TextSpace

I don't know what to say. Reading the introduction, about which I'd like to blog, was a rather trying experience. It took me a long time to decide why it was that we were asked to read this. I finally concluded that this chapter was regarding the way that the form of publication can often alter how a poem is read.

The examples of Dickinson especially made this point. Due to the way that her poetry was edited by others turned it into something that she probably did not originally intend. Of course, what if now the way it is published is not the way she intended either? Can we take her intention into consideration anyway?

While on the whole I did not particularly enjoy this introduction, I did find the discussion of publishing interesting, especially about how writers chose to publish their materials and for what audience. I liked the comment about Stein, who "never imagined that her work was meant for anything but a wide and even popular audience" (19). Perhaps that is how most writers should see their writing, as opposed to something that only has a limited audience or something that might seldom be read.

In general, I really liked the introduction to the "Black Riders" book. As I feel that too often we forget that there is a material base on which all poetry, for that matter all writing, exists on. It is important to think critically about a poem's materiality because the way in which a poem appears in print determines how we read it.

In particular, I liked how the intro. further made the point that materiality is important through a discussion of Dickinson's poems. I feel that using Dickinson was a good choice because of how her work was published up through the 1950s. I also liked how in the discussion of Dickinson, McGann made the point that earlier publications of Dickinson's work are not necessarily "bad" because they were products of their time. I thought that this was interesting comment because, perhaps, there may come a day when the way Dickinson, along with other authors, is published now might be felt to be dated, as what is deemed important by readers and critics changes.

One final thing, I believe Matt said in class last week that he read the Bernstein article at a slower pace than normal because it is written as poetry. I have to say that I had the opposite happen to me, as I found myself reading pages very quickly and just trying to take in as much as I could but without losing the pace that I had established.

I pay attention to Mcgann’s illustration of how Morris’s poems integrate the “poem” and its “performative medium.” When I was reading a passage about Morris’s intention that “no distinction should be permitted between the concept of the poem and the concept of the text,” I was thinking that it was very difficult. For readers have to experience rhetorical articulations in the text (dictions, rhythm, sound, for instance) in order to filter meanings into the poem that constructs the concept of the poem. In Forrest-Thompson’s words, a poet should know how to “control the meanings and feelings generated by the words” the poet uses (PT 458). Reading William Morris’s poems for the first time, I sense that the poet makes much efforts in inviting readers to the world he invents and in supplementing the phenomenology of reading that directs, controls, or evokes readers’ feelings in the process of reading. As McGann highlights in his analyses in Morris’s “Gold Wings,” the arrangements of Morris’s poems tend to start from the remote world (“ancient castle”) and then gradually _slips into_ the intimate mental state that connects readers to the poem (lovers’ “emblematic condition”). Ummm… I find that this is quite common in poetry and in literature so that I don’t know why McGann feels so much enthusiastic toward Morris’s poem in this respect.......

In Eliot’s poem there appears the following statement:
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
This portion of the poem drew my interest several hundred years ago when I first encountered the poem and it was shortly thereafter that I had to read this poem for a class. Not this one. The personification of the yellow fog is very catlike and cat like in that it is both lethargic and has qualities similar to a feline. In the class, and before class, still not this one, I came to the conclusion that the yellow fog was symbolic of sunlight, and I was promptly silenced by the oppressive professor who in her tyrannical explanation explained the yellow fog and smoke as smoke.

Brilliant. I was such a fool. Yes, of course the smoke is symbolic of smoke. According to her, early nineteenth century London was an highly polluted by remnants of the Industrial Revolution, and I have found a reference to this: “At that time (during the Industrial Revolution) coal was the prime energy fuel to power most of the factories and to heat most of the homes in the cities. Because of the burning of coal, the air over such industrial cities as London became filled with huge amounts of smoke and soot containing sulfur dioxide and nitrogen dioxide.”
http://www.irfi.org/articles/articles_51_100/pollution.htm
Sulfur does burn yellow and thus much of the smoke may have had a tint of yellow. However, the Industrial Revolution took place much earlier (late 1700’s) and even the Second Industrial Revolution took place around 1850. This poem was published in 1917. This would have been some serious smoke. Secondly, this yellow fog “Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys”. The fact that it does this signifies that it is not of the soot from the chimneys and therefore is something different. Third, the yellow fog on two occasions is quite concerned with the end of the day, “Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,” and “And seeing that it was a soft October night, /Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.” Why would smoke be concerned with the evening? Light, especially sunlight is very concerned with the dark. Ok, maybe not concern, but, in light’s absence we have dark. And, being a October night, with the chill in the air, would not more people be burning coal to keep the house warm?

I have to admit that this was not one of the most interesting articles that I read, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t gleam any insight from its pages. Considering my recent reading of Wordsworth’s The Prelude, I found this next quote to be exactly what he was doing in this poem. McGann states “In a self-conscious constructed book, the romantic sense discloses itself as a rhetorical display: not the dialogue of the mind with itself, but the theatrical presentation of such a dialogue” (21). This could be why his poem was not one of my favorite poems that I read, which almost made me feel guilty since I am a poet but I found it to be long and drawn out, with too many historical references that eluded me. However, Wordsworth does present a “rhetorical display” of what he feels is the transcendence of man, which is poetry and again, it does not appear as a dialogue that the mind was having with itself but rather a “theatrical presentation” of that dialogue.

In the section discussing Emily Dickinson’s poetry, which I enjoy, I found the concept of editorial decisions to be that is particularly interesting and it brings to mind that if scripts are continually changed through editorial decisions, how are we ever to really interpret something without placing it within context as much of education would have us do. The editorial decisions effect how a reader interprets a poem and the reader, not realizing that they are not looking at the original or at the very least a copy of the original, think that for all intent and purposes that they are reading the real thing and interpret it likewise, thereby skewing their interpretation. This section is found on pages 14 and 15. McGann goes on to discuss these decisions later on page 38 when he notes, “In a poetry that has imagined and executed itself as a scriptural rather than a typographical event, all these matters fall under the works initial horizon of finality.” He then points out that Dickinson was not written for print, even though it was a time for print. Therefore, he notes that we are to accommodate our typographical conventions to her work and not the other way around. However, in so doing, are we changing the work in anyway, such as editorial decisions, and thus, are we removing it from the context it was in and does that mean then the reader will never be able to get the true beauty of the work because they will not be seeing the original, or even a copy of the original because the typographical conventions would change the work. At the same time, in a print dominated society, it seems to be necessary to convert script into type in order for it to be read and even mass produced, so really it seems that it is a necessity to have it in print in order for it be read by the masses. This then leads me to believe that it really places more work on the reader to do their “homework” and research in order to contextualize because without this being done we would have never known about Emily Dickinson and her writing practices and would have taken Johnson’s word for the details of her works.

I think that Foucault made sense when he stated “literature crossed a threshold when it began to be read not as a set of works but as a scene of writing.” The attention seemed to be move from the content of the work to the form, though Yeats saw these two things as connected and that they could not be separated. Although, I know that when I write, I find myself paying less attention to the form of my poems and more attention to the content, another words just getting it down and the form seems to arrange itself on its own. Yet, I can see where the type and arrangement of the words provide a sort of visual beauty and can even lend themselves in the interpretation of the poem, thus providing a greater sense of beauty to the poem. Therefore, as Foucault described, we are then left with a “scene of writing.”

McGann on publishing was excellent. How poets approach publishing never crossed my mind. It was very interesting that Yeats knew his most receptive audience and targeted his publishing efforts accordingly. Stein’s struggles with the whole process was even more interesting. But the best (for me) was the Dickinson and Morris parts. “Very few who did [self-publish] saw their financial interest in such publishing ventures as an imaginative opportunity [as Morris did]” (23) really sums up the creative and interpretive control Morris realized could be had in experimenting with the frontline details of printing.

Until I read McGann, I dismissed ornamentation in poetry (and with most text) as distracting and unnecessary, that the words could and should stand on their own. But I was wrong because ornamentation is no different that using italics or boldface or different fonts/typefaces. With Dickinson, although the most of the misrepresentations were editorial, I was struck how just putting her poetry into typeface as faithfully as possible never really succeeds. And I noticed how much better I liked reading Morris’ “The Weariness of November” in the typeface he chose than had I read it in the regular blah type (like we’re using).

I’m not sure why I dismissed ornamentation and the like. I do like books that tell you the typeface used (rare anymore) and editions that preserve misspellings, because these details seem significant (but hard to argue for) or just nice to know (as in the typeface). I have an edition of Huck Finn that keeps all the errors and this is what I want, whether or not Twain authorized or was grateful for “corrected” versions, because only Twain should be correcting Twain. Now I’m going to be wondering how Dickinson handwrote the next poem of hers I read.

An aside, I liked the bulleted objections that appeared to come from nowhere.

Tino

Guillaume Apollinaire’s piece was a pretty interesting commentary on poetry. It wants readers to think of poetry as being present in different forms than just the written. This reminded me of some of the recordings we heard in class. It is amazing how many different ways poets can compose with technology. I guess some people would not consider this to be poetry (and I am not completely sure that I do) but it gives us new ways of exploring poetic possibilities. Apollinaire also gives us a definition of a poet. One is as a poet who can give humanity truth no matter what field there are in. The poet is anyone who discovers new joys and truths. This is an interesting concept that I had not considered before, but I would agree.

The issue of imitation comes up again in this article. Apollinaire advocates that there should be an “imitative harmony.” Using others’ works as springboards or to learn from can be beneficial. Imitating sounds like an airplane or train can also be useful in poetry because it adds more effects and emphasizes certain aspects of the poem for a reason. I agree that meaning should be attached to the imitation. Straight imitations only usually do not create good poetry because it is not creative and does not have the element of surprise.

Finally, I enjoyed how McGann’s article presented historical context in which to read Yeats’ poem. The connections of the poem between printed books in the rag and bone shops and the material production of books were clearly laid out in the text. This reading made me see the importance of printed accuracy when it comes to modern poetry and those authors who experiment in their writing such as Stein. If a press makes a mistake it could change the whole meaning of the poem. Modernist writers tend to use more techniques such as the space on the page as well as word order so it was crucial that the printed version be exact. This was an interesting piece of historical information.

I liked the fact that Apollinaire does not suggest eradicating certain poetic conventions. He sees the importance of the written word too and what it can do for a poem. However, he seems to feel that the poet should be free to move beyond these conventions. Technological advancements creates so many new possibilities in poetry. It also advances the freedom of subject matter a poet has to work with. He doesn’t want to attack any approach or school. I think that this eclectic approach creates better poetry because poets can use what is good from a variety of poetry. This approach opens up new avenues and directions for poetry.

Maurice Blanchot’s text gave me a great deal to think about. I did not find it to be particularly difficult, but it gave me so much to wrap my mind around that I am still not sure I understand it all. He appears to say that language is nothing, it is only evoked and never really a being. Language is thought and we can’t hear thought. I can really see the meaningless of language when I consider how words have died out over time or how they have changed to mean different things over time. The representation of an object with a word is arbitrary. Therefore, if we decided a tree would now be called a cow then it makes no difference. I’m not sure that is what he is saying or not. I still have a lot to work through with this article.

Sorry guys I'm having some trouble getting this to formatt the way I want it to on the wiki. I wanted everyone to have access to the poem that Betsy and I will be working with for next class though, and it seems that more people view the blogs prior to class anyway, than do the wiki.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornass al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per cio che giammai di questo fondo
non torno vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo

Let us go the, you and I
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering Retrated
Of resless nights in one-ight cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyeter-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question . . .
Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?'
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-
panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-
panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening.
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot the falls from chimneys,

Slpped by the terrace, and made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a sof October night,
Curled at once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a fact to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and creat,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, 'Do I dare?' and, 'Do I dare?'
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair -
(They will say: 'How his hair is growing thin!)
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin-
(They will say: 'But how his arms and legs are thin!)
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which ina munute will reverse.

For I have know them all alreday, know them all -
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voiced dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a father room.
So how should I presume?

And I have know the arms alreday, know them all -
Arms braceleted and white and bare
(but in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table or wrap about a shwl
And should i then presume?
And how should I begin?

. . . . .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusck through narrow
streets
And watched the smoke that rised from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of win-
dows? . . .

I should have beena pair of ragged clows
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

. . . . .

And the afternoon, the eveingin, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothe by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
aStreatcehd on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slighly bald)
brough in upon a platter,
I am no prophet -and here's no great matter;
I have seen themoent of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat,
and snicker.,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, ater all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porelain, among some tlak of you and
me,
WOuld it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
TO have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming questions,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all' _
If one, settling a pilllow by her head,
Should say,: 'That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.'

And would it have been worth it, after all,
WQould it have been worthwhiel,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled
streets.
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that
trail along the floor -
And this, and so much more?-
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns
on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or thrwing off a shwl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant at all.'

. . . . .

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, starte a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
FUll of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At time, indeed, almost ridiculous -
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old . . . I grow old . . .
I shall ware the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the
beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves.
Coming the white hair of th ewaves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreated with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Kamal Ud Din

Sacred is Sound.

To understand poetry, the reader can not restrict himself/herself to the format only, he/she has to include what Forrest-Thomson calls the "nonmeaningful" levels of language, which according to her are related to the "nonsemantic" effects which contribute toward "total image-complex" of the poem, but the writer suggests that instead of total “image-complex” it would be better if it is called total “meaning-complex” for ‘image’ may suggest “an overly visual orientation”.

We know that poetry is not only the image that we find on paper in print form, rather poetry is heard or unheard sounds, noises, or rhythm that it produces. While reading poetry, we consciously or unconsciously, create certain rhythm in our imagination, but if we hear a poem from the poet’s mouth or a professional reader, we are fascinated by the rhythm of the words and the music created by the rise and fall of the tone. The pattern of sound created by the poem gives the reader deeper insight into poem and brings up some aspects of the meaning of it, which, some time, printed form may not be able to reveal.

To quote a Tibetan saying to the effect that the sacred is sound “intoning the lower notes is believed to bring one closer to the sacred.” One can see the power of sound in mantra chanting, if we look at the printed form of a mantra, it is just like a ‘concrete’ poem but when it is chanted it produces magical effect and hypnotizes the listeners. In the same way, words may not have meaning in Navaho chants but when they are chanted by the chanter, they produce profound effect on the audience. This effect is produced by the faith as well as by theatricality of the chanter. The effect of mantras and chants as well as poetry depends on the performance of a chanter or a poet.

In my opinion, meaningless sounds or words sometime, convey the meaning of the poem, intensity of the emotion or passion, or depth of pain and happiness more affectively than regular words. We find vocables in songs and chants or when a poet is reciting his own poem he may lengthen certain vowel or consonant sounds or ejaculate certain meaningless sound to enhance the meaning or emotional impact of his poem.

In short, what I gather from this article is, to understand a poem, the format of the poem and printed words cannot convey the complete meaning and sense of the poem, we also have to take into consideration the sound and rhythm of poem as well as the performance of it by the poet himself or the artist.

Olson is nothing less than brilliant in his ideas and suggestions in Projective Verse. By leaving the rime and meter which had grown more than stale by 1950, it was essential for change and Projective Verse was a catalyst which perpetuated the evolution of poetry to its present form. The idea of using space (the page) in order to control time and the sound of the poem without using sound is amazing. The ability to measure through breath was paramount in transforming poetry from a rigid form to free. With constraints placed around poetry for so long, it was essential that a new restraint be set around poetry, but one which allowed for freedom.

The ability to use outer form with the typewriter was also a stroke of genius. I am curious how Olson would utilize today’s technology in relation to the poem. I would suggest that he would probably be tempted to drop the page and utilize our recording technology to exist in its stead. Given that “A poem is energy transferred from where the poet got it, by way of the poem itself to, all the way over to, the reader” (289), I would believe that Olson would also be very interested in live as well as video recorded poetry readings, as well as podcasts.

The focus on sound, not rime and meter, but the true sound, that of syllable are the true beauty of the poem in conjunction with the utilization of breath. I am in full agreement with Olson and would suggest that the use of old fashion traditional form is as useful today as trying to commute by horse. While it may bring pleasure the individual riding, it is no longer practical. The processes is obscure, obstructive, and for those attempting to may progress in a world of automobiles and aircraft, antiproductive.

I liked Bernstein’s definition of the “Artifice” in relation to the poem, and how it creates an internal and external world of realism. It seems to me that to read a poem artificially, as Brenstein says, is a necessary part of the poetic reading of the poem. But this obviously would affect the real content of the poem. The relationship between the content of the poem and its meaning is quite a confusing one.

Bernstein also talks about the paraphrasing of the content (stanza) of the poem, which, if anyone interested in this kind of art, is completely intriguing in the way that the formal dynamics of the poem are the most identifiable features and the way they include the content of the poem itself. That is what I understood from what Bernstein wrote about the procedures of dialectical paraphrasing which must be revised in reading poems written in this manner.

I found out that Bernstein strongly highlights the value of absorption as a dynamic of reading, and the importance of considering its nature as a key element in a literary criticism, and how some ideologies in a poem entails various types of absorption (21). I found this article to have a unique argument, but I believe I will have to read it a number of times to get a better understanding.

I found the Burstein reading to be the most intriguing of the three due for tonight. At first it was difficult for me to grasp the concept of how antiabsorbative techniques can be used toward reader absorption. However, his explanation of how elements like footnotes in The Ancient Mariner allow the reader to understand the context and thus more fully absorb the poetry understood his argument. However, on page 44 Bernstein’s argument against Lanz and Forrest-Thomson that sound is not separate from meaning I do not necessarily agree with. As with most "always" statements regarding poetry I believe there are examples that discredit this statement. For example any of the sound poetry we've discussed would seem to support Lanz's argument that the "poetry is called upon to save the physical element of words and bring it to our attention in the name of art."

Secondly, I love the format of this article. I think Burstein accurately portrays some of the antiabsorbative techniques that he is describing by using them in the writing. I truly appreciated this style as the explanations of the techniques were a bit abstract. I found in interesting that I was so enthralled with this technique in the article while I found the first reading of the semester, Hollander's Rhyme's Reason so difficult. I think it is perhaps because in this case the technique really helped me gain a better understanding of the reading.

Lastly I’d like to say that I liked the Baraka reading, but I found his argument regarding the natural/unnatural a bit confusing. I understand that he values the artistic process over the artifact created however, when he states that “bad art” is strictly artificial “i.e. it seems as if it could not exist without being made by a man.” This statement really threw me off of his line of argument.

Opening up the Bernstein article for the first time, I had no idea what to expect. Dr. Sherwood recommended I present on the article, but honestly I thought he was just trying to mess with my head; make me present on an article he thought would annoy me or that I'd probably disagree with, then watch me squirm my way through it. I don't know why I thought this, but in any event, I was surprised to find that I did, in fact, like the article and thought Bernstein made a good number of points that were both valid and, more importantly, worth making.

Some people, in their responses, seem bothered by the format of the "article" (by which name I'll refer to the piece from here on out, though I think Bernstein would prefer "poem"), and while I won't go so far as to say I never found it perhaps slightly annoying, overall I think the format reinforces Bernstein's "argument" in a very creative, but also utterly appropriate fashion. That is, the piece could have been written as a standard article quite easily, and making it look that way would involve no more effort than alternately pressing the "end" and "delete" keys on one's keyboard about a thousand times (though if one did this, I think Bernstein would contend that the meaning of the piece would also change). There is a sentence structure within the piece, and, though it gets a bit scattershot at times, "sentences" are arranged more or less arranged themeatically. The line breaks (which Bernstein considers every bit as meaningful as the words), however, interfere with our ability to read it in this (comfortable) way, and get "absorbed" in the piece through the conventions we expect in traditional essays. They therefore may be termed what Bernstein calls "anti-absorptive," in the relative context of this piece. That is, if we had expected a poem by William Carlos Williams rather than a critical article, the line breaks wouldn't function in the same way. Ultimately, however, the goal of the article remains absorption. Bernstein has a point (a quite political one at that) that he hopes the reader will agree with (though absorption and impermeability are also relative to the reader as well, so the choice is still yours). By emphasizing anti-absorptive techniques in his artiface (and thereby the notion of all writing as precisely that), he hopes to make his article ultimately more engrossing and absorptive. In my case I think it worked. I definately "got" this article on a first reading much more lucid and enriched manner than I did, for example, Forrest-Thompson. I could keep writing on this, but after tonight I think you'll all be quite tired of hearing about why I like Bernstein, so, I'll leave this at that.

If anyone is waiting with baited breath for discussion questions about Bernstein from me, er, exhale. I have a good deal of other stuff I'd like to talk about in relation to the article/poem (artiface?) and, judging by the some of the responses people have already posted (as well as the length and general weirdness of the thing), I think plenty of questions will generate themselves.

-Matt

I am not sure that I completely get Olson’s theory of poetry. I think that the image and sound can be just as important as the syllable. Olson seems to argue that the syllable and line are the fundamental aspects of good poetry. His example of showing the roots of syllable was valid and made me realize how paying attention to the small parts of words can provide information about the poem that would usually go overlooked. This kind of method can be beneficial in that it give readers new insights and new avenues of exploring a poem. However, I think a more holistic approach to poetry provides readers with the best understanding of a poem. I also would like to know how is it possible for a poem to be a high energy-construct and an energy-discharge at the same time?

I thought that Imamu Baraka’s discussion of the artificial to be interesting. I tend to agree that natural is usually better and that making the art some kind of commodity destroys it to some degree. This made me think of the quilts and other crafts of Appalachia, which can be seen as a kind of functional art. On the other hand, why should there not be artificial art, or art that could not exist without being made by a man, as well. While I prefer natural art, I can see the benefits to both ways of approach art.

It might be possible to consider this essay about poetry a piece of prose poetry in itself. The structure of the poem as well as its contents point me in this direction. He personifies a line a poetry by describing it as something that breathes. His sentences contain interjections and start in the middle of an idea at time, which is very different from conventional prose. Capitalization is sometimes forgotten, word are italicized for emphasis, poetic pieces are included within the essay. While “proper” essay may use such techniques occasionally, it appears that this essay is meant to be read as a kind of poem. Since I was reading this essay for information, I found it difficult at times to follow what kind of argument Olsen was presenting. I found his writing style in this essay to be distracting and confusing at certain points.

Baraka’s article stresses the importance of knowing the process by which the final artistic product is forged. I can see that importance for both readers and writers to pay attention to the process of making a poem. Although, it is difficult for me to undo my mindset of focusing on the final product. I liked the example she gave of the academician and the aesthete as worshiping things, which makes them seem like Gods to themselves. This is a very Western way of thinking about art. However, I agree with the comment that someone made in their blog (I think Jay) which was a disagreement with Baraka’s claim that the imitator is pitiful. Imitation can be good and bad. It just depends on how the imitation is done and for what purposes.

I second Marlena’s comments about the Bernstein article. I also found the format somewhat annoying after a while. It was interesting and unique at first, but then it got old, and the article got long. He makes his points well and he definitely has some interesting things to say, but I found the format distracting on some level, though I also appreciated what he was trying to do.

I really enjoyed Baraka’s piece. He writes in a different, unique style. It’s as though he has a million thoughts in his head and he’s just getting them out as fast as he can. He crams a lot of stuff into a few short pages: artifacts, Western academics, art, music, process vs. product, etc. I especially liked the last little section on the black artists and their role. I thought that this is where the readers can really see Baraka’s passion. I really enjoyed the poetic and fervent style of this last section

Olson echoed some of Baraka’s points about focusing on process, not product, in poetry as well. He also helped me to think about the great significance of syllables and lines in poetry. In some ways Olson was speaking to readers like myself because I have to admit that I don’t often give much thought to syllables and lines, and I’d much rather pay attention to images and symbols which, quite frankly, interests me more. Also, I really liked the first part about kinetics and energy in relation to poetry because it definitely added something different from the typical articles that we’ve read.

Well. After first reading the 2 PIT selections, I thought to myself, "What?" So upon further review, I still basically think, "What?" But, I'm going to try and comment nonetheless.

Olson's discussion of the "fundamental elements of poetry--the syllable and the line" (288) was something I found interesting. However, I would disagree with Olson that the syllable is "the smallest particle of all". Rather, I'd say phonemes were the smallest. Changing just one sound changes the syllable, which in turn changes the word which changes the line. I liked his comments on the kinetics of poetry as well, that poetry is energy, which makes it seems like something more than words on a page or interpretation or performance.

I must admit that the Baraka article was quite difficult for me. My initial impression was just that of an angry, ranting black man. Perhaps that's the result of the second half of the excerpt--"the Black Artist must teach the White Eyes their deaths" (389). Can someone help me understand the connection to poetry in these excerpts by Baraka? I get a feeling that his thoughts on poetry are similar to his thoughts on art; "it is at the end, and a shadowy replica, of another operation, thought" (386).

Bernstein caught my attention with his question "What can a poem absorb?" from a compositional point of view (22). Certainly (and as he points out in rapid succession) vocabulary, syntax and reference. That he explained well. But that got me thinking of his definition of artifice and the title of his article, "Artifice of Absorbtion." If "Artifice" refers to the measure of a poem being resistant to being read as a sum of its devices and subject matters (9), then that opens me up to consider that a perhaps a poem can have contradictory meanings. I remember the last class's discussion on how different meanings can still be in some kind of harmony, but this new observation looks to me to disagree. I was thinking at first perhaps that one part of a hypothetical poem, maybe a reference, could say one thing but the syntax might hint at something else, even something that might be antonymic (please, God, let that be a word) to the reference. But, if one thinks of a strict contradiction, then the notion of some kind of sarcasm is introduced, and the two parts ot the poem become unified, in contradiction to the definition of "artifice" as I understand it. Neverless, I am left wondering if a poem can absorb two meanings that don't compliment or agree with each other in any way (refer to page 22, where Bernstein says exactly, "Poems can absorb contradictory logics, multiple tonalities, polyrhythms"). I'm not closed to this new idea, but I am having trouble with it.

Now that the heavy stuff is out of the way, allow me some fun with Baraka. When he says that "The imitator is the most pitiful phenomenon," I can't help but try to historicize that comment. Alot of music that is popular has origins in the black culture. And it's now just now when one can see affluent, suburban white kids driving around with rims and blasting bass-heavy rap music from half-blown trunk-speakers. In the 1960's, white groups like The Four Seasons and The Beach Boys were dabbling in soul and blues, which until then was primarily black music. They were becoming popular, but their black counterparts, who originated much of this new kind of music, were not getting credit or popularity. I think this fact was one of the reasons Baraka said what he said. He was reacting to a trend he saw that was not even acknowledging those who had a hand in the origins of those particular art forms. They just became popular and were performed by somebody else (whites).