Thursday, February 03, 2011


i'm not sure how much poetry requires sense to make sense. for some poets, not a bit. for others, it reads almost like prose, yet it is not prose. where is the line of demarcation?

sometimes there are images and ideas that i've given clues to a reader within my diction. if a particular reader misses those clues, do i opt to alter the poem for that reader? usually no. even when i have a profoundly brilliant reader whom i want to get it, i refuse to put the cookies on the bottom shelf. i'm not that kind of writer.

so, when something is as clear as i'm willing to make it, it must ride. there are questions to be unanswered in the best poetry. that is what makes you come back for more.

i get that i'm supposed to want to be accessible, and believe me, i have opened many more doors than i had open before. but i can't just go dump my load in the marketplace void of my particular style. i can't.

it's the same dilemma that presents itself each time i go for publication. which is why i'm happy not to be traditionally published. perhaps i'm shortchanging myself by taking this perspective, but i've tried to alter it to no avail.

and when i write like this, and say things the way i say them, some readers comment,
i'm off put by thus and such

but that is my voice. if i change it in the context of the one poem you are viewing, it leaves a blank spot in my voice a studder in my diction that is not inherently mine.

so when kokopelli doesn't make actual sense, i'm cool with that, really, kokopelli doesn't have to make sense for me to accept his presence in my poem. it's about more than one small mind or even one large mind. it's about a story, an image, an idea. there are those who would get it, even my mention of him here is ripe with meaning. but not to all.

i do not write for all. that is what i've come to understand. to accept.

so i will step away from it for a moment because the fire is burning me. and try to cool. come back to it when i'm less impassioned about my vision, my voice. but that will never be. so i'll just go away for as long as i can, then return and push ahead. my conscience has proven it will not let me cave. i'm grateful for that force of strength i do not know from where it comes. but i welcome it. in so many things i have let my vision go, my dream die. but not this. never this. this is my soul expression. if it were less, perhaps i would give it up. but i can't.

and so, i get this, craft matters lecture when i say this kind of thing. but i'm not saying it doesn't. i'm saying, i'm choosing to craft my poems with soul. that is not to say anyone else's poems are void of soul, i do not have an opinion of other's poems unless they solicit it. but for me, for this moment, for theses poems, they are my breath, my sound, my being. and i will not let them become less than they are.

will this be a wise strategy for completing my mfa? well, of course not. but sometimes wisdom must be gained by fighting for something unknown, unexperienced. i just have to let others in and explain a few things. things i've made plain in my diction but apparently too subtly, so i will go there, i will trust that the wisdom of my prof will prevail and that our exchange of respect and willingness will be fruitful. however that is to occur.

the time of revision is at hand. there are some poems i had thought to exclude from this manuscript, two favorites of mine, reminiscent of a dream long passed, but she insists i include them. and so i will.

i cut them because i kept saying,
i've already written that book, i won't do it again.

it's time for the next book. though these poems came after the last book and technically haven't been published yet. my issue is, i don't want the dominant he if the poem, the true stallion confused with the band stallion. how to make this clear.

it appears horses and creatures will continue to have a prominent place in my work.

and now, to invoke the dreamweaver.

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