Column094 — July/August 2009 « POETICKS

Column094 — July/August 2009



The State of North American Vizpo, Part Two

 


Small Press Review,
Volume 41, Numbers 7/8, July/August 2009




      Poetry, Volume 193, Issue 2, November 2008
      Edited by Christian Wiman
      100 pp; 444 N. Michigan Ave., Ste.1850,
      Chicago IL 60611. $5.50 ppd./copy.

      po–X-cetera
      Webmaster: Bob Grumman
      http://comprepoetica.com/newblog/blog01758.html

 


 

Because too few poetry critics really tie into a poem they’re discussing, and just about none that treat visual poems, I’ve decided to interrupt my overview of what’s going on in the precincts of current visio-textual art to zero in on one of the pieces in the Poetry gallery I wrote about in my last column, Scott Helmes’s “haiku #62″ (which is on view at my blog, URL above). It’s a great piece, for one thing, as good as any current visio-textual art I’ve seen. But it should also allow me to say a few things about the non-verbal aesthetic value of text in visual art that I don’t believe anyone else has.

At first, I thought “haiku #62″ entirely non-verbal–“asemic,” as those making averbal textual designs call it. It has a few words and word-fragments, but they didn’t seem to mean much, aesthetically. It was a portrait of a standard American haiku, because its title said it was, it consisted of three “lines” like such a haiku, and because it had text, if not significant words. Moreover (and this is something else I overlooked at first), its text is entirely oriented as literature–all its letters, that is, are standing straight up.

Now, however, I see that its employment of pure text plus non-representational design as the 5/7 of a traditional haiku makes a word in its third “line,” “place” aesthetically important for naming where it is as both strongly a visimagery place (“visimagery” is my newest coinage for “visual art”), but also a textual place (with linguistic potential). The “sq ft of” in the 5/7 portion suggests (lyrically and amusingly) that measurement, definition, something not haphazard, is required to make the color and shape of the third line create a place. So I now classify it as (barely) a visual wordwork.

To go on, it is superb even if taken as purely visual. Fonts, letter-sizes, colors repeating and varying and contrasting all over it–with a haiku delicacy and serenity; its three main shapes suggesting fragments of autumn, things afloat or in flight, and the momentariness that haiku so much represent, but also clearly out of the bright brittle of High Commerce.

The text, as pure text, does more–and here is where, I hope, I get meaningfully into the question of what attributes of non-verbal text can carry out useful functions in visual art. So far, I’ve found five such attributes: (1) it’s recognizable; (2) it’s tonally significant; (3) it’s auditory; (4) its elements have direction; (5) it is symbolic.

(1) That text is recognizable, or familiar, is particularly advantageous in a nonrepresentational work of visual art by acting against disorientation or alienation, giving an engagent spots to rest his eyes in–and landmarks to use (cartoceptually) in traversing the piece. Text will make what it’s in to some degree comfortingly resemble a printed page, too–the way the circular forms I like to put in my non-representational visual artworks suggest moons or suns to give what they’re in the look of landscapes. This seems unarguably true of “Haiku 62.”

(2) That text can make a significant tonal contribution to a visual artwork. Cursive results in a tone much different than print does, and various fonts can express many different tones. In the Helmes piece, it provides a sharp Madison Ave. contrast to its over-all haiku ambience. Tonality is important, but I can’t see how it can ever be central.

(3) That text consists of elements that for the most part can be pronounced, or partially pronounced (and which most people will automatically sub-vocally pronounce, however slightly) will add an auditory dimension to the artworks it’s in. In some cases this can be exploited to major effect. The auditory effect of “Haiku 62’s” text seems to me minimal–which is one reason I find it very close to the borblur between poetry and visimagery. On the other hand, the escape it seems to be making from language into more ethereal realms is not minor. . . .

(4) Closely related to (1) is text’s having direction–letters face right (for the English-speaking), thus acting as unobtrusive arrows. Hence, text can be used to guide an engagent’s exploration of what it’s in more dependably than anything else other than actual arrows (if that’s what the piece’s creator wants). Its having direction also gives a piece a tone of going somewhere, of having purpose, and motion toward a goal. At the very least, it gives a piece a greater feel of location than the piece would otherwise have–or, another expressive element for its maker to work with–as I feel Scott Helmes did to excellent effect in his piece, albeit very possibly unconsciously.

(5) Most obviously, text adds a symbolic layer to a work of visual art it’s in. Freshness, since visual art is generally . . . visual. Vivid contrast, as well: something wholly abstract next to (and/or containing) something wholly sensual (color). More than that (according to my theory of psychology, at any rate), an egagent will not (really) see the text, he will read it, or try to. So the piece with have a sort of “underscore” of symbols. It will be much weaker in an asemic piece than in something with significant verbal content, but it will still be present, and the engagent will still experience it in two different parts of his brain, his visual and his conceptual awarenesses. If he does this both at once, he will get into Manywhere-at-Once, as I called it years ago, naming it the most important destination of poetry.

 

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Column054 — January/February 2002 « POETICKS

Column054 — January/February 2002



A Little on Cyber-Lit, then Cycho-Lit

 


Small Press Review,
Volume 34, Numbers 1/2, January/February 2002





American Book Review.
Volume 22, Number 4,
September/October 2001; 32 pp;
The Unit for Contemporary Literature,
Illinois State University, Campus Box 4241,
Normal IL 61790-4241. $4.

The Chair on the Way to the Fire.
Martin Koenig. 30 pp; 2001; Pa;
Popular Reality, Box 73, Schenectady NY 12301. $5.

I Taught My Dog To Shoot A Gun.
Al Ackerman. 103 pp; 2001; Pa;
Popular Reality, Box 73, Schenectady NY 12301. $8.

 


 

I got semi-excited when I saw page one of the September/October issue of American Book Review: it announced a special focus section on “codework,” or “the computer stirring into the text, and the text stirring the computer,” as Focus Editor Alan Sondheim put it in his introductory piece. At last, thought I, a not-entirely-invisible publication is covering a school of poetry I myself haven’t yet come to grips with! The first discussion in the section that I read, which was by Talan Memmott, disappointed me, though. Memmott presented a good brief over-view, I guess–with links to people doing valuable work in the field, notably Ted Warnell. But he failed to suggest that anyone was doing anything very new. Sure, some people, like Brian Lennon, are making formal poetic devices of e.mail devices, like headers, to good effect, and I much like the faster-than- page-turning clicked steps of some of Warnell’s pieces, but such innovations seem minor to me (as innovations). Nor does Memmott succeed in making a case for poets like the talented Mez’s finding “new uses of textual symbols” that result in a new “form of conductivity.” He seems unaware of that such pre-computer infraverbal poets as E.E. Cummings were using punctuation marks expressively, and achieving coinages constructed like Mez’s “e-rrelevant” and “distinct[ure]ion” (both of which I much like) years ago.

Memmott and the other contributors to the focus section, McKenzie Wark, Beatrice Beaugien, Belinda Barnet and Florian Cramer, are well worth reading, particularly for the poems and excerpts of poems they use to illustrate their discussions. I haven’t space here to treat them a hundredth as fully as they, and “codework,” deserve. I do believe they are closing in on something of high value; I just am not yet convinced that it is in any important way yet new. Kudos, anyway, to American Book Review for clearing the way for the discussion of a kind of literature it will take the mainstream at least another ten years to get to (and another ten to do so penetratingly).

Now for another plug for Popular Reality, putting out books again after the revival of the zine of that name a couple of years ago. Its latest two titles, The Chair on the Way to the Fire and I Taught My Dog To Shoot A Gun, are terrific. The first of these consists almost entirely of purposely crude-seeming line drawings sans details (e.g., faces with no eyes, hairlines, eyebrows, mouths except in profile, etc.) and their banal, completely pertinent but somehow disconnected captions. One of the drawings shows a cigarette-smoking deer with a man’s body behind a diner counter; it is labeled, “Would you be a deer and work nights at a greasy spoon?” Another, perhaps my favorite, shows some kind of bird in profile speaking to a creature that’s nothing but a head-sized shape with spikes, like the Statue of Liberty’s crown in outline, from behind, and two lines angling away from the shape to suggest a cape. A few horizontal lines cross in front of the peculiar couple. The highest has a few jags in it to suggest leaves or sunrays; two others make partial boxes or curve one way or another to suggest who knows what. The caption: “Sometimes these things work themselves out.” Many of Koenig’s pieces, like the latter, somehow resonate with archetypal feelings of dislocation, and are thus–for me–poetic; they are also very funny about taking any part of life seriously, in the tradition of Glen Baxter, B. Kliban and Gary Larson.

As for the Ackerman title, it does nothing to disabuse me of my opinion that Ackerman is the funniest writer I know of in this country. Certainly he is as good at portraying total nuts’ incredibly creative (and logical) schemes to wrest beauty and meaning out of life than anyone who has ever written–though Flannery O’Connor at her best comes close to him. He is a master of funny drawing, too: as a depiction of one of his gap-toothed loons, de-focused into at least two faces, and in ravishingly-vivid color is on the cover, and several of Ackerman’s drawings in the books interior demonstrate. The stories–well, here’s a brief taste: “And I (a girl named Suzy) think that’s exactly where fortune turned around for me, opening its arms and welcoming me to a whole new vision and ball game. By the end of the week, once I had put Blind Ka and the garage firmly behind me, I met a wonderful new man, who was part-owner of a used bookstore and knew how to have fun and be sociable and could even play a musical instrument (the snare drum), but who, so far as I could tell, never felt compelled to cover his face with anything more exotic than his own boxershorts, which came hand-picked from the Goodwill,” and this found ad from Popular Mechanix, 1951: “OH BOY .. . mom says there’s going to be a TELEVISION set in our NEW REFRIGERATOR!”

Drat. I wanted to talk about Tundra, an excellent newish magazine of and about short poems, and american poetry (free and how), Igor Satanovsky’s excellent new collection of very funny textual who-knows-whats and weirdly emotion-stirring mergings of lines from famous poems and graphics from who-knows-where, but I’ve run out of room. You’ll have to wait till next issue to find out more, I’m afraid.

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Column071 — March/April 2005 « POETICKS

Column071 — March/April 2005

The Ever-Visible RK

 


Small Press Review,
Volume 37, Numbers 3/4, March/April 2005


 

 

35 Years of Visible Writing: a Memoir.
Richard Kostelanetz. 54 pp; 2004; Pa;
Koja Press, Box140083, Brooklyn NY 11214.
http://kojapress.com. $23.

 


As everyone reading this should know, Richard Kostelanetz has been a leading otherstream poet for a number of decades. His general mode of working as a poet is to find some feature of words that few if any other poets have exploited, and build several thousand poems exploiting it. Well, maybe only a few hundred. Anyway, 35 Years of Visible Writing contains many of the best of them, with a valuable commentary by the author on his practice and philosophy as a poet.

Making the book by itself close to a visual poem is its design by Igor Satanovsky, who provides just the right images of Kostelanetz’s work in just the right places not only to near-perfectly accompany Kostelanetz’s commentary but flow interactively into a whole that is greater than the sum of their parts, to use an expression Kostelantz says in the book is a main aim of his as a poet. Nothing stunningly brilliant, just a lot of things elegantly and sensitively applied. For instance, Satanovsky alternates white on black with conventional black on white pages throughout much of the book. The first exception to the alternation is a . . . minimalist canvas, I’d call it, filled with “69” over and over in black on a white background. The constant op-art reversal of the “6” (or is it the “9?”) is given an extra charge by the sudden white background where black was expected. Elsewhere, a lefthand page contains one of Kostenetz’s “corner poems,” as I guess I’d name them, in which the corners of the page is occupied, respectively, by “WORDS,” “VECTORS,” “VIBRATIONS” and “POEM,” in white, each oriented in a different way (i.e., perpendicularly upward, and the reverse, and horizonatal, and upside-down). On the facing page is a variation of the same poem that consists of the same four words and orientations plus twelve other “inter-resonant” words that form four smaller corner poems. That it switches to black letters on a white page makes it seem like a jump from night into day.

Satanovsky does all kinds of other things with different-sized type, text going up and down or in circles or elsehow, shaped swatches of text, and the like–always enhancing Kostelanetz’s discussion and works, never intruding on them.

Among Kostelanetz’s works are several of the cut-up and reassembled specimens of a photograph of Kostelanetz from his Reincarnations that Satanovsky has deftly scattered through the book to constantly break a face into the otherwise rarifiedly hyper- conceptuality of the book. Reincarnations differs from most of Kostelanetz’s work here (and mostwhere) in being wholly averbal. But it is typical of that work in its sequentiality, its anti-conventionality (though others using the same ploy over the years have cost it some of its original impact), its constructivist minimalism (each frame being made up of 80 rearranged squares), and–at its best–its focused aesthetic wallop.

A page from Kostelanetz’s well-known and popular East Village series of 1970-71 is here, too. Each of these is a little map of some portion of the East Village, but with little squares of hand-written prose description, commentary or simple naming replacing buildings and streets–and placed in such a way (diagonally, for instance) as to make a highly connotative poem of the result rather than just a map.

“Disintegration” is here, too–one of Kostelanetz’s earliest and most-antholgized visual poems, no doubt because, in simply showing the word “disintegration” disintegrating visio-onomatopoeically, it doesn’t take much on the part of a spectator to appreciate it. Many others of the best of Kostelanetz’s word-games are here. There are photographs of his work in holography, too, with more of his discussion concerned with that than with anything else.

The book ends with a description of the 2001 installation he collaborated on with HyunYeul Lee, a grad student at MIT, as part of a group exhibition titled ID/Entities. It sounds like something that should have been captured on film. Here is what Kostelanetz writes about it: “I offered autobiographical texts which she incorporated into an extraordinary multimedia installation that was faithful to my esthetic in nearly all respects, ambitious in using several projections, and rich in the use of my verbal materials. Into a setting that resembled a writer’s study with a desk, typewriter, and a wooden chair next to a simulated window on the left side and a fireplace on the right she cast several kinetic projections of my words and only my words.” As critic Barbara Pollock wrote, “. . . words–animated and projected–replace the writer. . . . lines of text dance across (his) desk, jump in and out of (his) inkwell, and rumble across the window in traffic patterns. . . .”

Kostelanetz’s commentary is always informative and fluid. I don’t know why he considers some of his poems visual, though. His strings–poems in which meaningfullyricalinkingots go on for scores or hundreds of words–are purely verbal, as far as I’m concerned, for example. He considers them “visual” simply, I take it, because his removal of spaces is a visual act. But so is writing a letter. He also considers such of his InSerts as “GrasShopper” and “CrumBled” visual because “capitalization is essentially a visual enhancement.” But so is underlining, bold-facing and italicization, so I consider it a textual operation, and would give Kostelanetz’s InSerts my own name for such texts: “infraverbal,” since they depend primarily on textual manipulations going on inside words rather than inside sentences, as is the case in traditional poetry.

I also think some of his poems are better described as prose. I’ve written about that in my blog, beginning with the entry on his “circular poems” that I posted early in January at http://www.reocities.com/comprepoetica/Blog/OldBlogs/Blog00337.html. Whatever they’re called, though, the best of them are among the best and most important we have from the past 35 years, and Kostelanetz more worth arguing with about poetry than just about anyone else around. (But WHY did he have to say at the very end of his book that he favors “black and white as the sole colors indigenous to art, believing that all other hues belong primarily to ‘illustration?’”)

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Literary Terms « POETICKS

Literary Terms

Wilshberia:

Poetry Between 1960 and 2010

Wilshberia, the continuum of contemporary poetry composed
between around 1960 and the present certified by the poetry
establishment (i.e., universities, grants-bestowing organizations,
visible critics, venues like the New Yorker and the American
Poetry Review) begins with formal poetry like much of Richard
Wilbur’s work.  Descent into a different lesser formality of neo-
plasmic poetry based on Whitman that Ginsberg was the most
well-known recent author of, next comes free verse that is
nonetheless highly bound to implicit rules, Iowa Plaintext Poetry;
slightly further from traditional poetry the nearprose of Williams
and his many followers who seem to try to write poetry as close to
prose as possible.  To this point, the poetry is convergent,
attempting to cohere around a unifying principle.  It edges away
from that more and more as we continue over the continuum,
starting with surrealist poetry, which diverges from the world as we
know it into perceptual disruption.  A bit more divergent is the
jump-cut poetry of the New York School, represented at its most
divergent by John Ashbery’s most divergent poems and the jump-
cut poetry of the so-called “language poets,’ which is not, for me,
truly language poetry because grammatical concerns are not to
much of an extent the basis of it

The Establishment’s view of the relationship of all other poetry
being composed during this time to the poetry of Wilshberia has
been neatly voiced by Professor David Graham.  Professor Graham
likens it to the equivalent of  the relationship to genuine baseball of
“two guys in Havre, Montana who like to kick a deer skull back &
forth and call it ‘baseball.’  Sure, there’s no bat, ball, gloves,
diamond, fans, pitcher, or catcher– but they do call it baseball, and
wonder why the mainstream media consistently fails to mention
their game.”  Odd how there are always professors unable to learn
from history how bad deriding innovative enterprises almost
always makes you look bad.  On the other hand, if their opposition
is as effective as the gatekeepers limiting the visibility of
contemporary poetry between around 1960 and 2000 to Wilshberia
has been, they won’t be around to see that opposition break down.
Unfortunately, the innovators whose work they opposed won’t be,
either.

Not that all the poets whose work makes up “the Underwilsh,” as I
call the uncertified work from the middle of the last century until
now, are innovative.  In fact, very few are.  But the most important
poetries of the Underwilsh were innovative at some point during
the reign of Wilshberian poetry.  Probably only animated visual
poetry, cyber poetry, mathematical poetry and cryptographic poetry
are seriously that now.  It would seem that recognition of
innovative art takes a generation

The poetry of the Underwilsh at its left end has always been
conventional.  It begins with what is unquestionable the most
popular poetry in America, doggerel–which, for me, it poetry
intentionally employing no poetic device but rhyme; next come
classical American haiku–the 5/7/5 kind, other varieties of haiku
being scattered throughout most other kinds of poetry–followed by
light verse (both known to academia but looked down on); next
comes contragenteel poetry, which is basically the nearprose of
Williams and his followers except using coarser language (and
concerning less polite subjects, although subject matter is not what
I look at to place poetries into this scheme of mine); performance
poetry, hypertextual poetry; genuine language poetry;
cryptographic poetry; cyber poetry; mathematical poetry; visual
poetry (both static and animated visual poetry) and sound poetry,
with the latter two fading into what is called asemic poetry, which
is either visimagery (visual art) or music employing text or
supposed by its creator to suggest textuality and thus not by my
standards kinds of poetry, but considered such by others, so proper
to mention here.

Almost all the poetries in the Underwilsh will eventually be
certified by the academy and the rest of the poetry establishment.
The only interesting questions left will be what kind of effective
poetry will then be ignored, and whether or not the newest poets to
be certified will treat what comes after their kind of poetry as
unsympathetically as theirs was treated.

Anti-Wilshberian: Anyone who believes no poetry of consequence is composed in Wilshberia.  Incorrectly applied to those expressing opposition to Mono-Wilshberianism.

Mono-Wilshberian: Anyone who believes the poetry of Wilshberia is the only significant kind of contemporary American poetry.

Wilshberian: One who admires some of the poetry of Wilshberia and or, at least sometimes, composes it.  Sometimes incorrectly confused with Mono-Wilshberian (something I’ve done myself).

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Comprepoetica Biographies — B « POETICKS

Comprepoetica Biographies — B

Maura Alia Bramkamp (BRAM camp)

Poet

(street address)  266 Elmwood Ave #307
(city&state)  Buffalo, NY 14222
(e.mail address)  [email protected]</p>
(affiliations/organizations)

National Writers Union, member

Italian American Writers Union, member
The Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, Lifetime Subscriber

(publication credits)
The Buffalo News (essays)

Amazon.com Editorial Review: Welcome To My Planet: Where English is Sometimes Spoken, by Shannon Olson

ARTVOICE (Buffalo, NY)

Buffalo Spree (Buffalo, NY)
The Haight Ashbury Literary Journal (San Francisco)
Switched-On-Gutenberg (Internet Seattle-based)
Exhibition (Bainbridge Island, WA)
The Woodstock Times (Woodstock,NY)

synapse (Seattle, WA)
convolvulus
Half Tones to Jubilee (Pensacola, FL)
Signals (Olympia, WA)
tight (Guerneville, CA)
Spillway (WA)

The Healing Woman (CA)
The Wise Woman (CA)
105 Magazine (New Paltz, NY)
POETALK (CA)
cups: a cafe journal (San Francisco, CA)
Arts Journal poems & interview (Poulsbo, WA)

Coffee House Quarterly (CO)
Higher Source (Bainbridge Island, WA)
And others . . .

(list of works)

CHAPBOOK
Resculpting (Paper Boat Press,1995)

ANTHOLOGIES
<i>This Far Together</i> (Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, 1995)
<i>Go Gently</i> (The Healing Woman, 1995)
<i>Bay Area Poets Coalition 1995 Anthology</i>
<i>Husky Voices</i> (Univ of WA, MFA Anthology, 1998)

(where written up)</p>
<i>Women&#8217;s Work</i> (Seattle,WA, 1995)
<i>Arts Journal</i> (Poulsbo, WA, 1996)
<i>The Healing Woman</i> (1996)
<i>Small Press Review</i> (Pick of the Month &#038; Review, 1996)

<i>synapse</i> (review, 1996)
<i>The Kitsap Herald</i> (1995)

(contemporary poets important to Bramkamp)
Charles Simic, Jana Harris, Billy Collins, Lynda Hull (deceased),
Seamus Heaney, Lynn Emmanuel, Carolyn Kizer,
Mark Doty, Raymond Carver, Nikki Finney,

Jane Kenyon, Ai, Gillian Conoley, Patti Smith

Larry Levis (deceased), Adrienne Rich, Carolyn Forche,
Yusef Komunyakaa, Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill, Nancy Willard,
Richard Hugo, Theodore Roethke, Carol Ann Duffy,
Marlene Nourbese Philip &#038; many others

(poets of yesteryear important to respondent)
Colette, Muriel Rukeyser, Paul Celan,
Rilke, Rimbaud, Edward Lear, Sylvia Plath,
Anne Sexton, Elizabeth Bishop,

Samuel Beckett, Eugene O’Neil, W.H. Auden, Frank O’Hara
And many more . . .

(critics important to respondent)

Eavan Boland, bell hooks, Adrienne Rich
otherwise, not particularly interested in criticism. I think going through an MFA program ruined it for me.

(tastes in poetry)  I am most drawn to narrative, lyrical, and prose poetry. Yet, I read widely and try to sample styles outside my usual references.

(impression of contemporary poetry)  Ever-changing. Expanding, shouting, fighting amongst our many selves, loud, soft, chilling,consoling, alienating, inviting.

(zines, etc., that ought to be listed in the dictionary)
<i>Switched-On-Gutenberg</i> (Internet)
<i>The Cortland Review</i> (Internet)
<i>SketchRadio.com</i> (Internet)

<i>Small Press Review &#038; Small Magazine Review</i> (Dust Books)
<i>The Directory of Poetry Publishers</i> (Dust Books)
<i>Directory of Literary Magazines</i> (CLMP)
.

Michael Basinski

Poet

Basinski lives at 30 Colonial Avenue, Lancaster NY 14086; his
e.mail address is [email protected]; his phone number 716 645-2917

He was born 19 November 1979 in Lisbon.  He is 6 feet tall and weighs 165 pounds.  His eyes and hair are brown, his ethnic background Polish.  He got his Ph.D. at SUNY, Buffalo.  His occupation, says he, is working, his vocations, etc.  His characterizes himself a pagan in both religion and politics.  He claims not to enjoy anything in the arts besides poetry, or have any interest in sports.  He enjoys nothing in science or philosophy, either.

In answer to the <

Maura Alia Bramkamp (BRAM camp)

Poet

(street address)  266 Elmwood Ave #307
(city&#038;state)  Buffalo, NY 14222
(e.mail address)  [email protected]</p>
(affiliations/organizations)

National Writers Union, member

Italian American Writers Union, member
The Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, Lifetime Subscriber

(publication credits)
<i>The Buffalo News</i> (essays)
Amazon.com Editorial Review: <i>Welcome To My Planet: Where English is Sometimes
Spoken</i>, by Shannon Olson
<i>ARTVOICE</i> (Buffalo, NY)

Buffalo Spree (Buffalo, NY)
<i>The Haight Ashbury Literary Journal</i> (San Francisco)
<i>Switched-On-Gutenberg</i> (Internet Seattle-based)
<i>Exhibition</i> (Bainbridge Island, WA)
<i>The Woodstock Times</i> (Woodstock,NY)

<i>synapse</i> (Seattle, WA)
<i>convolvulus</i>
<i>Half Tones to Jubilee</i> (Pensacola, FL)
Signals (Olympia, WA)
tight (Guerneville, CA)
Spillway (WA)

The Healing Woman (CA)
The Wise Woman (CA)
105 Magazine (New Paltz, NY)
POETALK (CA)
<i>cups: a cafe journal</i> (San Francisco, CA)
<i>Arts Journal</i>poems &#038; interview (Poulsbo, WA)

<i>Coffee House Quarterly</i> (CO)
<i>Higher Source</i> (Bainbridge Island, WA)
And others&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;

(list of works)

CHAPBOOK
<i>Resculpting</i> (Paper Boat Press,1995)

ANTHOLOGIES
<i>This Far Together</i> (Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, 1995)
<i>Go Gently</i> (The Healing Woman, 1995)
<i>Bay Area Poets Coalition 1995 Anthology</i>
<i>Husky Voices</i> (Univ of WA, MFA Anthology, 1998)

(where written up)</p>
<i>Women&#8217;s Work</i> (Seattle,WA, 1995)
<i>Arts Journal</i> (Poulsbo, WA, 1996)
<i>The Healing Woman</i> (1996)
<i>Small Press Review</i> (Pick of the Month &#038; Review, 1996)

<i>synapse</i> (review, 1996)
<i>The Kitsap Herald</i> (1995)

(contemporary poets important to Bramkamp)
Charles Simic, Jana Harris, Billy Collins, Lynda Hull (deceased),
Seamus Heaney, Lynn Emmanuel, Carolyn Kizer,
Mark Doty, Raymond Carver, Nikki Finney,
Jane Kenyon, Ai, Gillian Conoley, Patti Smith

Larry Levis (deceased), Adrienne Rich, Carolyn Forche,
Yusef Komunyakaa, Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill, Nancy Willard,
Richard Hugo, Theodore Roethke, Carol Ann Duffy,
Marlene Nourbese Philip &#038; many others

(poets of yesteryear important to respondent)
Colette, Muriel Rukeyser, Paul Celan,
Rilke, Rimbaud, Edward Lear, Sylvia Plath,
Anne Sexton, Elizabeth Bishop,

Samuel Beckett, Eugene O&#8217;Neil, W.H. Auden, Frank O&#8217;Hara
And many more&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;.

(critics important to respondent)

Eavan Boland, bell hooks, Adrienne Rich&#8230;
otherwise, not particularly interested in criticism. I think going through an MFA program
ruined it for me.

(tastes in poetry)  I&#8217;m most drawn to narrative, lyrical, and prose poetry. Yet, I
read widely and try to sample styles outside my usual references.

(impression of contemporary poetry)  Ever-changing. Expanding, shouting, fighting
amongst our many selves, loud, soft, chilling,consoling, alienating &#038; inviting.

(zines, etc., that ought to be listed in the dictionary)
<i>Switched-On-Gutenberg</i> (Internet)
<i>The Cortland Review</i> (Internet)
<i>SketchRadio.com</i> (Internet)

<i>Small Press Review &#038; Small Magazine Review</i> (Dust Books)
<i>The Directory of Poetry Publishers</i> (Dust Books)
<i>Directory of Literary Magazines</i> (CLMP)
.

<b>Michael Basinski, Poet</b>

Basinski lives at 30 Colonial Avenue, Lancaster NY 14086; his
e.mail address is [email protected]; his phone number 716 645-2917

He was born 19 November 1979 in Lisbon.  He is 6 feet tall and weighs 165 pounds.  His
eyes and hair are brown, his ethnic background Polish.  He got his Ph.D. at SUNY,
Buffalo.  His occupation, says he, is working, his vocations, etc.  His characterizes himself
a pagan in both religion and politics.  He claims not to enjoy anything in the arts besides
poetry, or have any interest in sports.  He enjoys nothing in science or philosophy, either.
In answer to the <i>Comprepoetica</i> survey question that asks a respondent to name
the first poem that comes to his mind right then, he said, None.

Basinski has published in many periodicals including <i>First Offense, First Intensity,
Angle, Torque(Toronto), Kiosk, Essex Street, Washington Review, Chain, Boxkite,
Leopold Bloom, Taproot, Generator, Arras, Explosive Magazine, RIF/T, Yellow Silk,
Benzine, Sure, Another Chicago Magazine, Lyric&#038;, Mirage no.4(Period)ical, Lower
Limit Speech, Juxta, Wooden Head Review, Synaesthetic, Small Press Review</i>, and
other WEB and Email magazines.

His books include: <i>[Un-Nome]</i>, The Runaway Spoon Press;  <i>Idyll</i>, Juxta
Press; <i>Heebee-jeebies</i>, Meow Press; and many others.  He has been written up in
<i>Texture, Small Press Review, Taproot Reviews, Exile, Poetic Briefs</i>, etc.

He says that the poets of yesteryear important to him are Those before the coming of
circles.  His tastes in poetry?  Glitches and witches.  His impression of contemporary
poetry? Angels and beasts.

<b>David Beaudouin, Poet</b>

Beaudouin resides with his wife, family and Dawgs at 2840 St. Paul St., Baltimore, MD
21218.  His e.mail address is [email protected], his phone number is 410-467-0600.  He
was born 3 February 1951 in Baltimore.

Beaudouin got his degree in 1975 from Johns Hopkins.  His religion is Quakerism, his
main political belief, Keep right except to pass.

His credits include the following chapbooks:
<i>Catenae,
American Night,
Human Nature</i> and <i>
Gig</i>.  He was last published on the Net in <i>Enterzone</i>.

Contemporary poets of importance to him are
Bernard Welt,
Terry Winch,
Kendra Kopelke,
Kim Carlin,
Jenmny Keith,
Ron Padgett and
Anselm Hollo.  Earlier poets of importance to him are

Frank O&#8217;Hara,
Charles Olson,
Joe Cardarelli, and
Elliott Coleman.

About contemporary poetry, he says, Well, it&#8217;s a mess, but I&#8217;m not
cleaning it up this time.

He enjoys going to the movies<i>any</i> movies.  He sums up his background in
philosophy and science with the following single sentence: When I was 10, I invented the
Buddha in my bedroom.

About his life, he says, Well, it seems to be moving along.
.
.
.

<b>Thomas Bell, Poet</b>

Bell lives at 2518 Wellington Pl., Murfreesboro, TN 37128.  His telephone number is
(615)
904-2374; his e.mail addresses are [email protected] and [email protected].
Born 18 February 1943 in Milwaukee, he is married and has two children.  He is right-
handed; about this he says, I write right and draw left.  poetry depends on where
i&#8217;m coming from.  i right write and draw to an inside straight.

He describes his religious denomination as democrat.  His occupation is

psychologist, for which he got the necessary degrees from the University of Wisconsin –
Milwaukee, Marquette, and the Wisconsin School of Professional Psychology.  He is also
an
editor and librarian.  He&#8217;s had work published on
paper and on the Internet.

One contemporary poet who is especially important to him is Allen Davies, and he
considers William Carlos
Williams the most important poet of the past for him.  He names no critics he favors
but throws his support to those who are experimental experiential.

Click<a href=”http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1493/poem24.html”> here</a> to
read The Flowers, one of Bell&#8217;s poems.

Visit <A HREF=”http://www.public.usit.net/trbell”>Bell&#8217;s HomeSite</a> for
more of his poems.

<b>Ken Brandon, Poet</b>

Ken Brandona painter as well as a poet (actually, both combined, much of the time)was
born 10 February 1934 in Seattle, Washington.  He now lives with his wife, Maru Bruno
Flores, in Mexico.  His mailing address is La Danza 6, San Miguel de Allende, GTO.
37700 Mexico; his phone number is (Mexico)(415)-2-7098. A graduate of the University
of Washington in Seattle, he has three children: Ansel, Mateo and Dylan.

According to the <i>Comprepoetica</i> survey form he filled out,
Brandon makes his living under dim eyes passes the trail market.  His religion is Zenjoko,
his political affiliation good.  As for the poets who have influenced him,</p>

<pre>

the other poets
I throw in the fire
to get hot
</pre>
His hobbies are confidential.  In answer to the survey question about what techniques and
subject matter are of value to him in poetry, he says, Technique is self without trying for
any subject matter.  Regarding contemporary poetry, he says, As I think of it, it defines
itself automatically.

Brandon is a publisher who has put out 19 issues of the zine, <i>Iz Knot</i>, as of 1997.
His work has not been much written up.  My own stuff grips my interest, he says in
response to the query on the survey about what books he reads, or movies he goes to, and
so forth.  He describes his background in philosophy and science as normal.  As for the
sports he watches or participates in, information about that, he says, is confidential.

On life-in-general, Brandon says:</p>
<pre>

finding his path less taken
misled the dead gardner
for a while
</pre>
To view an untitled sample poem by Brandon, click <a
href=”http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1493/poem31.html”>here</a>.   </p>
<b>Janet Buck</b>

Buck teaches writing and literature at the college level. Her poetry, humor, and
essays have appeared in <i>The Pittsburgh Quarterly, The Melic Review, Sapphire
Magazine, The Recursive Angel, Southern Ocean Review, Lynx: Poetry from Bath,
Apples &#038; Oranges, Oranges &#038; Apples, The Rose &#038; Thorn, San
Francisco Salvo,
Poetry Super Highway, Poetik License, Mind Fire, Astrophysicist’s Tango

Partner
Speaks, Perihelion, Oracle, Poetry Motel, Feminista!, Calliope, The Beaded
Strand,
New Thought Journal, Medicinal Purposes, 2River View, Kimera, Free Cuisinart,
In
Motion, Athens City Times, Conspire, Idling, remark, BeeHive, Gravity,
AfterNoon, A
Writer’s Choice, Niederngasse, Shades of December, Maelstrom, The Oracular
Tree,

Red Booth Review, Poetry Heaven, Tintern Abbey, Arkham, hoursbecomedays, The
Artful Mind, Oatmeal &#038; Poetry, Black Rose Blooming, Apollo Online, Masquerade,
Pigs &#8216;n Poets, Savoy, The Poet&#8217;s Edge, Allegory, GreenCross, Online
Writer,
Poetry
Cafe, Oblique, Locust Magazine, The Poetry Kit, Pyrowords, Vortex, Ceteris
Paribus,
The Suisun Valley Review, Illya&#8217;s Honey, Fires of Autumn, Orbital Revolution,

A
Little Poetry, Dead Letters, King Log, Peshekee Review, The Green Tricycle,
Pogonip,
Chimeric, Poetry Repair Shop, 3:00 AM Magazine, Wired Art from Wired Hearts</i>,
and
hundreds of print journals and e-zines world-wide.  A print collection of
Janet’s poetry
entitled <i>Calamity’s Quilt</i> is soon to be published by Newton’s Baby Press.

For a sample of her poetry, A Writer&#8217;s Prayer, click <a
href=”http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1493/poem49.html”>here</a>.
<b>Bill Burmeister (BER my stir), Poet</b>

Burmeister resides with his wife, Diana, at 8018 Lakepointe Drive, Plantation, Fla 33322.
His
e.mail address is [email protected].  A Florida native of Armenian
(mother) and German (dad) descent, he was born 22 March 1961, in St. Petersburg.  He
works as an Electronics Engineer, having gotten his bachelor&#8217;s and
master&#8217;s in that field at the University of Central Florida.  His hobbies include
reading folklore, following baseball, listening to jazz/blues music, raising plants, amateur
astronomy, good wine and cigars, and collecting stamps.

He has several works in progress (as of late October 1997): poem/play (1 yr); first
chapbook of poems; translations of a play by the (deceased) Ecuadorian poet Gonzalo
Escudero and poems from Jorge Guillen&#8217;s <i>Cantico</i>.

Among the contemporary poets important to Burmeister are
John Ashbery, Charles Bernstein, A. Child, Clark Coolidge, Henry Gould, Lyn Hejinian,
Simic, J. Tate, Revell, Paz, Yau, L.Scalapino, B.Hillman, S.Howe, D.Ignatow, M.Strand,
M.McClure, B.Guest, R.Bly . . .
Earlier poets important to him include  Homer, Dante A., Milton, Shakespeare, Blake,
Wordsworth, Dickinson, Rimbaud, Apollinaire, Loy, Williams (WCW), Pound, Breton,
Char, Zukofsky, Oppenheim.Celan, Loy, Joyce, T.Roethke, Carroll, Jorge Guillen, Lorca,
Neruda, Gonzalo Escudero, Spicer, Duncan, Patchen, Antonio Machado, Dickinson,
Wallace Stevens, Unamuno, Gustavo Adolpho Bequer, Beckett, D.Thomas, Muriel
Rukuyser, Rilke, J.Taggart . . .

Among critics, he particularly values the work of Blanchot, Bernstein, Perloff, Sartre,
Bachelard and Paz.

About his tastes in poetry he says, I have a fairly open, generous approach to poetry,
especially in what comes to me from the past. For poetry in the present, I look for the
writing as thinking, metaphysical, meditative, stream of consciousness, chance, new
surrealism, playfulness with language, nonsense, energetic lively language, reinvented
language, and so on. I look for innovation, but not necessarily formal innovation. What I
like most, I get from the avante-garde, but contentment with the avante-garde is an
impossibility by definition.  The avante-garde is not the beginning and the end of a
particular kind of poetry, but rather only the beginning, and maybe not the best possible at
that since a new dialogue has been begun with all of literature and history, the past as well
as a future.

As for criticism, he says, I don&#8217;t consider myself a critic as such, although
naturally, I recognize the importance of maintaining a critical ability since this has been
and will continue to be an essential part of literature.  For me, taste, appeal, enjoyment,
and enthusiasm must be considered at the personal level as much as any aesthetic, but can
never be
forced upon another as aesthetic. I tend to believe that poetry
is a lot like religion in that a kind of faith is necessary to
hold the poem together.  It seems to me that the poem is a delicate, but patient entity that
outlives time-sensitive criticism (such as identity politics and other socio-political agendas
in the guise of criticism).  Good critical writing is that which goes before or after good
writing: it informs, enlightens, and expands readership rather than merely decodes and
justifies.

Outside his field, Burmeister enjoys reading novels by James (<i>The Wings of a
Dove</i>), Faulkner (<i>The Sound and the Fury</i>)  Kafka (<i>The Trial</i>)  Gunter
Grass (<i>Cat and Mouse, Tin Drum</i>), Thomas Mann (<i>The Magic Mountain</i>),
the science fiction of G.Bear, Simak, Asimov, and D.Brin (before he choked), and Plays
by Beckett (<i>Waiting for Godot, Krapp&#8217;s last tape</i>), Gonzalo Escudero
(<i>Parallelogram</i>), the short word plays of Gertrude Stein, and the plays of
Sheakespeare.  He collects books of black &#038; white photography (Weston, Man Ray,
Irina Ionesco) and films (Wells, The Marx Brothers, D.Lynch and more).  He is also
building a collection of original paintings by Latin American painters such as the
contemporary Ecuadorian Arauz.  He listens to John Cage, experimental jazz (A.Braxton
and others) and acid jazz, and classical music.

About his interests in science and philosophy, he says, i tend (right now anyway) to be
partial toward the Spanish philo. Jose Ortega y Gassett, J.P.Sartre, Kierkegaard, Derrida,
&#038; Kant.
For philosophy of science, I have tended toward Einstein, Newton, Asimov, and Faraday.
Burmeister was educated in hard sciences up through elementary modern physics (theory
of quantuum electrodynamics, statistical mechanics, etc.), in mathematics
up through essential calculus, linear operator theory, diffential equations and boundary
value problems (applied).

In answer to the <i>Comprepoetica</i> survey question about the present world situation,
he says, I&#8217;m wondering for how long we can survive this ludicrous zero-sum game
known as the &#8216;Global economy.&#8217;

For a sample of Bill Burmeister&#8217;s poetry (with a brief commentary on it by
Burmeister), click <a
href=”http://www.reocities.com/soho/cafe/1493/poem11.html”>here</a>.

<b>Harry Burrus, Poet/Publisher</b>

Burrus lives with his wife, Megan, at 1266 Fountain View, Houston, Texas 77057-2204.
His telephone number is (713) 784-2802; his e.mail address, [email protected]

He was born in Denver, reared in St. Louis.  Moved to Houston in June 1977.  He is six
feet one and weighs 175 pounds.  His parents

were university professors.  His father was the first Pro Football player with a PHD.  He
himself holds advanced degrees in Film, Dramatic Arts, and Poetryand is active as a
collagist, photographer, screenwriter and filmmaker as well as a poet and the publisher of
<i>O!!Zone</i>, which he describes as a
modest literary-art zine.

His poetry books include:  <i>I Do Not Sleep With Strangers, Confessions of a Tennis
Pro;
Bouquet; A Game of Rules; Without Feathers; For Deposit Only; the Jaguar
Porfolio</i>; and <i>Cartouche</i>.  He has also co-edited with Peter Gravis of Black Tie
Press,

<i>American Poetry Confronts the 1990&#8217;s</i>.

Burrus&#8217;s poetry, photographs, and collages have appeared in various publications
and
exhibitions in the US and abroad.

Says Burrus about making a living, I gain dinero via photography, scripts, workshops, and
various other artistic
pursuits (and years ago as a tennis pro).

About religion and politics/nationalism (and money), he finds that most people
cannot discuss without harboring ill-feeling and/or distrust for those who
possess views different from their own.  Hence, I tend not to engage in these
areas unless it is with those capable of out of body experiences.

He has difficulty specifically determining what poets and critics and other influences have
been important to him.  The aggregation is subtle and ongoing.  Travel, for sure, is a
primary player.  On the goat path and with the
aroma of donkey dung filling the surrounding air, I witness and pick up
juxtaposition, impact, resonance, and cultural unravelings.  On these

excursions I shoot a lot of film, make journal entries, and ambient sound
recordings and always use the material.  I never know how or when or in what
form the work will appear, but it eventually does pop up somewhere, either in
poems, art of some kind like a collage, or, perhaps, a story emerges.

I am drawn to openness, curiosity, and a willingness to take chances.  I like
strong personalities.  I favor high energy and experimentation.  The seduction
has been more from artists and filmmakers, rather than poets, although a few
poets have landed a stroke or two.  A few personalities that quickly come to

mind are: Ernst, Magritte, Man Ray, Buñuel, Resnais, Cartier-Bresson,
Schwitters, Godard, Bergman, Newton, Rausenberg, Matta, Isidore Ducasse,
Pessoa, Prevert, Bowles, Wenders, and Gysin.

I tend to appreciate those engaged in multiple activities and skilled in
different pursuits.  Peter Beard and Bruce Chatwin come to mind.  Journeymen.
I enjoy Henry Miller’s writing about watercolors more than his novels.  I
enjoy the independence of his watercolors.

I make extractions from movements (Dada, Surrealism, The Beats, etc.), pulling

on the dynamism or a particular tack  something I notice that I might employ
in my work.  I may utilize or value aspects of the thinking that goes into a
work more than the work itself.  Burroughs’ and Kerouac’s and Lawrence’s
ideas, for example.  I also value their dedication.

Previously I read a lot of poetry and poetry publications, but I became
disenchanted with the likes of APR and Poetry  too much sameness.  Even

newcomers and alternative journals, which broke away from the writing school
content and were, at first, exciting and fresh, even they slowly lost their
zest and started wearing that familiar uniform.  There is, however, still
energy in various zines and micro-presses, so, choice is out there.  One must
forage for the interesting  which is the same with people.

My engagement with international visual poets, mail artists, and photographers
provides visual stimulation, plus insights into other cultures.  Myriad

personalities have opened to me and my exchange with them I eagerly maintain.
I find correspondence or working on a collage or making a photograph more
intriguing than being a spectator of some sporting event.

Burrus cites three critics who write well about their topics:  Walter Pater, John Simon, and
Marvin Bell.

The last full collection of poetry Burrus has read (as of 15 November 1997 was
Bukowski&#8217;s <i>Betting on the Muse</i>; last

non-poetry book: <i>Breaking the Maya Code</i>, by Michael Coe.

Click <a href=”http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1493/poem18.html”>here</a> to see
Blue Mirror, a poem from Burrus&#8217;s <i>A Game of Rules</i>

(name of respondent)  Brandon
(pronunciation of respondent&#8217;s name)  Carpenter
(street address)  4616 S. Rusk
(city&#038;state)  Amarillo, Tx 79110

(e.mail address)  [email protected]
(phone number)  N/A
(po-type)  Poet/Critic
(affiliations/organizations)

Denver Word Affiliate
Vocal Velocity Records

(publication credits)

Poetry Cafe
Anvil
Poetry Shelter
Pauper.com
Sharptongue

(list of works)

A flame of the heart in the hands of Dread
Discombobulate the Dissemated

Muddy&#8217;s Cafe: Out of the Mud
Sharptongue

(contemporary poets important to respondent)  Ben Ohmart
(poets of yesteryear important to respondent)
Baudlelaire
Rimbaud
Ginsberg

Kerouac

(tastes in poetry)

Avant-Garde
Beat

(description of criticism)  Pick out the truth of the piece, show the path to find these truths
and uplift the reader, author, editor and other critics.
(zines, etc., that ought to be listed in the dictionary)

Realpoetic

(sample of respondent&#8217;s poetry)  members.tripod.com/Carpenter_B</p>
<hr />
</body>
</html>
.

<b>Joel Chace, Poet</b>

(pronunciation of respondent&#8217;s name)  Chase
(street address)  300 E. Seminary St.

(city&#038;state)  Mercersburg, PA  17236
(e.mail address)  [email protected]
(phone number)  717-328-3824

(affiliations/organizations)

Poetry EditorAntietam Review and 5_Trope electronic
magazine.

(publication credits)

My poems have appeared or are forthcoming  in print journals and
magazines such as the following:  <i>The Seneca Review, The Connecticut
Poetry Review, Spinning Jenny, Poetry Motel,  No Exit,  Pembroke
Magazine, Crazy Horse, Kudos</i> (England), and <i>Porto-Franco</i> (Romania).  I

have also published work in Electronic Magazines such as the following:
<i>Ninth St. Labs, Recursive Angel, Highbeams, Switched-on-Gutenberg,
Kudzu, Pif, The Morpo Review, Snakeskin, Slumgullion, PotePoetZine,</i>
and <i>The Experioddicist</i>.

(list of works)

Northwoods Press, in 1984, published my collection of poems entitled
<i>The Harp Beyond the Wall</i>.  Persephone Press, in 1992, published my

second book, <i>Red Ghost</i>, which won the first Persephone Press Book Award
and was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in that same year.  Big Easy
Press, in 1995, brought out a collection entitled <i>Court of Ass-Sizes</i>.
In June, 1997, came a full-length collection, <i>Twentieth Century
Deaths</i>, from Singular Speech Press.  <i>The Melancholy of Yorick</i>

(Birch Brook Press) and <i>maggnummappuss</i> (nominated for a 1998 Pushcart Prize)
appeared in 1998, and a  bi-lingual edition of my poems is being prepared in Romania.

(where written up)

<i>Slumgullion, Pif, Mind Fire, A Writer&#8217;s Choice, Next,
No Exit, Grab-a-Nickel, Small Press Review</i>.

(contemporary poets important to respondent)

Jake Berry, W.D. Snodgrass, Adrienne Rich,
Jack Foley, Robert Creeley.

(poets of yesteryear important to respondent)

Jack Spicer, Thomas McGrath, Muriel Rukeyser,
Wallace Stevens, Walt Whitman.

(critics important to respondent)

Jack Foley, Muriel Rukeyser,
Marjorie Perloff.

For two samples of Chace&#8217;s poetry, click <a
href=”http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1493/poem48.html”>here</a>.  He&#8217;d
appreciate any feedback on it that you&#8217;d care to e.mail him.

<b>Blaise Cirelli, Poet</b>
Cirelli was born 1 January 1952 in Philadelphia.  He describes himself as having a
Buddhist leaning and being Leftist Apolitical.  His publication credits include
<i>Agniezewska&#8217;s Diary, VIA, Zaum, Blind Donkey </i>and<i> Talus and
Scree</i>, and his
etry&#8217;s been written up in the San Louis Obispo Local  newspaper.  Contemporary
poets he admires include Michael Palmer,

Lyn Hejinian, Mei Mei Bruseenbugge (spelling?), Robert Hass, Ron Padgett and Robert
Pinsky.  He also admires the work of Ezra Pound,
Homer,
William Carlos Williams,
Loraine Niedecker,
Frank O&#8217;Hara,
Shelley,
Browning and
Tennyson.
Critics important to him are

Charles Altieri,
Helen Vendler,
Marjorie Perloff and
Forest Gander.

As a reader of poetry, he enjoys Experimental, Meditative Lyric poetryand <i>not</i>
Nature (Because how can you not like nature? I&#8217;d rather be in nature than read
about it).  His impression of the current scene is that There seem to be a lot of

diocre poets getting published.

Among his favorite books are: <i>The Brothers Karamazov, Crime and Punishment
<i>and</i> The
Sorrows of Young Werther</i>.  He lists two favorite movies: <i>Black Robe</i> and
<i>Il Postino</i>.  The sculpture of Henry Moore is important to him.  About philosophy
he says, I wish I could understand Wittgenstein.  On life-in-general: Some peop

are born with failure, others have it thrust upon them.  His
Favorite name for a cat: Spot (if it has spots); Favorite food: organic turnips.

For a sample of Cirelli&#8217;s poetry click <a
href=”http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1493/poem4.html”>here</a>.

<b>Dark Poet, Poet</b>

Dark Poet&#8217;s address is 555 this isn&#8217;t real, Punta Gorda FL 33982. His
e.mail address is [email protected], his phone
number,(941) 555-9992.

(affiliations/organizations)  NA
(publication credits)  NA
(list of works)  NA
(where written up)  Conspiracy boards all over
(contemporary poets important to respondent)  na
(poets of yesteryear important to respondent)  Poe
(critics important to respondent)  na
(tastes in poetry)  na</p>

You can find a sample of Dark Poet&#8217;s work by clicking <a
href=”http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1493/poem45.html”>here</a>.  His attitude
toward getting feedback on it: Sure.  It&#8217;s a rough draft.

<b>Catherine Daly (DAY lee), Poet</b>

Daly lives at 533 South Alandele Avenue, Los Angeles CA 90036.
Her e.mail address is [email protected], and is affiliated with
UCLA Extension and various listservs.

So far (late 1998), Daly has gotten about 80 poems into print  but has not yet had a book
published.  She has the following
manuscripts sitting around her house, however: <i>Engine No. 9, Locket, Manners in the
Colony, Dark Night</i>, and <i>The Green Hotel</i>.

The work of Barbara Guest and some of that of Barbara Hillman
has been important to her, and she likes the work of Todd Baron, Spencer Selby, Karen
Volkman, Ann Lauterbach (her favorite poetry teacher), Janet Holmes, Jeanne Marie
Beaumontthe last three of
whom have been especially supportive of her efforts.

She considers the usual suspects among the poets of yesteryear
important to her, and she admires the criticism of Susan Howe.

About poetry she says, I expect a great deal of thought and feeling to be behind a poem,
and I tend to like poems which reflect ideas.  Because I studied religion and philosophy
and math, I am particularly sensitive to the misuse of many ideas commonly placed into
these categories.

She likes her poetic narration true, not fictional.

A critic as well as a poet, Daly prefers to express critically what (she feels) the poet
attempts vs. succeeds at doing.  For example, she says, Wallace Stevens mentioned that it
was really what he attempted that pleased him about his work, but that he never achieved
anything near that in his poetry.  For a sample
of her criticism, her first book review, an impression of contemporary poetry, can be
found in <i>American Letters &#038; Commentary</i>, 10th Anniversary issue.

She thinks the American Contemporary Poetry &#8217;scene&#8217; is very much like
the alternative music scene of the 80s, and perhaps what the truly alternative music scene
still is: an incredibly generous but fragmented variety of subgenres waiting for someone
like Kurt Cobain to come along and steal all of the riffs and jam them together on a
national stage.

See Daly&#8217;s web site for links to poems of hers that have been published online:

http://members.aol.com/cadaly.</p>

<b>Michel Delville (del VIL), Critic</b>

(pronunciation of respondent&#8217;s name)  [delvil]
Delville lives at Alllée du Beau Vivier 38, 4102 Seraing, Belgium.  His e.mail address is
[email protected]; his phone number is ++ 32 4 3374386.

He has two books coming out in 1998: <i>The American Prose Poem: Poetic Form and
the Law of Genre</i> (Gainesville FL: UP of Florida), and <i>J. G. Ballard</i>
(Plymouth: Northcote House).

He considers the following contemporary poets of importance:
Henri Michaux, Ron Silliman, Vasko Popa,
Miroslav Holub, Francis Ponge, Madeline Gins,
Paul Nougé, Pierre Reverdy, Max Jacob, Pierre Alferi,

John Cage, Peter Redgrove and Rosmarie Waldrop.

As for poets of the past, he lists Arthur Rimbaud, Stéphane Mallarmé, Charles Baudelaire,
Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, Sappho, Oscar Wilde, Shakespeare, Milton and Dante as
the heavyweights for him.

He notes four critics as being important to him: Marjorie Perloff, Roland Barthes, Frank
Lentricchia and Gérard Genette.

<b>Debra Di Blasi, Poet</b>

(pronunciation of Di Blasi&#8217;s name)  dee BLAH-see
Di Blasi&#8217;s mailing address is 5932 Charlotte St., Kansas City, MO 64110, her
e.mail address is [email protected].

(affiliations/organizations)</p>
Missouri Arts Council  Literature Panelist

PEN Center USA West  Member
The Authors Guild, Inc.  Member
The Academy of American Poets  Associate Member
The Writers Place  Member
National League of American Pen Women, Westport, MO Branch

Member  Chair, Short Story Committee</p>
publication credits

BOOKS:
* <i>Drought &#038; Say What You Like</i>, novella, New Directions Books: New
York, NY.  March 1997   winner Thorpe Menn Book Award
* <i>Prayers of an Accidental Nature</i>, short story collection,  Coffee House Press:
Minneapolis, MN.  May 1999.

* Gass Pain, hypertext essay (Dalkey Archive Press/The Center for Book Culture,
www.centerforthebook.org)
*many published short fiction, articles, essays, reviews

list of works

FICTION
* <i>What the Body Requires</i> (formerly titled <i>Reprise: Reprisal</i>), novel (See
AWARDS)

* <i>The Fourth Book</i>, short story collection, in progress</p>
SHORT STORIES
*Czechoslovakian Rhapsody Sung To The Accompaniment Of Piano.  <i>The Iowa
Review</i>.  December 2000  (See  RADIO / AUDIO and PERFORMANCE /
INSTALLATION / THEATRE)
* Blue, Recollection, and Exiles.  <i>The Prague Review</i>.  Winter 2000

*Snapshots: A Geneology.  Show + Tell anthology of Kansas City writers and artists,
Potpourri Publications: Kansas City, MO.  June 2000
*The Buck.  Potpourri  literary journal.  Fall 1996
*Blind.  New Letters literary journal.  Spring 1996
*Drowning Hard. Cottonwood literary journal. 1995  anthologized in Moondance e-zine.
1997

*I Am Telling You Lies. Sou&#8217;wester literary journal.  1995
*Chairman of the Board.  TIWA (Themes Interpreted by Writers and Artists) literary and
visual arts magazine.  1993  (See RADIO / AUDIO)
*An Interview With My Husband.  New Delta Review. 1991  anthologized in Lovers:
Writings By Women, The Crossing Press. 1992. (See AWARDS)
*Delbert.  <i>AENE literary journal</i>.  1991

*The Season&#8217;s Condition.  Colorado-North Review literary journal.  1990  (See
FILM and RADIO / AUDIO)
*Where All Things Converge. Transfer literary journal.  1989</p>
NONFICTION
*<i>The Way Men Kiss</i>,  memoir, in progress

<i>Gass Pain</i>, hypertext,  The Center for Book Culture casebook on William H.
Gass&#8217;s The Tunnel, H.L. Hix, editor.  November 2000
(www.centerforbookculture.org)</p>
Essays
Millennium Garden: Paintings by Jim Sajovic.  Published in art catalog.  September 1999.
Out of the Garden, Into the Cave.  1997  (See AWARDS)
What Three Cheers Everywhere Provide.  Anthologized in Exposures: Essays By Missouri
Women,  Woods Colt Press: Kansas City, MO,  March 1997 (See AWARDS)</p>

Articles (for SOMA arts magazine: San Francisco, CA)
We&#8217;ve Got Joe Montana.  1994
I Am Writing To You From the Middle Of Nowhere. 1990
James Rosenquist:  Seeing/Not Seeing.  1990
Diamanda Galas:  Honesty Inside A Clenched Fist.  1989

Rising From the Ash Heap of Performance Art, Rinde Eckert Takes Off.  1988
Otto Hitzberger:  Cutting Away.  1987
Miró.  1987
Jonathan Barbieri:  Missiles Across the Border.  1987</p>
Art Reviews (for <i>The New Art Examiner</i>: Chicago, IL)

Jane Ashbury.  1985.
Marilyn Propp.  1984,</p>
SCREENPLAYS / FILM
Screenplays Produced</p>
<i>Drought</i>,  16mm, 28 min.  1998 (premiere)  1993 (written)
Based on the novella of the same title by Debra Di Blasi.

Produced by Breathing Furniture Films/Lisa Moncure &#038; Michael Leen,
Screenplay by Debra Di Blasi, Lisa Moncure, Michael Leen,  Directed by Lisa Moncure,
Photography by Michael Leen,  Sound Design by Jim McKee/Earwax Productions,
Starring Jessika Cardinahl &#038; Jack Conley,  Production esign by Megan Ricks
&#038; John Matheson,  Editing by Jennifer Jean Cacavas,  Radio Program Music by
Allen Davis.</p>
SCREENINGS:
o       National Museum of Women in the Arts, Washington, DC,  November 2000
o       Ragtag Cinema:  Columbia, MO.  June 2000
o       Universe Elle, as part of the 53rd Cannes International Film Festival:  Cannes,
France.  May 2000

* Broadcast rights purchased by Independent Film Channel.  Premiere broadcast
November 23, 1999
* Kansas City Filmmakers Jubilee:  Kansas City, MO.  April 1999 (see AWARDS)
o       Göteborg Sweden Film Festival:  Göteborg, Sweden.  Feb.  1999
o       Festival Internacional de Cine de Bilbao Spain:  Bilbao, Spain.   November 1998
o       Sao Paulo Mostra Internacional de Cinama:  Sao Paulo, Brazil.  October 1998
o       Figueira da Foz International Festival of Cinema:  Lisbon Portugal.  September 1998
(See AWARDS)
o       Webster University Film Series:  St. Louis, MO.  September 1999.
o       Sarajevo International Film Festival:  Sarajevo, Bosnia.  August 1998
o       Recontres Cinemágraphiques Franco-American D&#8217;Avignon, France:
Avignon, France. June 1998 (See AWARDS)

o       Charlotte Film Festival:  Charlotte, NC.  June 1998
o       Toronto Worldwide Short Film Festival:  Toronto, Canada.  June 1998 (See
AWARDS)
o       New York/Avignon Film Festival:  New York, NY.  April-May 1998
o       New York Women&#8217;s Film Festival:  New York, NY.  April 1998
o       Taos Talking Pictures Film Festival:  Taos, NM.  April 1998 (See AWARDS)
o       American Film Institute Film Festival:  Los Angeles, CA. World premiere: October
1997 </p>
<i>The Season&#8217;s Condition</i> —  Super 8, 10 min.

Based on the short story of the same title by Debra Di Blasi.
Produced and directed by Lisa Moncure,  photography by Michael Leen.  </p>
SCREENINGS:
o       Toronto Film Festival:  Toronto, Canada.  1998
o       American Film Institute Film Festival:  Los Angeles, CA.  1995
o       Bay Area Film &#038; Video Poetry Festival:  San Francisco, CA.  1994

o       Culture Under Fire Film Festival:  Kansas City, MO.  1994</p>
Screenplays in Pre-Production
<i>My Father’s Farm</i>,  original short documentary in pre-production, based on the
essay Out of the Garden, Into the Cave by Debra Di Blasi.  Produced/written/directed by
Debra Di Blasi.
<i>Intruder</i>,  short screenplay in pre-production  screenplay by Debra Di Blasi.
Producer/director Edward Stencel.</p>
Screenplays Unproduced
The Hunger Winter, original feature in progress  co-written with historian Hal Wert

The Shortest Route Home,  original short screenplay
The Walking Wounded,  original feature-length screenplay (See AWARDS)
The Significance of Dreams, original short screenplay
Taming Wild Geese —  unproduced  original feature-length screenplay
Staring Into The Sun —  unproduced  original feature-length screenplay </p>
RADIO / AUDIO</p>
<i>Czechoslovakian Rhapsody</i>,  radio adaptation from the short story of the same
title.  Produced by Finnish Broadcasting Corporation (YLE):  Helsinki, Finland.
Broadcast premiere October 1998

Kansas City Fiction Writers: Vol. 1 — short stories (The Season&#8217;s Condition and
Chairman of the Board) recorded for double CD set, limited edition  featuring Kansas City
fiction writers.  Art Radio:  Kansas City, MO.  Release date December 1998
Dreamless Dream,  radio adaptation from the short stories Blind, Stones, and  Our
Perversions.  Produced by Finnish Broadcasting Corporation:  Helsinki, Finland.
Broadcast premiere October 1998

An Interview With My Husband —  chamber theatre adaptation from the short story of
the same title by Debra Di Blasi.  Produced and adapted by Stephen Booser,  directed by
Art Suskin,  stage management by Nancy Madsen,  premiere at The Writers Place, Kansas
City, MO,  October 1997
Drought — radio adaptation of the novella of the same title by Debra Di Blasi,  produced
and adapted by YLE (Finnish Broadcasting Corporation), Helsinki, Finland o  broadcast
premiere May 1998</p>
PERFORMANCE / EXHIBITIONS / THEATRE</p>
Unbroken View,  multimedia installation  collaboration with visual artist Sharyn O’Mara
assisted by sound designer Chris Willits.  Premiere exhibition:  Edwin A. Ulrich Museum:
Wichita, KS.   November 2000-January 2001.  Traveling to Juniata Landscape Museum:
Juniata, Pennsylvania.  September 2001.
Czechoslovakian Rhapsody,  multimedia performance based on the short story of the same
title by Debra Di Blasi.  Written/directed/produced/performed by Debra Di Blasi.
Premiere Ragtag Cinema, June 2000
An Interview With My Husband —  chamber theatre adaptation from the short story of
the same title by Debra Di Blasi.  Produced and adapted by Stephen Booser,  directed by
Art Suskin,  stage management by Nancy Madsen,  premiere at The Writers Place, Kansas
City, MO,  October 1997</p>
(where written up)</p>
<i>The New York Times Book Review
*Publishers Weekly

*Book Forum
*ForeWord
*In Print
*The Kansas City Star</i>
many, many others</p>
contemporary poets important to Di Blasi</p>
Louise Gluck
Larry Levis (deceased)
Billy Collins

H.L. Hix
Galway Kinnell
Mark Strand
Marilyn Hacker
many, many others
poets of yesteryear important to Di Blasi
Sylvia Plath
T.S. Eliot
W.B. Yeats

many, many others
critics important to Di Blasi: Not particularly interested in criticism
tastes in poetry: As a fiction writer, I am most fond of narrative poetry, although I enjoy
anything brilliant that contains aural lyricism.  Content is important only in that it helps
illuminate a &#8216;truth&#8217; I already know or confronts me with one I have not yet
discovered.
impression of contemporary poetry: Wonderful.  The range of styles and voices is a
pleasure.
zines, etc., that ought to be listed in the dictionary:  Virtually every serious literary journal
that publishes poetry deserves to be on this list.

</i> survey question that asks a respondent to name
the first poem that comes to his mind right then, he said, None.

Basinski has published in many periodicals including <i>First Offense, First Intensity,
Angle, Torque(Toronto), Kiosk, Essex Street, Washington Review, Chain, Boxkite,
Leopold Bloom, Taproot, Generator, Arras, Explosive Magazine, RIF/T, Yellow Silk,
Benzine, Sure, Another Chicago Magazine, Lyric&#038;, Mirage no.4(Period)ical, Lower
Limit Speech, Juxta, Wooden Head Review, Synaesthetic, Small Press Review</i>, and
other WEB and Email magazines.

His books include: <i>[Un-Nome]</i>, The Runaway Spoon Press;  <i>Idyll</i>, Juxta
Press; <i>Heebee-jeebies</i>, Meow Press; and many others.  He has been written up in
<i>Texture, Small Press Review, Taproot Reviews, Exile, Poetic Briefs</i>, etc.

He says that the poets of yesteryear important to him are Those before the coming of
circles.  His tastes in poetry?  Glitches and witches.  His impression of contemporary
poetry? Angels and beasts.

<b>David Beaudouin, Poet</b>

Beaudouin resides with his wife, family and Dawgs at 2840 St. Paul St., Baltimore, MD
21218.  His e.mail address is [email protected], his phone number is 410-467-0600.  He
was born 3 February 1951 in Baltimore.

Beaudouin got his degree in 1975 from Johns Hopkins.  His religion is Quakerism, his
main political belief, Keep right except to pass.

His credits include the following chapbooks:
<i>Catenae,
American Night,
Human Nature</i> and <i>
Gig</i>.  He was last published on the Net in <i>Enterzone</i>.

Contemporary poets of importance to him are
Bernard Welt,
Terry Winch,
Kendra Kopelke,
Kim Carlin,
Jenmny Keith,
Ron Padgett and
Anselm Hollo.  Earlier poets of importance to him are

Frank O&#8217;Hara,
Charles Olson,
Joe Cardarelli, and
Elliott Coleman.

About contemporary poetry, he says, Well, it&#8217;s a mess, but I&#8217;m not
cleaning it up this time.

He enjoys going to the movies<i>any</i> movies.  He sums up his background in
philosophy and science with the following single sentence: When I was 10, I invented the
Buddha in my bedroom.

About his life, he says, Well, it seems to be moving along.
.
.
.

<b>Thomas Bell, Poet</b>

Bell lives at 2518 Wellington Pl., Murfreesboro, TN 37128.  His telephone number is
(615)
904-2374; his e.mail addresses are [email protected] and [email protected].
Born 18 February 1943 in Milwaukee, he is married and has two children.  He is right-
handed; about this he says, I write right and draw left.  poetry depends on where
i&#8217;m coming from.  i right write and draw to an inside straight.

He describes his religious denomination as democrat.  His occupation is

psychologist, for which he got the necessary degrees from the University of Wisconsin –
Milwaukee, Marquette, and the Wisconsin School of Professional Psychology.  He is also
an
editor and librarian.  He&#8217;s had work published on
paper and on the Internet.

One contemporary poet who is especially important to him is Allen Davies, and he
considers William Carlos
Williams the most important poet of the past for him.  He names no critics he favors
but throws his support to those who are experimental experiential.

Click<a href=”http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1493/poem24.html”> here</a> to
read The Flowers, one of Bell&#8217;s poems.

Visit <A HREF=”http://www.public.usit.net/trbell”>Bell&#8217;s HomeSite</a> for
more of his poems.

<b>Ken Brandon, Poet</b>

Ken Brandona painter as well as a poet (actually, both combined, much of the time)was
born 10 February 1934 in Seattle, Washington.  He now lives with his wife, Maru Bruno
Flores, in Mexico.  His mailing address is La Danza 6, San Miguel de Allende, GTO.
37700 Mexico; his phone number is (Mexico)(415)-2-7098. A graduate of the University
of Washington in Seattle, he has three children: Ansel, Mateo and Dylan.

According to the <i>Comprepoetica</i> survey form he filled out,
Brandon makes his living under dim eyes passes the trail market.  His religion is Zenjoko,
his political affiliation good.  As for the poets who have influenced him,</p>

<pre>

the other poets
I throw in the fire
to get hot
</pre>
His hobbies are confidential.  In answer to the survey question about what techniques and
subject matter are of value to him in poetry, he says, Technique is self without trying for
any subject matter.  Regarding contemporary poetry, he says, As I think of it, it defines
itself automatically.

Brandon is a publisher who has put out 19 issues of the zine, <i>Iz Knot</i>, as of 1997.
His work has not been much written up.  My own stuff grips my interest, he says in
response to the query on the survey about what books he reads, or movies he goes to, and
so forth.  He describes his background in philosophy and science as normal.  As for the
sports he watches or participates in, information about that, he says, is confidential.

On life-in-general, Brandon says:</p>
<pre>

finding his path less taken
misled the dead gardner
for a while
</pre>
To view an untitled sample poem by Brandon, click <a
href=”http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1493/poem31.html”>here</a>.   </p>
<b>Janet Buck</b>

Buck teaches writing and literature at the college level. Her poetry, humor, and
essays have appeared in <i>The Pittsburgh Quarterly, The Melic Review, Sapphire
Magazine, The Recursive Angel, Southern Ocean Review, Lynx: Poetry from Bath,
Apples &#038; Oranges, Oranges &#038; Apples, The Rose &#038; Thorn, San
Francisco Salvo,
Poetry Super Highway, Poetik License, Mind Fire, Astrophysicist’s Tango

Partner
Speaks, Perihelion, Oracle, Poetry Motel, Feminista!, Calliope, The Beaded
Strand,
New Thought Journal, Medicinal Purposes, 2River View, Kimera, Free Cuisinart,
In
Motion, Athens City Times, Conspire, Idling, remark, BeeHive, Gravity,
AfterNoon, A
Writer’s Choice, Niederngasse, Shades of December, Maelstrom, The Oracular
Tree,

Red Booth Review, Poetry Heaven, Tintern Abbey, Arkham, hoursbecomedays, The
Artful Mind, Oatmeal &#038; Poetry, Black Rose Blooming, Apollo Online, Masquerade,
Pigs &#8216;n Poets, Savoy, The Poet&#8217;s Edge, Allegory, GreenCross, Online
Writer,
Poetry
Cafe, Oblique, Locust Magazine, The Poetry Kit, Pyrowords, Vortex, Ceteris
Paribus,
The Suisun Valley Review, Illya&#8217;s Honey, Fires of Autumn, Orbital Revolution,

A
Little Poetry, Dead Letters, King Log, Peshekee Review, The Green Tricycle,
Pogonip,
Chimeric, Poetry Repair Shop, 3:00 AM Magazine, Wired Art from Wired Hearts</i>,
and
hundreds of print journals and e-zines world-wide.  A print collection of
Janet’s poetry
entitled <i>Calamity’s Quilt</i> is soon to be published by Newton’s Baby Press.

For a sample of her poetry, A Writer&#8217;s Prayer, click <a
href=”http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1493/poem49.html”>here</a>.
<b>Bill Burmeister (BER my stir), Poet</b>

Burmeister resides with his wife, Diana, at 8018 Lakepointe Drive, Plantation, Fla 33322.
His
e.mail address is [email protected].  A Florida native of Armenian
(mother) and German (dad) descent, he was born 22 March 1961, in St. Petersburg.  He
works as an Electronics Engineer, having gotten his bachelor&#8217;s and
master&#8217;s in that field at the University of Central Florida.  His hobbies include
reading folklore, following baseball, listening to jazz/blues music, raising plants, amateur
astronomy, good wine and cigars, and collecting stamps.

He has several works in progress (as of late October 1997): poem/play (1 yr); first
chapbook of poems; translations of a play by the (deceased) Ecuadorian poet Gonzalo
Escudero and poems from Jorge Guillen&#8217;s <i>Cantico</i>.

Among the contemporary poets important to Burmeister are
John Ashbery, Charles Bernstein, A. Child, Clark Coolidge, Henry Gould, Lyn Hejinian,
Simic, J. Tate, Revell, Paz, Yau, L.Scalapino, B.Hillman, S.Howe, D.Ignatow, M.Strand,
M.McClure, B.Guest, R.Bly . . .
Earlier poets important to him include  Homer, Dante A., Milton, Shakespeare, Blake,
Wordsworth, Dickinson, Rimbaud, Apollinaire, Loy, Williams (WCW), Pound, Breton,
Char, Zukofsky, Oppenheim.Celan, Loy, Joyce, T.Roethke, Carroll, Jorge Guillen, Lorca,
Neruda, Gonzalo Escudero, Spicer, Duncan, Patchen, Antonio Machado, Dickinson,
Wallace Stevens, Unamuno, Gustavo Adolpho Bequer, Beckett, D.Thomas, Muriel
Rukuyser, Rilke, J.Taggart . . .

Among critics, he particularly values the work of Blanchot, Bernstein, Perloff, Sartre,
Bachelard and Paz.

About his tastes in poetry he says, I have a fairly open, generous approach to poetry,
especially in what comes to me from the past. For poetry in the present, I look for the
writing as thinking, metaphysical, meditative, stream of consciousness, chance, new
surrealism, playfulness with language, nonsense, energetic lively language, reinvented
language, and so on. I look for innovation, but not necessarily formal innovation. What I
like most, I get from the avante-garde, but contentment with the avante-garde is an
impossibility by definition.  The avante-garde is not the beginning and the end of a
particular kind of poetry, but rather only the beginning, and maybe not the best possible at
that since a new dialogue has been begun with all of literature and history, the past as well
as a future.

As for criticism, he says, I don&#8217;t consider myself a critic as such, although
naturally, I recognize the importance of maintaining a critical ability since this has been
and will continue to be an essential part of literature.  For me, taste, appeal, enjoyment,
and enthusiasm must be considered at the personal level as much as any aesthetic, but can
never be
forced upon another as aesthetic. I tend to believe that poetry
is a lot like religion in that a kind of faith is necessary to
hold the poem together.  It seems to me that the poem is a delicate, but patient entity that
outlives time-sensitive criticism (such as identity politics and other socio-political agendas
in the guise of criticism).  Good critical writing is that which goes before or after good
writing: it informs, enlightens, and expands readership rather than merely decodes and
justifies.

Outside his field, Burmeister enjoys reading novels by James (<i>The Wings of a
Dove</i>), Faulkner (<i>The Sound and the Fury</i>)  Kafka (<i>The Trial</i>)  Gunter
Grass (<i>Cat and Mouse, Tin Drum</i>), Thomas Mann (<i>The Magic Mountain</i>),
the science fiction of G.Bear, Simak, Asimov, and D.Brin (before he choked), and Plays
by Beckett (<i>Waiting for Godot, Krapp&#8217;s last tape</i>), Gonzalo Escudero
(<i>Parallelogram</i>), the short word plays of Gertrude Stein, and the plays of
Sheakespeare.  He collects books of black &#038; white photography (Weston, Man Ray,
Irina Ionesco) and films (Wells, The Marx Brothers, D.Lynch and more).  He is also
building a collection of original paintings by Latin American painters such as the
contemporary Ecuadorian Arauz.  He listens to John Cage, experimental jazz (A.Braxton
and others) and acid jazz, and classical music.

About his interests in science and philosophy, he says, i tend (right now anyway) to be
partial toward the Spanish philo. Jose Ortega y Gassett, J.P.Sartre, Kierkegaard, Derrida,
&#038; Kant.
For philosophy of science, I have tended toward Einstein, Newton, Asimov, and Faraday.
Burmeister was educated in hard sciences up through elementary modern physics (theory
of quantuum electrodynamics, statistical mechanics, etc.), in mathematics
up through essential calculus, linear operator theory, diffential equations and boundary
value problems (applied).

In answer to the <i>Comprepoetica</i> survey question about the present world situation,
he says, I&#8217;m wondering for how long we can survive this ludicrous zero-sum game
known as the &#8216;Global economy.&#8217;

For a sample of Bill Burmeister&#8217;s poetry (with a brief commentary on it by
Burmeister), click <a
href=”http://www.reocities.com/soho/cafe/1493/poem11.html”>here</a>.

<b>Harry Burrus, Poet/Publisher</b>

Burrus lives with his wife, Megan, at 1266 Fountain View, Houston, Texas 77057-2204.
His telephone number is (713) 784-2802; his e.mail address, [email protected]

He was born in Denver, reared in St. Louis.  Moved to Houston in June 1977.  He is six
feet one and weighs 175 pounds.  His parents

were university professors.  His father was the first Pro Football player with a PHD.  He
himself holds advanced degrees in Film, Dramatic Arts, and Poetryand is active as a
collagist, photographer, screenwriter and filmmaker as well as a poet and the publisher of
<i>O!!Zone</i>, which he describes as a
modest literary-art zine.

His poetry books include:  <i>I Do Not Sleep With Strangers, Confessions of a Tennis
Pro;
Bouquet; A Game of Rules; Without Feathers; For Deposit Only; the Jaguar
Porfolio</i>; and <i>Cartouche</i>.  He has also co-edited with Peter Gravis of Black Tie
Press,

<i>American Poetry Confronts the 1990&#8217;s</i>.

Burrus&#8217;s poetry, photographs, and collages have appeared in various publications
and
exhibitions in the US and abroad.

Says Burrus about making a living, I gain dinero via photography, scripts, workshops, and
various other artistic
pursuits (and years ago as a tennis pro).

About religion and politics/nationalism (and money), he finds that most people
cannot discuss without harboring ill-feeling and/or distrust for those who
possess views different from their own.  Hence, I tend not to engage in these
areas unless it is with those capable of out of body experiences.

He has difficulty specifically determining what poets and critics and other influences have
been important to him.  The aggregation is subtle and ongoing.  Travel, for sure, is a
primary player.  On the goat path and with the
aroma of donkey dung filling the surrounding air, I witness and pick up
juxtaposition, impact, resonance, and cultural unravelings.  On these

excursions I shoot a lot of film, make journal entries, and ambient sound
recordings and always use the material.  I never know how or when or in what
form the work will appear, but it eventually does pop up somewhere, either in
poems, art of some kind like a collage, or, perhaps, a story emerges.

I am drawn to openness, curiosity, and a willingness to take chances.  I like
strong personalities.  I favor high energy and experimentation.  The seduction
has been more from artists and filmmakers, rather than poets, although a few
poets have landed a stroke or two.  A few personalities that quickly come to

mind are: Ernst, Magritte, Man Ray, Buñuel, Resnais, Cartier-Bresson,
Schwitters, Godard, Bergman, Newton, Rausenberg, Matta, Isidore Ducasse,
Pessoa, Prevert, Bowles, Wenders, and Gysin.

I tend to appreciate those engaged in multiple activities and skilled in
different pursuits.  Peter Beard and Bruce Chatwin come to mind.  Journeymen.
I enjoy Henry Miller’s writing about watercolors more than his novels.  I
enjoy the independence of his watercolors.

I make extractions from movements (Dada, Surrealism, The Beats, etc.), pulling

on the dynamism or a particular tack  something I notice that I might employ
in my work.  I may utilize or value aspects of the thinking that goes into a
work more than the work itself.  Burroughs’ and Kerouac’s and Lawrence’s
ideas, for example.  I also value their dedication.

Previously I read a lot of poetry and poetry publications, but I became
disenchanted with the likes of APR and Poetry  too much sameness.  Even

newcomers and alternative journals, which broke away from the writing school
content and were, at first, exciting and fresh, even they slowly lost their
zest and started wearing that familiar uniform.  There is, however, still
energy in various zines and micro-presses, so, choice is out there.  One must
forage for the interesting  which is the same with people.

My engagement with international visual poets, mail artists, and photographers
provides visual stimulation, plus insights into other cultures.  Myriad

personalities have opened to me and my exchange with them I eagerly maintain.
I find correspondence or working on a collage or making a photograph more
intriguing than being a spectator of some sporting event.

Burrus cites three critics who write well about their topics:  Walter Pater, John Simon, and
Marvin Bell.

The last full collection of poetry Burrus has read (as of 15 November 1997 was
Bukowski&#8217;s <i>Betting on the Muse</i>; last

non-poetry book: <i>Breaking the Maya Code</i>, by Michael Coe.

Click <a href=”http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1493/poem18.html”>here</a> to see
Blue Mirror, a poem from Burrus&#8217;s <i>A Game of Rules</i>

(name of respondent)  Brandon
(pronunciation of respondent&#8217;s name)  Carpenter
(street address)  4616 S. Rusk
(city&#038;state)  Amarillo, Tx 79110

(e.mail address)  [email protected]
(phone number)  N/A
(po-type)  Poet/Critic
(affiliations/organizations)

Denver Word Affiliate
Vocal Velocity Records

(publication credits)

Poetry Cafe
Anvil
Poetry Shelter
Pauper.com
Sharptongue

(list of works)

A flame of the heart in the hands of Dread
Discombobulate the Dissemated

Muddy&#8217;s Cafe: Out of the Mud
Sharptongue

(contemporary poets important to respondent)  Ben Ohmart
(poets of yesteryear important to respondent)
Baudlelaire
Rimbaud
Ginsberg

Kerouac

(tastes in poetry)

Avant-Garde
Beat

(description of criticism)  Pick out the truth of the piece, show the path to find these truths
and uplift the reader, author, editor and other critics.
(zines, etc., that ought to be listed in the dictionary)

Realpoetic

(sample of respondent&#8217;s poetry)  members.tripod.com/Carpenter_B</p>
<hr />
</body>
</html>
.

<b>Joel Chace, Poet</b>

(pronunciation of respondent&#8217;s name)  Chase
(street address)  300 E. Seminary St.

(city&#038;state)  Mercersburg, PA  17236
(e.mail address)  [email protected]
(phone number)  717-328-3824

(affiliations/organizations)

Poetry EditorAntietam Review and 5_Trope electronic
magazine.

(publication credits)

My poems have appeared or are forthcoming  in print journals and
magazines such as the following:  <i>The Seneca Review, The Connecticut
Poetry Review, Spinning Jenny, Poetry Motel,  No Exit,  Pembroke
Magazine, Crazy Horse, Kudos</i> (England), and <i>Porto-Franco</i> (Romania).  I

have also published work in Electronic Magazines such as the following:
<i>Ninth St. Labs, Recursive Angel, Highbeams, Switched-on-Gutenberg,
Kudzu, Pif, The Morpo Review, Snakeskin, Slumgullion, PotePoetZine,</i>
and <i>The Experioddicist</i>.

(list of works)

Northwoods Press, in 1984, published my collection of poems entitled
<i>The Harp Beyond the Wall</i>.  Persephone Press, in 1992, published my

second book, <i>Red Ghost</i>, which won the first Persephone Press Book Award
and was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in that same year.  Big Easy
Press, in 1995, brought out a collection entitled <i>Court of Ass-Sizes</i>.
In June, 1997, came a full-length collection, <i>Twentieth Century
Deaths</i>, from Singular Speech Press.  <i>The Melancholy of Yorick</i>

(Birch Brook Press) and <i>maggnummappuss</i> (nominated for a 1998 Pushcart Prize)
appeared in 1998, and a  bi-lingual edition of my poems is being prepared in Romania.

(where written up)

<i>Slumgullion, Pif, Mind Fire, A Writer&#8217;s Choice, Next,
No Exit, Grab-a-Nickel, Small Press Review</i>.

(contemporary poets important to respondent)

Jake Berry, W.D. Snodgrass, Adrienne Rich,
Jack Foley, Robert Creeley.

(poets of yesteryear important to respondent)

Jack Spicer, Thomas McGrath, Muriel Rukeyser,
Wallace Stevens, Walt Whitman.

(critics important to respondent)

Jack Foley, Muriel Rukeyser,
Marjorie Perloff.

For two samples of Chace&#8217;s poetry, click <a
href=”http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1493/poem48.html”>here</a>.  He&#8217;d
appreciate any feedback on it that you&#8217;d care to e.mail him.

<b>Blaise Cirelli, Poet</b>
Cirelli was born 1 January 1952 in Philadelphia.  He describes himself as having a
Buddhist leaning and being Leftist Apolitical.  His publication credits include
<i>Agniezewska&#8217;s Diary, VIA, Zaum, Blind Donkey </i>and<i> Talus and
Scree</i>, and his
etry&#8217;s been written up in the San Louis Obispo Local  newspaper.  Contemporary
poets he admires include Michael Palmer,

Lyn Hejinian, Mei Mei Bruseenbugge (spelling?), Robert Hass, Ron Padgett and Robert
Pinsky.  He also admires the work of Ezra Pound,
Homer,
William Carlos Williams,
Loraine Niedecker,
Frank O&#8217;Hara,
Shelley,
Browning and
Tennyson.
Critics important to him are

Charles Altieri,
Helen Vendler,
Marjorie Perloff and
Forest Gander.

As a reader of poetry, he enjoys Experimental, Meditative Lyric poetryand <i>not</i>
Nature (Because how can you not like nature? I&#8217;d rather be in nature than read
about it).  His impression of the current scene is that There seem to be a lot of

diocre poets getting published.

Among his favorite books are: <i>The Brothers Karamazov, Crime and Punishment
<i>and</i> The
Sorrows of Young Werther</i>.  He lists two favorite movies: <i>Black Robe</i> and
<i>Il Postino</i>.  The sculpture of Henry Moore is important to him.  About philosophy
he says, I wish I could understand Wittgenstein.  On life-in-general: Some peop

are born with failure, others have it thrust upon them.  His
Favorite name for a cat: Spot (if it has spots); Favorite food: organic turnips.

For a sample of Cirelli&#8217;s poetry click <a
href=”http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1493/poem4.html”>here</a>.

<b>Dark Poet, Poet</b>

Dark Poet&#8217;s address is 555 this isn&#8217;t real, Punta Gorda FL 33982. His
e.mail address is [email protected], his phone
number,(941) 555-9992.

(affiliations/organizations)  NA
(publication credits)  NA
(list of works)  NA
(where written up)  Conspiracy boards all over
(contemporary poets important to respondent)  na
(poets of yesteryear important to respondent)  Poe
(critics important to respondent)  na
(tastes in poetry)  na</p>

You can find a sample of Dark Poet&#8217;s work by clicking <a
href=”http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1493/poem45.html”>here</a>.  His attitude
toward getting feedback on it: Sure.  It&#8217;s a rough draft.

<b>Catherine Daly (DAY lee), Poet</b>

Daly lives at 533 South Alandele Avenue, Los Angeles CA 90036.
Her e.mail address is [email protected], and is affiliated with
UCLA Extension and various listservs.

So far (late 1998), Daly has gotten about 80 poems into print  but has not yet had a book
published.  She has the following
manuscripts sitting around her house, however: <i>Engine No. 9, Locket, Manners in the
Colony, Dark Night</i>, and <i>The Green Hotel</i>.

The work of Barbara Guest and some of that of Barbara Hillman
has been important to her, and she likes the work of Todd Baron, Spencer Selby, Karen
Volkman, Ann Lauterbach (her favorite poetry teacher), Janet Holmes, Jeanne Marie
Beaumontthe last three of
whom have been especially supportive of her efforts.

She considers the usual suspects among the poets of yesteryear
important to her, and she admires the criticism of Susan Howe.

About poetry she says, I expect a great deal of thought and feeling to be behind a poem,
and I tend to like poems which reflect ideas.  Because I studied religion and philosophy
and math, I am particularly sensitive to the misuse of many ideas commonly placed into
these categories.

She likes her poetic narration true, not fictional.

A critic as well as a poet, Daly prefers to express critically what (she feels) the poet
attempts vs. succeeds at doing.  For example, she says, Wallace Stevens mentioned that it
was really what he attempted that pleased him about his work, but that he never achieved
anything near that in his poetry.  For a sample
of her criticism, her first book review, an impression of contemporary poetry, can be
found in <i>American Letters &#038; Commentary</i>, 10th Anniversary issue.

She thinks the American Contemporary Poetry &#8217;scene&#8217; is very much like
the alternative music scene of the 80s, and perhaps what the truly alternative music scene
still is: an incredibly generous but fragmented variety of subgenres waiting for someone
like Kurt Cobain to come along and steal all of the riffs and jam them together on a
national stage.

See Daly&#8217;s web site for links to poems of hers that have been published online:

http://members.aol.com/cadaly.</p>

<b>Michel Delville (del VIL), Critic</b>

(pronunciation of respondent&#8217;s name)  [delvil]
Delville lives at Alllée du Beau Vivier 38, 4102 Seraing, Belgium.  His e.mail address is
[email protected]; his phone number is ++ 32 4 3374386.

He has two books coming out in 1998: <i>The American Prose Poem: Poetic Form and
the Law of Genre</i> (Gainesville FL: UP of Florida), and <i>J. G. Ballard</i>
(Plymouth: Northcote House).

He considers the following contemporary poets of importance:
Henri Michaux, Ron Silliman, Vasko Popa,
Miroslav Holub, Francis Ponge, Madeline Gins,
Paul Nougé, Pierre Reverdy, Max Jacob, Pierre Alferi,

John Cage, Peter Redgrove and Rosmarie Waldrop.

As for poets of the past, he lists Arthur Rimbaud, Stéphane Mallarmé, Charles Baudelaire,
Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, Sappho, Oscar Wilde, Shakespeare, Milton and Dante as
the heavyweights for him.

He notes four critics as being important to him: Marjorie Perloff, Roland Barthes, Frank
Lentricchia and Gérard Genette.

<b>Debra Di Blasi, Poet</b>

(pronunciation of Di Blasi&#8217;s name)  dee BLAH-see
Di Blasi&#8217;s mailing address is 5932 Charlotte St., Kansas City, MO 64110, her
e.mail address is [email protected].

(affiliations/organizations)</p>
Missouri Arts Council  Literature Panelist

PEN Center USA West  Member
The Authors Guild, Inc.  Member
The Academy of American Poets  Associate Member
The Writers Place  Member
National League of American Pen Women, Westport, MO Branch

Member  Chair, Short Story Committee</p>
publication credits

BOOKS:
* <i>Drought &#038; Say What You Like</i>, novella, New Directions Books: New
York, NY.  March 1997   winner Thorpe Menn Book Award
* <i>Prayers of an Accidental Nature</i>, short story collection,  Coffee House Press:
Minneapolis, MN.  May 1999.

* Gass Pain, hypertext essay (Dalkey Archive Press/The Center for Book Culture,
www.centerforthebook.org)
*many published short fiction, articles, essays, reviews

list of works

FICTION
* <i>What the Body Requires</i> (formerly titled <i>Reprise: Reprisal</i>), novel (See
AWARDS)

* <i>The Fourth Book</i>, short story collection, in progress</p>
SHORT STORIES
*Czechoslovakian Rhapsody Sung To The Accompaniment Of Piano.  <i>The Iowa
Review</i>.  December 2000  (See  RADIO / AUDIO and PERFORMANCE /
INSTALLATION / THEATRE)
* Blue, Recollection, and Exiles.  <i>The Prague Review</i>.  Winter 2000

*Snapshots: A Geneology.  Show + Tell anthology of Kansas City writers and artists,
Potpourri Publications: Kansas City, MO.  June 2000
*The Buck.  Potpourri  literary journal.  Fall 1996
*Blind.  New Letters literary journal.  Spring 1996
*Drowning Hard. Cottonwood literary journal. 1995  anthologized in Moondance e-zine.
1997

*I Am Telling You Lies. Sou&#8217;wester literary journal.  1995
*Chairman of the Board.  TIWA (Themes Interpreted by Writers and Artists) literary and
visual arts magazine.  1993  (See RADIO / AUDIO)
*An Interview With My Husband.  New Delta Review. 1991  anthologized in Lovers:
Writings By Women, The Crossing Press. 1992. (See AWARDS)
*Delbert.  <i>AENE literary journal</i>.  1991

*The Season&#8217;s Condition.  Colorado-North Review literary journal.  1990  (See
FILM and RADIO / AUDIO)
*Where All Things Converge. Transfer literary journal.  1989</p>
NONFICTION
*<i>The Way Men Kiss</i>,  memoir, in progress

<i>Gass Pain</i>, hypertext,  The Center for Book Culture casebook on William H.
Gass&#8217;s The Tunnel, H.L. Hix, editor.  November 2000
(www.centerforbookculture.org)</p>
Essays
Millennium Garden: Paintings by Jim Sajovic.  Published in art catalog.  September 1999.
Out of the Garden, Into the Cave.  1997  (See AWARDS)
What Three Cheers Everywhere Provide.  Anthologized in Exposures: Essays By Missouri
Women,  Woods Colt Press: Kansas City, MO,  March 1997 (See AWARDS)</p>

Articles (for SOMA arts magazine: San Francisco, CA)
We&#8217;ve Got Joe Montana.  1994
I Am Writing To You From the Middle Of Nowhere. 1990
James Rosenquist:  Seeing/Not Seeing.  1990
Diamanda Galas:  Honesty Inside A Clenched Fist.  1989

Rising From the Ash Heap of Performance Art, Rinde Eckert Takes Off.  1988
Otto Hitzberger:  Cutting Away.  1987
Miró.  1987
Jonathan Barbieri:  Missiles Across the Border.  1987</p>
Art Reviews (for <i>The New Art Examiner</i>: Chicago, IL)

Jane Ashbury.  1985.
Marilyn Propp.  1984,</p>
SCREENPLAYS / FILM
Screenplays Produced</p>
<i>Drought</i>,  16mm, 28 min.  1998 (premiere)  1993 (written)
Based on the novella of the same title by Debra Di Blasi.

Produced by Breathing Furniture Films/Lisa Moncure &#038; Michael Leen,
Screenplay by Debra Di Blasi, Lisa Moncure, Michael Leen,  Directed by Lisa Moncure,
Photography by Michael Leen,  Sound Design by Jim McKee/Earwax Productions,
Starring Jessika Cardinahl &#038; Jack Conley,  Production esign by Megan Ricks
&#038; John Matheson,  Editing by Jennifer Jean Cacavas,  Radio Program Music by
Allen Davis.</p>
SCREENINGS:
o       National Museum of Women in the Arts, Washington, DC,  November 2000
o       Ragtag Cinema:  Columbia, MO.  June 2000
o       Universe Elle, as part of the 53rd Cannes International Film Festival:  Cannes,
France.  May 2000

* Broadcast rights purchased by Independent Film Channel.  Premiere broadcast
November 23, 1999
* Kansas City Filmmakers Jubilee:  Kansas City, MO.  April 1999 (see AWARDS)
o       Göteborg Sweden Film Festival:  Göteborg, Sweden.  Feb.  1999
o       Festival Internacional de Cine de Bilbao Spain:  Bilbao, Spain.   November 1998
o       Sao Paulo Mostra Internacional de Cinama:  Sao Paulo, Brazil.  October 1998
o       Figueira da Foz International Festival of Cinema:  Lisbon Portugal.  September 1998
(See AWARDS)
o       Webster University Film Series:  St. Louis, MO.  September 1999.
o       Sarajevo International Film Festival:  Sarajevo, Bosnia.  August 1998
o       Recontres Cinemágraphiques Franco-American D&#8217;Avignon, France:
Avignon, France. June 1998 (See AWARDS)

o       Charlotte Film Festival:  Charlotte, NC.  June 1998
o       Toronto Worldwide Short Film Festival:  Toronto, Canada.  June 1998 (See
AWARDS)
o       New York/Avignon Film Festival:  New York, NY.  April-May 1998
o       New York Women&#8217;s Film Festival:  New York, NY.  April 1998
o       Taos Talking Pictures Film Festival:  Taos, NM.  April 1998 (See AWARDS)
o       American Film Institute Film Festival:  Los Angeles, CA. World premiere: October
1997 </p>
<i>The Season&#8217;s Condition</i> —  Super 8, 10 min.

Based on the short story of the same title by Debra Di Blasi.
Produced and directed by Lisa Moncure,  photography by Michael Leen.  </p>
SCREENINGS:
o       Toronto Film Festival:  Toronto, Canada.  1998
o       American Film Institute Film Festival:  Los Angeles, CA.  1995
o       Bay Area Film &#038; Video Poetry Festival:  San Francisco, CA.  1994

o       Culture Under Fire Film Festival:  Kansas City, MO.  1994</p>
Screenplays in Pre-Production
<i>My Father’s Farm</i>,  original short documentary in pre-production, based on the
essay Out of the Garden, Into the Cave by Debra Di Blasi.  Produced/written/directed by
Debra Di Blasi.
<i>Intruder</i>,  short screenplay in pre-production  screenplay by Debra Di Blasi.
Producer/director Edward Stencel.</p>
Screenplays Unproduced
The Hunger Winter, original feature in progress  co-written with historian Hal Wert

The Shortest Route Home,  original short screenplay
The Walking Wounded,  original feature-length screenplay (See AWARDS)
The Significance of Dreams, original short screenplay
Taming Wild Geese —  unproduced  original feature-length screenplay
Staring Into The Sun —  unproduced  original feature-length screenplay </p>
RADIO / AUDIO</p>
<i>Czechoslovakian Rhapsody</i>,  radio adaptation from the short story of the same
title.  Produced by Finnish Broadcasting Corporation (YLE):  Helsinki, Finland.
Broadcast premiere October 1998

Kansas City Fiction Writers: Vol. 1 — short stories (The Season&#8217;s Condition and
Chairman of the Board) recorded for double CD set, limited edition  featuring Kansas City
fiction writers.  Art Radio:  Kansas City, MO.  Release date December 1998
Dreamless Dream,  radio adaptation from the short stories Blind, Stones, and  Our
Perversions.  Produced by Finnish Broadcasting Corporation:  Helsinki, Finland.
Broadcast premiere October 1998

An Interview With My Husband —  chamber theatre adaptation from the short story of
the same title by Debra Di Blasi.  Produced and adapted by Stephen Booser,  directed by
Art Suskin,  stage management by Nancy Madsen,  premiere at The Writers Place, Kansas
City, MO,  October 1997
Drought — radio adaptation of the novella of the same title by Debra Di Blasi,  produced
and adapted by YLE (Finnish Broadcasting Corporation), Helsinki, Finland o  broadcast
premiere May 1998</p>
PERFORMANCE / EXHIBITIONS / THEATRE</p>
Unbroken View,  multimedia installation  collaboration with visual artist Sharyn O’Mara
assisted by sound designer Chris Willits.  Premiere exhibition:  Edwin A. Ulrich Museum:
Wichita, KS.   November 2000-January 2001.  Traveling to Juniata Landscape Museum:
Juniata, Pennsylvania.  September 2001.
Czechoslovakian Rhapsody,  multimedia performance based on the short story of the same
title by Debra Di Blasi.  Written/directed/produced/performed by Debra Di Blasi.
Premiere Ragtag Cinema, June 2000
An Interview With My Husband —  chamber theatre adaptation from the short story of
the same title by Debra Di Blasi.  Produced and adapted by Stephen Booser,  directed by
Art Suskin,  stage management by Nancy Madsen,  premiere at The Writers Place, Kansas
City, MO,  October 1997</p>
(where written up)</p>
<i>The New York Times Book Review
*Publishers Weekly

*Book Forum
*ForeWord
*In Print
*The Kansas City Star</i>
many, many others</p>
contemporary poets important to Di Blasi</p>
Louise Gluck
Larry Levis (deceased)
Billy Collins

H.L. Hix
Galway Kinnell
Mark Strand
Marilyn Hacker
many, many others
poets of yesteryear important to Di Blasi
Sylvia Plath
T.S. Eliot
W.B. Yeats

many, many others
critics important to Di Blasi: Not particularly interested in criticism
tastes in poetry: As a fiction writer, I am most fond of narrative poetry, although I enjoy
anything brilliant that contains aural lyricism.  Content is important only in that it helps
illuminate a &#8216;truth&#8217; I already know or confronts me with one I have not yet
discovered.
impression of contemporary poetry: Wonderful.  The range of styles and voices is a
pleasure.
zines, etc., that ought to be listed in the dictionary:  Virtually every serious literary journal
that publishes poetry deserves to be on this list.

2 Responses to “Comprepoetica Biographies — B”

  1. That makes sense to me but does this?

    Between two evils always pick the one you haven’t tried. :)

  2. Bob Grumman says:

    Sorry, Stephanie, but I don’t know what “makes sense” to you. Your comment isn’t attached to any single entry, for some reason. But thanks for making it–if it isn’t spam, and it seems to clever to be that.

    –Bob

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Entry 1 — 28 July 2012 « POETICKS

Entry 1 — 28 July 2012

Welcome to the first installment of my M@h*(pOet)?ica Blog. I chose its title to give fair warning of the kind of . . . unusual material it will be concerned with, to wit: poetry whose mathematical elements are as important as its verbal elements, as in the following:

It’s from a series of ten equations its author, Scott Helmes, calls “Non-additive Postulations,” which first appeared in Ernest Robson and Jet Wimp’s anthology, Against Infinity (Primary Press, 1979). Later I will attempt to show that it makes sense. Sort of. For now I leave it for those courageous enough to stick with me as something to reflect upon. Suggested topics of reflection: how is it poetry? How is it mathematics? Why should anyone bother with it, regardless of what it is?

Now for something of mine–since I’m too self-enfatuated to let any chance for self-promotion to get past me without my taking full advantage of it. It’s “The Best Investigations,” an off-shoot of my still-going series of long divisions of “poetry.” I would defend its presence on the grounds that, as an example of the level of my immersion in mathematical poetry as a poet, it should provide a good idea of my qualifications to write about such poetry (or lack thereof). It also should reveal the range of matter such poetry can contain, such as symbols from music, and stolen images from canonical painters like Paul Klee and photographs from the Hubble–to the despair of some in the academy, I fear. (Note how I get back at them in this poem, though!)

My next specimen of the kind of poems my blog will mostly be about is another long division of mine, “Mathemaku No. 4A, Original Version”:

I generally use this, my very first long division poem, in lectures on mathematical poetry as what I hope is an easy-to-follow introduction to it. My friend Betsy Franco was inspired by it to make a bunch of most excellent poems like it for children, with illustrations by Steven Salerno, such as the following:

These are from Betsy’s Mathematickles (Simon & Schuster, 2003).

Then there’s this, by Karl Kempton, the arithmetic of which could not be more simple (look for the arrow near the bottom), but the full poetic complexity of could not be greater:

To finish off my little survey, here are three more I hope will indicate the variety of the poetry this blog will treat. The first is by Charlotte Baldridge, the second by Robert Stodola (both from Against Infinity), and the third by Kaz Maslanka:

Okay, now for a little more about me—about me and mathematical poetry, that is. In elementary school I was early tabbed “gifted,” meaning I was academically one in a hundred. At the time, the population of the United States was only around 150,000,000, so that meant only a million-and-a-half others were as smart (according to the tests) as I. But I did seem quicker to pick up arithmetic than my classmates, and even got enough interested in algebra in junior high to read ahead in my textbook—until other interests intervened. When I got to high school, Sputnik had the country’s leaders worried about our technological lead, so those considered gifted, like I, were bombarded with propaganda about the value of a career in science. Hence, I, and most of my friends, immediately opted for careers in the arts or humanities.

Alarmingly non-conformist, I went further, turning my back on college with the intention of becoming a self-taught Famous Writer, like Bernard Shaw, Charles Dickens and William Shakespeare. I never made it. Eventually, paid to go to college by the GI Bill and able to go free in California, where I’d been living long enough to qualify as a Californian, I broke my vow never to go to college. I went full-time to Valley Junior College in the San Fernando Valley for five years, even after I’d used up my GI Bill aid.

I’d always enjoyed math, and had read a few books about it for layman, one of which got me trying to overturn Georg Cantor’s different-sized infinities; it took me several years to finally concede that I couldn’t. (At one point I even wrote Isaac Asimov about it; he wrote a postcard back saying it wasn’t an area of expertise for him, so he could not deal with whatever “refutation” of Cantor I sent him.) I tried to disprove the non-Euclidean geometries, too, taking a long time to allow that I could not. I won’t say anything about my adventures with modern physics—except that I came to be a passionate advocate of the value of all the sciences in spite of what the sputnik hysteria did to me.

Meanwhile, I remained active as a creative writer, getting just about nowhere in all genres. My work was quite conventional except for the haiku I wrote influenced by the typographic techniques of E. E. Cummings. I got nothing published but some conventional haiku that I also wrote. The haiku and Cummings. Those two things were the key to my involvement with mathematical poetry. The haiku because it is the kind of poetry that comes closest to mathematics. I say that because it is supposed to be maximally objective, with a minimum of words, the best of them tending to be almost as condensed and elegant as an effective equation.

As for the poetry of Cummings, its visual elements, as in the famous one from his Tulip and Chimneys (1923), portraying Buffalo Bill,

were the first important step in the evolution of poetry of words only to concrete poetry, which was the first variety of what I call “plurexpressive poetry” for poetry that is significantly aesthetically expressive in more than one expressive modality (or “plurally expressive”), in this case the expressive language of words and the expressive language of graphics. A half century or so later we had many such mixed kinds of poetry, including mathematical poetry . . . and visiomathematical poetry, which employs three expressive modalities, some examples of which I’ve shown here.

Next up, if enough are interested, my examinations of various mathematical poems, including the ones on display here, and my attempts to answer the questions I earlier suggested as topics of reflection. Stay tuned.

Note: all the poems here are reproduced with the permission of their authors, most of them friends of mine, with the exception of the Cummings excerpt which I believe covered by fair use (but am also sure its publishers won’t mind my using for free, if it’s not yet in the public domain as I’ve gotten such permission from them for other poems by Cummings previously, and the three poems from Against Infinity, which I got permission for in an earlier essay of mine from that anthology’s editors, the publisher no long existing, so far as I know.

.

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Chapter Four « POETICKS

Chapter Four

THE REST OF THE EVIDENCE FOR SHAKESPEARE

That Will Shakespeare of Stratford was the only person of the right time and place to have the same name (or nearly the same name, if you want to be ridiculous) as Will Shakespeare the actor/poet is demonstrated by direct concrete and other evidence of (1) the Stratford man’s sharing both a name and places of residence with the actor/poet (London and Stratford); (2) the Stratford man’s sharing both a name and an association with the river Avon with the actor/poet; (3) the Stratford man’s sharing both a name and date of death with the actor/poet;  (4) the Stratford man’s sharing both a name and apparent level of formal learning with the actor/poet; (4) the Stratford man’s sharing both a name and writing ability with the actor/poet; (5) the Stratford man’s sharing both a name and acquaintances with the actor/poet; (6) the Stratford man’s sharing both a name and a face with the actor/poet; (7) The Stratford man’s sharing both a name and literary ability with the actor/poet; (8) the Stratford man’s sharing both a name and vocation with the actor/poet; (9) the Stratford man’s sharing both a name and a social status with the actor/poet;and, most convincing of all, (10) the Stratford man’s sharing both a name and a Stratford monument with the actor/poet.

(1) places of residence

We know that the actor/poet William Shakespeare lived at least some of his life in London. William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon also spent part of his life in London.

To begin with, on 17 August 1608, Shakespeare of Stratford sued John Addenbrooke in the Court of Record at Stratford. In the court documents Shakespeare is described as “generosus, nuper in curia domini Jacobi, nunc regis Anglie” (gentleman, recently at the court of lord James, present king of England). This indicates that the Stratford man had been living in the judicial district of London, where the poet/actor Shakespeare certainly lived.

Much weaker as evidence but still evidence the Stratford Shakespeare resided at times in London is the fact that his brother Gilbert stood in for him in 1602 in a real estate transaction in which Gilbert received a deed (which Gilbert signed) to land Will had bought from John and William Combe—which suggests Will was out of town. Similarly weak evidence is the fact that Will bought London property, the Blackfriar’s Gatehouse, in 1613.

Slightly stronger but not direct evidence that Shakespeare of Stratford lived in London are the tax records of a William Shakespeare who lived there in the early 1600s. Much stronger evidence—direct concrete evidence, in fact—that he resided at some point in London is a William Shakespeare’s recorded testimony in the Mountjoy trial of 1612 in which he stated he was of Stratford-on-Avon, and that in 1604 he was a lodger with the Mountjoy family in London (and was probably living with them a year or two earlier since he declared he’d first known Mountjoy and his son-in-law—and former apprentice—Stephen Belott around 1602).

The fact that after the death of Shakespeare of Stratford, Stratford-on-Avon smoothly and fairly rapidly became well-known as a place worth visiting for lovers of the Shakespeare’s plays and poem and has, of course, remained so to this day, is a point in favor of the supposition that the Author and the Stratford man shared that town as a hometown. So are the many anecdotes about Shakespeare the poet such as those reported by Aubrey and Rowe that place him without comment in Stratford-upon-Avon, and explicitly state that he resided in London, as well (and corroborate much else in this list)—and Thomas Fuller’s giving his birthplace as Stratford in his book, Worthies, Warwickshire (1662), for which he may have begun collecting material as early as 1643. Conclusion: the Author and the Stratford man not only shared a name but places of residence.

(2) the river Avon

Next we have the fact that both the Stratford man and the actor/poet were associated with the river Avon, which flows through the former’s hometown (and is part of that town’s name). The following excerpt from Ben Jonson’s eulogy of Shakespeare, the actor/poet in the First Folio is pertinent:

          Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were            To see thee in our waters yet appeare,            And make those flights upon the bankes of Thames,            That so did take Eliza, and our James!

Anti-Stratfordians bring up other river Avons, or point to such trivia as a house on another part of Stratford’s Avon that Oxford briefly owned and probably lived in only briefly, if at all. Regardless of that, however, it is certain (unless Jonson was lying, and there’s no evidence of that) that the Stratford man and the Author shared not only a name but a significant connection to a river named the Avon.

(3) date of death

That Will Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon died at the same time as William Shakespere, the poet, is indicated by a poem William Basse wrote. It was first published in 1633; but over two dozen manuscript copies of it from before that time have come down to us, and since Ben Jonson responded to it in his elegy to Shakespeare of 1623, it’s clear that it was written between 1616, the year of the Stratford Shakespeare’s death (a fact confirmed by church records), and 1623. It is called, “On Mr. Wm. Shakespeare,” and on several manuscript copies and the printed version has “he dyed in Aprill 1616” as a sub-title:

          Renowned Spenser, lie a thought more nigh            To learned Chaucer, and rare Beaumont lie            A little nearer Spenser to make room            For Shakespeare in your threefold, fourfold tomb.            To lodge all four in one bed make a shift            Until Doomsday, for hardly will a fifth            Betwixt this day and that by fate be slain            For whom your curtains may be drawn again.            If your precedency in death doth bar            A fourth place in your sacred sepulcher,            Under this carved marble of thine own            Sleep rare tragedian Shakespeare, sleep alone,            Thy unmolested peace, unshared cave,            Possess as lord not tenant of thy grave,            That unto us and others it may be            Honor hereafter to be laid by thee.

Note that, even if we ignore its sub-title, the poem states that Shakespeare died after Francis Beaumont, whose death we know to have occurred in March 1616. So, the poem is direct evidence not only that a William Shakespeare wrote the Oeuvre, but that this William Shakespeare was the one who died between March 1616 and whenever Jonson wrote his eulogy for the First Folio, which was published in 1623—because Jonson’s poem, in part, is clearly a response to Basse’s poem. So it is stronger evidence that the Stratford man was the actor/poet than his name on the many title-pages it was on. Moreover, the Basse poem was written by someone who was alive for the last thirty or so years of Shakespeare of Stratford’s life, so not necessarily mere hearsay evidence.

Several texts in the First Folio of 1623 confirm a death date for the poet of before that date.  Conclusion: the Author and the Stratford man shared not only a name but a date of death.

(4) unlearnedness

We have more than one piece of evidence indicating that the actor/poet and the Stratford man were similarly unlearned. One is a letter in verse to Ben Jonson by an “F. B.” whom most scholars take to be Francis Beaumont—because Beaumont wrote another well-known verse letter to Jonson and the verse fits him in other ways. Exactly who wrote it is immaterial, however; all that counts is that some contemporary of Jonson’s wrote Jonson about Shakespeare, the actor/poet (in 1615). F. B. seems to say that Shakespeare’s best lines are without scholarship, and indicate “how far sometimes a mortal man may go/ by the dim light of Nature.” It is quite straightforward, but—being Jacobean (and a poem)—it also has its confusing quirks, so it has been tortured out of its most obvious meaning by the anti-Stratfordians, most notably our old friend Charlton Ogburn. Here is the passage in totum:

                    Here I would let slip            (If I had any in me) scholarship,            And from all learning keep these lines as clear            as Shakespeare’s best are, which our heirs shall hear            Preachers apt to their auditors to show            how far sometimes a mortal man may go            by the dim light of Nature.

According to Ogburn, “it is not that Shakespeare shows how far a man without learning may go by the dim light of nature. Beaumont would have had no reason to insert the line (about the Preachers) if it were. He was saying that this is something posterity is going to hear from preachers . . .” Misinformed or lying preachers, that is. When Milward Martin called Ogburn’s take a strained reading unsupported by any evidence, Ogburn was so confident of the plausibility of his reading that he responded with the claim that Martin “never attempted to tell us wherein my reading of F. B. was in error and what other reading was possible.” He was right: Martin had not bothered to do that.

It cannot be said that Ogburn’s reading is in error; it is merely implausible. There is nothing in the text to indicate that F. B. was abruptly saying something snide about preachers or critics of the future. Furthermore, F.B. had just gotten through saying that Shakespeare’s best lines were free from learning; would he have then gone on immediately to say that preachers would repeat his view in the future and, in doing so, would be lying? I’m afraid that doesn’t compute at all for me.

As for a better possible reading, that’s easy for anyone taking the passage straight. F. B. says that he would like to make his own lines as free from academicism (“learning”) as the best of Shakespeare’s were. It is possible that F.B. considered all the rest of Shakespeare’s lines scholarly but the most direct interpretation would be that he thought Shakespeare quite terrific for writing great lines that were unencumbered by learning, but that he couldn’t claim that all of Shakespeare was without academic affectations (since it wasn’t), so he slipped in the modifier, “best.” He goes on to say that posterity will hear speakers who are right for the task show them what great things can be achieved by a man who is guided only by nature (which is not easy to follow, being the equivalent of a dim light).

Jonson’s famous reference to Shakespeare’s “small Latin and lesse Greek” corroborates F. B. Surely it confirms the notion that Shakespeare was no great scholar. Moreover, it is by a man with a reputation for honesty who would surely have known the Stratford man (even if he had merely been a player); hence, it would seem to be hard to pass off. The anti-Stratfordians must contest it if their side is to have any chance at all, however, so they have attacked it in various ways. The simplest, and least persuasive, has been simply to label the whole thing a lie that Jonson wrote because paid to do so. The problem with this is that there is no evidence whatever for it. Furthermore, what Jonson later in life wrote about Shakespeare in his journal tends to confirm that Jonson thought him lacking in learned virtues. Was he paid to repeat his “lies” in his personal journal more than 15 years after the First Folio was published, twenty after Shakespeare died, and over thirty after Oxford died? It doesn’t seem likely.

That Jonson wrote the eulogy in good faith but had been fooled by the plot is a second possibility—but this would rob the anti-Stratfordians of their preposterous argument that every writer in London knew who really wrote the plays and so did not comment in print on the non-writing Stratford man’s death, as they would havee to have had he been the True Author. It would also seem hard to believe, Jonson being so clever, and so in touch with both the literati and actors and other theatre people of his time. So the shrewdest anti-Stratfordians, Ogburn among them, have decided that Jonson did not lie in the eulogy, but was merely devious. When referring to “Shakespeare” in his eulogy,  he was of course referring only to the man who wrote under that name, not to the bumpkin from Stratford.

Ogburn claimed that when Jonson wrote of Shakespeare, “And though thou hadst small Latin, and less Greek,/ From thence to honour thee, I would not seek/ For names; but call forth thund’ring AEschilus,/ Euripides, and Sophocles to us,/ Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead,/ To life again, to hear they buskin tread,/ And shake a Stage,” and so on, what he meant was not “And although thou hadst small Latin, and less Greek,” but “even if” or “even supposing that” “thou hadst small Latin, and less Greek!” Proof of this for Ogburn is the word “would” instead of “will” in the phrase, “I would not seek.” If Jonson had been saying that Shakespeare had small Latin and less Greek, he would have gone on to say, “I will not seek.” Instead he employed the conditional mood of the verb, “shall,” which is “would.”

To support his position, Ogburn drags in C. M. Ingleby, an obscure scholar who drew attention over a hundred years ago to the fact that the “hadst” in the passage is in the subjunctive mood. Ingleby has been ignored by orthodox scholars, according to Ogburn—because, of course, they can’t refute him. He is right: they can’t. But there is no need to. If one backs up to a point in Jonson’s poem that begins four lines prior to the passage Ogburn quotes out of context, one will see the following: “For, if I thought my judgement were of years,/ I should commit thee surely with thy peers,/ And tell, how far thou didst our Lily out-shine,/ Or sporting Kid, or Marlowes mighty line./ And though thou hadst small Latine, and lesse Greeke,/ From thence to honor thee, I would not seek,” and so forth. The “would” is there because the subjunctive (or conditional) mood was established by the “if” of “For, if I thought.” (my italics)

As for “hadst,” according to my Oxford Unabridged, it was used in Shakespeare’s time for the second person indicative (in the past tense). Whether it might also have been used for the subjunctive case, I have not been able to determine, but don’t think it worth the time to investigate further since it is so obviously being used here for the second person indicative, as is the “didst” (certainly not in any conditional mood) in the line about Shakespeare’s out-shining Lily, Kid and Marlowe.

Now all this does not conclusively refute Ogburn: “though” could still have meant “even if.” There are a number of other arguments against this. One is that the idea that even though Shakespeare had little first-hand familiarity with the language of Rome and Greece, it would not be amiss for a poet to go to those places to find writers to compare him with is a much more natural and smooth idea than the rather awkward idea that even if Shakespeare had not been the Latin and Greek scholar he was, it would still not be amiss to compare him to Aeschylus, et al. And if Jonson, a highly competent writer, wanted to say the latter, why would he have written, “and though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek” meaning “and even if thou hadst small Latin and less Greek” Jonson would still compare thim with the best of the Roman and Greek playwrights when he could have written “and though thou hadst no Latin and no Greek” to mean, “and even if thou hadst no Latin and no Greek” Jonson would still compare thim with the best of the Roman and Greek playwrights?

The second version is much more dramatic, a contrast of black and white. The first is a contrast of gray and white, like saying, “Even if you were almost a midget,” I’d still consider you a giant,” instead of “Even if you were a midget, I’d still consider you a giant.”

Conclusion, when he wrote “and though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,” Jonson meant what everyone who read his eulogy for over two centuries thought he meant: “even though you had small Latin and less Greek” ,Jonson would still compare him with the best of the Roman and Greek playwrights. Jonson, I suppose I should add, could not in this case have written the more dramatic “though thou hadst no Latin and no Greek” without sacrificing accuracy, Shakespeare clearly having had some Latin, and possibly a little Greek.

Aside from all that, it seems so like Jonson to sneak in a slight aspersion on a rival, that it’s hard to believe he wasn’t scoring Shakespeare for lacking a knowledge of Latin and Greek comparable to Jonson’s–while making a rhetorically deft use of contrast.

Moreover, it is not plausible that Jonson would be making the point that Shakespeare was a superior scholar, a point made by no other contemporary of Shakespeare’s; indeed, in the 1640 folio of Shakespeare’s works Leonard Digges went so far as to say of Shakespeare that “Nature onely helpt him, for looke thorow/ This whole Booke, thou shalt find he did not borrow,/ One phrase from Greekes, nor Latines imitate” in a poem that begins, “Poets are borne not made,” something with which Thomas Fuller explicitly agreed in Worthies, Warwickshire, where he said Shakespeare’s “learning was very little.” Dryden in 1668 said of him that, “those who accuse him to have wanted learning, give him the greater commendation: he was naturally learned; he needed not the spectacles of books to read Nature; he looked inwards, and found her there.”

To this day, in fact, almost no reputable scholar believes Shakespeare had extensive formal academic training of any kind; the consensus is that he had a fair grasp of Latin and, perhaps, a smattering of Greek, but nothing like the amount Jonson, or (probably) Oxford, had.

One last item indicating that the poet Shakespeare’s learning was not great is the testimony of the Will Kempe character in the third of the Parnassus plays. As previously indicated, he says: “Few of the vniuersity men pen plaies well, they smell too much of that writer Ovid, and that writer Metamorphoses, and talke too much of Proserpina & Iuppiter. Why heres our fellow Shakespeare puts them all downe . . .” which, of course, suggests that the stage Kempe, for one, did not consider Shakespeare learned. The conclusion is hard to escape: the actor/poet and the Stratford man shared not only a name but a (relatively low) level of formal learning.

(5) acquaintances

The hard evidence for the Stratford man’s sharing acquaintances with the actor/poet is not vast, but it exists. For one thing, there is the Blackfriar’s Gatehouse in London previously mentioned which the Stratford man bought in 1613. Acting as trustee for the buyer, “William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon” was “John Hemmyng” (also spelled “Hemming” on the same page of the deed, which nonetheless does not suggest that two men of similar names were involved). Heminges is described as a gentleman of London (which would make him pretty surely the actor even if the property’s being very near the Blackfriar’s Theatre, where both Shakespeare the actor and Heminges the actor performed, had not already done that). The property was later disposed of in the Stratford Shakespeare’s will. So it is hard evidence that Shakespeare of Stratford and Shakespeare the actor/poet shared at least one acquaintance.

That Richard Field, of Stratford, published the poet’s narrative poems, and another book containing a poem of his, is good circumstantial evidence that Field and the poet knew one another. Shakespeare (the poet) has Imogene refer to a “Richard Du Champ” in Cymbeline when asked to name her master, who is fictitious. Any name would have done, but Shakespeare seems to make a little joke on Field with the one he chose.

We have no hard evidence that William Shakespeare of Stratford knew Field, but it would be strange if he had not since Field was only two or three years older than Shakespeare, was of a bookish bent (as Shakespeare, even if he’d only been an actor, would likely have been), and lived with him in a town of only 1,500 to 2,000 people. Besides that, we have a record that indicates that Shakespeare’s father appraised the inventory of the will of Richard’s father sometime around 1590.

Remember, too, that all the children of the town who went to school went to the same one, and did their lessons in the same room, regardless of their ages; and all the people of the town went to the same church, and were required by law to go to it every Sunday, though some paid fines rather than do so. It is therefore difficult to believe Richard and Will did not know each other.

Then, there is the will of William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon. The will records a bequest of Shakespeare’s “to my ffellowes John Hemynge Richard Burbage & Henry Cundell xxvj s viij d A peece to buy them Ringes.” Heminges, Burbage, and Condell had been fellow actors in the Lord Chamberlain’s and the King’s Men with the actor/poet, William Shakespeare. Conclusion: the actor/poet and the Stratford man shared not only a name but acquaintances.

(6) a face

Oddly enough, I may be among the first, if not the first, to point out that among the best pieces of evidence that William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon was Shakespeare, the poet, are the Droeshout engraving in the First Folio, which Ben Jonson affirms is a good likeness of Shakespeare, the poet, and the bust of Shakespeare that is part of the Stratford monument to him. Discussing these in his classic study, “Shakespeare’s Portraiture,” M. H. Spielmann says, “The bust, of course, professes to show what the Poet looked like when he had put on flesh and bobbed his hair; yet in spite of the fact that adipose tissue has rounded forms and filled up hollows, broadened masses and generally increased dimensions — we recognize that the perpendicular forehead and the shape of the skull are very much the same in both; and we further observe that whereas the Droeshout Print shows us chiefly the width of the forehead across the temples, the full face of the bust gives us the shape of the head farther back, across where the ears are set on…. When all is said, the outstanding fact remains — that the forms of the skull, with its perpendicular rise of forehead, correspond with those of the Stratford effigy; and this — the formation of the skull — is the definitive test of all the portraits. The Droeshout and the sculpted effigy show the skull of the same man, who, in the engraving, is some twenty years or so younger than him of the bust” (in Spielmann et al., Studies in the First Folio, 1924: London: Oxford UP, pp. 26, 33).

So, the hard evidence of the Droeshout depiction directly provides a likeness of Shakespeare the actor/poet while the hard evidence of the monument directly provides an effectually identical likeness of Shakespeare the Stratford home-owner; ergo, the Stratford man and the actor/poet not only shared a name but a face.

I might add that the Droeshout engraving must, from almost any point of view, be an authentic portrait of the Stratford man. It would not make sense for it to be of some other known man, such as Oxford, since the whole point of the First Folio would surely have to be to make it seem that the Stratford man wrote the Oeuvre. Why say he did, and put a picture of Oxford or Marlowe in his collected works? It would also make little sense to put a picture in the First Folio that looked nothing like the Stratford man. What would be the point? And it would surely generate talk, or the conspirators would have to worry that it would. They could easily have not had any author’s picture.

There may have been pictures of the poet Shakespeare in circulation during his lifetime, too, since one of the Parnassus plays mentions a character who keeps one under his pillow. Since this could not likely have been of anyone but the Stratford man for the reasons that the Droeshout portrait could not likely have been, it would be further evidence that the Stratford man was taken to be Shakespeare the actor/poet.

(7) literary ability

That the two Shakespeares, the Stratford man and the poet, shared literary ability is indicated by the monument put up to Shakespeare between his death and the 1623 publication of the First Folio. It shows a plumpish man in his fifties from the waist up. He is holding a pen with one hand, which rests on a cushion; his other hand rests on a piece of paper, likewise on the cushion. Gheerart Janssen, son of Gheerart Janssen the Elder, who had a stonemason’s yard in Southwark, near the Globe Theatre, was the sculptor responsible for the monument. According to Peter Levi (in The Life and Times of William Shakespeare), Janssen based it on a 1615 monument his team had done of the antiquarian, John Stowe—the posture of the two writers is similar, but while Shakespeare gazes ahead confidently, Stowe broods, like a scholar. The same team was responsible for the monument to Shakespeare’s neighbor, John Combe, which was executed a few years before Shakespeare’s death, and placed in the same church as his.

The inscription on the monument has the following:

          IVDICIO PYLEUM, GENIO SOCRATEM, ARTE MARONEM            TERRA TEGIT, POPULUS MAERIT, OLYMPUS HABET.              STAY PASSENGER WHY GOEST THOU BY SO FAST            READ IF THOU CANST, WHOM ENVIOUS DEATH HATH PLAST            WITHIN THIS MONVMENT SHAKSPEARE WITH WHOME            QUICK NATURE DIDE WHOSE NAME DOTH DECK YE TOMBE            FAR MORE THAN COST SIETH ALL YT HE HATH WRITT            LEAVES LIVING ART, BUT PAGE, TO SERVE HIS WITT.

According to the Latin lines, Shakespeare was in good judgement a Nestor (who was the ruler of Pylos),  in genius—or natural gifts–a Socrates, and in art a Virgil (i.e., Publius Vergilius Maro) –and Olympus has (him). The monument also states that Shakespeare died 23 April 1616, as the church records have it for Shakespeare of Stratford, thus establishing beyond reasonable doubt whom the monument was for.

The inscription constitutes direct evidence that the Stratford Shakespeare shared not only a name but writing ability with the actor/poet  because of what the Latin says, and the words about what he had “writt”—and the reference to his “witt,” which then meant intelligence more than wittiness.

That the Shakespeare of the monument is shown with a pen in his hand is further evidence that he was a writer. That the monument was put in so central a Stratford location as the town’s church where many who would have known that their friend and neighbor Will Shakespeare could not have been a writer, if he indeed had not been, and would have been expected at the very least to have put gossip into circulation about the lying monument, significantly increases the strength of the monument as evidence that Will was a writer. The inscription, that is, was a highly public document, so much more legitimate than a private document as evidence: it was out in the open, available for refutation, yet never questioned (that we know of).

Against all this the general run of anti-Stratfordians, amusingly, do not argue that the builders of the monument were liars or mistaken but that the monument was only erected to honor Shakespeare as a grain merchant (or his father as a grain merchant, according to a few of the looniest anti-Stratfordians and Brian Vickers). Only later was it changed to make it seem Shakespeare was a writer. But Leonard Digges, as I mentioned in Chapter One, stated in 1623 it was in Stratford and was to William Shakespeare the poet.

The monument was indeed touched up in the middle of the 17th-century, but the minister who oversaw the repairs claimed that it was kept as close to the original as possible—and at least one drawing prior to the repairs indicates that this is the case. (Another sketch by Dugdale, very hastily drawn, shows the cushion of the monument looking somewhat baglike, and leaves out Shakespeare’s pen; from this the anti-Stratfordians have manufactured wonderful stories about what really happened. The inscription is what counts, though, so I have ignored Dugdale’s sketch here. I will return to it later, when analyzing the cerebral dysfunctionality of anti-Stratfordians.)

The anti-Stratfordians can’t deny that the inscription was there from the beginning, because it was transcribed by antiquarian (and poet) John Weever around 1626, and copied again twelve years later by Dugdale. All they can find to say against it is that it is “ambiguous” (as if almost any poem can’t be found to be less than totally clear in spots), that it names none of his plays or poems directly ( so what?), and that Nester, Socrates and Virgil—two of them not writers and none of them playwrights—would have been poor choices to compare the Stratford man to had he been the “real” Shakespeare.(But would have made perfect sense if to an illiterate grain-merchant.)

The comparisons make perfect sense, though: Nestor and Socrates were then held above all others for wisdom, and Virgil was widely considered the greatest poet of all-time; it is thus odd that anyone would consider them poor choices to compare Shakespeare to. Aside from that, what Virgil-level works other than Shakespeare’s could the lines have been referring to? Conclusion: the actor/poet and the Stratford man shared not only a name but the vocation of writing.

A lesser piece of evidence that Shakespeare of Stratford was a writer is a 1607 record from the Stationers Registry that states: “26 Novembris. Nathanial Butter John Busby. Entred for their Copie under thandes of Sir George Buck knight and Thwardens A booke called. Master William Shakespeare his historye of Kinge Lear, as yt was played before the Kinges maiestie at Whitehall vppon Sainct Stephens night at Christmas Last, by his maiesties servantes playinge vsually at the Globe on the Backsyde vjd.”  By attaching the honorific, “Master,” to the author of Lear, the entry identified him as the Stratford man, the only Shakespeare then who was a gentleman.

George Buck, one of those who signed the entry, thus in effect testifying that Mr. Shakespeare was an author, personally knew the latter, by the way, which strengthens this piece of evidence. According to notes in Buck’s hand, he had once consulted Shakespeare about the authorship of a play called George a Greene.

Similarly, when Edmund Howes published a list of “Our moderne, and present excellent Poets” in John Stow’s Annales in 1615, he listed the poets “according to their priorities (social rank) as neere I could,” and in the middle of the thirsteen listed, number seven “M. Willi. Shakespeare gentleman,” or Mr. William Shakespeare of Stratford.

(8) the vocation of acting

There’s a great deal of anecdotal evidence that William Shakespeare of Stratford was an actor. Such evidence, needless to say, doesn’t count nearly as much as direct contemporary evidence, but it ought to count something, so I have no qualms about bringing it up, beginning with John Aubrey’s writing in his Brief Lives (around 1680) that Shakespeare of Stratford, “being inclined naturally to Poetry and acting, came to London, I guesse about 18: and was an Actor at one of the Play-houses, and did acte exceedingly well.”

Shakespeare’s first formal biographer (1709), Nicholas Rowe reported of the Stratford man, “Tho’ I have inquir’d, I could never meet with any further account of him than that the top of his performance was the ghost in his own Hamlet.” Rowe made much use of the researches of Thomas Betterton, the pre-eminent Shakespearean actor of the time, and a man with a great interest in Shakespeare the man. Much of Betterton’s information came to him through John Lowin and Joseph Taylor, two actors who had been colleagues of Shakespeare and who lived into the Restoration period. According to John Downes, a theatrical prompter at the end of the seventeenth century, these veterans (Lowin and Tayler) brought to the new generation the actual instruction they had received from the dramatist himself of the playing of the parts respectively of Henry VIII and Hamlet.

William Oldys, in his manuscript, Adversaria, now in the British Museum, reports a few further fragments of gossip, the chief of which is that Shakespeare’s brother Gilbert was discovered still living about 1660 and questioned by some actors about his brother. All they got from him was a vague recollection of his having played the part of Adam in As You Like It. But Gilbert died in 1612. Nonetheless, this and the other bits of anecdotal evidence at least confirm that people connected the Stratford man to an acting career (and playwrighting) during his lifetime and long afterward.

There is also his brother Edmund’s having been, apparently, an actor. A record of the burial 31 December 1607 of an “Edmund Shakespeare a player” is extant from St. Saviour’s Church, Southwark, 31 December 1607. A few months earlier, Edmund’s son Edward was buried at St. Giles, near the house where Shakespeare lived with the Mountjoys. His father is called “Edward Shackspeere,” but in a church register containing other errors like calling an Edmund Edward, and no other Shakespeare has been turned up as the possible father. Both father and son probably died of the plague then rampant. The amount of money spent on the seemingly unaffluent actor’s funeral, with “a forenoon knell of the great bell,” and burial inside the church (much more costly than the ringing of a lesser bell, and a grave outside the church) has led many scholars to surmise that Will Shakespeare paid for them. In any event, that William Shakespeare’s brother’s probably acted suggests that acting ran in the family, and that William was an actor, as well.

The strongest evidence that the Stratford man shared the acting vocation with the poet is the previously mentioned bequests in his will of money to buy rings to his “ffellowes John Hemynge Richard Burbage & Henry Cundell xxvj s viij d A peece to buy them Ringes.” Heminges, Burbage, and Condell had been fellow actors in the Lord Chamberlain’s and King’s Men with William Shakespeare. This, of course, makes William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon an actor. Unless the entry in the will was a forgery, as many anti-Stratfordians claim. In the PBS/ Frontline exercise in Oxfordian propaganda, Enoch Powell suggested that the entry was there because the Oxfordian hoaxsters needed something to connect “Shakspere” to First Folio editors, Heminges and Condell. With imperfectly concealed contempt for anyone who could fail to see this, Powell pointed out that the entry was interlineated, whereupon the tv camera slowly scanned it, to prove him right. For an opposing view, PBS/Frontline went to perhaps the only person involved in the controversy more imperviously block-headed than Powell, the aged historian A.L. Rowse, whose mouth-twitchingly belligerant retort to this was that Powell didn’t know what he was talking about.

That, of course, was true, but a more persuasive response would have been that: (a) there is no hard evidence whatever to support Powell’s allegation the the interlineation was a forgery; (b) interlineations were common in the wills of the period; (c) it would have been rather difficult for any hoaxsters to get at the will to make such an addition; (d) there are many interlineations in Shakespeare’s will that have no bearing on the authorship controversy, including ring-money bequests to two of Shakespeare’s neighbors as well as the famous bequest of his “second-best bed” to his wife, which suggest that they were mere additions, innocently made to take care of matters inadvertantly overlooked in the previous draft of the will; (e) there is much other documentary evidence connecting Heminges, Condell and Burbage to Shakespeare, so no spurious interlineation would have been necessary; and (f) it would have been idiotic for someone just wanting to provide a link between Shakespeare and three actors to have risked serious trouble with the authorities by illegally tampering with a document he had no reason to believe anyone later would ever bother to look at (since the document would be put away somewhere in the Stratford courthouse with the town’s other legal records). If the object was falsely to make the Stratford man seem Shakespeare the poet, why not instead add something like “to my ffellows Henrie Condell I leave ye luckie penne I usd to compose the plai concernyng ye Moor,” to really pin it down?

Or, for that matter, why would they have bothered with Shakespeare’s will at all (except perhaps to dispose of it the way, according to most anti-Stratfordians, they got rid of so much of the other evidence of Shakespeare’s having been an ordinary fellow) when they need only have paid Jonson or some other writer to claim in print to have observed Will Shakespeare of Stratford-on-Avon in the actual act of writing Hamlet? There is thus no reason for any mentally-healthy person to doubt the validity of Shakespeare of Stratford’s will in establishing him as an actor.

The final piece of evidence I have that the Stratford man was an actor is the record previously mentioned from the Heralds’ College, which shows that someone named Shakespeare was an actor. But it also shows that this Shakespeare was of Stratford-upon-Avon. That’s because the coat of arms shown is known to be Shakespeare of Stratford’s (and is depicted on his monument). What happened was that Peter Brooke, the York Herald, officially complained in 1602 that Sir William Dethick, the Garter King-of-Arms, had awarded arms to undeserving low-lifes. Shakespeare was fourth on the list that Brooke made up of such low-lifes, with a sketch of each one’s coat of arms, including Shakespeare’s, and the note about Shakespeare “ye player” on it.

Needless to say, the anti-Stratfordians can’t let this go by without a fight. One of them surprised me some years ago when I was just beginning to consider the authorship question in depth by claiming that the Shakespeare referred to was Will’s brother Edmund. This is hard to credit considering Edmund was only around 20 at the time, and apparently quite obscure at his death five years later. And why would the herald describe Edmund Shakespeare without a first name as the player, as though no other acting Shakespeare existed—as much evidence makes near-certain was not the case? The position of the anti-Stratfordians here would (I guess) be that Edmund was an actor, William of some other Shakespeare family another actor, and William Shakespeare the writer a third person—or acting under his pen-name. The result, either way, would be two actors named Shakespeare, which means the herald should have written, “Shakespear a Player.”

Another anti-Stratfordian argument almost too dense to consider is that Brooke looked at the coats of arms for the Shakespeares, remembered that there was some actor named Shakespeare, figured he was the head of the Shakespeare family, and scribbled “Shakespear ye actor” under his sketch of the coat of arms, never looking into it further. But Brooke would not very likely have challenged the validity of the grant of a coat of arms without having done a little more than that. Moreover, had he heard enough about Shakespeare the actor to know he was the actor rather than just an actor, it’s hard to believe he would not have heard enough about him to know his name was not John but William. He would have had to have known something about John, too.

It should surprise no one that, in view of the weakness of the preceding arguments against the York document’s making Shakespeare of Stratford an actor, the craftiest of the anti-Stratfordians have suggested that the copy of this document, which is all we have, does not exactly reproduce the original. Diana Price (author of Shakespeare’s Unorthodox Biography), in her caption for a reproduction of the document, says part of the copy “may be an eighteenth-century fabrication.” She asks us to “(n)otice that the handwriting under the Shakspere (sic) arms (which says, ‘Shakespear ye Player/ by Garter’) differs from that on the rest of the page.” It is true that at first glance it does—though it is odd, if it was added after the accurate copy was made, that there was room enough between the arms and the three or four comments below it to fit the extra comment in. At second glance, Price’s innuendo becomes revealed for what it is, for one realizes that “Shakespear ye Player/ by Garter” was printed; all else was in cursive. The individual letters of the printed part and of the cursive all match quite nicely except for the additions to the letters of the cursive that allow them to connect with other letters.

So it is no surprise that, as Matus tells us but Price does not, that these texts have been identified as being in the hand of Peter Le Neve. Le Neve was the much-respected officer of the college of arms in whose library it surfaced. No second person surreptitiously added the reference to Shakespeare.

Price has one futher argument: she says that since “the grant application, the complaint, and the subsequent defense all related to John (Shakespeare)’s qualifications, not William’s,” the York Herald would more likely have written, ‘Shakespear ye glover.’ What she fails to recognize, needless to say, is that the York herald wanted to defame the Shakespeare family as much as possible, and actors were considered significantly lowlier than glovers.

In any case, Irvin Matus, in his Shakespeare-affirming book, Shakespeare in Fact, argues persuasively that Le Neve copied the record, and that “it is not credible that (he) would have wanted anything for his own collection but a faithful rendition of a document in the muniments of the College of Arms, just as it is not credible that a document from the college had been altered.” Conclusion: William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon not only had a name in common with William Shakespeare the actor/poet, but a vocation.

(9) social status

In 1596 Will’s father, John Shakespeare, was granted a coat of arms.  This made him and Will gentlemen, thus qualifying them to be addressed as “Mr.”  The poet/actor Shakespeare then occasionally became referred to in print with the “Mr.” honorific, as he never had been before that date.  Hence we find him five times referred to as “Mr. Shakspeare” (with or without the final e) in The Returne from Parnassus, Part I (1599); as “master Shakespere” in a Stationer’s Registry entry for Henry the Fourth, Part Two and Much Ado About Nothing (23 August 1600); as “Master William Shakespeare” in the Stationer’s Register entry in 1607 concerning Lear I already described; as “M. William Shak-speare” on the title page of, and again as a head title in, the first quarto of King Lear (1608); as “Mr. Will: Shake-speare” in John Davies of Hereford’s The Scourge of Folly (1610); as “M. Shake-speare” in John Webster’s “Epistle,” which appeared in his The White Devil (1612); and at least five more times before the First Folio came out in 1623 with “Mr. William Shakespeare’s Comedies, Histories and Tragedies” on its title-page.  Note well that after 1601, when John Shakespeare died, no one named “Shakespeare” except William was entitled to be called “Master.”  Ergo, not only did Shakespeare of Stratford have a surname and status of gentleman in common with William Shakespeare the actor/poet, but it was a combination of shared items no other two people in the world at the time shared.

(10) a monument

The poem in the First Folio by Leonard Digges already mentioned is direct evidence that the Stratford man and the poet both had a monument in Stratford. Here it is in its entirety:

          To the Memorie of the deceased Author Maister W. Shakespeare              Shake-speare, at length thy pious fellowes giue            The world thy Workes: they Workes, by which, outliue            Thy tombe, thy name must: when that stone is rent,            And Time dissolves thy Stratford Moniment,            Here we aliue shall view thee still. This Booke,            When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke            Fresh to all Ages: when Posteritie            Shall loathe what’s new, thinke all is prodegie            That is not Shake-speares: eu’ry Line, each Verse,            Here shall reuive, redeeme thee from thy Herse.            Nor Fire, nor cankring Age, as Naso said,            Of his, thy wit-fraught Booke shall once inuade.            Nor shall I e’er beleeve, or thinke thee dead            (Though misst) untill our bankrupt Stage be sped            (Impossible) with some new strain t’ out-do            Passions of Juliet and her Romeo;            Or till I heare a Scene more nobly take,            Then when thy half-Sword parlying Romans spake,            Till these, till any of thy Volumes rest            Shall with more fire, more feeling be expresst,            Be sure, our Shake-speare, thou canst neuer dye,            But crown’d with Lawrell, liue eternally.

The pertinent line is the one referring directly to the poet Shakespeare’s Stratford monument. That the one monument in Stratford we’re aware of that’s to a William Shakespeare was put up in honor of the Stratford man is, as we have seen, close to proven by the latter’s death date, which is inscribed on it. Conclusion: the actor/poet and the Stratford man shared not only a name but a monument in Stratford.  As I’ve mentioned previously but deem worth repeating is that this monument is in the church that just about all the townspeople of Stratford were required to attend weekly, so its inscription is far better documentary evidence than a page in a book or a letter because visible to just about everyone, so much more likely to be debunked if false than conventional documentary evidence.  But no one is on record as saying it was not to the Stratford man, and some are on record as saying that it was to him.   And with that, my central argument for Shakespeare as Shakespeare is done.

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Column 122 – March/April 2014 « POETICKS

Column 122 – March/April 2014

March/April 2014

EXPERIODDICA

Random Chatter

The M@h(p0et)?ica Blog
Blog-Master: Bob Grumman

/math-poetry-blog

First of all, a sad announcement: Scientific American cancelled my guest blog.  Toward the end, it was getting less than a thousand visitors, making it too unpopular, I was told, to be worth continuing.  That it was providing material nowhere else available at the website (or anywhere else) was irrelevant.  My flippant attitude toward science may have been a factor, too–although I was also respectful toward it, being in actuality quite devoted to it in spite of the many tenth-raters contaminating it, as they contaminate all fields (except mathematical poetry).  Bottom line: I’m grateful to Bora Zivkovic, who was the one at Scientific American who gave me my break and let me keeping going for 16 entries.  He left his job shortly after accepting my 17th entry but before posting it.  I suspect he was more open to such stuff than the one who replaced him.

My one big disappointment was that not a single mathematician or anyone else in science ever got in touch with me about the blog. Nor did any poetry commentator mention it anywhere that I know of, except–a few times–to say it existed.  Poetry (the magazine) was one that did the latter (at its blog), can yah buhleeve it?!  But, for the historical record, so far the only mainstream venue that has done anything of any significance for mathematical poetry is Scientific American.  Which suggests that scientists are slightly more likely to accept it than poets–or, more accurately–less likely fearfully to get as far from it as possible.

In any case, the blog’s seventeenth entry has been posted–at my regular poetry blog (poeticks.com), not at the SciAm website.  And I will keep it going, although not at the once-every-four-weeks rate it had been appearing.  I plan to redefine it as a science and poetry, or perhaps even as a science and arts blog, but with poetry and math its main subjects.

I’m also branching out into work for a magazine concerned with mathematics and the arts–a review and an essay.  My invitation to do these was almost certainly the result of my SciAm tenure, so I do owe Scientific American that.

Okay, now to something a bit different for this column–an informal poetics discussion rather than the discussion of poems and poetry publications it’s been every time until now (as far as I recall, but considering how many columns I’ve now done–this is the 122nd–and how bad my memory is, I could be wrong.)

My specific topic is one I’ve been trying in vain to be Absolutely Definitive about for forty years or so: the components of a poem.  I’ve been particularly engrossed with it lately because of my efforts properly to define mathematical poetry at my SciAm blog, which required me to define poetry yet again.

Note: what follows is a considerably-revised version of what was in my original column.)

I’ll begin our adventure with the perennial poetics question concerning what form and content are in poetry.  The wide-spread idea that they are inseparable seems ridiculous to me, but I’m an inveterate reductionist (to a psychotic degree some would claim), so that shouldn’t surprise anyone.  I hold that form is not really a physical part of a poem, but that system of relationships and abstract attributes organizing the poem’s content.  Mainly the rhyme scheme of a Shakespearean Sonnet, for instance, along with its metrical pattern (14 iambic pentameters).  Its words are a poem’s content, what they are abstractly–rhymenants and metrical units–and the way they are abstractly arranged, makes up the poem’s form.

A form is also an essentially permanently unchanging part of all the poems using it.  So far as I can tell, it has just one poetic function, by which I mean what it does for a poem to improve its reception by a reader: it connects a poem using a given form to some tradition all the poems using that form make up.  This adds often deeply resonant connotative value to the poem–the under-ambience that a modern Shakespearean sonnet brings a reader from Shakespeare, and Keats and Wordsworth and all the other masters who used it, for instance.  In other words, form adds content to a poem, although it is not itself content.

Not that it doesn’t also have what might be called a craft function, its use for giving a poet a sort of blueprint to follow.  Which reminds me that it does have a second value for its readers: giving them the same blueprint to follow, thus keeping the poem familiar enough in one way to keep what’s unfamiliar about it from defeating them (and every good poem risks doing that simply by being poetry–that is, by inventing new ways to present thoughts and feelings).

For a while I was content to sum up poetic content (oops, interesting unintentional pun) as simply the words and related linguistic components in a conventional poem, plus the equivalent of words in what I call plurexpressive poems such as the visual images in a visual poem.  Then someone at New-Poetry (an Internet discussion group I and others were discussing this) brought up technical components of poems like rhymes and metaphors).  Where in my little two-piece scheme did they fit into, I wondered.

My answer: a poem has two kinds of content: its linguistic components and meta-linguistic components (i.e., elements that denote something averbally in a plurexpressive poem as the image of a certain bird will denote “seagull”), and its technical components such as poetic devices like rhymes and metaphors, each of which is also a linguistic or meta-linguistic component–as well as everything the two express both denotatively and connotatively–and, in the case of the technical components, what they add conceptually (e.g., via a metaphoric connection) and/or purely sensually (e.g., the pure sound of a rhyme, or the pure color of a visual element in a plurexpressive poem).

All of a poem’s components, I should add, will also contribute simple sounds, their shape as letters, and the like to the whole of what an engagent of the poem will experience.  So, we have three kinds of poetic content.

Or we can consider a poem to have only one content consisting of components, some of which can act both linguistically, or the equivalent thereof, and . . . extra-linguistically (as well as purely sensually), and some of which act only linguistically, or the equivalent (as well as purely sensually).

To  sum up, form is that which gives the over-all poem its shape, and contains it.   Content is what a poem’s form contains.   All of a poem’s content is expressive, but its form is also expressive–connotatively, as previously noted.  This does not make its form content, only an element having something in common with content.  The two differ from one another sufficiently to make it silly to consider them the same thing.

After taking quite a while to revise this column, it is clear to me the subject requires many more words to do it justice.  I hope what I’ve said helps until I or someone else can attack it at greater length.

* * *

Whew, I thought I would only use a few words to take care of form and content, then get into a much more detailed concept of what a poem is.  That will have to wait until the next installment of this column.  Unless too many people complain about this one.  Which reminds me to remind you that you can reach me at [email protected] to correct me, make suggestions, or anything else.  I’d love to hear from you!

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Column 124 –July/August 2014 « POETICKS

Column 124 –July/August 2014

EXPERIODDICA

Back to SkyViews

SkyViews, Vol.3, No.4/5, January 1989.
Edited by Phoebe Bosche and James Maloney
92 pp; Box 2473, Seattle WA 98111. $5.

‘blog and Writing Sample. Jack Saunders.
2014; 32 and 16 pp. Pa; Garage Band Books,
4809 E. 3rd Street, Parker FL 32404-7050. np.

www.thedailybulletin.com

* * *

I was going to devote this column to the rest of my review of SkyViews, the zine from 25 years ago I wrote of in my last column, but something important intervened: I got two collections of writings in the mail from none other than . . . Jack Saunders!  Jack is still, I’m happy to say, fighting to break into the BigTime after several million self-published words by him and another few thousand published by others about him–including MINE.  Over the past ten or fifteen years, I’ve had a few sightings of Jack and knew he had a blog, even visited it, but I wasn’t really keeping up with him. For one thing, Jack cut down on his mailings after going north to take some new job.  And I was tripping all over myself in new endeavors too much to be able to keep with almost anybody else–thanks in great part to the Internet’s facilitation of easy, depthfree access to ten times as many people as the socially-deprived people before 1970 or so had.

His ‘blog has a quotation from a speech of  Florida governor Rick Scott as its epigraph: “We don’t need a lot more anthropologists in the state.”  Scott goes on to say he wants to spend money on “giving people science, technology, engineering, and math degrees,” so they can get jobs.  Just to give you an idea of what people like Jack (back in Florida now) and me are up against.  Jack brings us up to date on his life in ‘blog: ” . . . social security.  It’s not quite enough to cover (the family) expenses, what with the cost of paper, ink, a web host on the Internet, and the odd pamphlet, now and again.  Side-trips.  Art gallery openings and book fairs.  Postage.  I see that RETRAITE goes on the end of BEAT POET and the two form Tin Box: Report on the Suppression of Jack Saunders’ Work by Unknown Forces. I read Normal Mailer: A Double-Life.  It takes something out of me.  I mean, $50,000 to write ten-to-fifteen thousand words for The Faith of Graffiti.  What is my book if not a paean to mail art.  I quit.  This is it.  I declare my stack over.  No more books.  They aren’t books anyway if nothing happens to them.  They aren’t published.  I don’t get paid to write them.  They aren’t reviewed.  Art for art’s sake–it’s too sad.  Too disappointing.  I’m going to look for a job as a substitute teacher.  I’ll write GET A JOB about being too old for the factories.  I’m a free-lance archaeologist.  A free-lance report-writer.  A locum tenens.  Maybe I’ll call it REPORT WRITER.  Maybe I’ll call it WEBLOG.  Too old for substitute teacher.  Too ornery.  Publish my poems at The Daily Bulletin.  Here, Julius–hold this.”

Mostly short sentences.  Lots or repetition of things he’s said before.  The central . . . focus.  But you certainly get to know him.  And his writings cover a lot besides himself–his Writing Sample, for instance is “A Chronicle of Two Historic Digs and One Archaeological Survey,” as its subtitle has it, and is interestingly detailed about archaeological work from the (unromantic) paean-level.  Reportage, for sure–but so much better than ninety-percent or more of the writing making big buck.

Now to jump around in the art of SkyViews, shunned still by the mainstream, but rather different from Jack’s.  First let me quote two of the fourteen two-line stanzas from Geof Huth’s “viviD”: “th ese/ seseas//s and s/ and s”. Joycean wordgames  I hope Geof will do many more of, although I don’t think he’s done many since this one.

Facing “viviD” is a visiopoetic equivalent of a mobile in homage to the mobile’s originator, Alexander Calder, by Robert Ward.  Among the items hung on it are such texts as “moon  cow/ laughter/ toes/ cobweb/  bone    lollipops” and “brother   sister/ father   mother/      red yellow/ green & blue,” and two glued-in scraps of paper.

Then there’s a gem by Heather Barr, a poet I was briefly in touch with ten or twenty years ago.  It’s called “Safe Sex.”  Here’s its second stanza: “I dreamed last night of disposable men,/ Who are Biodegradable so they won’t clutter landfills./ (This is not a feminist poem – it’s just about sex./ So stay out of my diary, Gloria Steinem.)”  Barr has written a lot of good poems like this one.

I’d no doubt just skimmed the magazine when it first arrived.  Certainly, I had never bothered to read the short stories.  This time I read Mary Catlin’s “On Losing Everything.”  A conventional celebration of love that somehow effectively mixes high drama with telling understatement.  When I looked up Catlin on the Internet, I couldn’t find out much, but a Mary Catlin is still giving readings in Seattle.

Someone I’m wholly unfamiliar with, Grace Dager, has a number of excellently semi-strange drawings in the issue, by the way.  Bill Shively, whom I read and once or twice wrote about as a first-rate Bukowski-type whose poetry was mainly about his experiences in Vietnam has a good one in the issue, “What About the Bananas.”

Last of the works I want to mention may seem minor when described, but is, for me, a masterpiece: Joseph Keppler’s “ll/ov/ee.”  It consists of just two non-words, “loe” and “lve”: spelled downward, side-by-side.   Well, there’s also the rectangle the words are on that’s in someone’s backyard, it looks like.  The reproduction is monochromatic, but the original may well be in color.

At this point, I remember that I was going to write last time about Proper Reviewing, with a demonstration of it.  I certainly haven’t come close to doing that in the above.  Why?  One reason is the absence of attempts at Unexpected Insights that will unexpectedly raise the ability of one or two lucky readers to appreciate poetry forever.  I will now end with an example of such an attempt.  A person encountering “ll/ov/ee” should flow from reading into seeing two incomplete things, each of which has something (a letter) that can complete the other.  There’s more to the poem than that, but a good reviewer should not say too much.
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Mistakes, Dreams and Creativity « POETICKS

Mistakes, Dreams and Creativity

Mistakes, Dreams and Creativity

I propose that person’s dreams have two functions. Their primary “duty” is to relieve the person’s cortical neurons of stored energy that would otherwise make those cells excessively prone to out-of-context daytime activation that the person would experience as “mistakes.” I also contend that by causing a person to experience mixtures of highly incongruous data while he sleeps, dreams promote creativity. To account for these results, I postulate a mechanism that causes a portion of a person’s cortical neurons to become spontaneously active during REM sleep to produce the bizarre memories that, I claim, make up dreams.

Over the centuries, there has been much study of sleep, the state in which dreams normally occur. Many attempts have been made to assign some function to it. Most modern thinkers on the subject have suggested that sleep is the way the body conserves energy during times of low-activity, and gives the body, including the brain, time to repair or otherwise fine-tune itself, all of which makes perfect sense to me. There have also been numerous attempts (not reviewed here) to understand the nature of the dreams that have been shown to occur in birds and most mammals including man during a phase of sleep called rapid eye movement (REM) sleep. Biochemical replenishment, rearrangement of data, and the communication of “subconscious” messages have been most often cited as the function of those dreams.  This paper will sketch one more such attempt.

I go along with previous theorists, Francis Crick and Graeme Mitchison (Nature, vol. 304, 14 July 1983, pages 111 through 114), in believing that “in viviparous mammals the cortical system (the cerebral cortex and some of its associated subcortical structures) can be regarded as a network of interconnected cells which can support a great variety of modes of mutual excitation,” and that “Such a system is likely to be subject to unwanted . . . modes of behaviour, which arise as it is disturbed either by the growth of the brain or by the modifications produced by experience.” Like Crick and Mitchison, too, I postulate a mechanism other than conventional forgetting that is used by the brain to detect and counteract such unwanted modes of behavior—at least those resulting from modifications produced by experience. (I will not be concerned with unwanted modes of behavior caused by brain growth, like involuntary fits, which seem to me outside of normal human psychology.)

In what follows I first describe certain key assumptions of mine about the brain and memory. Next I postulate and describe the central mechanism of my theory, and how it differs from that proposed by Crick and Mitchison. Finally, after briefly discussing its testability, I trace some of the implications of my theory.

Preliminary Assumptions

First assumption: the existence in a person’s cortical system of “knowlecules”–neurons, or neuron-clusters, each of whose activation is experienced by the person as a discrete, unified image, idea, feeling or the like such as a visual image of a cat, some general idea of what a cat is, or the word, “cat” (an idea going back in experimental psychology to Penfield).

Second assumption: that each knowlecule can receive energy (the form of which is not relevant to this discussion) from sensory cells, other knowlecules, or itself, and that it stores such energy (in some form) until its supply reaches some pre-set threshold that causes it to become active. Third assumption: that remembering occurs when one knowlecule receives enough energy from other knowlecules (and/or itself) to become active (or re-active). The basic rule followed in this operation is simple: every active knowlecule divides a pulse of energy (which I call “k-energy,” which is short for “knowlecule-energy”) among all the knowlecules that have ever previously been active immediately after it.  So if knowlecule A is active during one “beat” of brain activity, and knowlecule B is active during the next “beat,” A’s later activation will cause it to transmit to B, and if it does so sufficiently strongly, or with sufficient help from other knowlecules, it will activate B as a memory.

There is a great deal more to the process than that, of course, particularly with regard to the manner in which context influences what percentage of its output of energy a given knowlecule will transmit to a second knowlecule (or itself). For the purposes of this paper, however, it is only necessary to know that a given active knowlecule transmits to a number of other knowlecules (and, possibly, itself) once active immediately after it.

Mistakes

If one grants my assumption that a knowlecule (or the equivalent) can store energy (in some form) with the potential to activate the knowlecule, it follows that an inactive knowlecule containing a great deal of stored energy can, upon receiving a very small amount of k-energy, become active. When, as sometimes must be the case, the activating k-energy is out-of-context (in a manner that should soon become clear), the resulting more or less inadvertant activation of the knowlecule will be experienced as a mistake. For instance, suppose one is asked, “In what city in Maryland is the U.S. Naval Academy located?” One might know very well that the answer is Annapolis, but what if one’s knowlecule for “Baltimore” has a nearly full store of energy? This might be the case if one had earlier read an ad for the Biltmore Hotel, say; and seen a picture of an oriole (if one is enough of a baseball fan to know of the Baltimore Orioles’ baseball team); then
talked to a friend named Al (if one has a friend named Al who lives in Baltimore, as I do). “Biltmore” might cause a little energy to go to the knowlecule representing the similar-sounding word, “Baltimore,” but not enough to activate it; ditto the oriole and the friend named Al.

In such a case, the small amount of energy the knowlecule for “Baltimore” might get from its association with “Maryland” when the person is asked where the Naval Academy is could be enough to activate it. If that happens, and at the same time—because, perhaps, the person is tired—the question doesn’t quite cause enough energy to go to the knowlecule representing “Annapolis” to activate it, the person might wrongly say that Baltimore is where the Naval Academy is.

Other psychological processes will no doubt quickly apprise the person of his mistake but they aren’t important here. What is, is that mistakes of a certain kind are sure to occur, given my assumption that knowlecules, or their equivalent, store energy without becoming active.  This idea of how mistakes come about, of course, is a speculative commonplace among cognitive scientists—though couched in sundry terminologies and unconfirmed by experiment. But it hasn’t been proved invalid, either, and it makes sense.

It also supports Crick and Mitchison’s model of dreaming, which hypothesizes that “the function of dream sleep . . . is to remove certain undesirable modes of interaction in networks of cells in the cerebral cortex,” by showing how those “undesirable modes of interaction” might arise, and why they would be considered undesirable. However, and this is the main point of this paper, I propose a mechanism of “knowlecule-flushing” different from Crick and Mitchison’s “reverse
learning mechanism,” for mine, among other things, does not result in the weakening of dream- traces, as theirs does.

Knowlecule-Flushing

The knowlecule-flushing activator (k-f activator) is my equivalent of the “dream-state generator” postulated by Hobson and McCarley, and on which the Crick/Mitchison model of dreaming is based. Hobson and McCarley place their mechanism somewhere in the pontine reticular formation from whence it causes both rapid eye movements and periodic dreaming. My similar mechanism also causes dreaming—but (probably) not rapid eye movements, which I believe dreams cause, by giving the eyes visual material they reflexively follow. In the course of
this paper I will offer no (new) empirical evidence to show that the k-f activator exists (as I define it) but hope through common sense arguments from long-established empirical data to make the possibility of its existence something worth serious consideration.

The k-f activator, in normal circumstances, can only operate during sleep. A person’s arousal center brings about that state when the person’s brain-activity reaches some pre-set low level. The person’s arousal center then slows his body down, to put it simply, and isolates most of his brain from the rest of his nervous system. That is, transmission of stimulation from the periphery to the cortex and vice versa is suppressed. The person completely relaxes, in the process shutting his eyes. Or so my theory has it, and I believe both common experience and the authorities in the field would agree.

Once asleep, the person will eventually experience REM sleep, in normal circumstances. This, I hypothesize, is caused by the person’s k-f activator, which joins every knowlecule in his brain. The k-f activator becomes active more or less reflexively, after a certain amount of sleep, I suspect—but with the length of time it takes to do so probably dependent on how full the person’s knowlecules are. Thereupon it causes all the knowlecules in the person’s brain that have more than some set amount of energy stored spontaneously to become active. The conditions thus set up (probably through dispersal of enzymes of some sort that increase knowlecule sensitivity to stored energy) also prime other knowlecules to become active whenever they, too, contain the new lowered activation threshold amount of energy.

The spontaneous flush of knowlecules by the k-f activator starts a dream, and the increased sensitivity to their stored energy of the rest of the brain’s knowlecules, as well as of the just- flushed ones, will keep the dream going. Its contents (as common experience and all previous research has shown) will be scrambled, weird, surrealistic—which follows from the knowlecules that initiate them dream’s being activated out of context. That is, they aren’t activated “logically,” but simply because of the amount of their stored energy.

They are therefore experienced as mistakes, many of them happening at once (in the safety of the periphery-isolation that prevents behavior based on them). Normal rationalizing behavior ensues, of course, as the person, in effect, tries to make sense of the data exploding in his mind. And his memory puts new matter into the dream taking place just as it puts various matter into his waking thoughts. That is, remembering occurs the same way in dreams that it does during waking hours. Just as a certain name heard at work might make one remember Cousin Jane, the same name heard in a dream might make one remember her. I won’t be discussing remembering further here, except to point out that there’s no need to hypothesize some kind of special remembering that a person uses only while dreaming.

Once the k-f activator sensitizes a person’s knowlecule to its stored energy, the knowlecule remains sensitized to the same degree until a k-f inhibitor that I also hypothesize turns it off when the person wakes up.  That doesn’t mean the person’s first dream of the night will last the entire night. On the contrary, just as common experience suggests, and dream experiments seem to verify, each dream, or dream-session, tails off and eventually ends within two hours at the most. The reason for this is simple. At first many knowlecules will become active due to their increased sensitivity to stored energy. They will transmit to other knowlecules to activate them, and those will in turn cause more activation. Eventually, however, no knowlecule will get enough energy from anywhere to become active, even with its activation-threshold reduced. Being isolated from the environment insures this.

A person’s first dream of the night won’t likely be his last, either.  According to researchers, people normally have more than one dream a night—five, on average. To explain this, I claim that a person’s k-f activator goes through a nightly cycle during which it five times enhances his knowlecules’ sensitivity to stored energy, each time making less energy able to activate the knowlecule storing it. Hence, the first dream-cycle might reduce the amount of stored energy capable of activating a knowlecule to 80% of what would have been needed to accomplish that during waking. The second, ninety minutes later, say, might reduce the activation-threshold to 60% of the daytime norm.  Later cycles might reduce it, respectively, to 40%, 20% and 2%.
(These, of course, are just guesses, no experimental data being available for any kind of precise estimate, or likely to be for a while.)

All this is based on the simple idea that, to avoid the build-up of mistake-potential, brain-cells (the components of knowlecules) need to be cleaned out, as in the Crick/Mitchison model. But because, unlike Crick and Mitchison, I believe that the energy flushed is re-distributed throughout the brain to other knowlecules (and, in some cases, back to the distributing knowlecules) rather than otherwise disposed of, the flushing I hypothesize cannot take place all at once—by an immediate reduction of knowlecules’ activation thresholds to 2%, say— because
the resulting dreams would be too dense. A person’s brain would be overloaded—so much so, in fact, that the person would probably wake up. And the “creative” juxtapositioning that I credit dreaming with making possible, and will describe later in this paper, would be overdone, and yield not creativity but confusion.

In any case, research indicates that dreaming generally goes through five stages much as I’ve described. Interestingly, the later dreams are generally described by those having them as more bizarre than earlier ones, which makes sense since more inappropriate data would be
brought into consciousness; that is, many knowlecules minimally ready for activation would contribute material to a person’s awareness during his last dreams.

If the Crick/Mitchison theory of energy dispersal rather than redistribution is accurate, by the way, it seems strange that (1) dreams last as long as they do—why couldn’t all the cells with stored energy be emptied all at once? and (2) why would we have more than one dream a night, many of them involving similar material—that is, cells one would expect an early dream to have cleaned out seem to participate in later dreams? I also wonder why we should experience dreams consciously at all, however sometimes fleetingly.

The Value of Dreams

Since Crick and Mitchison believe dream-traces are lost permanently unless the dreamer wakes up during a dream and thinks about it, dreams for them would seem to have no evolutionary advantage except as a way of getting rid of unneeded stored energy. This flies in the face of much cultural opinion, however unscientific, as to the value of dreams. I won’t get into that, but will try to present more hard-headed arguments for believing dream-traces are treated the same way that other memory-traces are. One of my arguments is that it would make no biological sense for a human being to evolve a system for getting rid of brain-energy if re-distribution of it through mechanisms already in place could accomplish the same thing—as it does in my model, in which “excess” stored energy in brain-cells is reduced to almost nothing, wit  to dump quickly, what to keep? And wouldn’t such a mechanism take up room comparable to the storage space required for simply storing the material? I say that it makes biological sense for a person to store everything, and let his remembering mechanisms decide what to return to according to what later becomes important rather than give him access only to what is initially thought to have the potential for importance.

The Crick/Mitchison concept of dream-forgetting goes against common experience, too, for all of us seem to remember dreams. Such memories are anecdotal evidence, to be sure, but vivid. I even remember seeing things in a dream and, while in the dream, recognizing their having been in other dreams—from days or months before.

Creativity

My main argument for our remembering dream-matter, however, is that it would allow for creativity-enhancement by allowing us to refer back to the arbitrary, “mistaken” connections we make in dreams and use them if they turn out to have some value, as any mistake can. Daytime mistakes are probably not as bizarre as dream-mistakes. Indeed, certain connections occurring in dreams would be close to impossible in daytime. At least in theory. A dream could easily allow a Kekule (who discovered the shape of benzene) to experience a snake-image at the same time he experiences an image of benzene if his knowlecule for “snake” happened to have the right amount of non-activating stored energy, at the same time his knowlecule for “benzene” also did. But nothing in his waking hours, unless he happened on a snake while thinking of benzene, would meld them. Even in the latter instance, he would think of benzene, then see the snake, rather than mentally experience them both at the same time.

I’m not saying creativity via a dream is what happened with Kekule, just that such an occurrence would be possible if my model of dreaming were accurate, and it wouldn’t be if the Crick/Mitchison model were. Since such juxtapositionings would seem to be of value, particularly if they were made undangerously, during sleep, then revisited more or less at liesure during waking hours, Nature should select for their storage as memories. And, I contend, has.

My theory’s Compatibility with Research and Other Theories

Like the theory of Crick and Mitchison, mine seems broadly compatible with a large amount of experimental data—and with everyday experience, as well. And it explains as effortlessly as Crick and Mitchison’s model both the need for dreaming in adult life and the large amount of it that occurs pre-natally (which I attribute to the propensity of the knowlecules of a developing brain for distributing k-energy willy-nilly and thus causing partial storage of k-energy to be
relatively wide-spread, it taking the brain time firmly to establish datapathways).

My theory, like theirs, is also compatible with the hallucinoid nature of dreams that all researchers, and non-researchers, remark on. Unlike theirs, my theory does not contradict Freud’s, but augments it, for it allows lessons to be recalled and thus learned from dreams, in keeping with Freudianism. It also permits repressed material to be popped into consciousness as Freud hypothesized, through the lowering of “repressed” knowlecules’ activation threshold. This agreement with Freudianism I mention only as an interesting feature of my model,
incidentally, not as an argument in its favor, Freudianism still not having been experimentally verified that I know of (and, in my view, 90% hogwash).

The effects of REM sleep deprivation certainly do not contradict my theory, though they don’t emphatically support it, either. That subjects of such deprivation sleep more when allowed to after their period of deprivation is what my theory would predict. That REM sleep deprivation in humans sometimes produces irritability would follow from my theory, too—because the mistakes a person makes as a result must irritate him once recognized, and because, as deflections from “right reasoning,” they will tend to strand him mentally, which would be conducive to irritation. This deflective property of mistakes would also explain the inability to concentrate experienced by some subjects of REM sleep deprivation, mistakes breaking their focus.

That feelings and wishes that he would ordinarily keep out of consciousness might intrude on a REM-sleep-deprived person’s thoughts, as some research indicates would happen, would be in
keeping with my model also, for knowlecules prevented from dreamtime activation would tend to build up stored energy until they had enough for waking arousal. Internal fantasizing should for similar reasons tend to increase among the REM-sleep- deprived, as has also been shown to be to a small degree the case. As for the possibility considered by some investigators that those deprived long enough of REM sleep would experience hallucinations, my theory is  noncommital.  According to it, REM sleep deprivation should yield just increased susceptibility to mistakes, as defined above—only, probably, after more than a few nights of deprivation, I might add.

My theory cannot account for the lack of any readily-observable detrimental effects from the complete blocking of REM sleep that certain monoamine oxidase inhibitors and other drugs cause. However, I believe that the drugs, which are anti-depressants, reduce people’s
anxiety about the mistakes they make, which makes those mistakes less noticeable. I believe also that the drugs energize those who take them, allowing them to power their way through their mistakes, before they multiply. A third factor would be the probably great length of time it
would take for any significant psychological deficits from any form of neurological deprivation to show up. The way the drugs involved no doubt interfere with normal distribution of k-energy must be a factor as well. My bottom line here, though, is the same as Crick and Mitchison’s concerning the same research: that it’s too small a factor to overthrow a theory so little contradicted elsewhere.

Testing My Theory

To prove or disprove the existence of my knowlecule-flushing activator would require much more knowledge of the brain, and much better brain -investigating technology now seems to be available. Crude tests of whether REM sleep deprivation will indeed increase a person’s
propensity to make mistakes, as I define them, or decrease his ability to come up with new ideas are perhaps possible but would not likely be very persuasive one way or the other. If we ever are able to pin down precisely what kinds of proteins or other substances are manufactured during the creation of memory traces, we might be able to compare the amounts of those substances produced during dreaming with the amounts produced during waking thought, and thus get a better idea of the likelihood of the data of dreams’ being stored or not.

Since my theory of dreams flows directly out of a (more or less) simple model of inter-cellular energy-flow in the brain, it could probably eventually be modeled by a computer program that could be used to check its plausibility. All my thinking on dreams is, in the final analysis, speculative, however. But since it is all based on a notion of the material make-up of brain-cells and auxiliary physiological mechanisms, it is all ultimately testable.

Possible Implications

If my theory of dreaming is close to being valid, it should help us understand and reduce (or increase, if desireable) the occurrence of mistakes, and appreciate and nourish creativity. It should provide some insight into the etiology and nature of certain kinds of psychoses, as well, some forms of schizophrenia being surely due to waking dreaming. Since in my model, dreams are accessible to remembering, the model’s validity would also suggest that perhaps dream-analysis in certain forms of psychotherapy might be of value, after all. It would certainly suggest that the high regard in folklore for dreams and what they say is not misplaced.

Viva dreams!                                         

.                                                               Bob Grumman

.             October 1997 (but based on my work in the early seventies)

26Apr14–38

2June14–64, a surprise

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4 Responses to “Mistakes, Dreams and Creativity”

  1. anon says:

    I came here from your recent Aeon comment; this is a very convincing theory from the perspective of ordinary experience. It seems like the most important and most verifiable part is the existence of ‘knowlecules’. There need to be neural patterns specific to a single object/experience/idea, which also have some sort of collective energy storage and thresholds. That would be just as fundamental to waking life as it is to dreams, and once that’s established your dream flushing hypothesis is irresistible. I do wonder, though, why this threshold flushing would be experienced as full-fledged worlds. You say that a knowlecule is an ordinary concept when it’s activated during the day, but in a dream you don’t just think ‘grass’, you see it. This theory explains the randomness of dreams, but neglects their structure, the relative coherence. Maybe I’m exaggerating, but my waking idle thoughts are arguably more random than my dream experiences, because they have no external input but still create a complex, full-bodied story. Your comments about waking thought and reactions continuing like normal in response to the dream activations partially explains this, but it doesn’t seem like enough. Perhaps also lower-level sensory patterns are the majority of our knowlecules, and it’s their activation which gives such a tngible texture of reality to dreams. But, I don’t really know anything about modern cog sci, so forgive my speculations. Anyways, just wanted to thank you for your thought provoking essay.

  2. Bob Grumman says:

    Wow, Brady, thanks extremely for the comment! I’m so used to people ignoring what I say at this blog of mine, it may take me a while to get over my shock at seeing it and replying to it! For now I’ll just say that I feel I can provide reasonable answers to the problem you have with what I say. And add that I don’t know much about modern cog sci, either, but my impression is that my thoughts probably don’t have much to do with it. Right now I’m trying to finish an essay on my theory of art that I don’t want to get distracted from. When that’s out of the way, I’ll come back to your comment. A few thoughts of yours will be difficult to answer in less than several thousand words, but I may be able to find some writings of mine that will help.

    all best, Bob

    PS, You seem to have understood my essay quite well–which I find highly encouraging. So, thanks again for responding to it!

  3. Brady (anon) says:

    Cool, I look forward to both your reply and your aesthetics essay. I just now started reading through the rest of your blog – you have a lot of very interesting things here.

    (And I realized that you wrote Mathemakus! I had stumbled across some of your work back in high school, and attempted a few embarrassing mathematical poems myself.)

  4. Bob Grumman says:

    I seem to be going backwards with my aesthetics essay which is now my exploratory drive essay, which means wholesale re-writing. Good to hear you’re checking out my blog . . . I think. I tend to fear letting people know about it because of how much of myself I think I reveal, some of it possibly offensive to some, especially if they misinterpret it.

    Hey, how did you happen to bump into my poems? My impression is that only a few dozen people I don’t know personally ever see them?

    More in due course.

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