienceptual Awareness deals with cause and effect, and may be the latest of our awarenesses to have evolved.

Finally, there is the Compreceptual Awareness,which is our awareness of our entire personal reality. I’m still vague about it, but tend to believe it did not precede the protoceptual awareness but later formed when some ancient life-form’s number of separate awarenesses required some general intelligence to co:ordinate their doings.

Entry 252 — 12 October 2010 Report

Tuesday, October 12th, 2010

I did more work on my essay concerning aesthetics.  I’m burned out on it now, but it’s still not right.  I have to leave it for a while.  I’m burned out on about everything, it would appear.  Can’t think of anything concerning poetry I feel like writing about.  My heath seems okay, and I’m not sleepy.  The pain pills I’ve been taking have helped with that, and with my hip, which held up moderately well earlier when I played tennis.  I think I’ll need hip replacement surgery, anyway.  I want to get a shot for my hip before I do, though.  I’m hopeful that will be enough to get me back to feeling the way I think I should.

Possible rough draft currently taking shape:

.

.                         Poem, Nearing the Center

.
.                         Swans wrinkled
.                         against Poem’s current memory of
.                         Excalibur
.                         multiplied by lake-grey branches
.                         simpling deeper than winter.
.                         A bridge hand glows
.                         through a made finesse
.                         toward game bid and made
.                         in the wake of
.                         Brillo pads renewing the white shine
.                         of a toilet bowl.
.                         Holy smoke
.                         so slowly centering
.                         the universe
.                         as the next hand is dealt.
.                         Model T’s coming off the
.                         assembly line
.                         proving mankind
.                         ocean-eminent
.
.
.

Entry 251 — “Homage to Shakespeare”

Monday, October 11th, 2010

I keep directing my Shakespeare authorship friends and enemies to this poem, but none has commented on it, that I recall.   I tend to think Shakespeare fans rarely are much interested in newer forms of poetry.   I made it around twenty years ago.  It was the first of my visual poems to get accepted for Kaldron, the leading American visual poetry magazine of the time (but international in scope).  Unfortu- nately, I can’t show it large enough for the small print to be visible her.

Here’s an annotated detail of it showing what the small print says.

Entry 250 — Going in Reverse

Monday, October 11th, 2010

I now know more about pleasure and pain than I understand.   My problem, I think, is that what I know seems right, but I can’t organize it into any kind of neat, accessible package.  The thing bothering me is what beauty is.  I once pegged it as simply the right ratio of pleasure to pain a stimulus produces.  Then I remembered something obvious to almost everyone but me: that there are stimuli that are automatically perceived by healthy minds as beautiful.  Nothing wrong with two kinds of beauty, but the two seemed to me too different from one another to share a name.  Next thing you know, I’d have to accept an elegant mathematical proof as beautiful.  Okay in bull sessions, but not if one is concerned with useful serious communication since a term loses its linguistic value to the degree that it can be applied to significantly different things.

So, how about calling the stimulus with the proper familiarity to unfamiliarity ratio . . . ?  I can’t think of anything.  There’s the beauty our instincts are sensitive to, and the truth our instincts about what contradicts, what harmonizes, are sensitive to.  Empathy would be what our instincts derive pleasure from when interacting with others–that which is anthroceptually pleasurable, in terms of knowlecular psychology.  There’s good, too, or the pleasure–instinctive in many cases–we feel when we, or others, act in a manner we consider moral.

Okay, folks, I have to turn to neologization, again.  “Assimlatry.”  That is now my term for any stimulus causes that has the right r/f ratio (or “resolution/frustration” ratio, resolution being what happens when a psychevent leads to the familiar, frustration being what happens when it leads to  unfamiliarity).  “Assimlatrous” is the adjectival form.  Yes, grotesque terms, but naming is the first step toward understanding, and essential.

There’s also the need for the instinctive pleasure one feels when achieving a goal.  “Triumph” may be sufficient.  No, I think “success” better.  And “resolution” for “assimilatry.”  No, no” “comprehension” is the perfect name for it!  So, I have the following pairing on my list of kinds of pleasure and pain (with which of my theory’s awareness’s is involved in each case):

instinct-based evaluception

beauty/ ugliness: fundaceptual evaluception
empathy/ hostility: personal anthroceptual evaluception
good/ bad: moral anthroceptual evaluception
success/ failure: sagaceptual evaluception

logic-based evaluception

truth/ error: reducticeptual evaluception

experience-based evaluception

comprehension/ perplexity: combiceptual evaluception

I think I may be getting somewhere, after all. And, wow, a list of terms none of which is a coinage!  (I mean aside from the names of my awarenesses.)

Entry 350 — Re: the Value of Taxonomy « POETICKS

Entry 350 — Re: the Value of Taxonomy

My good friend Geof Huth has challenged me to demonstrate why taxonomization is of value.  At first, I was somewhat dumbfounded by his belief that it was, if not useless, not of major importance.  Able occasionally to illuminate but not able to do so well enough for one to make a life-long project of, as I have.   I have always taken it as a given that an effective taxonomy is of value–of crucial value–in all fields.  Linnaeus’s Taxonomy, Mendeleyev’s Periodic Table of Elements, Euclid’s Geometry . . .   I termed it “the basis of the conceptual appreciation of art” (in a slightly different arrangement of those words), in the introductory defense of it in my A Preliminary Taxonomy of Poetry.  I also mentioned “the clarification of discussion that an effective taxonomy can accomplish.”  Later, I may have gone off the lyrico-mystical deep end when I said, “At their best, taxonomies (and analysis in general) reveal ever-smaller mysteries, and ever-vaster interconnections to discover down or up to–while allowing us a vocabulary greater than ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhh’ with which to share our pleasure with others.”  Granted, the idea that without taxonomy’s help, our vocabulary would be limited to ooohs and ahhhs is absurdly exaggerated.  Still, as I hope to show, only a taxonomy-based vocabulary is of maximal usefulness in the search for significant truths.

I soon admitted that I had not done much more than assert the worth of taxonomy, although it still seems to me that anyone who has done serious work in any kind of verosophy (i.e., field of significant material knowledge) would find plenty of support in his experiences for those assertions.  Ergo, I now must present a detailed case for taxonomy.  Not easy, for that requires a discussion of knowledge,  a main contention of mine being that taxonomies are either necessary or hard to do without in all attempts significantly to understand a discipline.  Here I ought to stop, for the possibility that I could convince anyone that my understanding of what knowledge is, and how we acquire and use it is valid is less than point oh one percent.  Nevertheless, I’ll try.  If I can figure out how to.

Warning: I’m now going to think out loud.  I will be hard to follow as I will probably jump around.  My logic will at times be very lax, and I’ll use coinages of mine unfamiliar to all but me.  Don’t expect too much in the way of articulateness, either.

I’m going to start with the knowleplex.  That’s what I call the complex of knowlecules (bits of knowledge) that a person’s brain forms when learning his way around a portion of reality containing interrelated matter–one’s neighborhood, for instance, or marine biology, or the study of the photon.  There are many kinds of knowleplexes.  The most effective, for verosophers, is the verosoplex.  That’s because it is systematically organized.  Not perfectly, but always aiming for maximal systemization.

I would claim that one reason many plenty dislike taxonomy (and reductive thinking and everything else having to do with science and related fields) is that they are incapable of forming verosoplexes.  Some whom I call “milyoops, tend because of their innate temperaments, mainly to form sloppy clumps of knowlecules some of which interrelate with some of the others in the knowleplex  but few of which interrelate to all or even a majority of the others in it.  The milyooplexes, as I call these, lack a unifying principle, something that makes a big picture possible.  An effective taxonomy is the ultimate such unifying principle.

It’s just like a city: an ideal system of streets will get you with maximal efficiency wherever you want to go; streets designed merely to connect one building to one or two others, will be worthless outside a give neighborhood.  Similarly, a city with an effective system of streets will tend to fill up with building at eay to find and get-to locations.  A really well-organized city (impossible because Nature must make it so) would have a center from which the whole of the center would be in view.

Another kind of knowleplex is the rigidniplex.  It’s formed by people I term rigidniks whose innate temperament compels them to create unsound unifying principles–conceptual skeletons, so to speak–that are too inflexible to form a unifying basis for sufficient knowledge to provide a rational understanding of a field.  They over-unify too little data.

Milyoops are satisfied by their milyooplexes because they allow pleasurable short-term connections–the pleasure of vaudeville versus the pleasure of a well-written full-length play.  Or pop songs versus classical symph0nies.  They can’t experience long-term pleasure or be other than bored by anything aimed to provide that, so they oppose it.  They love to learn small facts, but avoid systematic knowledge.  Another way of putting it is that a milyoop lacks much of an attention span–a pop song’s immediate variation on its initial theme will give them pleasure, but forget a second movement of a symphony’s providing a (probably more complicated) variation on a (probably more complicated) theme played ten minutes previously.  They can’t use a taxonomy, which does, basically, what a fine symphony does, so they reject it.

The whole idea is that a small understanding of some small portion of a knowleplex will give pleasure, but if one also can connect it to some other portion of the knowleplex, one can enjoy the second portion at the same time, and if one can also–do to one or more such connections, intuite something of the way everything in the knowleplex interrelate, one can enjoy a truly superior pleasure.  Indeed, such an understanding can suggest the sense of the oneness of all things that religions hype as the ultimate happiness–and which I believe all verosophers experience in their best moments, and have spoken of.  Artists, too–although not by means of a verosoplex, but by means of (this is a new idea of mine) an intuiplex–a knowleplex whose unifying principle is protoceptual rather than reducticeptual.  Or sensual rather than conceptual.

This is a good moment for me.  Due to the taxonomical thinking I always do when working with my theory of psychology.  I classify artistic temperaments as different from scientific temperaments on the basis of their brain make-up, which I won’t go into here.  And suddenly perceived how I could be nice to artists with this intuiplex, which I genuinely see can be a route to large truths equal to the verosoplex.  But also what causes the two cultures C. P. Snow wrote about, and which I fully accept.

The intuiplex much more than the verosoplex aids the pursuit of beauty, which I hold to be as important as the search for truth, but probably hinders the latter–except when used by someone who also is capable of verosoplexes.  Similarly, verosoplexes tend to get in the way of the pursuit and appreciation of beauty.

Again, I yield to the temptation of using my present reasoning to support the value of taxonomy.  Only because of taxonomy have I been able on the spur of the moment to hypothesize an intuiplex–because it is based on the knowleplex, which is only a taxonomical level one step above it, and the verosoplex, which it is recognizably identical to (to me) except for one thing, its being an arrangement of primarily protoceptual knowlecules (think of the somatic knowledge that some highly unintellectual highly effective athletes have) instead of reducticeptual knowlecules–which, by the way, is taxonomically very similar, and in the same taxon as protoceptual knowlecules, differing from them only in that their ultimate source is the data conveyed to the brain more or less directly from the senses rather than extracted from the senses pre-cerebralling and converted to reducticepts (or conceptual knowledge, like words, numbers or geometrical shapes).

An important point to recognize is that the validity of my theory of psychology is irrelevant so far as the value of its taxonomy is concerned: its taxonomy greatly facilitates my navigation of it, and ability to understand it–and find gaps worth trying to fill I’d never find without it,

I really think I know what I’m talking about, however little it may seem so.  I hope someone somewhere in time and space gets something out of this installment of my adventure in Advanced Thought.  More, I hope, tomorrow.

Leave a Reply

Entry 346 — The Definition of Visual Poetry, Yet Again « POETICKS

Entry 346 — The Definition of Visual Poetry, Yet Again

In a comment to the entry Geof Huth made to his blog about my taxonomy, Kaz Maslanka said, “I like what I understand to be Karl Kempton and Karl Young’s definition of: ‘Visual Poetry is a Poetry that has to be seen.’ This is such a simple yet powerful definition that seems to me to be true in every case of vizpo that I have seen.”

My definition is not so simple–because while the double-Karl definition probably does cover every case of visual poetry, it fails to distinguish certain works that I do not consider visual poetry: illustrated poems and captioned or labeled visimages; ordinary poems whose visual appearance has been improved by calligraphy or special graphic touches like ornate capitals at the beginning of stanzas–poetry, in other words that has been graphically decorated enough to make it more pleasing but not enough to significantly increase its aesthetic effect; certain infraverbal texts like Joyce’s “cropse,” which must be seen to be appreciated but are not visual, if by “visual” we mean “of any special interest to the eye.”  Of course, the definition works for those for whom just about any combination of textual and graphic material is visual poetry–but then we would still need a special term for artworks in which the interrelation of words and graphics causes has a significant aesthetic effect (or is intended to).  For that, the double-Karl definition won’t work, and that more than any of the other combinations of text and graphics is what requires definition.  Because, in my view, only that will jolt an engagent in both the reading section and the seeing section of his brain simultaneously, or nearly simultaneously.

This latter, by the way, is only one example of the way that my taxonomy of poetry is, like a proper theory of science, falsifiable.   Eventually superior forms of cat-scans will be able to determine where in the brain different forms of poetry are appreciated.  I claim each of the main kinds I classify will have a unique brainprint.  Moreover, that brainprint will prove close to exactly what one would expect it to be: visual poems, by my definition, will have a visioverbal brainprint (which will be different from textual designs’ visiotextual brainprint); linguexclusive poems will have a purely verbal brainprint–initially, for most of them will give rise to visual imagery; avisual mathematical poems will have a purely verbomathematical brainprint, but visiomathematical poems will have a visioverbomathematical brainprint.   The brainprints of more specialized poems–particular kinds of visual poems should–if my taxonomy is valid and my theory of psychology right–each have its own unique visioverbal brainprint.

One brainprint that especially intrigues is the one a cryptographic poem would have.  It’d have to be verbal, of course, but also something caused by a conceptual part of the brain I haven’t worked out yet.  Okay, crazy maybe, but don’t be too sure about that until it’s tested.

9 Responses to “Entry 346 — The Definition of Visual Poetry, Yet Again”

  1. karl kempton says:

    the word ‘poetry’ within the two word term ‘visual poetry’ frames the discussion. we are not saying visual calligraphy nor graphics poetry, nor comix poetry etc.

    as long as you focus on your self centered lexicon rather than seek an universal point of viewing, all this is perhaps a talking passed each other.

    to continue: because of the steady decline since its peak in the early 1990′s, and because the term visual poetry was coined circa 1965 to break away from the limits of what became concrete poetry, i now prefer the use of sound illumination or illuminated language/s to cover all the visual (must see to fully grasp) use of language that can be composed. the best visual poetry is but a small subset as a result of what took place in the 1990’s. the following is a very abridged outline as to my shift.

    just as concrete became cliché, what has become american vizpo/vispo (a term i used since the late 1970′s onward in my correspondence as an abbreviation for visual poetry), much american vispo, since the mid 1990’s attempted take over by a certain click of the language poets, has become neo/retro concrete. many american visual poets aloud themselves to be hypnotized (or consciously gave themselves over) by a perceived center of power of the moment to serve in order to gain recognition and or power, rather than serve the eternal muse of poetry.

    vispo is now a cliché. it is no wonder the title of a forthcoming anthology is called the last vispo anthology. the editors themselves not only unconsciously have announced its death but also date its birth as 1950’s concrete movement (: “The Last Vispo Anthology extends the dialectic between art and literature that began with the concrete poetry movement fifty years ago.”) they themselves and those within this particular group consciousness admit they work in a temporal moment without homage to the eternal muse.

    visual poetry roots are many thousands of years deep. illuminated language and its ancestral pictorial pictographic petroglyphic images even deeper. those not knowing history are condemned to repeat it. that is obviously true for those cutting history of this form off at 1950.

  2. Bob Grumman says:

    Interesting entirely unself-centered take on the history of visual poetry, Karl. But, as I point out, your definition of visual poetry is too general. If you disagree with that, you need to present an argument against it. You need to show, for instance, either that poems like “cropse” are visual poems, or why such poems need not be considered visual poems by your definition.

    I would add that naming things for political reasons the way you say visual poetry was, retards the search for truth. But “visual poetry” is a good term. It is a good term because it specifies a kind of poetry that is specifically verbal and visual, and not, like concrete poetry, concrete in some other way, such as tactilely. That is why it is in my taxonomy. I would add that almost all concrete poetry is also visual poetry.

  3. serkan isin says:

    ‘Visual Poetry is a Poetry that has to be seen.’ can be taken as a definition maybe. But lots of problems here, first of all, written poetry can be seen also. There is a form there and it is not always the same, especially after the free verse. Second, we have to ask maybe where a poem happens? This answer has to be relative. If it is in the paper, well, but what if it is in readers mind, relation to these signs (word, punctuation, structure etc)? If we can define where a poem happens, then we can talk about the eye and visual? But usually a poem happens between reader and the paper, reader “completes” the work as Duchamp mentioned.

  4. Bob Grumman says:

    Your problem with the definition can be taken care of easily by amending it to “Visual Poetry is a Poetry that has to be seen for full appreciation of its main aesthetic cargo.” The way a conventional poem looks on the page is not part of its main aesthetic cargo. Nor would the calligraphication of its letters be. The problems with it that I point out remain: it would cover too much that is not visual poetry, such as the pwoermd, “cropse,” and illustrated poems (which many artists who make them consider visual poems. A definition should always be as simple as possible, but simplicity rarely works.

    As for where a poem happens, it seems clear to me that it happens in the mind. But rationally to define poetry, one needs to consider only what a poem is materially, which is generally word-shaped ink on a page, but which can include visual and other kinds of elements. And, of course, can be in the air as word-shaped sounds.

  5. serkan isin says:

    @Grumman; “The way a conventional poem looks on the page is not part of its main aesthetic cargo” How about thinking Mayakovski and other Russian Formalists and Futurists poems? I know these are not “conventional” but in a certain way they are modern now. How about haiku? and how about arabic or persian poetry for ages that has lot to do with the typography or calligraphy, ideograms etc where language or the sign is not just a carrier for meaning, it has the meaning only by itself. In western thinking these are not may be considered or not taken as main-frame but visual poetry has lots of roots with the “graphic-writing” history of the writing. If you are a verbal poet or as Ong say “verbomotor poet” these has minor importance but other way, every structural element has critical importance i guess. And how can we be sure that cargo, can be carried easily by any means and chance of the Language? Is poetry that good at that kind of information (communication)?

  6. Bob Grumman says:

    I think it’s a matter of a case by case decision whether a given poem’s aesthetic cargo is visual enough to make the poem a visual poem. I simply subjectively do not feel calligraphy (in most cases) does so. It’s decorative only. Spacing in poems isn’t enough, either, in my subjective view. I don’t see how haiku are visual. Chinese ideagrams may seem very visual to westerners but are essentially composed of symbols that are read, not seen.

    As for language’s ability to carry an aesthetic cargo, I assume without the help of its visual arrangement and decoration, I simply subjectively believe that words can carry huge amounts of meaning and that in a good poem that meaning makes things like calligraphy minor.

    One has to make subjective decisions like that or give up defining things. It seems to me that you are basically calling for a definition of visual poetry too broad to be useful. What isn’t visual poetry if haiku are or, apparently, any hand-written poem is?

  7. nico says:

    i would have to say, the use of the phrase ‘eternal muse of poetry’ seems ridiculous here. taking wide sloppy swings at people you do nothing but miss and waste our time.

  8. huseyin kaya says:

    karl kempton sevişelim mi?

  9. Concrete poem represents deep feeling

Leave a Reply

Entry 1083 — More Mathpo Blither « POETICKS

Entry 1083 — More Mathpo Blither

I believe I’ve worked out my final argument for considering mathematical operations to happen in my mathexpressive poems:

(1) Consider the sentence, “It is the east and Juliet is the sun.”  The sun is presented as a metaphor for Juliet but it remains an actual sun.

(2) Consider the equation, “(meadow)(April) = flowers.”  The mathematical operation of multiplication is presented as a metaphor for the way April operates on a meadow, but it remains an actual mathematical operation of multiplication.  The equation carries out the operation of multiplication on two non-mathematical terms to get a third non-mathematical term.  It is something real that acts metaphorically.

If the mathematical operation does not occur, what happens?  Two images, one of a meadow, one of April, whose collocation a reader is to take as having to do with flowers?  What sort of poem would that be? Not that the actual mathematical operation makes it a great poem; I only use it because its simplicity makes my point so clearly.

That it is possible for such a thing as a poem that is part mathematical and part verbal to exist is important to me for taxonomical reasons since it helps substantially to allow me to claim all poetry ultimately to be of just two main kinds, lexexpressive poetry, which consists of nothing (or, sometimes, nearly nothing) but words (and punctuation marks), and plurexpressive poetry, in which one or more expressive modality is as aesthetically important in it as words (and punctuation marks): visioexpressive poetry, mathexpressive poetry, audioexpressive poetry and performance poetry (which I want to find a term for that carries on my “X-expressive” coining).

.

Leave a Reply

Entry 1084 — Yet More Mathpo Thoughts « POETICKS

Entry 1084 — Yet More Mathpo Thoughts

In the March entry of my Scientific American blog, I praised a poem of Rita Dove’s–with chagrin, because she’s one of poetry’s enemies, in my view, due to her having the status to bring the public’s attention to poetry outside of Wilshberia but doesn’t.  Here’s what I said about her “’Geometry,’ which wonderfully describes the poet’s elation at having proven a theorem: at once, her ‘house expands,’ becoming transparent until she’s outside it where ‘the windows have hinged into butterflies . . . going to some point true and unproven.’  Putting her in the almost entirely asensual beauty of the visioconceptual part of her brain where Euclid doth reign supreme.”  I bring this up to illustrate an important reason for my emphasis on the idea of a mathexpressive poem’s doing mathematics.  It is, that if one of my long division poems does not do mathematics, there is nothing to distinguish it from a poem like Dove’s.  If that makes taxonomical sense to anyone, so be it, but it doesn’t to me.  

Needless to say, I very much want it believed that my poems do something special, but that doesn’t make my belief that they do necessarily invalid.

Going further with the idea of the value of doing something non-verbal in a poem rather than just discussing some discipline in which non-verbal operations occur, the possibility of doing math in a poem simplies the possibility of doing other non-literary things in them.  Like archaeology.  I’ve tried that in a few of my visual poems (as have others, whether consciously or not, I don’t know).  I’ve suggested archaeology sites to what I believe is metaphorical effect, but only portrayed archaeology, not carried out archaeological operations.  Not sure yet how that can be done but feel it ought to be possible.  Ditto doing chemistry–as some have, I believe (although I can’t think of the unusually-named poet who I believe has, right now).

I’ve read of choreographical notation and feel confident that it could be effectively used in poetry.  Don’t have time to learn it, my self, though.  I’ve done music in poems–only at the simple level that I’ve done mathematical poems, but made poems that require the pocipient to be able to read music to appreciate them.  There are all kinds of wonderful ways to go as a poet for those believing other ways of interacting with the world besides the verbal can be employed in poetry rather than merely referred to, however as eloquently as Rita Dove has referred to the geometrical.

.

Leave a Reply

Michael Bartholomew-Biggs « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Michael Bartholomew-Biggs’ Category

Entry 1264 — A Quasi-Haiku

Saturday, November 9th, 2013

The very first poem in the Bridges 2013 Poetry Anthology (Tesselations Publishing, Phoenix, 2013), Michael Bartholemew-Biggs’s, “Taylor’s Theorem,” which I’ve been invited to review, bothered me because I thought he was calling it a haiku.  Here it is:

If we knew it all
for just a single moment
we’d hold the future

I was going make my standard point about 5/7/5 not being required for a haiku, and not being enough to make a text a haiku when I reread Bartholomew-Biggs’s title for the sequence of which “Taylor’s Theorem” was just one of seven poems and saw he was calling those poems “quasi-haiku.”  In any event, I liked it and the rest of his sequence, particularly a sort of quasi-haiku diptych, “Ill Conditioning”:

Catastophists say
one butterfly’s wingbeats can
switch drought to monsoon.
Catastrophe spreads
through some computations from
one decimal’s doubt.

I’m quoting these partly because I like them, but also because they and many of the other poems in the anthology strike me as what I’m calling “idea-poems” as opposed to “image-poems,” which I consider an interesting division to ponder, and will, with results to show you eventually, I hope.

 

.

Mathematical Poetry Specimen « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Mathematical Poetry Specimen’ Category

Entry 143 — Taxonomical Update

Friday, June 11th, 2010

I toppled back into my null zone a couple of days ago.  Don’t feel like writin’ nuttin’ but have something too important not to make public right now.  It has to do with my recent taxonomy.  I want to add that “propaganda” is now a rank under “Sociodominance,” and “information” a rank under “Utilitry.”  I want also to put “war” and  “politics” under “Sociodominance,” and add “play” to my Phylum.

“Play,” by the way, breaks down into “games” and “pretense.”  “Games” I define as activities without connection to any other member sharing the category “games” is in whose participants follow rules and pursue some goal the attainment of which is considered victory.  I can’t remember the details of Wittgenstein’s demonstration that “games” could not be defined, but believe I have definied it.  Metaphoric use, or misuse of the term notwithstanding.   “Pretense” is unserious participation in any of the activities in my Phylum, by “unserious,” meaning that no knowledgeable person would consider the activity to be in any significant way the “real thing”–children playing house, for instance.

I also have a new long division mathemaku to bring to the world’s attention.  I won’t even draw it, it’s so lame: actual salt (glued to the page) divided into “NaCl” gives you “naming” with a subdividend product ot “salt” and a remainder of “science.”  This is lame because it’s just the statement of an opinion, to wit: “By naming the real substance, salt, you get the word, “salt,” which is equal, when “science” is added to it, to was salt esentially is, which, it is implied, is more than what it is as a substance.   The only reason I bother to post the poem at all is because it reverses the standard belief that real things are more than the words for them.  For me, words are more than their referents.

Entry 116 — Finally Back

Tuesday, March 9th, 2010

All I have today is a revision of my last mathemaku:

The title of the piece is “Mathemaku in Honor of Andrea Bianco’s 1436 Map of the World.”  I changed the previous quotient from “music” to a picture of a lute.  My reasoning was that “music” was too general; I wanted something that said “medieval.”  I’m satisfied with it now.

I’m a bit shocked to see how long it’s been since my last entry here.  I thought it’d only been four or five days.  I’m going to try to post more often now, maybe not daily but at least three or four times a week.  The past three days I’ve woken up feeling good.  I’ve been more productive though not as productive as I’d like to be.  Still, I’m out of the null zone I was in.

Part of the reason for that is that my bad leg (due apparently to sciatica) is better, although I still can’t run on it to any extent.  I’m optimistic that it will fully come around if I give it time and don’t play tennis again till I’m sure it’s okay.  Three times I played when it seemed okay but not right, and each time suffered during the next few days.

The pain pills I’m taking for the problem are probably (alas) the main reason I’m feeling so good psychologically.  Also contributing it the fact that I’m winning the game of Civilization I’m playing in!  I’ve never won it at the level I’m now playing it at.  This shouldn’t mean anything but it means a ridiculously lot!  Winning just about any kind of competition really zings me!

That’s it for now.  Hope to be back tomorrow.  Will definitely be back before the week ends.

Entry 54 — Christmas, 2009

Friday, December 25th, 2009

Entry 44 — A Mathemaku & Some Poetics Notes

Tuesday, December 15th, 2009

The following, which is from #691,  is one of my earlier mathemaku.  It’s simple to understand: just think ripples, and remember that in strict mathematical equations, what’s on one side of an equals sign is upposed to stay there, and what it might mean metaphorically if it did not.

Mathemaku4Basho

Next we have a page  I scribbled some notes on in 2003 that makes good sense to me at this time, although I never took the notes into any kind of essay, that I recall:

Sept03page

And now, after two simple uploads, I’m too worn-out to do anything else, believe it or not.

Entry 40 — #675 through #670

Saturday, December 12th, 2009

In #675, I posted Endwar’s “Ten X Ten,” having liked it so much, I assume, that I’d forgotten I’d posted it a week of so before at my blog.  Under the Endwar piece, I had three mathematical poems by Kaz Maslanka, one of which is also a visual poem but too large to reproduce here without losing most of the text.  One of the others has the same problem, but the one below should be readable:

a-mans-intelligenceOops, you may need a magnifying glass.  My choice of reproduction seems to be the size above, or four times as large.  Anyway, it’s called “A Man’s Intelligence” and may be more informrature–a specimen of informratry–than poetry.  Let me quote what it says: “A man’s Intelligence” equals “intelligence Quotient” divided by the product of “The measurable level of Dionysian blood transfused in a saffron masseuse boasting whispers through the cool crystal shot glass of the finest golden tequila” times “The amount of passion fueled by a young pink Venus–her hand wandering in slow circular patterns, a seemingly aimless whistle up the man’s inner thigh.”

#677 and #678 are about the Christmas mathemaku I’d done a draft of the previous year, and worked some more on at this time (December 2005), and have worked on since then, finishing it, I believe.   Then a reproduction and revision of a long division poem I used in the autobiographical essay in the mainstream series of such things I got it into many years ago, without its making any difference whatever in my vocational reputation.  I don’t like it well enough to reproduce it here.  I had another of my mathematical poems in #680 that I don’t like enough to reproduce here.

Entry 34 — Yesterday’s Mathemaku Again, and Another

Saturday, December 5th, 2009

Here’s the latest version of what I think I’m calling “Frame 17″ of The Long Division of Poetry:

17Aug07D-light

I didn’t like the background blue as dark as it showed here, so I lightened it.  For some reason, that made a lot of difference to me.  I also changed the quotient of the mathemaku below, another variation on the lead frame of The Long Division of Poetry that I composed in 2007 and have only touched up slightly since, mostly to increase its resolution.  I feel it’s about as good as I’m capable of getting as a mathematical poet–although I do feel I’ve done a few mathemaku that are better than it.

20Nov09E

The divisor is hard to read on-site, I don’t know why.  The image is much darker than it is on the screen of the computer where I do my Paint Shop work, even though I tried to lighten it.   Oh, it’s tiff on my computer, jpeg here, which may explain it.  Anyway, the divisor reads, “a memory of/ Harbor View, June 27, 1952″

Note: for those of you new to Grumman Studies, “manywhere-at-once,” which is usually capitalized, is where (according to my poetics) metaphors and other figures of speech send one.  Two or more places in one’s brain at the same time.  So this poem attempts to express the value of equaphoration–my term for any poetic device that in some way equates one thing with another, even irony, which equates the truth with its opposite.

Entry 33 — Yesterday’s Poem

Friday, December 4th, 2009

Here’s yesterday’s image again:

17Aug07B

It’s one of my mathemaku, of course.    I’ve actually been working industriously  on it, trying get it right enough to submit to some sort of  anthology Nico Vassilakis and Crag Hill are putting together.   The version above is a recent revision of my first draft of 2007, a variation on “Frame One” of my Long Division of Poetry series.

17Aug07D-light

“Frame One” is similar to the top image except that its divisor is “words.”  It had long bothered me because (and make sure to write this down, students, because it’s an excellent example of the way I think about my poems) its claim was that “words” squared (basically–although it’s really distorted words, or words told slant. times regular words) happened to equal an image having to do with summer rain.  Why that and not, say, a Pacific sunset?   Obviously, the quotient times the divisor could equal anything.  That, I didn’t want.  Off and on I thought about this, but could think of no way to take care of it.  Until a couple of days ago, when I finally concentrated for more than a few minutes on it.  I came up with several pretty good solutions, one of them changing everything in the poem but the sub-dividend product (the image).

My final solution (I hope) resulted in the above poem.  All I did was add “memories of a long-ago summer day” to the quotient.  That assured that the sub-dividend product would have to do with summer–that it would be, that is, a visual poem about summer.  And, as a poem, it would be poetry.

No doubt in due course I’ll think of something else I find illogical about it and want to revise it again.  For now, though, I’m happy with it.

Oh, I’ve made several changes to the main image in it, too.  One was to combat the darkness in the top version (which wasn’t in it until I put it out here).  I’m as fussy about getting my graphics looking the way I want them as I am about everything else in a poem–except the choice of font, and things I can’t do anything about with my equipment, like density of resolution.

Entry 32 — A Mathemaku from 2007

Thursday, December 3rd, 2009

I continue to be more out of it than not, so have just this for today:

17Aug07B

Guess who composed it.

Entry 31 — Old Blog Entries 663 through 670

Wednesday, December 2nd, 2009

In #663, I presented my Odysseus Suite–but the reproduction is too crude for me to re-post it here.   My nest entry featured this, by Endwar:

TenByTenAs I announced when I first posted this, I am hoping to publish an antho- logy of mathematical poems, like this one, so if you have one or know of one, send me a copy of it, or tell me about it.

#665 had this by Marton Koppany, which I have to post here because it was dedicated to ME:

Odysseus

Hey, it’s mathematical, too.  The next entry, whose number I fear to state, concerned this:

Bielski-Haiku-BW

This is from Typewriter Poems, an anthology published by Something Else Press and Second Aeon back in 1972. It’s by Alison Bielski, An English woman born in 1925 whose work I’m unfamiliar with. I find this specimen a charmer . . . but am not sure what to make of it. Three lines, as in the classic haiku. The middle one is some sort of filter. Is “n” the “n” in so much mathematics? If so, what’s the poem saying? And where does the night and stars Hard for me not to assume come in? Pure mathematics below, a sort of practical mathematics above? That idea would work better for me if the n’s were in the lower group rather than in the other. Rather reluctantly, I have to conclude the poem is just a texteme design. I hope someone more clever sets me right, though. (I’m pretty sure I’ve seen later visio-textual works using the same filter idea–or whatever the the combination of +’s. =’s and n’s is, but can’t remember any details.)

It was back to my lifelong search for a word meaning “partaker of artwork” in #667–but I now believe “aesthimbiber,” which I thought of in a post earlier than #667, I believe, but dropped, may be the winner of my search.

Next entry topic was about what visual poets might do to capture a bigger audience.  I said nothing worth reposting on a topic going nowhere because visual poets, in general are downright inimical to doing anything as base as trying to increase their audience.   One suggestion I had was to post canonical poems along with visual poems inspired by them, which I mention because in my next entry, I did just that, posting a Wordsworth sonnet and a visual poem I did based on and quoting part of it–and don’t re-post here because of space limitations.  I wrote about the two in the final entry in this set of ten old blog entries.

Entry 25 — Old Entries 641 through 651

Thursday, November 26th, 2009

azily back to old blogs again, this time beginning this mathematical poem by Andrew Topel taken from #641:

add3-small

A very slightly revised version of one of the mathemaku in yesterday’s entry not worth posting here was the feature in my next entry.  Then some minor autobiography.  In #644 & #645 I posted 3 more of Andrew Topel’s addition poems, including:

add4-small

On September 24, 1997, I started my first blog, an actual log for my poetry website, Comprepoetica.  In entries #646 through #651 I reprinted my (few) entries.  OF great historical interest, no doubt, but too boring to post here.

Poetics « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Poetics’ Category

Entry 1733 — A Limited Entry

Monday, February 23rd, 2015

Okay, maybe I shouldda said “more limited than usual.”  I’ve had a busy day away from the computer–with nothing I was sufficiently burning to say to inspire a good entry, anyway.  So, just a minor thought followed by Knowlecular Psychology stuff I’ve written about before but want to repeat to get my brain a little more well-fastened to it.

* * *

Thinking about my tendency to try too hard to make sure my readers had all the information they needed fully to understand what I was writing, it occurred to me technology could come to my aid: I’m sure Kindles could be fixed to allow me to avoid boring any reader with information he doesn’t need could but also provide him with a text he could click to at any time which would have all the extra information. Right now footnotes can do this, but what I’m speaking of would not be intrusive the way footnotes are.

Indeed, a reader could be given a choice of texts–one with the math explained, one without that, for example; or any other appropriate specialized version.

* * *

Re: my knowlecular psychology, I was thinking again about what most poems are about, and went through my list again: (1) people; (2) imagery sans people; (3) concepts . . .  Is that all?  Doesn’t sound right, but I’m too out of it right now to think of any others.

What knowlecular psychology has to do with this, is that the first category could be described (as I’m sure I’ve more than once already described it) as “anthroceptual poetry.”  Or as “sagaceptual poetry,” which is poetry in which what happens to one or more people is more important than the people–for the reader, the joy of vicariously experiencing a human triumph is more important than the joy of empathetically merging with another human being.  Two kinds of people poems.

By imagery poetry, I mean poetry that is more concerned with conveying the beauty of the sound and/or the visual appearance (primarily or usually) of what is denoted by a poem’s words–or protoceptual poetry.  As for concept poetry, I’m not sure any kind of genuine poetry is more conceptual than either of the other two (and almost all poems contain both anthroceptual and protoceptual matter).  If it existed, I would call it “reducticeptual poetry.”  A good example would be “lighght”: it is aesthetically dependent on its conceptual element–the conceptual datum about its orthography; but that element’s only use is to metaphorically lift the image the poem is about into, well, poetry, so I consider the poem more protoceptual than reducticeptual.

It may be that certain conceptual poems do use conceptual elements to lift a content that is ideational rather than sensual into poetry.  Indeed, perhaps one of my mathematical poems may provide some reader more with a feeling of the poetry of asensual mathematics than with anything sensual image that may be an element of the poem.

Something requiring more thought.

Note: what I wanted primarily to glue into my memory was the term “protoceptual.”  I’ve had trouble with it because I for a while was using “fundaceptual” in place of it.  Eventually I needed “funda” elsewhere in my psychology and felt it too confusing to have it there and with “ceptual,” so went back to “protoceptual,” which I used before for the term.

.

AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1701 — The Elements of Free Verse

Friday, January 23rd, 2015

“Imagery, the only prevailing poetic element in modern free verse,” quoth Sarah Ruden, a skilled translator of classical literature in “Back to Tragedy,” an article in the January 2015 issue of The New Criterion.  Others may have said things about poetry more ignorant, but none come to mind.  Ruden is an amiable, knowledgeable writer, so I have to think she just stopped thinking for a moment.  I doubt her editors knew any better.

Imagery is of course one of the many poetic elements in modern free verse (if we consider my own free verse “modern,” as I do), but much more important that imagery is the metaphoric use to which the best poets put it, figurative language being an element of free verse.  As are all the melodational devices of formal verse except regimented rhythm (meter).  Freshness of language and syntactical expression are also elements of all poetry, including free verse.  Infraverbal devices are central to many of the best free verse poems, and–it seems to me–can play a role in formal verse, too.  Then there is the defining poetic element of free verse, expressive lineation, or line-breaks placed where they work best aesthetically rather than where a metrical form requires them to be.  I doubt if Ruden, or David Yezzi, the poetry editor of The New Criterion, are even aware of such things–or of the wide-spread addition of purely visual or purely auditory matter to free verse poems.

Amusingly, these people have almost as much trouble with the American Poetry Establishment as my crowd does, but because the certified poetry of today is beyond them rather than beneath them.

.

AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1699 — More Scraps

Wednesday, January 21st, 2015

Scrap #1: Yesterday’s mail included another chapbook from Mark Sonnenfeld, Check Check Done and Done, half of it devoted to poems by Mark and half to poems by Dory L. Williams.  Good reading but one thing in it by Dory L. Williams really knocked me out: to me, it’s an epigram, because a statement of an opinion, so according to my taxonomy a work of informrature.  Be that as it may, it’s as good an epigram as I’ve come across in years, if ever:

Covetness

If you want fame and money without real
achievement behind it, you’re not greedy enough.

Scrap #2:  After I posted yesterday’s entry, I remembered a central feature of Iowa Workshop Poetry I’d intended to mention before any other, but then forgot: it’s the recognition of the potential of ordinary subject matter for tranfiguringly successful poetry–as in Williams’s “The Red Wheelbarrow,” and in all the best haiku.   I am all for ordinary subject matter . . . but it can’t do much unless connected to archetypal matter one needs to be in one’s magniceptual awareness to be able to employ.  Williams’s poem is, finally, not about a wheelbarrow anywhere near as much as it is about Beauty.

Lesson for poets: keep explicit abstracts and generalities out of your poems as Ezra tells you to, but build you poems on them as I tell you to.  This, incidentally, you don’t necessarily have to consciously strive for, but you must be able to recognize when something worthily archetypal begins to show under your poem’s words so as to strengthen those words’ connection to it–and/or weaken the visibility of their path to it.  The archetypal foundation of the best poems is much more often understood in their engagents’ marrow long before it’s dealt with the reasoning parts of their higher faculties, if it ever is.  (Few poets have very large reducticeptual awarenesses or scienceptual awareness, which are where analysis is carried out.)

Possibly more important than the connection to the archetypal is the technique, the freshness of the technique employed to make that connection, which is usually metaphorical.

I’m just repeating old thoughts of mine, disorganizedly.   Jus’ tryin’ to make it through another blog entry.
.

AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1678 — A Specimen of My Poetry Criticism

Wednesday, December 31st, 2014

I’m trying to catch up with my collection of Small Press Review columns in this blog’s “Pages” and am about to post the one that follows.  I liked it so well (after making some small improvements to it), that I’m taking care of this entry with it:

EXPERIODDICA

September/October 2014

Richard Kostelanetz’s Latest Infra-Verbal Adventure

Ouroboros
Richard Kostelanetz
NYQ Books, Box 2015, Old Chelsea Station,
New York NY 10113. $16.95. 2014. Pa; 188 pp.

An ouroboros is a mythological serpent swallowing its tail, so an excellent title for Richard Kostelanetz’s collection of 188 words swallowing their tails, most of the time adding at least one interesting word to what they’re saying, as “ouroboros” itself does on the cover (when its s joins its “our”).  Those that do not use their first letter as their last to finish a word: “extrapolat,” for example, has only one e but spells “extrapolate” when made into a circle.  It’s fun to find smaller words inside them in Kostelanetz’s collection: “tea” and “eat,” for example, in “appetite,” which not knowing at first where the word begins forces one to discover rather than automatically read without thinking about it.  But can such objects be considered poems—rather than “curiosities?”  To use the term my Internet friend Chris Lott thought might be more appropriate for works like them than “poems”–and which turned out to be a term I’ve needed for my over-all taxonomy of verbal expression for a long time but never thought of!

The term seems right for some of Kostelanetz’s words, but only some of them–like “ouroboros.”  The addition to it of “sour” is amusing but, for me, not poetically enlarging enough to be a poem rather than a verbal curiosity—which I now define for use in my Official Taxonomy of Verbal Expression as “a text that states an amusing or interesting fact.”  That makes it (write this down!) “informrature” (i.e., texts primarily intended to inform) rather than one of the other two kinds of verbal expression in my taxonomy, “advocature” (i.e., texts whose primary intent is to persuade, or verbal propaganda) and “literature” (i.e., verbal art, or texts intended primarily to give aesthetic pleasure).  In effect, “ouroboros” as a circular word that “disconceals” the word “sour” states the fact that its letters can be used to spell “sour” following a certain rule, that being to connect the word’s end to its beginning by means of a circular spelling.

Not that such a word doesn’t veer near poetry (which can be succinctly if roughly defined as not-prose) due to its visual difference from conventional prose, its making a reader go slow (a major aim of poetry) and delivering more connotations than prose generally does.  But, for me, it is visually-enhanced the way calligraphy is, and infraverbally-enhanced the way “ouroboros” spelled “ouROBoros” to reveal one of its inner words, would be.  Yes, it looks good on the page, and makes us think about it more than it would conventionally printed, but it leaves us primarily with only the fact that “sour” can be produced by it (and “our” and “rob” are in it.

Take on the other hand, “appetite,” which swallows its tail to deliver not only “tea,” and “eat” but leads us into and around to “pet” and “petite” to go along with “appetite” itself, to present a little tea party, with a strong suggestion of little girls.  Then put “incandescent” swallowing its tail on the page opposite it to form “tin” while making us also aware of its “descent” and “scent”—due to its compelling us to read it letter by letter.  “Scent” is particularly significant because of the metaphoric jolt of the3 suggestion of something incandescent as a material scent, or of a scent as something immaterially incandescent.  The contrast of “tin” notwithstanding, the result is a fascinating scene occurring somewhere down Alice’s rabbit hole which, for me, makes the word a poem.

At this point I must contradict myself.  I now believe all of Richard’s circular words are poems.  I say this because I now feel that they do enlarge a reader’s experience of them significantly more than prose does, although some, like “ouroboros” do so to much less of an extent than others.  More importantly, this collection as a whole, I’ve come to perceive, is a single poem, whose ssspinning wheelsss free connotations whose interaction with each other disconceal sometimes fairly complex image complexes—as I’ve shown “appetite” and “incandescent” do.  The result is a loose collection of themes and counter-themes, occasionally next to each other, as with “appetite” and “incandescent,” but sometimes far apart—like “state, which amusingly becomes “estate,” where the tea party will take place, many pages from “incandescent.”

Kostelanetz’s sequence begins with “insurgent,” and as we go along, the presence of an insurgent, mainly, it comes to seem to me, a language insurgent miswriting words into circular revolts against monosemy establishes one of the sequence’s major themes (with the little girls’ tea party in feminine contrast to it).  For example, “Esperanto,” representing a language in revolt against the Tower of Babylon our world has become, supports this “linguicentric” reading.  Its disconcealment of “rant” backs up the tone of insurgence (in spite of “toes”—although that suggests “toe to toe,” for one really caught up with the sequence).  On the page facing “esperanto” we have “astonish,” which is indicative, I think, of what artistic insurgence’s aim in this story will turn out to be.  That the font Kostelanetz has chosen for his words, the highly dramatic “Wide Latin,” which is jabbingly pointed at all extremities, underscores this.

The book’s fourth word underscores this: “another,” or something other than.  But then the narrative runs into “hesitant,” which contains “Sita,” the name of the central female character, a sort of Virgin Mary, in the Hindu epic, Ramayana, and the narrative goes strange among “the,” “he” “sit”, “it,” “tan,” “an,” “ant.”  After the turn caused by “hesitant,” comes “entomb,” with its “bent” against something.  By the “men” of the later “enthusiasm?” The first peak of this insurgent flow is reached with “outlawing,” which causes “gout,” making the act of outlawing things unhealthy, and the insurgence begins to have the feel of anarchism.
I agree with you if you’re thinking one must have quite an accommodating mind to make the kind of connections I’ve so far made—but a main function of poetry is to relax one into doing just that.  I have to admit a lot of my interpretations are influenced by my knowledge of Kostelanetz as a long-time personal friend consumed (like me) with innovative insurgency in the arts and anarchistic distaste for political laws.

To get back to his sequence, it’s no surprise that “esoteric” forms the next spinning wheel with its esoteric lawless confusion of “ice,” “rice,” “sot.”  Some kind of drunken wedding?  Where are we going?  The point is that we are going somewhere, or more than one where.  And word-lovers who join us will be sure to enjoy the trip!

.

AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1628 — The Lyricule

Tuesday, November 11th, 2014

The “lyricule” is my term for the peak moment I claim every poem, to be effective, must cause one engaged with it to experience.  The haiku moment would be one, but only one, example of a lyricule.  I think it deserves a fairly large-scale essay but haven’t worked out my understanding of it well enough to write very much intelligent about it here, or anything at all organized.

The lyricule is produced by a poem’s “lyricular center.”

I would consider Basho’s entire old pond haiku to be a lyricular center.  To be coldly accurate about it, the words of the poem activate memories that combine to form the lyricule.  It produces no perceptual data.  It is thus entirely cerebral.  That does not mean it will contain no visual or auditory data.  It will almost certainly contain sounds, but they will be the sounds of the poem’s syllables seeing the poem’s text will cause the poem’s engagent to remember (assuming he reads it the way it ought to be read, pronouncing what he reads to himself).  The engagent may also “see” visual images certain words denote, and certain images those words connote, if they do so strongly enough.

I habitually claim that when reading a poem, and I’m solely concerned here with poems as read, the poem’s engagent will not “see” the words.  By this I mean that the engagent’s eyes will take in the words but send the sight of them into the engagent’s lexiceptual sub-awareness (or reading center) not his visioceptual sub-awareness.  In the former, he will read the words, not see them; in the latter, he will see them but not read them.  (In normal reading, most of the time.)  This is not important.  I mention it merely to be complete.  But also because visual poetry exploits the visual appearance of textual elements to cause an engagent to read and see at the same time, which can produce lyricules traditional poetry cannot.

Visual poetry can also add direct perceptions of shapes and colors to a lyricule.  So, I suppose I should add, can visually-enhanced poetry, which is traditional poetry using calligraphy or the like as ornamentation.

The lyricule can be considered a moment but really isn’t.  I conceive it as more a unified . . .  knowlecule, to use the term its name comes from that will take more than a unit of consciousness (which I term an “instacon” in my theory of psychology) to experience.  A knowlecule is some datum or combination of data that a person takes as a thing—a flower, or the petal of a flower, or a garden.

I think of a lyricule as seeming like a lengthily-arrested moment.

For me, the best lyricule must produce Manywhere-at-Once, as all effective metaphors do.  Manywhere-at-Once, which I discussed in my first book about poetry, is what one experiences when two or more separate loci in the brain are activated simultaneously (or more or less simultaneously)—and fuse.  For instance, when Romeo speaks of the rising sun as being Juliet, it should cause an engagent to experience some image of the rising sun and, incongruously, an image of a beautiful young woman at the same time, followed immediately by those connotations of each that are the same, such as “beauty,” “dominance,” “bringer of life” or “source of meaningfulness,” “cynosure,” and suffice to fuse the disparate denotations.

Needless to say, the Shakespearean lyricular center is more complex than here discussed—the whole of the plot preceding Romeo’s utterance, for just one element.  There are also other ways of producing Manywhere-at-Once, like simple rhyme, one of the two cerebral sites it activates being one concerned with the sound of the rhymenants, the other with their denotations.

How effective a lyricule is depends on many things.  A consequential one is the intensity of its elements.  The number of its elements is another consequential one.  Not surprisingly, the aesthetic strength of its elements is hugely important (and inordinately difficult to determine).  The freshness of its elements and/or the freshness of their interinvolvment will be signally important in determining the aesthetic strength of its elements.

I’ve already discussed the various levels a poem can have, although I probably didn’t call them levels.  In fact, I’ve probably discussed them more than once, each time with a different name.  Anyway, the levels, or whatever they are, pertain to lyricules as well as poems.  I believe that (in theory) a lyricule might be able to participate in all the ten (or eleven) awarenesses my theory (at this time) hypothesizes are in each healthy human brain.

And there is where I’ll leave my thoughts on this for now.

.

AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1627 — Norman Friedman, RIP

Monday, November 10th, 2014

A day or two ago I got the sad news that Norman Friedman died on the 6th of November.  He for many years was probably the foremost critic of E. E. Cummings, one of my three favorite pre-1960 American poets.  Certainly I learned more than a little about Cummings (and poetics) from his writings over the years.  He was also a very nice man, as I found out when I met him at a literary conference where I presented a paper on Cummings several years ago.

This  morning curiosity about him sent me to Wikipedia where, to my shock, I was unable to find an entry on him.  Along the way, though, I found an essay of his on Cummings at jstor.org, a site you can read academic writings at for a fee. The fees are way more than I can afford but I took advantage of an offer allowing me to read three essays for free, so am now midway through Friedman’s “E. E. Cummings and His Critics,” (1962).

In his essay, Friedman is making an excellent case for Cummings as what academics should consider a serious poet–i.e., one with a serious outlook on life that he expresses in his poetry.  I suppose he is right but for me, “all” Cummings did was celebrate existence, using all the verbal means he could think of in order to able to do that maximally.

Oh, sure, he was diverted from this central concern to take on collectivism (which I applaud) and science (which I don’t applaud) but at his best he did the only thing I believe poets should do, which is use the whole of their language to celebrate existence–which I think requires them at the same time to show by contrast what’s wrong with it.  I think what I mean is that a poet should side with, and celebrate, beauty in his poetry, which he can’t do without opposing, and condemning, ugliness (at least implicitly) as when Basho celebrates the beauty of the many moments existence’s best moments combine in his old pond haiku while at the same time implicitly rejects–and I should have used “rejecting: instead of “condemning” earlier in this sentence–existence’s lesser moments, the one’s with only the present in them, or–worse–only some solely intellectual or solely unintellectual present in them.  Or nothing at all, unless the nothing that includes all isn’t what many of the greatest minimalist poems are about.  (Yeah, I’m going a little over-mystical there.)

You’re in luck.  I don’t have time right now to knock out several thousand words on the poetic moment I’m talking about.  The traditional haiku moment is an instance of it, but only one instance, whatever the wacked-out anti-Western idolizers of the Far East maintain.
.

AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1611 — Interpretation of Poems, Part 2

Saturday, October 25th, 2014

I came up with a few more possible layers:

13.    The ethical layer.  I at first thought ethics would be in the ideational layer, but am now not sure.

14.    The anthroceptual, or the human relations layer: character, as opposed to plot.  At this point it occurs to me that maybe I ought to link each layer to an awareness or sub-awareness in the cerebrum as I have here.  I could also rename the ideational layer the “scienceptual layer.”  Will think it over.

15.     The allegorical layer, or the only layer those questioning the authorship of Shakepeare’s sonnets are really interested in, the one—if it exists—that arbitrarily attaches real people and places to objects in a poem.  Perhaps I should make two layers out of this, the sane allegorical layer, for poems like Spenser’s Faery Queene that use straight-forward allegory, and the psitchotic allegorical layer for poems a lunatic has found to be allegorical.

Actually, this layer should be called the allegorical paraphrasable layer, because it is everything a poem is thought to be under its surface.

Because I have it readily at hand, here’s a rough full paraphrase of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 I did to show Paul Crowley how sane interpretations of poems are made.  Needless to say, I found no allegorically paraphrasable layer.

> 1.   Shall I compare thee to a Summers day?

“Would it be a good idea to make a comparison of you to a day in the most pleasant of the four seasons?”

Note that my explication is a paraphrase of the line that takes the DENOTATION of every word into consideration and tries to make linguistic sense.  It is concerned primarily with what the surface of the poem means.  It ought to deal, too, with any clear-cut connotations of the text it concerns, as well as any secondary meanings, if any.  In this case, I find no connotations worth mention, and there is nothing in the line (or, to my knowledge, outside the line–that is, in the background layer, which should be consulted by one making a paraphrase of a poem) to indicate it means anything more than it says.

> 2.   Thou art more louely and more temperate:

“You are superior to the summer’s day mentioned in both beauty and temperament.”  Ergo, In other words, there’s really no comparison between you and a summer’s day: you’re much the better of the two.
Again, there is nothing in the text to indicate it means anything more than it directly says.

> 3.   Rough windes do shake the darling buds of May,
“Unruly, harmful movements of air upset the delicate early blossoms of summer flowers.”  Note: May may have been thought a part of summer in Shakespeare’s time.  Or May’s buds may still be present by the true beginning of summer.

> 4.   And Sommers lease hath all too short a date:

“And that season does not remain in charge of nature for very long: its “contract” to do so is short-term.”
This line and the previous one point out in some detail the defects of a summer’s day, but, implicitly, not of the addressee.  There is nothing in them to suggest they mean anything else.

> 5.   Sometime too hot the eye of heauen shines,

“There are times when the sun is unpleasantly too high in temperature,”

> 6.   And often is his gold complexion dimm’d,

There are also frequent times when the sun is overcast.”

Again, two lines providing further details of what makes the summer’s day inferior to the addressess, who–we are led to believe–has no equivalent of temperatures that are either too hot or not warm enough.  And who is never “grey” in disposition.

> 7.   And euery faire from faire some-time declines,

“Every good thing is subject to decay, and therefore must lose some of its best qualities.  “In summation, each good thing in a summer’s day must eventually retreat from its peak, or lose its best qualities,”

> 8.   By chance, or natures changing course vntrim’d:

“the victim of some random event (like being trodden on by some animal) or of the normal way the natural world behaves (turning stormy, for instance).

Ergo, we have two more lines finishing up telling the reader what is wrong with summer–and, it is strongly implied, NOT with the addressee.  So far, not a hint that anything other than the surface meaning of the words (beautifully) used is intended.

> 9.   But thy eternall Sommer shall not fade,

“Your never-dying prime season, however, won’t ever decline”

> 10.  Nor lose possession of that faire thou ow’st,

“or surrender the beauty of appearance and disposition, and other excellences you are in possession of”

Two more straight-forward lines, these ones claiming the addressee will not fade in any manner the way a summer’s day inevitably will.

> 11.  Nor shall death brag thou wandr’st in his shade,

“Nor will the ruler of the realm those who die be able to boast that you have entered his realm”

> 12.  When in eternall lines to time thou grow’st,

“when in ever-living lines of verse you continue to flourish and perhaps even improve,”

Again, a straight-forward set of lines, these bringing in the speaker of the poem’s second main thought, which is that poetry can make one who is its subject immortal.  I admit to not yet knowing exactly what “to time” means, but I believe I have given the most plausible meaning to every one of the other words in the poem.

> 13.      So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

“Until such time as human beings are unable to keep alive by taking in air or there are organs sensitive to light,”

> 14.      So long liues this, and this giues life to thee,

“the poem you have been reading or listening to will endure, and it will grant you immortality.”

That does it.  My explication accounts for every word in the poem except “to” and “time,” and even those can be accounted for as having something to do with resisting what time does to all things.  It is also completely plausible AND sufficient, for those with any ability at all to appreciate poetry.  (Of course, there’s much more to any poem than an explication of its sanely paraphrasable layer.) To show it has an allegorically paraphrasable layer (or or any other layer containing further meanings of the kind just revealed) requires external evidence of it like the notes of the poet saying such meanings are there, or poems by other poets that seem on the surface like this one but have some significant hidden under-meaning, or permit a second explication that comes up with such a hidden under-meaning that is as smooth, coherent, and reasonably interesting as the primary meaning I’ve just shown the poem indubitably to have.

The third course is the only one you have available, Paul–because we have no notes or anything else relevant from the author or from anyone else to indicate any hidden meanings, nor are there any poems in the language (or any language, so far as I know) that are like the kind of poem you claim this is.  I am absolutely sure that you cannot provide an explication that reveals a smooth, coherent, reasonable hidden meaning.  In fact, I’m pretty sure you will claim it’s not necessary to–the poet was too complex for any academic or even you fully to explicate.

That would be nonsense, and clear evidence that your interpretation is defective.  But not to you.  Nor will you ever accept my claim that it is an argument against your interpretation
.

AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1610 — The Interpretation of Poems

Friday, October 24th, 2014

Essay on the Interpretation of Poems
(First Draft)

One way of dividing verosophers, it seems to me, is into those who are able to construct permanent understandings of a given subject, and those who constantly construct understandings that they immediately forget.  Well, they don’t wholly forget them, but fail to remember any of them well enough to grasp it.  That’s me.  I continually re-construct my various theories, only to make them pretty much all over again six months, a year . . . or five years later.  My incredible defectiveness as an organizer helps.  More often than not, I can’t find previous versions of understandings.  That seems the case right now.

There is an advantage to this, I believe: it is that I, at least, do remember a sort of underunderstanding that returns each time I build a new version of a given understanding.  This, I claim, makes me superior to those whose first construction of an understanding is more or less permanent in the long run due to my not being able to restrain myself from wobbling often into substantial improvements of my understandings they are locked out of.  I would not call them rigidniks, just perhaps too close to being that.  Meanwhile, I doubtlessly am too far from being that, at least some of the time.

The freewending verospher versus the academic verosopher.  Then there is the psitchotic verosopher.  Such a character can be either excessively prone to freewendry or to academicality.  The one I’ll be introducing here is one who is amusingly anti-academic—but nevertheless himself the victim of an academicality of almost unbelievable magnitude.  One thing I’m sure of is that if I am psitchotic (and I will never rule out the possibility), it is due to my being excessively freewendrical.

Note: I am here speaking of the “sane insane.”  Both I and the psitchotic you’ll be meeting are sane enough to stay out of mental institutions, and seem rational enough to others.  Both of us are normal—but possibly normal to an excess.  That is, according to my theory of psychology, everyone is a mixture of three normal character-types, the rigidnik, the milyoop and the free-wender, and becomes a neurotic or psitchotic due to being too entirely one of these types but does not become psychotic, or nuts across the board.  To put it simply, psitchosis results from a single gland’s being under- or over-active; psychosis from greater defects spread throughout the brain.

There.  400 words and I haven’t gotten to my topic, the interpretation of poems.  I will now, with a list of what I’m calling the layers of a poem until I can come up with a better name for them.  For now, I’ll stick them on my list as they occur to me.  I hope in my return to my understanding

I may at least be able to find this list and better organize it.  Anyway, here goes:

1.    The background layer.  This consists mainly of what the person analyzing a given poem knows of its author, the poem’s form and . . . the poem’s title, if it has one.  Its presentation—as an inscription on a monument rather than on a page in a book, for instance—may be part of this layer, too.  (Oops, before I forget, I must tell you that this essay will be concerned with poems one encounters in a book, not oral poems.  What I say can be readily applied to oral poems, I believe, but I am not up to showing how over and over again.)

2.    The sensory surface of a poem: what it looks like to the eye, sounds like to ear, and perhaps feels to the tactile sense, or even smells—meta-verbally.   I distinguish the sound and visual appearance of words acting as words from their sensory effect beyond that, which I call their meta-verbal appearance.  For instance, the word, “oh,” is heard verbally as a long o, but may be heard meta-verbally as a shriek, grown, mumble or any of numerous other enunciations; similarly it may seem visually just an o or, in a visual poem, be (meta-verbally) ten times larger than the rest of the poem’s letters, and orange instead of black.

3.    The melodational layer, or how a poem sounds verbally.  The sound of “oh” as “oh” spoken normally.  Alliteration, rhyme, assonance, euphony, etc.

4.    The narrative layer, or what story the poem tells, and I believe every poem must tell some story.

5.    The symbosensual layer, or the sensual imagery the poem’s words denote (symbolically), generally the visual images they represent, but also at times sounds (“the clang of a bell”) or even smells, the taste of food, the feel of satin.  I coined my awkward term for this because I feel it important to distinguish verbal images from actual images like the graphic ones that may turn up in visual poems.

6.    The ideational layer, or all the ideas that may be in a poem.

7.    The unificational layer, or everything in a poem that, en masse, acts  as the poem’s unifying principal (if it has one).

8.    The metaphorical layer, or what I call its metaphormations.

9.    The archetypal layer, or everything in a poem that gives it archetypal depth.

10.     The paraphrasable layer, or what a poem is, on the surface, about.  It can be a repetition of the narrative layer, but will often be quite a lot more.

11.    The allusional layer, or the sum of a poem’s allusions to other poems, or cultural material of any kind, and to parts of itself.  Some of this will have been in the background layer, but some not . . . I think, but won’t be sure until I’ve worked entirely through a poem using this list.

12.    The twelfth layer, which is the layer containing everything in a poem not in the other layers.

A proper full explication of a poem, or what I call a “pluraphrase,” will identify each of these layers in a poem, or a particular layer’s absence, and evaluate it.

TO BE CONTINUED
.

AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1586 — “Moonlight Equation”

Tuesday, September 30th, 2014

intuition + reason = moonlight + pond

I’m bringing the poem above back from an earlier but recent entry because when I just happened to see it Sunday night, it made me realize a virtue of mathematical poetry I hadn’t thought of before: that an simple equation in the form a + b = c + d  strongly suggests each of the terms has a different value than the others; hence a must be part c and part d, which means the reader has an extra meaning to muse about: in my poem, just how much moonlight, for instance, is intuition, and how much reason.  Ditto for each of the others.  In other words, “intuition + reason = pond” would be a nice poem, but not nearly as loaded as “intuition + reason = moonlight + pond.”  To over-argue my point, the three-term poem consists of one mathematical idea, the other of five mathematical ideas.

No more for this entry.  I’m having another tired of my tired days, but just got through another chapter of my book, one I don’t think I made more than two or three changes to.

.

AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1541 — Thoughts Concerning Entry 1540

Sunday, August 17th, 2014

Nice to see that more people are visiting my Journal of Mathematics and the Arts article than just the forty or fifty to whom I sent free links to it–75 yesterday morning.  I’m hoping for a hundred!

A few follow-ups to yesterday’s entry.  First about the poem.  As some of you will realize, the quotient is one of my “poemns”–i.e., one of  the haiku in my 1966 collection, poemns.  Two questions occurred to me as I used it: (1) how does the poem’s existence now in two rendering affect its cultural value? and (2) should I make more long divisions using various poemns, perhaps all of them?

I hope having two versions of my poem is a plus.  The first is still important as a stand-alone because a simplification toward intensification at the expense of complexity; the second manywheres far beyond but with, I believe, the loss of maximal intensification.  In its relocation in a long division, the poemn’s connotative value is diminished, but certain of its specific connotative possibilities are strengthened.  I think I would like them read far apart from each other, the poemn first, most happily without the reader’s being aware of its use elsewhere.

I just laughed a bit to myself at the thought that I might now make a third version.

Further note: I consider poemns a collection of visual haiku, but my little boy (me at Harbor View, age 11) is not in a visual poem, but a cryptographiku (my very first one), that being a kind of infra-verbal poem that makes significant aesthetic use of an encrypted text, and infra-verbal poem being (as you all know) a poem in which what counts is what happens inside words.

I also want to say a bit about my declaration that my poem is a major one (as is my poemn–a major poem within a major poem, by gum).  That I need all the encouragement I can get, including self-encouragement is one reason for it.  Another is the hope mentioned yesterday that some one would challenge, intelligently challenge, me on it.   That would have the value of publicizing it, and perhaps educating some people about it.  But–most important for me, I swear–I might find out something that helps me as a poet.  (I almost never fail to learn something that helps me as a poet from thoughtful feedback, even very mistaken feedback, and am always surprised when that happens.)  I would also get a better sense of how my poems are coming across to others, and I truly want to know that because while simply the satisfaction I when I make a poem I like is enough for me, I also want others to enjoy it–which is the main reason by far that I make my poems public.  Benefiting materially from a poem would be very nice (I assume, from what little I know of it) but, as I often say, I’d a billion times prefer to make a poem and two or three others like without getting a cent for it than a poem I think tenth-rate but others like enough to give me–well, a Nobel prize for (the money that comes with it being about all that I’d be interested in).

.

AmazingCounters.com

Taxonomy « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Taxonomy’ Category

Entry 1733 — A Limited Entry

Monday, February 23rd, 2015

Okay, maybe I shouldda said “more limited than usual.”  I’ve had a busy day away from the computer–with nothing I was sufficiently burning to say to inspire a good entry, anyway.  So, just a minor thought followed by Knowlecular Psychology stuff I’ve written about before but want to repeat to get my brain a little more well-fastened to it.

* * *

Thinking about my tendency to try too hard to make sure my readers had all the information they needed fully to understand what I was writing, it occurred to me technology could come to my aid: I’m sure Kindles could be fixed to allow me to avoid boring any reader with information he doesn’t need could but also provide him with a text he could click to at any time which would have all the extra information. Right now footnotes can do this, but what I’m speaking of would not be intrusive the way footnotes are.

Indeed, a reader could be given a choice of texts–one with the math explained, one without that, for example; or any other appropriate specialized version.

* * *

Re: my knowlecular psychology, I was thinking again about what most poems are about, and went through my list again: (1) people; (2) imagery sans people; (3) concepts . . .  Is that all?  Doesn’t sound right, but I’m too out of it right now to think of any others.

What knowlecular psychology has to do with this, is that the first category could be described (as I’m sure I’ve more than once already described it) as “anthroceptual poetry.”  Or as “sagaceptual poetry,” which is poetry in which what happens to one or more people is more important than the people–for the reader, the joy of vicariously experiencing a human triumph is more important than the joy of empathetically merging with another human being.  Two kinds of people poems.

By imagery poetry, I mean poetry that is more concerned with conveying the beauty of the sound and/or the visual appearance (primarily or usually) of what is denoted by a poem’s words–or protoceptual poetry.  As for concept poetry, I’m not sure any kind of genuine poetry is more conceptual than either of the other two (and almost all poems contain both anthroceptual and protoceptual matter).  If it existed, I would call it “reducticeptual poetry.”  A good example would be “lighght”: it is aesthetically dependent on its conceptual element–the conceptual datum about its orthography; but that element’s only use is to metaphorically lift the image the poem is about into, well, poetry, so I consider the poem more protoceptual than reducticeptual.

It may be that certain conceptual poems do use conceptual elements to lift a content that is ideational rather than sensual into poetry.  Indeed, perhaps one of my mathematical poems may provide some reader more with a feeling of the poetry of asensual mathematics than with anything sensual image that may be an element of the poem.

Something requiring more thought.

Note: what I wanted primarily to glue into my memory was the term “protoceptual.”  I’ve had trouble with it because I for a while was using “fundaceptual” in place of it.  Eventually I needed “funda” elsewhere in my psychology and felt it too confusing to have it there and with “ceptual,” so went back to “protoceptual,” which I used before for the term.

.

AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1402 — Something From The Eighties

Monday, March 24th, 2014

Note: hold down your control button and punch + to be able to read the following more easily.

PseudoLangHeading

PseudoLang

PseudoLang2

PseudoLangData

Once again I needed something to post here and grabbed this from 25 years or so ago.  It didn’t get me into the BigTime.  Note: “vizlation” was my word then for “visimagery,” which is my word now for “visual art.

.

AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1347 — Another Late Entry

Tuesday, January 21st, 2014

My absentmindedness is getting worse, it would seem, although it was pretty bad to begin with.  Anyway, here is yesterday’s entry, just thrown together a day late.  It’s some pages from Of Manywhere-at-Once that I don’t have time to comment on:

MatOpage146

MatOpage147

MatOpage148

.

Entry 1290 — AudioTextual Art, Part 1

Thursday, December 5th, 2013

One of my many problems as a would-be culturateur is biting off more than I can chew. Today, for instance, I needed something for this entry. My laziness struck first, telling me to just use the graphic immediately below:

ForEmileBerliner

It’s from Mark Sutherand’s Sonotexts, a 2-DVD set he recently sent me–with a copy of Julian Cowley’s user’s guide to sound poetry from Wire.  As soon as I saw what Mark had sent me, I went into one of my yowie-fits, perceiving it, as I wrote Mark, as a sort of class in sound poetry, something I’d been wanting to come to terms with for years.  I had visions of taking a fifteen-minute class in the subject based on Mark’s package–something I’ve followed through on for four or five days now, except my requirement isn’t fifteen minutes daily of immersion, just a significant immersion that might last only a few minutes–like the amount of time it took me to read the text and above and study the graphics.

I had a second yowie-fit concerning my use of the above here, which I suddenly saw as the first step in a Great Adventure, Bob Grumman’s Quest to Assimilate Audio-Texual Art.  (Not “sound poetry” because I had already realized my subject would cover more than sound poetry.)   I would write a book here, one Major Thought per daily entry that would not just describe my attempt to learn about sound poetry and advance the World’s understanding of  the whole range of audio-textual art, but expose the World to my theory of aesthetics–down to its Knowlecular foundation.  All while working on three or four other not insignificant projects daily.  But I was not wholly unrealistic: my aim was “merely” a good rough draft, not a perfect final draft.

Well, maybe I’ll keep going for more than a few days.  Perhaps I’ll even write something of value.  For .  .  . ?   One of the reasons I probably won’t get far is my belief, strengthening daily–if not hourly–that there are not more than a dozen people in the world able to follow me at this time, nor will there ever be, so I’ll be wasting my time.   Yes, I do recognize that the reason for this may not be how advanced my thoughts are but how badly expressed and/or obtuse they are.   No matter, I myself will enjoy writing about my adventure, and having it to write about may be enough to keep me in it until I’ve actually accomplished my main aim, an understanding of audio-textual at that makes sense to me.

Ergo, here’s lesson one, which an enlargement of the text above from the booklet that comes with Mark’s set will facilitate: ForEmileBerlinerText

Its words, of course, are Mark’s.

Student Assignment: two words or more concerning “Sound Poem for Emile Berliner”–prior to listening to it.   Not much to say except for taxonomical remarks unsurprising to anyone who knows me.  First off, since there can be nothing in the composition anyone will be able to recognize as verbal, as far as I can now see, I would term it “linguiconceptual music,” “linguiconceptual” being my term for asemic textual matter in an artwork that conceptuphorically (or provides a concept that metaphorically) adds appreciably to the work’s aesthetic effect.  I will say more about this after hearing the composition.  Right now I don’t see how its textual content can be evident without a listener’s simply being told that it is there.Unless the tracing is exhibited as the composition is being played, as it seems to me it ought to be, and maybe is!  The tracing IS a visual poem, albeit a simple one that serves the work as a whole as its caption.

No, it’s more than that–the textual music is metaphorically its voice, which makes it an integral part of the composition that is secondarily a caption for it.

So much for lesson 1.  (I think I passed.)

.

Entry 1264 — A Quasi-Haiku

Saturday, November 9th, 2013

The very first poem in the Bridges 2013 Poetry Anthology (Tesselations Publishing, Phoenix, 2013), Michael Bartholemew-Biggs’s, “Taylor’s Theorem,” which I’ve been invited to review, bothered me because I thought he was calling it a haiku.  Here it is:

If we knew it all
for just a single moment
we’d hold the future

I was going make my standard point about 5/7/5 not being required for a haiku, and not being enough to make a text a haiku when I reread Bartholomew-Biggs’s title for the sequence of which “Taylor’s Theorem” was just one of seven poems and saw he was calling those poems “quasi-haiku.”  In any event, I liked it and the rest of his sequence, particularly a sort of quasi-haiku diptych, “Ill Conditioning”:

Catastophists say
one butterfly’s wingbeats can
switch drought to monsoon.
Catastrophe spreads
through some computations from
one decimal’s doubt.

I’m quoting these partly because I like them, but also because they and many of the other poems in the anthology strike me as what I’m calling “idea-poems” as opposed to “image-poems,” which I consider an interesting division to ponder, and will, with results to show you eventually, I hope.

 

.

Entry 1248 — What a Poem Is

Thursday, October 24th, 2013

I can’t seem to get into this value-of-poetry topic so for now will simply deal with the terminology I came up with several days ago and thought would get me going deeper. I’ve pretty much junked all of my previous related terminology. The new terminology should cover everything it did.

First of all I have ordained that a poem hath:

Fundamental Constituents:

1. words as words, and punctuation marks and verbal symbols like the ampersand and mathematical symbols like the square root sign, or the verbal constituents of poetry;

2. words as sounds, or the auditory constituents of poetry–which can, in the case of sound poetry, include averbal sounds;

3. words as printed objects, or the visual constituents of poetry–which can, in the case of visual poetry, include averbal graphics.

I tentatively would also include negative space, by which I mean not only the blank page words are printed on but the silence their sounds can be said to be printed on, as fundamental constituents of poetry.

Every poem contains all four of these constituents. Taken together, they form the poem’s denotative layer, which expresses what the poem explicitly means. That layer in turn generates the poem’s connotative layer, which expresses what most people would find it implicitly to mean. Note: if the poem is plurexpressive–a visual or sound poem, for instance–its graphics or sounds would contribute to both layers: a drawing of a house would denote a house, for example, and the sound of a gunshot would denote a gunshot. (“Gunshout,” I mistyped that as, at first. Aren’t words fun?!)

The two layers together make up what I’m now calling a poem’s expressifice. (“Boulder”–“bolder” with a u added. Sorry, I began wondering if I could–oops, that’s “cold” with a u added–make a Kostelanetzian list of words like “gunshout.” I didn’t intend for the longer word to be a regular wourd. . . .)

Back to “expressifice.” It is responsible for what a poem says. Okay, nothing new except the Grummanisms so far. Recently, and this is an area I must but probably won’t research, there has been some grappling with the idea of “conceptual poetry” that I have found important and interesting, but confusing. My next “poetifice” is the conceptifice. My Merriam Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary provides a definition of “concept” that I find satisfactory for my purposes: “an abstract or generic idea generalized from particular instances.” In a poem, it would be close to what I’ve used the term, “unifying principal,” for. A poem’s “meaning” seems to me a near-synonym for it, too.

I can’t see that it’s any less “expressed” by a poem than connotations are, and I mention that because my impression is that those discussing conceptual poetry generally oppose it to “expressive poetry,” by which they basically mean “what a poem says” rather than the meaning of what a poem manifests.

It now occurs to me that what the conceptual poets are doing is minimalizing what I call their poems’ expressifices to magnify their conceptifices. If so, my term should be more useful than I at first thought it would be. I feel it of value anyway because of the great difference between what it can be said to express and what the expressifice can.

As I wrote that, I realized that the entire conceptifice of many poems, particularly the most popular ones is not very ideational–is, in fact, just a large connotation. Basho’s famous frogpond (“frogpound?”) can help here, I think (and I’m a bit foggy about where I’m going, but think I’m getting to someplace worth getting to). Here’s my translation of it:

                old pond  .  .  .  .  .  .                     the sound of a frog                         splashing in

.

This poem may have more valid, interactive unifying principals per word-count than any other poem ever made. So its conceptifice includes the idea of “the contentment the quiet portions of the natural world can provide one.” Or is that an image? In any case, it seems different in kind to a seond idea it clearly presents: “the wide range in magnitude (in all meanings of the word) of the universe’s moments.” We feel the first, we . . . ideate? the second–while feeling it, yes, but in a another way, in another place in our brains, than we do the serenity the first component of the poem’s conceptifice is about. Poetry, and poetry-become-philosophy.

I will have to come back to this.

The final three poetifices are the aesthifice, the anthrofice and the utilifice. These have to do the meaningfulness of a poem’s initial meanings. Every poem has all three of these, but usually one is emphasized at the expense of the other two.

The aesthifice has no meaning, it just is. (See MacLeish.) It is meaningful for its expression of sensual beauty. It can’t help but express other things, but they are trivial compared with the beauty of its sounds and/or sensual imagery and/or feelings it is most concerned with. In my notes about it I mention “beauty of constituents,” “imagery” (and “deep imagery,” possibly. “freshness of expression,” “archetypality,”display of skill” and “patterning.” There are more, probably many more.

The anthrofice has no meaning, either, but is primarily concerned with human beings, their actions and emotions. It expresses what I call “anthroceptual beauty,” the beauty of human love, for instance. Narrative poetry aims for anthrofices, lyric for aesthifices. Then there’s the utilifice. It does mean. A rhymed text you value because of what you learned from it will feature a utilifice. Beauty of any significance is besides the point, what counts is that what one gets goes beyond what the poem is–the poem is a helpful step toward attaining something more valuable than it whereas a lyric or narrative poem is art for art’s sake. In short, I categorize a “poem” whose utilifice is dominant as a form of utilitry–either informrature if conveying information, or advocature if telling people what to do. Lyric and narrative poems are forms of art.

If I weren’t such a lump, I’d now apply the above to actual poems. As a matter of fact, that’s what I want to do in my November Scientific American blog entry. Right now, though, here’s a rhyme that isn’t a poem:

                     Count that day lost                    Whose low descending sun                    Views from thy hand                    No worthy action done.

It’s from a wall of my high school cafeteria. I don’t know who wrote it, but I like it a lot-–and believe in it! A pretty rhyme but didactic, so not a poem. Its function is not to provide pleasure but to instill (however pleasantly) a valuable rule of conduct.

All of a poem’s poetifices taken together are a . . . poem, a lyrical poem if the poem’s aesthifice is dominant, a narrative poem is its anthrofice is dominant, and a utilitarian poem is its utilifice is dominant.

* * *

Well, I did a lot better than I thought at the start. It needs more work but I’m satisfied with it as is.

.

Entry 1084 — Yet More Mathpo Thoughts

Thursday, April 25th, 2013

In the March entry of my Scientific American blog, I praised a poem of Rita Dove’s–with chagrin, because she’s one of poetry’s enemies, in my view, due to her having the status to bring the public’s attention to poetry outside of Wilshberia but doesn’t.  Here’s what I said about her “’Geometry,’ which wonderfully describes the poet’s elation at having proven a theorem: at once, her ‘house expands,’ becoming transparent until she’s outside it where ‘the windows have hinged into butterflies . . . going to some point true and unproven.’  Putting her in the almost entirely asensual beauty of the visioconceptual part of her brain where Euclid doth reign supreme.”  I bring this up to illustrate an important reason for my emphasis on the idea of a mathexpressive poem’s doing mathematics.  It is, that if one of my long division poems does not do mathematics, there is nothing to distinguish it from a poem like Dove’s.  If that makes taxonomical sense to anyone, so be it, but it doesn’t to me.  

Needless to say, I very much want it believed that my poems do something special, but that doesn’t make my belief that they do necessarily invalid.

Going further with the idea of the value of doing something non-verbal in a poem rather than just discussing some discipline in which non-verbal operations occur, the possibility of doing math in a poem simplies the possibility of doing other non-literary things in them.  Like archaeology.  I’ve tried that in a few of my visual poems (as have others, whether consciously or not, I don’t know).  I’ve suggested archaeology sites to what I believe is metaphorical effect, but only portrayed archaeology, not carried out archaeological operations.  Not sure yet how that can be done but feel it ought to be possible.  Ditto doing chemistry–as some have, I believe (although I can’t think of the unusually-named poet who I believe has, right now).

I’ve read of choreographical notation and feel confident that it could be effectively used in poetry.  Don’t have time to learn it, my self, though.  I’ve done music in poems–only at the simple level that I’ve done mathematical poems, but made poems that require the pocipient to be able to read music to appreciate them.  There are all kinds of wonderful ways to go as a poet for those believing other ways of interacting with the world besides the verbal can be employed in poetry rather than merely referred to, however as eloquently as Rita Dove has referred to the geometrical.

.

Entry 1083 — More Mathpo Blither

Wednesday, April 24th, 2013

I believe I’ve worked out my final argument for considering mathematical operations to happen in my mathexpressive poems:

(1) Consider the sentence, “It is the east and Juliet is the sun.”  The sun is presented as a metaphor for Juliet but it remains an actual sun.

(2) Consider the equation, “(meadow)(April) = flowers.”  The mathematical operation of multiplication is presented as a metaphor for the way April operates on a meadow, but it remains an actual mathematical operation of multiplication.  The equation carries out the operation of multiplication on two non-mathematical terms to get a third non-mathematical term.  It is something real that acts metaphorically.

If the mathematical operation does not occur, what happens?  Two images, one of a meadow, one of April, whose collocation a reader is to take as having to do with flowers?  What sort of poem would that be? Not that the actual mathematical operation makes it a great poem; I only use it because its simplicity makes my point so clearly.

That it is possible for such a thing as a poem that is part mathematical and part verbal to exist is important to me for taxonomical reasons since it helps substantially to allow me to claim all poetry ultimately to be of just two main kinds, lexexpressive poetry, which consists of nothing (or, sometimes, nearly nothing) but words (and punctuation marks), and plurexpressive poetry, in which one or more expressive modality is as aesthetically important in it as words (and punctuation marks): visioexpressive poetry, mathexpressive poetry, audioexpressive poetry and performance poetry (which I want to find a term for that carries on my “X-expressive” coining).

.

Entry 1065 — Behind Again

Saturday, April 6th, 2013

I waited until early afternoon before finally taking a caffeine pill.  I just couldn’t get going.  it’s a little after 5 now, and I’ve been zipping along, feeling content albeit not exuberant.  I haven’t done anything of consequence yet, though, and this entry won’t be much: one of my “just-keeping-my-vow-of-an-entry-a-day” ones.

First off, here’s where my latest Scientific American guest blog entry is, although I’m sure all of you got my group e.mail about it. I have one sort of interesting thing to say about it. In one of my poems there my quotient is, “painter/ unsleeping/ a day long ago.”  I saw when looking over the entry earlier today that most readers would probably interpret this as about a painter who is staying awake through some day long ago but what I meant and thought without thinking that I was saying was that the painter was in the act of unsleeping the long ago day.  I was using an intransitive verb as a transitive verb.  I did mention that in my entry but not because I thought anyone could take me to be writing about an unsleeping poet.  Anyway, to make it clearer, although maybe not clear enough, I’ve changed my version of the passage to “painter/ unsleeping a/ day long ago.”

I have tentatively coined “bentword” to represent words like “unsleeping” which will derail readers.  If they do so effectively, they will cause the simple pleasure of fresh language.  Which I hope soon to discuss like I’ve just discussed rhyme, and various metaphors–including the verbaphor, another new coinage to go with my visiophor, mathephor and audiophor, as a kind of metaphor.  I must be taxonomical complete, you know.

Well, my caffeine pill is wearing off, so that’s it for this entry.

.

Entry 1033 — Important Taxonomy Announcement

Tuesday, March 5th, 2013

At New-Poetry today, Al Filreis mad the following announcement:

Today we are releasing PoemTalk #63, a discussion of Laynie Browne’s Daily Sonnets with Sueyeun Juliette Lee, Lee Ann Brown, and Jessica Lowenthal:

.
.
PoemTalk is available on iTunes (simply type “PoemTalk” in your iTunes store searchbox).
.
From the program notes:
.
PoemTalkers Jessica Lowenthal, Lee Ann Brown, and Sueyeun Juliette Lee gathered with Al Filreis to talk about five poems from Laynie Browne’s Daily Sonnets, which was published by Counterpath Press of Denver in 2007. We chose two of Browne’s “fractional sonnets,” two of the sonnets in which the talk of her children is picked up partly or wholly as lines of the poem, and one of her “personal amulet” sonnets. These are, to be specific: “Six-Fourteenths Donne Sonnet” [MP3], “Two-Fourteenths Sonnet” [MP3], “In Chinese astrology you are a snake” [MP3], “I’m a bunny in a bunny suit” [MP3], and “Protector #2: Your Personal Amulet” [MP3]. The sonnet after Donne is a constrained rewriting of a “holy” sonnet: “I am a little world made cunningly.”
.

After reading about the fractional sonnets, which sound like fun to me, I am giving up my lifetime view that a sonnet must consist of 14 rhyming iambic pentameters. There are just too many variations people are calling sonnets for my previous insistence to make sense. But we need a name to distinguish the traditional “real” sonnet from other poems called sonnets, so I ordain that such sonnets be called “classical sonnets,” and all other sonnets be called . . . “stupid sonnets.” Just kiddin’. I haven’t thought of a name for them yet.

(Yeah, yeah, who cares. But I wanted to show that I can change my mind.)
.