More Does Poetry Matter Nonsense

I assume that Anis Shivani was just trying to stir up trouble by his HuffPo post “What is the State of American Poetry.” In it, he questions if poetry in the US has reached a dead end. To answer that daft question he rounded up a handful of reasonably prominent poets and asked for their opinion.  Shivani’s post is a form of link bait as he knows other bloggers will not be able to resist throwing their gauntlets into the ring. So maybe he’s succeeded with me, if only because I think this argument will lead to predictable and boring results. One side will argue that poetry went stagnant after whatever generation they align themselves with, while the other side will claim this is be best time ever for poetry.  Yup. Heard this before.

Here’s a list of the poets who were invited to the fray:  Campbell McGrath, Kevin Prufer, Akilah Oliver, Elaine Equi, Chad Prevost, Cathryn Hankla, Martha Rhodes, Sidney Wade, Ben Lerner, Steve Healey, Alfred Corn, Cynthia Cruz, Julie Carr, Wayne Miller, Anna Rabinowitz, Maxine Chernoff, Claudia Keelan, Rebecca Seiferle, Hadara Bar-Nadav, Shelley Puhak, Raymond McDaniel, Jane Satterfield, Becca Klaver, and Catherine Wagner.

The arguments are being strung out in a series of posts. First up was Claton Eshleman, who seems to think most poets under 60 are boring without offering any evidence to back up his derision. He wants would-be poets to pack up and head abroad and take up translating or criticism.

Next, Annie Finch writes that poetry is at a dead end because modernism pulled it so far away from traditional form and craft that, well, traditional form and craft is seen as a fringe element. OK. Or maybe she’s just saying she doesn’t like a lot of contemporary poetry. Well neither do I (which I’ll go into in more detail in my review of The Best American Poetry 2010 later this week). But that doesn’t mean poetry is at a dead end. It just means she’s fed up with some of the trends.  Also, she makes a big plug for her own writing program.

Here’s a bit of her take on the scene:

It worries me that so little published mainstream poetry is intended to be heard by its readers. As a result, people who encounter a poem on the page tend to think it exists on the page–they don’t hear its patterns resonating aloud inside them. Since repeating language patterns are the core distinguishing feature that demarcates poetry as a genre from any other form of language, there’s a lot at stake.

Finally, Ron Silliman, in recognizing that a genere that claims tens of thousands of active practitioners can’t be dead, asks what I think are more important questions. One being, if everyone and his mother is a poet, than how do you measure success—or how do you distinguish yourself from the rest?

His advice to young poets:

You need to both understand the full field & history of writing and to recognize that we are in the very first moments of whatever the next age in history will be, and that the poetry of the future cannot simply be the past dragged on by habit.

Good advice. And he didn’t mention the School of Quietude even once.

The last poet included in Shivani’s survey is Daniella Pafunda, who overall seems to favor the state of American poetry except for the overabundance of millipedes and the lack of more non white, straight, males in the mix. Depends on where you look I think, but if she’s referring to the top tiers of popular academy po-biz, then yes, she’s got a good point.

Anyway, I’m a bit sick of this question, especially when the question seems to really miss the point. Poetry isn’t a career path. Poetry isn’t a competitive sport. Poetry matters simply because it does. That’s about it. Nothing more.

I was watching the show Hoarders last night and one of the subjects described a feeling of pain and bursting if she didn’t rescue every bit of discarded crap she picked up at yard sales and trash cans. She said she couldn’t stop herself from picking things up and giving them a home. I know that feeling, and it’s not because I’m a pack rat. Anyone who takes their poetry writing seriously knows that aside from some rare, brief and fleeting chances at recognition, cash or career, poetry is something you do for yourself because you’re happier when you’re doing it.

Do I want readers? Hell yes, but getting them is really just a matter of effort (I got you to read this). There are open readings happening every night of the year. Journals, both print and magical, for nearly every sort of poet. And if that fails, I’ve got family that I can abuse with my poems. But that still misses the point. Like fishing or camping—poetry is a kind of work we do because we like the experience. We like what we find when we dig there or we feel badly about ourselves if we ignore the urge too long.

Update: I know a lot of people are reading this, so please add your comments. Am I justified at being annoyed by the nature of Shivani’s questions or not? Did poetry tank 20, 40, 100 … years ago? Is the the web a trash heap of poetry or a Trader Joe’s of delight?

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What’s Up With Silliman’s Blog?

First, let me make this clear. I read Ron Silliman’s blog almost daily. I very much appreciate the attention he gives to it, the exposure he gives to poets he admires and the issues he raises–not to mention to controversies he sometimes contributes to. His poetry blog is probably one of the most popular in today’s scene. He’s especially an enthusiastic proponent of LANGUAGE poets and other experimental ilk.

Also, I often disagree with him. In particular I disagree with what I feel is his unnecessary, polarizing and self-serving attacks on the mythological group of poets he calls the School of Quietude. But he’s welcome to his opinions, and he argues his opinions fairly and with a deserved sense of authority. However, the comments section of his blog can be considerably less equitable.

Jessica Smith, over at looktouchblog, was so disturbed by the warring going on at Silliman’s that, she says, it turned her off poetry completely. Overreaction? Thin-skinned? I think not. The Internet tends to reject any sort of policing, and anonymous sometimes bring out the ugly in people. “Comment boxes are more often frequented by men, and they’re usually angry, aggressive men looking for an argument,” she writes. The experience of having her book reviewed by Silliman, and than attacked by readers in the comment section so impacted her that she considers turning away from poetry.  She writes “If you succeed at all, even in one person’s eyes, you’ve unwittingly set yourself up as an object of cruelty. It’s like the cyber-bullying one reads about high schoolers enacting upon each other, but in the case of poetry and Silliman’s blog specifically, the bullies are grown people who, through some lack of ability to empathize, will lash out at anyone who receives attention they think they themselves should be getting.”

I didn’t read the comments on her review (they’ve since been removed), and can’t really imagine how a poetry book review could possibly prompt the kind of bullying she describes, but her experience has had an effect.

Silliman responds on his own blog: “Recognizing this leaves me with few options. I could shut up, although I actually don’t think that’s the goal of most of the comment harpies…” He concludes that his best option to stop whatever seems to be going on over there is to turn off the blog comments. That’s it folks. Take your anger somewhere else.

So I wonder, is this a loss for the rest of us? I think so, but I recognize his right, and his need, to do so. I rarely checked out the comments, and when I did I’d scan past the wackos to get to the more intelligently argued comments. I’m reminded of the anonymous comment section of my local town paper where petty people will rant about minor injustices or complain about the condition of their neighbor’s lawn without fear of honestly confronting anyone. The Web editor of that newspaper, a friend of mine, has argued that cutting them off, or taking away the anonymity, would also cut out much of the legitimately reasoned posts along with the wackos. Also, the wackos are good for traffic.

I get both sides, but what amazes me more is that poetry contains such aggressively-vocal wackos. I understand wackos on the sports blogs or the political blogs, but poetry? Really? Why?