My regular readers will know that I rarely talk about my poems, or poetics
— I just post the poems and move on. Last night, in my
usual waiting- for- sleep place, I began to prepare a post about The Ledge,
and my surprise at its reception; I woke this morning to find that an anonymous and
(I think) deliberately illiterate troll had found that very poem (and
that spammers had found my GMail address.) So, lots to talk about. But first things first:
- the basement tapes is a new audio blog, an open-mic space for poets, set up by ray sweatman. I’ve posted one poem there, and will be posting more; if you would like to participate (and please do!) email ray. Go have a listen.
Now, about The Ledge:
- I may be the worst judge of my own work. I don’t understand why
people like this poem so much. I posted it only because I discovered it
had been bookmarked on del.icio.us (of course, I can’t find it again; I find searching on del.icio.us extremely non-intuitive and frustrating.) - I share the troll’s doubts here, if not his vernacular: yea but is it apome . . . why u callin that a verse? Well,
I could argue that it rhymes (slant rhyme, admittedly.) At one point
it was, technically, a sonnet, but a less successful poem. Revisions
brought it to this, which I consider a still-too-prosaic poem. But good
question: what makes it a poem, rather than a story in lines? - The story elicited a very strong reaction from me, which is why the
memory of that afternoon is so clear in my mind (this is one of those
yes- it- really- happened poems.) Though others have expressed anger
about it, I am glad that my friend left out the reassuring end; as he
told it, it was a koan-ic moment for me — many things came together in a way that is impossible for me to articulate. Those things included, as Anne points out, faith, friendship, and letting go — and how one must let go in order to be caught. - Troll says jes a bunch of emotional blather? Well, this is
a rare criticism of my work, so rare that I think I’ll ignore it this
time — especially since this is about as understated a poem as I can
manage. Perhaps even too understated?
And about Watermark, and me, and Troll:
- Mr. Troll (I am going to reveal my sexism, and assume this is a man, since, in my experience, it is
usually men who use this kind of aggressive, patronizing, language — especially with women) says: change
myy mind after reading yer things and yer boring repasted reviews like
you is selling the obvious gueiness of your site . come on sis, do it.
cut the cats and the slop! i am the onle one beeing reel honest to ya — - Someone is sure to remind me Don’t Feed the Trolls, with which I generally agree — I am even asking myself why I am bothering with this. I do feel awkward about the Kind Words
section of the sidebar, and remind myself that women often feel awkward
about promoting themselves and their work. I could write a lot about
this, but I’m tired.
About Cats:
- cut the cats!! Heh. I refer you to the tagline of this site. This is not a poem site, or a poetry site — this is A Poet’s Notebook. Troll seems to have bought the sad belief that poets must be focused and serious and poetic
at all times. My life may have become limited by circumstance, but I do
still have one, and it includes cats, and frivolity, and silliness, and
other non-poetic trivialities. Poets without lives don’t have poems.
You fool. - And — this Sunday’s Carnival of the Cats will be here at Watermark.
All cats welcomed — serious cats, poetic cats, frivolous cats, silly
cats — get your entries in! A bit early, if you can — that non-poetic
life intrudes and I must be elsewhere at 5:00 pm, so the Carnival will
be posted a bit earlier than usual. Late entries will be added the next
day.
I suppose I could consider it progress that the Trolls have found me?
Leave a Reply