Sunday, December 25, 2011

What Comes with Silence

I’m not sure if was the tick of the fan,

Making the sound of a rattler

Next to my bed, or my own voice

Hovering over my body, euphoric and listening

To what had to be said. Are you there?

It’s midnight and I’m awake,

Leafing through the books of poetry I left

Out for you. I find the ribbons

That wrapped around 1936,

A book of Victorian poetry

I gave you only a week ago. And, so, I wait

On the deck outside with a fervent solitude

Oblivious to an end or beginning,

Only knowing of the moon, and how

It has shifted its weight across the sky.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Changed

Sometimes we wait for something and we’re not sure what it is, but we know in the center of our soul that we must believe, have blind faith, pursue on for the sake of love, especially when it seems like years have turned into decades, because sometimes they do…but truth takes time and the real story needs a chance to surface.

Then you graduate from a place you would be a stranger, if you chose to go back.

Friday, October 14, 2011

Collective Confessions on Love & Flight

Recently, I came across a final exam paper for the poetry theory class I had taken in graduate school, titled, "Confirmation of the Uncertainties." Walking on the treadmill in the garage, I came across a reference from Robert Bly who once said that in order to write good poetry we have to be able to shift inward and outward. Years later, long after the poetry theory final paper, I have to ask myself, where are you, Pilar? Someone mentioned to me, only today, that I could potentially be in a holding pattern. I took it literal. I saw the bird. It's possible she's simply taking a break; everything has become about so much of nothing, like distance and speed; that's not where the heart of life lies. I think she's learning the patterns of wind, again. When we grow, we stay within the reach of our most familiar branch.

I wrote halfway through the paper: "I've had to condition myself to sit in the presence of being uncomfortable in order to reach a hint towards my pleading confirmation that lends itself towards even a halfway conclusions that I absorb daily." I go on to say, "I can't deny this, I believe poetry is often times a measure in which we weigh out the trials and celebrations of life. Poetry becomes the confirmation of uncertainties we must attain to." It's this shift, the translation of both worlds, the spoken and the written and hearing the voices, or becoming the voice, whether big or small.

Perhaps poets move through life in measure. The poet, Muriel Rukeyser, said in her book, "The Life of Poetry: Form, Line Tension," said "exchange is creation." Poetry is merely an exchange for one thing for the next. The voice for longing, the sigh of time, the heartbeat of desire. And if human energy was transferred (or transpired) from the poet to the reader, then how about for the person the poem was intended for? Do all these strands weave together across the skies in some cosmic fashion that allows an exchange occur, that would have otherwise been impossible, say due to distance between the two people?

It's true, most people seek understanding and community to some degree or another. I seek truth, and poetry has been my primary tool in capturing the unsaid. Truth does more than set one free, it's the most essential component towards entering (and staying on) the path of living an authentic life. An authentic life..it's been the topic of conversation all week. The opposite of fear is trust. In order to overcome fear, you don't try and understand fear, you simply hang onto to trust. Trust and authenticity come from the same bloodline. They simply couldn't exist without the other. This is where poetry can save the soul. If you're not writing it, then read it. Keep the heart soft. Stay vulnerable. Never pass up an opportunity to love. Writing new poetry can be distilled from collective experiences, our memory.

Just like love, poetry is a conversation of the senses.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Estranged

It’s the stories

Someone had to write,

The scars, and how they stretch

Between us, and we may have

Missed it,

The moments

For a chance,

The unlived narratives,

You know…the ones

Neatly placed by God,

The ones we saw all along

From our corner eyes?

Instead, we say, family?

And, I think of my father,

I am nine. I remember her,

She’s systematic, too,

Like the way father separates us

From the boat,

And how we drift,

Until we become undone

From the dock,

Like my words,

Pools of scribbles,

Never spoken, traveling

Between two oceans, the poetics.

My sister, four, is next to me.

It’s the last time we’re equals, shipmates

From the same wreck.

We wear swimsuits, and

Choose our stories,

Losing one another

After being taken captive by the wild.

Monday, February 21, 2011

In the Way of Poetic Craft: Marilyn Chin & W.S. Merwin


*This interview was conducted in 2005. I had the honor of meeting and interviewing Marilyn Chin when she came as a guest speaker to Fresno, California. -- Pilar Graham


In the Way of Poetic Craft: Marilyn Chin & W.S. Merwin

There are two poets whose craft in poetry stand out for me: Marilyn China and W.S. Merwin. Their approach towards their work is inherently different. Chin once said, “today’s poets have become too monolithic, static.” Chin also has stated that she speaks for the minority. Merwin, when a young poet visited Ezra Pound, who advised him to “read the seeds, not the twigs, of poetry” (Merwin, 810). Perhaps the poet’s experience can affect the manner in which craft in a poem takes.

Chin admitted that her main goal in writing poetry is to stir up the muse. She believes that form and content should work together. In speaking for the minority, Chin has also said that she had made several references to African-American aesthetics, since they have suffered in history, as did the Chinese American. Yet, Chin’s subject matter has included: God, the devil, the death of Jews, racism, Hitler; people and deities often become the metaphors in her poetry.

Chin pays tribute to the African-American experience with this poem where she has incorporated lyrical blues in her poem Blues on Yellow (#2) (Chin; Rhapsody, 67):

Twilight casts a blue pall on the green grass

The moon hangs herself on the sticky date palm near the garage

Song birds assault a bare jacaranda, then boogy toward Arizona

They are few this year than last

Chin’s ability to break away from traditional poetic structures creates a more powerful voice behind her poems. Although her poems are technically structured on a sophisticated level, there is a certain degree of experimentalism and unpredictability that reflects the nature or behavior of the emotion of anger. I believe it is the anger, which she uses sometimes as a collective voice, or the voice of other, that she gains a sense of freedom within the poetic structure, thus creating new avenues of expression.

One variation of her stylistic features can be found in the poem, Where We Live Now (Vol. 3, #4) (Chin; Rhapsody, 63):

When / my / mother / painted / bamboo /

She / saw / bamboo / and / not / herself /

When I asked Chin what the forward slashes represented in this poem she said they represented bamboo. What stands out with Chin’s work is her ability to take advantage of the page and position them where she sees fit. Furthermore, her creative positioning creates white space around her poems, which create an even more dramatic effect. Here is only one of several examples where Chin takes advantage where she positions the words on the page and changing the font size to create a disappearing or softening affect; shown again here in her poem, Where We Live Now (Vol. 3, #4) (Chin; Rhapsody, 63):

zenfully

gunrack rattling

blue void

gun rack

blue

void

Chin uses a combination of segmentation, changing the size and appearance of the fonts, places the words around the page at her free will. Often times Chin is attempting to make her point, not only through the subject matter in the poem, but how it appears visually. In most cases, I find Chin’s approach liberating while other times it can be a distraction. I believe the content in Chin’s poems are rich enough to stand on their own without manipulating their visual appearance or the structure of the poem, which in some cases work against the subject matter in the poems. Nonetheless, I find Chin’s work to be compelling and inviting.

Chin is very tactful in her word choice, which is an instrument in the craft of poetry. She best illustrates it here in her poem, Chinese Quatrains (The Woman in Tomb 44) (Chin; Rhapsody, 24). Here is speaks about the relationship between her mother and father, and the mother’s hysterectomy:

The worm has entered the ear

And out the nose of my father

Cleaned the pelvis of my mother

And ringed around her fingerbone

Other approaches to Chin’s craft are tied to her subject matter, thus in the case of bringing in traditional Chinese beliefs, which are commonly weaved into her poems. One example of this is in the poem, Chinese Quatrains (The Woman in Tomb 44) (Chin; Rhapsody, 26) this is the last stanza:

Discs of jade for her eyelids

A lozenge of pearl for her throat

Lapis and kudzu in her nostrils

They will rob her again and again

In this poem, Chin does not use any punctuation and does this in several other poems. This may be a style derived from E.E. Cummings, but today in contemporary poetry it is frowned upon as a gimmick and the proper punctuation and grammatical rules are instead encouraged. In any case, I don’t feel that the lack of punctuation hurts the poem and still find it to be one of her stronger pieces.

Chin’s work is revolutionary in several aspects: she honors the fundamental ethics of creativity and the production of art. Chin can be found, time and time again, surrendering, as she becomes the vessel in which the art is funneled. Surrendering to her “muse” as she says, fuels the way she produces poetry, masters her craft. Chin is the mouthpiece for what should have been said, moments that would have otherwise been lost between two worlds (East and West). She said that she is even aware that the reader’s eye moves from left to right, left to right. She takes notes of the tiny details that might be a more comprehensive approach in reaching her audience.

W.S. Merwin is the author of more than fifty books of poetry and translations. To study the craft of Merwin would account for several volumes to bring to light his craft techniques, even how his writing has changed through the decades. Eventually in Merwin’s poetic career he took measures to avoid the formal or traditional conventions to move towards a ‘spoken language’. In the preface—which Merwin wrote—in the book The Second of Four Books of Poems, he says: “From the beginning they are less obviously formal—it might be more to the point to say that whatever may provide their form is less apparent. By the end of the poems in The Moving Target [1963] I had relinquished punctuation along with several other structural conventions, a move that evolved from my growing sense that punctuation alluded to and assumed an allegiance to the rational protocol of written language, and of prose in particular. I had come to feel that it stapled the poems to the page. Whereas I wanted the poems to evoke the spoken language, and wanted the hearing of them to be essential to taking them in” (Merwin, Preface I).

By 1960’s Merwin was ready to change his style, and when The Moving Target published in 1963 he had abandoned the formalities of his previous poet works; thus, changing the style of his craft. When The Lice appeared in 1967 Merwin’s tone and content had been changed due to a historical context of what was happening around him: the new world—full of contradictions in the sixties, war, changes, which Merwin believes still haunts many. As for poetry, Merwin says, “Poems are written in moments of history, and their circumstances bear upon their language and tone and subject and feeling whether the authors are conscious of that happening, or not, but it is hard to conceive of a poem being written only out of historic occasion” (Merwin; Preface 2). In knowing this, how does it affect Merwin’s craft? And what stands Merwin out from other predecessors?

To fully understand how Merwin uses craft we must turn to his poetry. Much of Merwin’s poetry are segmented in nature, including one-line stanzas, the absence of punctuation, and extremely short poems, such in the case with his poem, Sanvonarola that is only two lines, to poems that go on for pages. Is this considered a craft in poetry? Yes. Merwin, for I believe, is very conscious of his word choice; therefore, I cannot be swayed into thinking if the poem is only two lines that it doesn’t bear the weight of one that is twenty lines.

One of the several things that stand out in Merwin’s work is his ability to personify the natural world around him. He brings simple things in the every day and adds a slant of emotion. For example, in his poem, December Night (Merwin, 108) he says:

The cold slope is standing in darkness

But the south of the trees is dry to the touch

Merwin brings the cold slope to life by letting the reader know it’s standing in darkness. Another example of where he does this in the poem, December Among the Vanished (Merwin, 109):

The old snow gets up and moves taking its

Birds with it

Another facet of craft with Merwin is his naturalness in line breaks and when to make the next line into a new stanza, all in a way that simply flows. This poem, like many, does not contain punctuation, which is not my personal preference; yet, I didn’t feel it hinder the poem or the meaning behind the poem. In his poem, Habits (Merwin, 242) the line breaks don’t feel forced and move with Merwin’s voice and rhythm:

Even in the middle of the night

they go on handing me around

but it’s dark and they drop more of me

and for longer

then they hang onto my memory

thinking its theirs

even when I’m asleep they take

one or two of my eyes for their sockets

and look around believing

that the place is home

when I wake and can feel the black lungs

flying deeper into the century

carrying me

even then they borrow

most of my tongues to tell me

that they’re me

and lend me most of my ears to hear them

Other poems by Merwin are heavily segmented. Merwin uses numbers and lines between each stanza to make it clearly separated. Other styles in craft include repetition and center justifying a poem. What I find interesting is that Merwin gets away with it each time, whereas contemporary poets in college are often discouraged to stay away from manipulating the format of their poem. Furthermore, if today’s poets do choose to do to take on unconventional methods in their poetry (no punctuation, font size and positioning on the page) they are often warned that it must add to the poem, not distract the reader and/or the poem. I agree with this.

When I think about Merwin’s strongest aspect in his craft I believe it to be his word choice. The fat, so to speak, is trimmed from his poems leaving them rich with meaning. Take a look at the first line of the poem and representing itself as a one-line stanza, Before That (Merwin, 56):

It was never there and already it’s vanishing

Both W.S. Merwin and Marilyn Chin display not only bold, but also sophisticated approaches in their poetry. Both use the page like a blank canvas in which to paint their words. Neither of them appear to be hindered by the possibilities of the power of the word, metaphors, similes, or appearance/format of their poems. For me, observing Merwin and Chin’s craft at a closer perspective offers encouragement to me as a poet to branch out. One example is to follow some of Merwin’s techniques of one-line stanzas, or force me to consider the word choice, or language, in my poems. The greatest gift I could receive in continuing to study their work is to turn to my own writing and ask myself, how could I make this a better poem?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Works Cited

Chin, Marilyn. CSU Fresno – Visiting Writer Series; Q&A. 24. Feb. 2005

Chin, Marilyn. Email to the author, 22, Mar. 2005

Chin, Marilyn. Rhapsody In Plain Yellow. WW Norton: New York, 2002

Chua, C.L. Rhapsody In Plain Yellow. Magill’s Literary Annual (2003): 670-671; 668-669

Gioia, David, David Manson, and Meg Schoerke. Twentieth-Century American Poetry. McGraw

Hill: New York, 2004

Graham, Pilar. Personal Interview: Marilyn Chin. 1. Feb. 2005

Merwin, W.S. The Second of Four Books of Poems. Copper Canyon Press: Washington