Dear N, (Because we are not friends and it is presumptuous to name you so.)
You led me into thinking deeper about my art and for that, I thank you. My own work is less a saltation than a stumble-and-falter kind of dance. I cannot say exactly where I am in my writing, only that it is an ongoing struggle, as it should be. That is one assumption that I make that you question.
You sound so sure of yourself. You proclaim your work inviolable and you attack those who disparage it as well as those who transform it for their own purposes. You create a space that is safe for you, but not necessarily for your readers. You say it is your right. I envy you your certainty but at the heart of it, I believe that attitude will not serve your poetry, nor will it serve mine.
Certainty is the end of learning. For a poet, truth must be one more construct, and form--the myriad of forms available to us--mere tools in our kit. To have a recognizable style is to invite imitation, and even parody. Style can certainly be arrived at after years and years, but all serious artists seek to extend their own boundaries while you only seek to protect yourself.
I wrote a poem for you but it is too sharp to offer as a gift. In it, I laid out all my arguments against your stance, and then I look into the mirror. Why is it that your attitudes disturb me so? Maybe it is that I sometimes feel isolated in my art, and so I must ardently guard against producing stagnant work. I must also guard against my own tendency for self-protection and learn to be vulnerable as all authentic art must be. So your beliefs clashed with mine in the right/wrong way, producing something like a resonant cacophony.
But in the end, I step back--a task I excel at--and declare that this negativity, these infuriating discussions, this zealous and self-righteous work of yours--it does not serve my art. Instead, what will serve it is better reading, better living, and a commitment to regular writing. A broken poet also serves as a lesson. A warning to step out of my own circle, to question my assumptions, to avoid becoming dark and narrow. As well as a challenge to stand for my art.
M.O.
You led me into thinking deeper about my art and for that, I thank you. My own work is less a saltation than a stumble-and-falter kind of dance. I cannot say exactly where I am in my writing, only that it is an ongoing struggle, as it should be. That is one assumption that I make that you question.
You sound so sure of yourself. You proclaim your work inviolable and you attack those who disparage it as well as those who transform it for their own purposes. You create a space that is safe for you, but not necessarily for your readers. You say it is your right. I envy you your certainty but at the heart of it, I believe that attitude will not serve your poetry, nor will it serve mine.
Certainty is the end of learning. For a poet, truth must be one more construct, and form--the myriad of forms available to us--mere tools in our kit. To have a recognizable style is to invite imitation, and even parody. Style can certainly be arrived at after years and years, but all serious artists seek to extend their own boundaries while you only seek to protect yourself.
I wrote a poem for you but it is too sharp to offer as a gift. In it, I laid out all my arguments against your stance, and then I look into the mirror. Why is it that your attitudes disturb me so? Maybe it is that I sometimes feel isolated in my art, and so I must ardently guard against producing stagnant work. I must also guard against my own tendency for self-protection and learn to be vulnerable as all authentic art must be. So your beliefs clashed with mine in the right/wrong way, producing something like a resonant cacophony.
But in the end, I step back--a task I excel at--and declare that this negativity, these infuriating discussions, this zealous and self-righteous work of yours--it does not serve my art. Instead, what will serve it is better reading, better living, and a commitment to regular writing. A broken poet also serves as a lesson. A warning to step out of my own circle, to question my assumptions, to avoid becoming dark and narrow. As well as a challenge to stand for my art.
M.O.
