If I haven't said this before (and even if I have), David Biespiel's little book EVERY WRITER HAS A THOUSAND FACES is tremendously liberating on the question of what is/is not "better" or "good" poetry.
I’ve rewritten the heart out of pieces before. When I just can’t stop tinkering. I have a poem right now that I keep rewriting. There’s something lovely about sharing the raw intention of a poem. And your poems are so lovely. All of them.
Thank you, dear! And I can definitely relate to the problem of tinkering-to-death. I’ve been there before, too. I know a woman who refers to them as “zombie poems.”
“Balancing dualities and knowing that disparate points are simultaneously right and true is a process for me” - for me, too! On the one hand, I do want to write “better” poems, but I mean this in a very subjective way, measured against my own evolving sense of truth and goodness and beauty. Craft lessons and workshopping are helpful. But for every hour I put into those, I need whole days of pouring myself as tenderly as I can into life, letting it carry me into a truer aliveness/love/way of being. I don’t want to shun craft and just go full woo in my approach to poetry. But I think for me, craft has to be the icing on the cake, not the other way around.
Thank you, Kim! It means so much that you’re sharing that with me. This whole writing out loud thing can create some interesting inner tangles, but just acknowledging them and hearing them acknowledged and understood works some sort of alchemy.
Because I have little interest in publishing another book, I've felt stifled by the intense pressure to move toward that goal; so incorporating craft lessons and skills development into my work without denying myself the freedom to work has been a challenge. Balancing dualities and knowing that disparate points are simultaneously right and true is a process for me. Virtual community with you aids that process.
Your poem is beautiful, friend! These lines provoked a spontaneous exclamation of delight as I read them:
"Aialik cracked, heaved,
calved cosmologies
into the waiting bay."
In thinking about your curiosities re: creative choices/intentions, I think I write and share mostly to save my own life, in a sense. For so many years, I shut down my own feelings, imagination and, ultimately, "voice." So there is the pressure of all that pent-up life force that demands to be shared and witnessed now, lest I should explode in some deep-seated place of isolation. In other words, it's mostly an inside job, although the witnessing also feels important. I appreciate Substack as a vehicle for me to get things up and out. I appreciate you sharing all you do, too! 💞
I hear playfulness, catharsis, and joy in your process, Lisa. There's a warm invitation that makes me want to pick up a pen! Poems can't write themselves. First we have to have the courage (the heart!) to begin. I see nothing wrong with "working with the garage door open" as they say. That seems very warm and hospitable. I do also appreciate a fine, polished poem and the craft that goes into making one. What is it that makes a poem seem alive? That's the secret sauce I guess. I, too, tripped on the word "Better" because it is an artificial standard. A poem is alive when it surprises us, or stops us in our tracks with its beauty, or truth, or humor, or tenderness, or...
I love aliveness as the magic and metric for which to aim, Ann! I think the polishing of a poem can hone its aliveness, distilling the poem down to what beats with the truest pulse. But I also love the chaos and heart and detours that are part of so many first drafts. Thank you for your generous reflections here! 💚
Yes, I'm with you. I'd rather share heartfelt words with friends than wait for some notion of perfection to assert itself. Writing for posterity stifles connection with people here and now. When I send off a poem and receive a reply, I have achieved what I set out to achieve.
I suspect that a lot of the people who write to save their own lives end up saving others with their words, as well. Thank you for sharing this, friend! I had someone suggest to me the other day (with the best of intentions) that I should outsource my writing to AI, which gave me a chuckle . . . clearly, they didn’t get what this is about for me . . . which is to say, being alive to my life. Somehow I don’t think Claude or Walter can do that for me. Nor would I want them to.
If I haven't said this before (and even if I have), David Biespiel's little book EVERY WRITER HAS A THOUSAND FACES is tremendously liberating on the question of what is/is not "better" or "good" poetry.
Thank you so much for the tip! I’ll go look for the book.
I’ve rewritten the heart out of pieces before. When I just can’t stop tinkering. I have a poem right now that I keep rewriting. There’s something lovely about sharing the raw intention of a poem. And your poems are so lovely. All of them.
Thank you, dear! And I can definitely relate to the problem of tinkering-to-death. I’ve been there before, too. I know a woman who refers to them as “zombie poems.”
That’s a great name!
Both your prose and your poem met me where I needed to be today, Lisa. Your honesty and open-hearted approach are so appreciated.
“Balancing dualities and knowing that disparate points are simultaneously right and true is a process for me” - for me, too! On the one hand, I do want to write “better” poems, but I mean this in a very subjective way, measured against my own evolving sense of truth and goodness and beauty. Craft lessons and workshopping are helpful. But for every hour I put into those, I need whole days of pouring myself as tenderly as I can into life, letting it carry me into a truer aliveness/love/way of being. I don’t want to shun craft and just go full woo in my approach to poetry. But I think for me, craft has to be the icing on the cake, not the other way around.
Thank you, Kim! It means so much that you’re sharing that with me. This whole writing out loud thing can create some interesting inner tangles, but just acknowledging them and hearing them acknowledged and understood works some sort of alchemy.
Because I have little interest in publishing another book, I've felt stifled by the intense pressure to move toward that goal; so incorporating craft lessons and skills development into my work without denying myself the freedom to work has been a challenge. Balancing dualities and knowing that disparate points are simultaneously right and true is a process for me. Virtual community with you aids that process.
Your poem is beautiful, friend! These lines provoked a spontaneous exclamation of delight as I read them:
"Aialik cracked, heaved,
calved cosmologies
into the waiting bay."
In thinking about your curiosities re: creative choices/intentions, I think I write and share mostly to save my own life, in a sense. For so many years, I shut down my own feelings, imagination and, ultimately, "voice." So there is the pressure of all that pent-up life force that demands to be shared and witnessed now, lest I should explode in some deep-seated place of isolation. In other words, it's mostly an inside job, although the witnessing also feels important. I appreciate Substack as a vehicle for me to get things up and out. I appreciate you sharing all you do, too! 💞
I hear playfulness, catharsis, and joy in your process, Lisa. There's a warm invitation that makes me want to pick up a pen! Poems can't write themselves. First we have to have the courage (the heart!) to begin. I see nothing wrong with "working with the garage door open" as they say. That seems very warm and hospitable. I do also appreciate a fine, polished poem and the craft that goes into making one. What is it that makes a poem seem alive? That's the secret sauce I guess. I, too, tripped on the word "Better" because it is an artificial standard. A poem is alive when it surprises us, or stops us in our tracks with its beauty, or truth, or humor, or tenderness, or...
I love aliveness as the magic and metric for which to aim, Ann! I think the polishing of a poem can hone its aliveness, distilling the poem down to what beats with the truest pulse. But I also love the chaos and heart and detours that are part of so many first drafts. Thank you for your generous reflections here! 💚
Beautiful.
Thank you so much, MK!
Yes, I'm with you. I'd rather share heartfelt words with friends than wait for some notion of perfection to assert itself. Writing for posterity stifles connection with people here and now. When I send off a poem and receive a reply, I have achieved what I set out to achieve.
I love this, Jack. It occurs to me that poetry is just a particular way of being in conversation with one another.
Very nice - I could have been there too!
Thank you, Mark!
I suspect that a lot of the people who write to save their own lives end up saving others with their words, as well. Thank you for sharing this, friend! I had someone suggest to me the other day (with the best of intentions) that I should outsource my writing to AI, which gave me a chuckle . . . clearly, they didn’t get what this is about for me . . . which is to say, being alive to my life. Somehow I don’t think Claude or Walter can do that for me. Nor would I want them to.