by Neal Whitman, Poetry Prof
In my first “Poetry Prof” since our loss of Ms. Nina Peach, I wish to profess my belief in the power of words. This profession of faith is like circling a piece of sculpture. Every angle provides a different view. So, here are seven “looks” at poetry as I circle what is “on show” right now.
1. Clive James wrote in July-August 2009 Poetry that, “Almost everyone writes poetry, but scarcely anyone can write a poem.” I imagine him circling the 30 pages that preceded his commentary. This was a special section, “Flarf and Conceptual Writing” edited by Kenneth Goldsmith who introduces these new forms of poetry by admitting that “no one has written a word of it. It has been grabbed, cut, processed, machined, honed, flattened, repurposed, regurgitated, and reframed from the great mass of free-floating language out there just begging to be turned into poetry.”
2. One of the “flarf” poems is entitled, “Why do I hate flarf so much?” by Drew Gardner. Confession: I had to consult the footnotes because I was not sure if it was a flarf or an editorial denouncing it. It is a flarf.
3. One of the “conceptual” poems is one of Goldsmith’s own: “Metropolitan Forecast,” a transcription from the New York Times, September 11, 2001. This poem, the weather report, appears in his book, The Day, in which he transcribed every word of the paper that day. He did this once before on September 1, 2000, in Day.
4. As I circled the 45 of pages of “regular” poems that precede the 30 pages of “flarf,” my eye was caught by another “f” word: “Blowing the Fluff Away” by Robyn Sarah. Here I found more weight than flarf in her ode to “a sprig of an unknown bloom” that, over time, “had turned to fluff some months ago.” A poem full of wonder. Her words lifted off the page like, well… like fluff. Her words had the power to lift me too.
5. I thought I had my fill of flarf and fluff until my copy of July-August American Poetry Review arrived. There on the cover, a photograph of Gary Snyder standing on a mountain top. Windblown. Grey beard. Ruggedly handsome. From my angle, looks like an advert for Ralph Lauren designer sunglasses. Turn the page and there they are: frags by Gary Snyder nine of ‘em. Here is one:
“White Rumps”
Northern Flicker
Pronghorns
Dwarf stars
Receding
Am so jealous. Wish my name were Gary Snyder so APR would publish my pseudo-haiku frags. Here is one:
“Found at Baxter State Park”
Bear Badger
Berry Bird
Constellations
with no road
6. July 5, 2009, the New York Times, Travel Section, “The Land and Words of Mary Oliver, the Bard of Provincetown” by Mary Duenwald: Here is an invitation to walk the paths where Mary Oliver found the words to write, “Five A.M. in the Pinewoods.” No, not “found” in the conceptual poetry sense of Ms. Oliver copying down the words on the National Park Service signs posted along the trail (one of the Goldsmith’s conceptual poetry selections was a shopping mall directory “found” by Robert Fitterman, whose publisher is Ugly Duckling Presse… really). No, Mary Oliver finds poems in her heart and soul, as in …
I’d seen
their hoofprints in the deep
needles and knew
they ended the long night
under the pines, walking
like two mute
and beautiful woman toward
the deeper woods…
7. Do I hear, “click, click, click”? No, please, no. That is not Kenneth Goldsmith word processing the July 5, 2009, New York Times, to produce his third 900-page transcription?
This I profess:
Words have power. Let’s use them well. Poetry is not the words written in a book (or word processed), but in the mode of activity of the mind of the poet. Poetry is not “found” on a billboard. It is found in the human heart. We will miss you, Nina.