Earl Gray

Earl Gray
"You can argue with me but, in the end, you'll have to face that fact that you're arguing with a squirrel." - Earl Gray
Showing posts with label verse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label verse. Show all posts

Thursday, December 5, 2024

The Outerview Series: Part X - Production

      We've written and edited our best verse and, poetry being a mode of speech, not writing, we now want to find listeners.

      "Why not readers?"

       Poetry doesn't attract a lot of those.  Given the state of the art, there isn't nearly enough poetry to fill even one page of text in a periodical, let alone dozens in the average journal.  What readership there might be amounts to contributors hoping to divine the editor's tastes and interests.

     "But people did used to read poetry, right?"

      Folks used to read poetry for two reasons:  To find something to perform for their friends and family or to analyze why people enjoyed hearing that particular verse.  At the very least, when people read poetry they were able to do so imagining how it would sound--something they could well envision because they listened to so much verse during their lives.

     "So if we want people to read our poetry we need to recite it to them?"

      Perform it for them, yes.  But more directly, we want them to hear and appreciate our speech.  Or rhymes, if you wish.


 Enactments and Narrations.

      An enactment involves one or more presenters performing a poem on camera, with or without action.  Your laptop camera or your telephone might suffice.  If you have the cash, consider getting a tripod (photo at top, often under $20, usually  with a remote start button) and, for sound better than a telephone call, a microphone ($6 and up).  A popular choice is the Hollyland M2 (a little over $100, about the size and shape of a quarter).

      The performers need to look and sound as if they are making it up as they go along.  Try to avoid looking up and to the right;  this makes it seem like the speaker is trying to recall lines.

      Enunciate clearly.  Textual subtitles are a good idea if hoping to attract non-anglophone audiences.  

      It is a good idea to record each stanza or strophe separately, perhaps from different angles.  This is particularly effective when there is a change in perspective or tone, as at a sonnet's volta.

      Insofar as lighting is concerned, position the light facing the actor(s) from two different angles [in order to avoid shadows].  A room's ceiling light can be augmented by a lamp on the floor.



      If you are too shy to appear on camera record your voice and do a slide show with still photographs in the foreground.  Networking with a photographer would be a good plan.  For this purpose a wired microphone will do, often providing better audio than a similarly priced wireless model.

      Speak with natural inflection.  Don't give up until you are satisfied with what you have recorded. Above all:  Never introduce or, worse, explain your poem.  Ever.  Anywhere.  The only exceptions are "terms and times":  a word or phrase that is either archaic (e.g. annotations of Shakespearean verse) or jargon (e.g. a mention of "Dragon" in a piece about chess).

      When you post it online you might include the text below your video.

Music  https://pixabay.com/music/search/instrumental/

      Check out some of the royal free instrumental download sites.  These tunes can be snipped for use before, after, or in the background at low volume during your poetry performance.  Occasionally, we'll see instrumental slide shows with verse text.  No recitation.


      This is usually because the poet has a unique, overriding need for anonymity.

      Now that you have your final version posted, how do you gather viewers?

Next:   Attracting and Impressing

The Outerview Series

The Outerview Series:  Part I - What is poetry?
The Outerview Series:  Part II - Where is poetry?
The Outerview Series:  Part III - What is Rhythm?
The Outerview Series:  Part IV - Scan Poems Backward
The Outerview Series:  Part V - Rhyming is Fun
The Outerview Series:  Part VI - Super Sonics
The Outerview Series:  Part VII - Production
The Outerview Series:  Part VIII - Manufacturing an Audience
The Outerview Series:  Part IX - Crafting Drafts
The Outerview Series:  Part X - Production
The Outerview Series:  Part XI - Attracting and Impressing
The Outerview Series:  Part XII - The Meaning of Meaning

Sunday, June 30, 2024

The Outerview Series: Part III - What is Rhythm?

       In our first two outerviews we defined poetry as verbatim speech whose audience is all but limited to song lyrics.  It makes sense to begin by learning about poetry that can most easily be converted to song.

      Over the last thousand years all successful English language poems have incorporated rhythm.  This has usually involved meter, which facilitates the addition of music to create song.

     "And what is 'meter'?"

      Meter is the quantification of something in order to segment the poem.

     "And what are those things being quantified?"
 
      It could be a number of things.  In classical Greek verse and song it is tempo--the time it takes to say or sing a line.  In the latter case, the same number of bars and beats each line.  When that drum is struck the word being spoken is highlighted.  Stressed.  Even if it wouldn't normally be.

      Let's have you read aloud the text onscreen:

      "You carry the weight of inherited sorrow from your first day till you die toward that hilltop where the road forever becomes one with the sky."

       That was a natural enunciation of these words.  It's how you'd say them in a speech or a recital.  Now let's listen to Bruce Cockburn sing these lyrics from "The Rose Above the Sky" (at top):

You carry the weight of inherited sorrow
From your first day till you die
Toward that hilltop where the road
Forever becomes one with the sky
        So, what have we learned so far?

       "With song, it's all about the beat."

       Close enough.  That need to have every line take the same length of time is called "quantitative" meter.  

       Now, going back to quantifying, here are three other things that can be counted:  alliterations, accents, and feet.  Check out these two lines from DPK's "Leaving Santiago":
We come from | a nation | of cowards | and corpses
both roll down | the river | en route to|  the ocean.
       This is alliterative verse--something that goes back to before 1066--because there are three repetitions of an initial sound of a stressed syllable in each line:  two on one side of midway, one on the other;  three hard "c" sounds in the first line, three "r" iterations in the second.

       The same two lines could be considered accentual, with the same number of stressed syllables--four, in this case--in each line.  N.B.:  In accentual meter the unstressed syllables don't matter.

       Finally, these two lines illustrate the most recent evolution of meter:  accentual-syllabic.  This deals in feet:  typically, a stressed syllable and one or two unstressed ones in a particular order.  In this case, it is a pattern of four "de-DUM-de" soundings called "amphibrachic tetrameter":

We come from a country of cowards and corpses
both roll down the river en route to the ocean.

      "Is 'amphibrachic' anything like 'iambic'?"

      Yes, in a "right church, wrong pew" way.  Iambic is a binary because it has two components:  an unstressed syllable, then a stressed one (de-DUM).  It sounds like marching.  Amphibrachs are trinary because they have three:  de-DUM-de.  It sounds like hopping.  Here is a chart of all the cadences and meter lengths, of which iambic is by far the most common:

============================  Meter Types  ===========================

 Beat   Name
   uu = Pyrrhic    (aka Dibrach)
   uS = Iamb        = Marching
   Su = Trochee     = Imperative  (aka Choree)
   SS = Spondee
  uuu = Tribrach
  Suu = Dactyl      = Waltzing
  uSu = Amphibrach  = Hopping        Metres:
  uuS = Anapest     = Galloping      Monometer = 1 foot
  uSS = Bacchic                        Dimeter = 2 feet
  SuS = Amphimacer (aka Cretic)       Trimeter = 3 feet
  SSu = Antibacchic                 Tetrameter = 4 feet
  SSS = Molossus                    Pentameter = 5 feet
 uuuu = Proceleusmatic               Hexameter = 6 feet *
 Suuu = First paeon                 Heptameter = 7 feet
 uSuu = Second paeon                 Octameter = 8 feet
 uuSu = Third paeon
 uuuS = Fourth paeon    * Hexameter = "alexandrine" if iambic.
 uuSS = Ionic a minore
 SuuS = Choriamb                       
 SSuu = Ionic a maiore              Stanzas:
 SuuS = Antispast                   2 lines = couplet
 SuSu = Ditrochee                   3 lines = tercet
 uSuS = Diiamb                      4 lines = quatrain
 uSSS = First epitrite              5 lines = cinquain
 SuSS = Second epitrite             6 lines = sestet or sixain
 SSuS = Third epitrite              7 lines = septet
 SSSu = Fourth epitrite             8 lines = octet or octave
 SSSS = Dispondee                      
uSSuS = Dochmios

 "S" = Stressed (or, more accurately, "long" in the original Greek)
 "u" = unstressed (or, more accurately, "short" in the original Greek)


======================================================================

      Some poems or songs can have more than one meter.  In fact, 4 iambs followed by 3 iambs in so common that it is literally called "common meter":
Amaz|ing grace | how sweet | the sound
that saved | a wretch | like me.
Was lost, | but now, | I'm found;
was blind, | but now | I see.
      "So we want our lines the same length or lengths."

       And durations.  Correct.  And we have names for each kind:  "isometric" if all of the lines the same length, "heterometric" if the lines come in different lengths.

      "Will this be on the test?"

Next:  What is rhythm?

The Outerview Series

The Outerview Series:  Part I - What is poetry?
The Outerview Series:  Part II - Where is poetry?
The Outerview Series:  Part III - What is Rhythm?
The Outerview Series:  Part IV - Scan Poems Backward
The Outerview Series:  Part V - Rhyming is Fun
The Outerview Series:  Part VI - Super Sonics
The Outerview Series:  Part VII - Production
The Outerview Series:  Part VIII - Manufacturing an Audience
The Outerview Series:  Part IX - Crafting Drafts
The Outerview Series:  Part X - Production
The Outerview Series:  Part XI - Attracting and Impressing
The Outerview Series:  Part XII - The Meaning of Meaning

Sunday, June 23, 2024

The Outerview Series: Part II - Where is poetry?


 

     In our first outerview we established that poetry is a mode of speech, coming about because audiences feel the words are worth preserving in memory verbatim.

     Our next question is:  "What happened to poetry?  Where did it go?"

     Two centuries ago the average literate person knew hundreds of poems and hundreds of songs.  Most of the latter may have come from church attendance.  Today, the average literate person can sing along to thousands of songs but not recite a single poem written in the last half century.


     Before performing her song, "Motherland", in this video Natalie Merchant interrupts herself to say:  "Oh, this is a poem by Natalie Merchant."  Here are the lyrics, with some color added to highlight some of the repeated sounds, including rhymes:

[Verse 1]
Where in hell can you go
Far from the things that you know
Far from the sprawl of concrete
That keeps crawling its way
About one thousand miles a day?

[Verse 2]
Take one last look behind
Commit this to memory and mind
Don't miss this wasteland
This terrible place, when you leave
Keep your heart off your sleeve

[Chorus]
Motherland, cradle me
Close my eyes
Lullaby me to sleep
Keep me safe
Lie with me
Stay beside me
Don't go
Don't you go

[Verse 3]
Oh, my five-and-dime queen
Tell me what have you seen?
The lust and the avarice
The bottomless, the cavernous greed
Is that what you see?

[Chorus]
Motherland, cradle me
Close my eyes
Lullaby me to sleep
Keep me safe
Lie with me
Stay beside me
Don't go

[Verse 4]
It's your happiness I want most of all
And for that, I'd do anything at all, o mercy me!
If you want the best of it or the most of all
If there's anything I can do at all
Now come on, shotgun bride
What makes me envy your life?
Faceless, nameless, innocent, blameless, and free
What's that like to be?

[Chorus]
Motherland, cradle me
Close my eyes
Lullaby me to sleep
Keep me safe
Lie with me
Stay beside me
Don't go
Don't you go

      The music couldn't be much simpler and the singing adds immeasurably to the experience.  Note the repeated sounds:  rhymes, assonance (i.e. vowel sounds), consonance (i.e. consonants) and alliterations (i.e. at the beginnings of words).  These make the poem easier to remember.  As memory aids called "mnemonics".  We remember the choruses because they are repeated but which verse do we remember most?  Might it be the most colorful one, with the most sound repetitions?

        Would this work as spoken verse?  

      "Why would anyone want to hear a song without its music?"

      Great question!  With the introduction of radio in 1923 people could listen to music 24/7.  This was much more convenient than going to a saloon, church, or music hall.  

      Think of how many lyricists you know.

      "Isaac Brock, Max Martin, Sly Stone, Claudio Sanchez, Barry Mann, Justin Vernon, Lana Del Rey--"

       I'd have gone with Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Ferron, and John Prine, but your list is fine.  Now, how many 21st Century poets--not counting lyricists--can you name?

       Crickets.

       Really?  Okay.  How many 21st century poems can you recite?

       More crickets.

       In the shower or while playing air guitar, how many 21st century songs can you butcher?

       "Jillions!"
 


       Alright.  So which should we learn first?  Metered verse, which can be turned into songs, or free verse, which aren't?  Something with billions of listeners worldwide or something with virtually none?

       "Is this a trick question?"

         No.

        "Then meter, of course!"

        Good choice.  We'll need to learn about rhythm, which we call "scansion", and sounds, which we call "sonics", including rhyme.

        "Can we learn about slams?  My friends say they're a lot of fun."

        We can have you competing in slams within a few weeks.  As for fun, that is another of Pearl Gray's paradoxes--

        "What's a paradox?"

         Something that seems contradictory but is actually true.

       "Okay.  So...why do some people write free verse?"

        Because they think it is easier and they figure, since no one is listening, why not take the path of least resistance?

       "And is it easier?"

        No.  In fact, it's five times as difficult, and there is no real chance of serious benefit--to the author or the public--because of the minuscule audience and, for that matter, readership.

       "So why do they bother?"

        Because being a poet has a certain cachet.  Status.  People who don't get enough attention love the thought that their words will be preserved in memory.

       "Even though they won't be."

        Exactly.  A person can dream.  It's a free country.

        "Is there any way to get people to read your poetry?  Without setting it to music, I mean."
 

        A person could get their work published in their university's press and hope students will be forced to study--sorry, interpret--it.  Or be selected to read a poem at an inauguration.  Or state funeral, perhaps.  We call these "occasional" poems.  Unfortunately, the last few of these have not been memorized, even by their authors.

        "That's it?"

        People just don't listen to poetry without music.  

       "Is there a workaround?  Some kind of cheat code?"

         Well, it's possible to embed poetry in prose.  For example, imagine a movie about someone who performs poetry at, say, open mikes.  Beyond that, we're really only talking about song lyrics.  For now, at least.

        "That's depressing."

         It can be, but consider this:  There is more verse being published and heard today than ever before.

        "Yeah, but there's more people than ever before."

         True, but I mean as a percentage of the population.  Granted, 99.999+% of the verse is in song, but the hours individuals spend listening to verse are at an all time high.  And rising.

        "So if I'm a tone deaf poet--"

         You have one more reason to date a musician.

Next: Part III - What is rhythm?

The Outerview Series

The Outerview Series:  Part I - What is poetry?
The Outerview Series:  Part II - Where is poetry?
The Outerview Series:  Part III - What is Rhythm?
The Outerview Series:  Part IV - Scan Poems Backward
The Outerview Series:  Part V - Rhyming is Fun
The Outerview Series:  Part VI - Super Sonics
The Outerview Series:  Part VII - Production
The Outerview Series:  Part VIII - Manufacturing an Audience
The Outerview Series:  Part IX - Crafting Drafts
The Outerview Series:  Part X - Production
The Outerview Series:  Part XI - Attracting and Impressing
The Outerview Series:  Part XII - The Meaning of Meaning


 

Friday, June 21, 2024

The Outerview Series: Part I - What is poetry?


      Poetry is speech worth remembering.  (Believe it or not, that was the long definition.)  Because there are only two kinds--two modes--of speech we only need to distinguish poetry from its opposite, prose, in order to define it.

     "Please, slow down.  I'm new to this.  Taking notes here."

     Fair enough.  Consider this:  If two people tell you the same joke using entirely different words, is it the same joke?

     "Yes, isn't that just saying that the same joke is the same joke?"

     Right.  It's called a tautology.  Now, if two people recite the same poem using entirely different words, is it the same poem?

     "Oh, I see.  It's all about the words, then."

     Exactly!  In short, poetry is verbatim.  

     "Wait, what about poetry readings?"

     "Poetry readings" is a contradiction in terms.  An oxymoron.  If the reader--often the author--can't be bothered to memorize and perform the work, why think the rest of us will?

     "Okay, what about reading poetry?  Say, in books."


      There are two fine reasons for reading poetry instead of listening to it.  The first is to memorize it after you've enjoyed hearing it.

     "And the second?"

      The other reason is to see why you or others want to memorize it.  This is called "prosody"--

      "Pross-who?  How do you spell that?" 

       P-R-O-S-O-D-Y.  A bag of tricks to help people remember your words.  A science, actually.

      In other words, the second reason involves reading critically, something you're most likely to practice as part of your education.

     "But what if I write something beautiful and heartfelt--"

      Prose--purple prose, at least--can be every bit as "beautiful and heartfelt" as poetry.  Both can be humorous, thoughtful, instructive, emo, nostalgic, political, provocative, handy, sad--literally, anything.

Thirty days hath September
April, June, and November.

      "What if my story rhymes?"   

       Then it becomes an attempt at poetry, since rhymes do help us remember.  If no one hears your words, though, it isn't communication, let alone poetry.  Just a tree falling in the forest.


       "No audience, no poetry.  Got it.  So, it's a poem because it has some of these prosody thingies but...not a poem if no one remembers it?  That sounds messed up."

       It is a conundrum, yes. As we say:  "Most poetry isn't."

       But wait.  It's about to get a lot messier.  Let's recap:

       Communication requires a sender and a receiver.

       "Clearly."

       Poetry is speech, not writing (which came much later, if at all, in cultures).  The fancy sounds, including rhymes, need to be heard to be appreciated.

       "Okay."

       It can explore any subject or theme with any level of passion or depth.

       "Agreed."

       It only asks to be remembered word for word.  That's why we recite poetry.  Prose?  Not so much.

       "Seems about right."

       Poetry is composed by poets...

       "Obviously."

       ...but if it needs to be preserved verbatim to avoid being prose, who is creating the poetry?

       "Wait.  What?"

       People can write a billion "poems" but they're just autumn leaves until someone takes one home.

       "I'm a little confused now."

       A book is only a manuscript until it is published.

       "Okay, that I understand."

       So who creates books?  Authors or publishers?"

        After a long pause:  "Oh-h-h...I think I get it now.  It's the movie producer, not the script writer, who produces movies.  Film.  Doh!" 
      
       Precisely.  Only the audience matters because only they can prove the words are worth memorizing--by doing the job themselves.  When all is said [even if nothing is done], poetry is what remains.

Next:  Where is poetry?


The Outerview Series

      These lectures, interrupted by an inquisitive young student, explore the essence and rudiments of poetry.  Your comments are welcome.

The Outerview Series:  Part I - What is poetry?
The Outerview Series:  Part II - Where is poetry?
The Outerview Series:  Part III - What is Rhythm?
The Outerview Series:  Part IV - Scan Poems Backward
The Outerview Series:  Part V - Rhyming is Fun
The Outerview Series:  Part VI - Super Sonics
The Outerview Series:  Part VII - Production
The Outerview Series:  Part VIII - Manufacturing an Audience
The Outerview Series:  Part IX - Crafting Drafts
The Outerview Series:  Part X - Production
The Outerview Series:  Part XI - Attracting and Impressing
The Outerview Series:  Part XII - The Meaning of Meaning

 

 

Saturday, July 4, 2020

Timely Versus Timeless

Earl Gray's 153rd Law
     Most poets keep their art and their politics separate.  We have different blogs for each.  Recently, a critic demanded to know why we pursue pressing issues in prose but not in poetry.  It's a fair question, at least until we consider the difference between those two modes of communication.  One spreads out in two dimensions, going viral as it spreads from one venue to the next.  The other spreads in four dimensions, as it ascends into listener's memory and is carried verbatim into the future.

     Without degrading professional standards we can write a news article in the morning, post it, and see it picked up by social or print media immediately.  It is part of that 24- or 36-hour news cycle.  

     Prose is timely.  You can get up the next morning and start all over.

Earl Gray's 42nd Law.
     To write a poem worthy of the name may take, on average, a month.  Find le mot juste, satisfying demands of sound, sense, cadence and form.  Performing it may require weeks of additional practice and film editing before uploading it to, say, YouTube.  Once presented, it needs to build an audience, one who can quote it on appropriate occasions.  Were poetry alive, this may take another month.  Given current reality, it may take a generation or more before enough listeners can inspire enough other listeners to hear and absorb your verses.  Once they do, you will have a demographic affected by your words, one that might pass them on to future generations.

     In any event, a poem about the current state of public affairs won't have an impact until well after the next election, if ever.  If it does, though, it can cease and go on preventing inequities forever.

     Poetry is timeless, even though its effect might not begin until long after your final sunrise.

Sunday, June 21, 2020

The State of the Art

     We begin by apologizing to Divya Victor for singling out "Locution/Location" from all the other vacuous dreck being put out today.  We choose this sample because even its preface is pretensious nonsense:

This is what writing is: I one language, I another language, and between the two, the line that makes them vibrate; writing? forms a passageway between two shores.

—HĂ©lène Cixous, “Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing”
     This one seems to be about the weighty issue surrounding the pronunciation of the letter "H".  We won't need more than the first strophe to make our point:

She sings the letters
to my daughter, strings them
marigolds into garlands
in the order of the alphabet
E, F, G, she
tugs the haitch, taut and long
far from the breast, a letter
the length of a coast, the width
of a gull’s caw, she now carries
the haitch like I will carry the gurney
later, weightless
hammer
of feather
the letters swim with the orange petals
around & around
her, child & crone
milkflesh holme, mouthly
smelling of talc and gooseberry


      No one, least of all the author, would bother to memorize this word salad, let alone perform it.  Were anyone to do so the audience would look at them like pigs in "The Commissar's Report", as if to ask "Why are you inflicting this on us?"  One would look like a jackass.  Hence the "poetry reading", which doesn't involve the presenter looking listeners in the eye.  It is, in every sense, the antipodal opposite of poetry.

     Contrast the typical poetry reading  to Christopher Plummer's performance of "Brown Penny"  by William Butler Yeats.


     What is the upshot of this lack of exposure to good performance, let alone good contemporary writing?

     Recently, we posted this challenge here, in a [novice] showcase group, and in a gathering of most of the world's top poets and editors:

Describe a poem that Facebookers would Share.    

      No one could visualize such a thing.  Not only could they not recall a time they Shared or Retweeted any verse themselves, they could not envision what such a piece would look like. 

Thus, not only is poetry dead, but none of us can imagine it being alive.

     Think about that for a while.

Sunday, June 14, 2020

How Long Does Poetry Take?

     How long does brain surgery take if you know absolutely nothing about medicine?  Use a club to knock the patient unconscious, drill through the skull, root around until you find something that looks out of place, rip it out, close the wound, and you're done!  As is the patient, but no one said anything about successful  brain surgery, right?

     Newcomers often ask how long it takes to write a poem.  It can take forever but, generally speaking, the answer depends on how good the poet and poem are.  Poor poets produce dreck at breakneck speeds.  Their process involves far fewer steps.

     Jotting down an outline can take minutes.  A newcomer may now say:  "VoilĂ !  We're done!"  First thought, best though, right?  Time to find an unsuspecting reader... 

     A slightly less raw neophyte might take the rest of the day to produce a draft.  (Note we didn't write "a first draft".)  Then they're done.

     If writing for the "publish or perish" academic crowd the journey is a little longer.  One has to inject some clever, original phrases.  A random text generator can help find the perfectly baffling modifier or metaphor.  One or two of these per poem should suffice.  Thus, we can finish in a weekend and ship the end product off to Poetry magazine or our university press. 

     Because it has to have objective merit, technical verse will take weeks--a month if free verse.  There is a trick to this:  Do the sonics before the rhythm.  Choose soft sounds for reflection, harsh ones for drama, and repeat them (as assonance, consonance, alliteration, or rhyme) as appropriate.  Attend to cadence last, either in meter or in rhythm strings (which distinguish free verse from prose [poetry]).

     At this point, what you have might win a Nemerov but it won't draw a crowd.  Why not?  Because we've forgotten that poetry is a mode of speech.  We need to gear it for an audience, not a readership.  We must perform it (or find someone who can and will).  This usually means memorizing it and practicing our presentation.  We have to sound natural, performing rather than reciting.  And certainly not reading.

     At no point onstage can we look up and to the right, a telltale sign than we're trying to recall something.  This is vital, since our eyes must be free to search the audience for hints of waxing or waning interest.  If the people at an open mic are leaning forward and shushing those around them, we have them.  (This, incidentally, is the greatest feeling in human experience.)  If, on the other hand, we see them slouching backward and whispering to each other we have work to do.

     Once we have something worth showing the world the final step is to create a video and post it to a public forum such as YouTube or Vimeo.  We will address the basics of this process in a subsequent blog.

     With talent, education, practice, inspiration, and some luck, an actual poet can often finish a work in two months.


Sunday, May 17, 2020

"Why don't people read or 'Like' my poetry?"

Terminal Diaeresis


     Newcomers often ask:  "Why don't people read or 'Like' my poetry?"

     It's not like others are every bit as fascinated by the autobiographies, diary entries, and yearnings of strangers as you are.  Or aren't interested in chatting and being sociable.  Or that poems and poets could focus on something more distant than our navels.  Heresy!

     It's not like you are asking for a significant investment on the part of a reader.  They skim a few lines, say something appreciative and encouraging, then they move on.  What's the problem?

    "So why are people ignoring my posts?  It's not like there is a competition going on here, right?"

     There may be any number of reasons unrelated to the work itself.  Everyone has their favorites, preferring them to unknowns.  Power politics may be in play, with others flattering those they feel may be able to help them.  There may be a quid pro quo playing out, with pairs trading favorable evaluations.  Styles may form alliances, with contributors of like mind supporting a group philosophy or aesthetic.

     Aside from these human foibles, there is a good chance that some of the contributors are using tricks.  Dirty, underhanded tricks!  And not even new ones!  Some of these go back centuries or millennia--even to the beginnings of language!

     These sneaky subterfuges come in two categories:  brevity (no wasted words!) and repetition.  The latter can involve anything from whole choruses and lines ("repetends") to sounds (e.g. rhyme, assonance, consonance, alliteration) and rhythms (e.g. iambs:  de DUM de DUM; the beats of a song, etc.).  It's as if these people are trying to get people to not only notice  their words but to remember  them as well.  Weird.

     To show what extent these bastards will go to, let us look at an extreme, admittedly obscure example.  Hand this stanza from DPK's "Beans" to someone and ask them to read it aloud to you:

September came like winter's
ailing child but
left us
viewing Valparaiso's pride. Your face was
always saddest when you smiled. You smiled as every
doctored moment lied. You lie with
orphans' parents, long
reviled.


      Listen to the rhythm of those stressed syllables.  Ask them to read it to you a second time.

      Do you hear how final that last word seems?  How it sounds like a triumphant "Ta Da!" at the end of a performance?

      Diaeresis is an ancient stunt usually relating to a break in the middle of a line.  Here we have terminal diaeresis, which is more esoteric still.  The magic effect comes from ending an iambic (de DUM) passage with an iambic word ("reVILED");  all previous two-syllable words were trochaic (DUM-de, i.e. "WINters", "AILing", "VIEWing", "ALways", "SADdest", "EV'ry", "DOCtor'd", "MOMent", "ORPHans", "PARents").

     Over 99.9% of poets wouldn't know diaeresis from diarrhea.  It's that rare.

     How long has this stuff been going on?  Terminal diaeresis wasn't new when Shakespeare developed it in his sonnets, circa 1600.  Thus, today's poets are so desperate for attention that they are pulling 400 year old rabbits out of their butts!  Worse yet, there are sites and articles dedicated to proliferating these dark arts, this being one of them.

What You Need To Know About Poetry

     This is but one of the thousands of options in the hypermodern poet's bag of tricksThousands!

     How are you going to compete with that?

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Entertaining Boredom

Earl the Squirrel's 25th Law

"Leave it all and like a man,
come back to nothing special,
such as waiting rooms and ticket lines,
silver bullet suicides,
messianic ocean tides,
racial roller-coaster rides
and other forms of boredom advertised as poetry."

   - Leonard Cohen, "Field Commander Cohen"




Boredom

    What is more boring than watching paint dry?
   
Alexander Fleming
Watching mold grow.  Nevertheless, that is precisely how Alexander Fleming developed penicillin.

    Who among us hasn't attended a dull performance, let our minds wander, and come up with a fruitful idea?  Okay, our brilliancies don't necessarily change the world the way wonder drugs did but their source is often no more exciting than [Archimedes] watching bath water rise.  A hundred attendees at a mordant council meeting can, depending on their occupations or interests, ponder a hundred problems ranging from mathematics or clothing design to plumbing or beating a Tampa-2 defense.  As the performer prattles on and we float in our mental miasma, random juxtapositions conjure strange analogies and metaphors, provoking lateral thought.  I'm told the Four Point Principle was created while the innovator was trying to avoid listening to an ear-gouging rendition of "Four Strong Winds" (not this one, certainly).  Speaking for myself, I came up with my most successful thesis while watching--or not watching, really--a television show so vacuous I refuse to divulge its name.

    Without unbearable reality television, the neighbors' holiday slides, our niece's school play, senseless lyrics on the radio, information overload and serendipity human progress might come to a standstill.

     You cannot live forever but if you want it to seem so watch a lot of C-Span.  Ignore those rumors about it permanently lowering your metabolism. 

    Currently, then, the poetry reading serves as a cornucopia of boredom--a vital if common resource.  Nota bene:  a performance doesn't have to be remotely competent or interesting in order to inspire great thoughts or accomplishments.  Indeed, a terrible product can be more inspirational and influential than a classic;  the viewer sees a mess and says:  "Hell, even I could do better than that!"  And they're often right!

    The challenge is to either synthesize the byproduct (creativity) without being forced to undergo the treatment (boredom) or to find a more palatable treatment.  For example, if worried about rickets would you rather take cod liver oil or a vacation in sunny Rio de Janeiro?

Enter Entertainment
   
Max (Kat Dennings) and Caroline (Beth Behrs)
For fans, sitcoms such as "Two Broke Girls" or "Mike and Molly" can provide welcome "veggie time":  half an hour of freedom from our worries and obsessions.  While tedium slows time to a crawl entertainment causes it to blur past.  None of us glanced at our watches the first time we watched "Star Wars" or "Casablanca".  In every sense, then, entertainment is the antipodal opposite of the typical poetry reading.

At the end of this "time well wasted", though, what do we have to show for it?


Art/Poetry

    If we have monotony to stir creativity and entertainment to satisfy an audience where is the need for art?  Or, more specifically, poetry?

    Art/Poetry combines the worst aspects of boredom and entertainment:  the need to escape from the former and the time-collapse of the latter.  In essence, it multiplies two significant minuses to produce a profound positive.

    If you are a frequent reader of "Commercial Poetry" you know that poetry is verbatim:  a quoteworthy product that survives not on book shelves but in our memory and speech.  It inspires various endeavors, including its own replication.  Poetry's medium is entertainment and its currency is, at once, time and timelessness.  It is what remains.  As such, while boredom may provoke thought once, well-written and well-performed verse can do so forever, and without causing the adverse reaction that "poetry" readings do.

     It's not just the real deal.  It's the Rio deal.


Friday, July 1, 2011

Poetry Genres: Part I - The Essence of Verse

Poetry Genres: Part I - The Essence of Verse

Before we categorize poetry let's take a moment to define it. IMHO, there are, at most, two views of poetry worthy of consideration:

  1. "Poetry is rhythmic speech."

  2. "Poetry is verbatim" (Kaltica, 2008) or, if you prefer, "memorable speech" (Auden, 1935).

If you are ever engage in a discussion of poetry genres pick #1. It saves time by excluding prose poetry, treating it as a hybrid. Now you just have to distinguish verse from free verse. That shouldn't pose a problem, should it? (Hee-hee!)

We squirrels never take the easy way out. For the purposes of this series I'll adopt the second definition and will use less arbitrary means to distinguish prose poetry from verse and free verse. In fact, I'm going to start by designating Definition #1 as:

Myth #1: "Poetry is rhythmic speech."

There was poetry long before there were accented languages, let alone accentual or accentual-syllabic verse. Even ignoring this fact and the concept of prose poetry, we have syllabic verse, which is deliberately arrhythmic. Whole paragraphs of "Moby Dick" are in perfect iambs. Are these sections [embedded] poetry? No. Why not? Because they aren't meant to be [read aloud or] memorized.

What is the essence of verse?

Consider this passage from "Beowulf":

So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by
and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.

There was Shield Sheafson, scourge of many tribes,
a wrecker of mead-benches, rampaging among foes.

A foundling to start with, he would flourish later on.

In the end each clan on the outlying coasts
beyond the whale-road had to yield to him
and begin to pay tribute. That was one good king.

Et cetera.

Note that each "line" of "Beowulf" has four beats, making this accentual tetrameter. However, this wasn't how the poem was written. Rather, it was recorded in one long string of words without so much as a single paragraph break. Essentially, it was in the form of ticker tape text. Even if we were to include the punctuation and capitalizations that you see "Beowulf" would look like this:

So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness. There was Shield Sheafson, scourge of many tribes, a wrecker of mead-benches, rampaging among foes. A foundling to start with, he would flourish later on. In the end each clan on the outlying coasts beyond the whale-road had to yield to him and begin to pay tribute. That was one good king.
Et cetera.

Without rhymes and with even less formatting than prose, how could a listener tell "Beowulf" is poetry rather than prose? Did it require a knowledge of accentual poetry? Not really. A listener could, after a while, discern the pattern of four beats per phrase/sentence. What the audience detects, though, are not "lines"--"Beowulf" has neither lines nor stanzas--but stichs: segments determined by the meter.

Nota bene: Yes, the speaker would pause at the end of each stich but only because it was the end of a sentence or phrase.



Flash forward more than an eon and we see corata, where verse is presented in paragraphs, not lines. Similarly, we have curginas, where verse is presented as lineated free verse, without regard to meters. The most famous example is "We Real Cool" by Gwendolyn Brooks:

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We
...et cetera.

These are, in fact, rhyming bacchic monometer couplets:

We real cool.
We left school.

We lurk late.
We strike straight.

We
...et cetera.

Myth #2: "The line defines verse."

No. The stich does. This is as tautological as saying that meters define meter. To be precise, what defines verse is not the stich but the listener's ability to discern it at a subconscious level, at least.

In "Beowulf" we saw how [more or less] complete thoughts in the form of end-stopping (roughly: punctuation) and phrases cut the text into stichs. Compare these to where a line might end in mid-phrase, such as the fully enjambed second line in this passage from Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar":

Cassius:
I wish we may: but yet have I a mind
That fears him much; and my misgiving still
Falls shrewdly to the purpose.


Myth #3: "Performers pause after every line of poetry."

Not so, as anyone who has seen a professional Shakespearean performance can attest.

Hearing the predominant de-DUM pattern allows us to recognize the cadence but, without pauses and rhyme, how does the poet help the audience recognize the meter? That is, how does the mind see that these feet are grouped into stichs of five? The answer is in an ever-expanding bag of tricks.

The authors of "Beowulf" used grammatical constructs: phrases and sentences. Shakespeare relies on these, too, especially at the beginning of his blank verse. In essence, he's training the ear to anticipate a break after each five feet; once he's established this expectation he can skip such pauses, as he does with the Cassius excerpt above. Another, more subtle tool had arrived with the advent of accentual-syllabic verse. The tendency of stichs to "find their rhythm" as they proceed alerts the ear to the meter length. Consider this line from "Hamlet":

Whether | 'tis nob|ler in | the mind | to suf|fer


1 trochaic inversion, 4 iambs within the stich and a hypercatalectic semisyllable, "fer", outside it. After a few hours--yes, Shakespeare's plays took hours--of this the ear ignores the "noise" at the beginning and end of the line to focus on the iambs, "'tis nob|ler in | the mind | to suf-". This resolution marks the meter length and explains why substitutions in general and inversions in particular occur far more often at the beginnings of lines than their endings. Indeed, in all of English prosody not a single stich ends with an inverted foot...and inversions are extremely rare in the penultimate foot.

To be, | or not | to be: | that is | the quest|ion,


The late inversion, "that is", stands out as the only fourth foot inversion in the entire production. It draws attention to itself for a reason, this being the pivotal point of the play.

Other ways to signal the end of a stich [or stanza] range from the subtlety of diaeresis to the garishness of perfect rhyme. I could go on and on about the technical aspects of meter but I find that such discussions tend to bore today's poets. That being the case, I'll end with this:

Not one canonical poem has been written by anyone who wasn't a very competent verser. Don't expect that trend to change.




Next: "Poetry Genres: Part II - The Essence of Free Verse"


Sunday, June 20, 2010

Commercial Poetry: Definition and Overview


Commercial Poetry

"Poetry, like bread, is for everyone."

- Nicaraguan poet Roque Dalton

What is "commercial poetry"?

To many, it is an oxymoron:

  1. "Poetry doesn't pay!"


  2. “There's no money in poetry, but then there's no poetry in money, either.” - Robert Graves


  3. "Art should never be compromised by popular appeal."

To others it is an anachronism, harkening back to a time when poetry was in every newspaper and magazine, when poets were like today's rock starts and a person could make $500,000 from one poem.

Commercial poetry is defined as any verse or free verse written for and marketed to an audience beyond poets themselves. While the expressions are hardly interchangeable, commercial poetry is often associated with popular and even traditional poetry. It is distinguished from "poets' poetry", which is related to "academic" or "literary" poetry--the kinds found primarily in books, literary magazines and webzines. Typically, novice poetry is writer-centered. Poets' poetry is, by definition, writers-centered. Commercial poetry is audience-centered. Among its many types are:

  • Occasional: Inaugurations, weddings, funerals, retirements, graduations, speeches, etc.

    Few can speak with the eloquence of a poet. There may be enumerable opportunities for poets to write personalized verse for special occasions. How many wedding planners are there in your state/province? In your country? In the English-speaking world?


  • Entertainment: Humour, drama, romance, etc.

    This is the category which has declined most precipitously in the last century. Humourous verse still appears occasionally in trades like Playboy and The Readers' Digest, but reliance on the page is a questionable strategy. What about other media? Is dramatic poetry really dead? Would an audience know or care that a play or film is in blank verse? Far more common is the embedding of poetry into films like "Dead Poets Society" and "Poetic Justice", or on television episodes.

    If you (and your publisher?) cannot distance yourself from books as a medium, consider Contest Publication marketing. I love this idea because it is based on audience participation: contribute to an anthology of contemporary performance- and audience-oriented poems. The publisher holds a contest for the best video presentation of any of these poems. The video can be anything from a camcorded recital to a vignette or slideshow. Entrants need only post their efforts on a site like YouTube and email the URL to contest organizers. No entry fee.


  • Educational: Didactic, historical, elegies, etc.

    Any lesson/synopsis on any [not too serious] subject benefits from verse.

    Find out what documentary films are being produced. Write a poem on that subject and see if they can use it, perhaps as a preface or coda.

    Can you think of anything more boring than assembly instructions? Imagine doing some in verse for, say, a toy manufacturer. This may be the one time that commerical poets need to think inside the box!


  • Promotional: Commercial jingles, political speechwriting/sloganeering, praise poems, etc.

    In the early 1970s, my editor won $1,000,000 by writing a grand total of five words before retiring on the proceeds. At $200,000 per word, that may seem like serious coin, but it's chickenfeed compared to what can be made today by producing the next motto of a large corporation. Similarly, Will I Am hasn't been a pauper since his rendition of "Yes We Can" hit the airwaves.

    Breaking into the speechwriting business is surprisingly easy. Go to a candidate's website and start typing. Indeed, this is a rare opportunity for popularizing free verse or prose poetry. (For obvious reasons, most commercial poetry is verse.)

    The jingles business may seem tougher; there are countless ad agencies standing in line in front of us. Nevertheless, those think tanks and their sponsors aren't shy about approaching anyone who produces words that might sell their products.


  • Appreciational: Greeting cards, praise poems, etc.

    Greeting cards are the single most lucrative poetry market--even larger than a successful pop song. What if Hallmark isn't hiring, though? Hold that thought!


  • Kitsch: On T-Shirts, crests, placemats, plaques, photos, paraphernalia, buses, etc.

    Take a photo, type a poem overtop of it, add a logo and send it to a restaurant chain. Repeat as necessary.

    Write an epic poem with a local setting. Guilt your town council into printing it out, one stanza at a time, on signs along a scenic path. Continue doing this so that, for variety, the poems can be rotated on different walkways around town. Argue that it encourages fitness.

    Add some class to an establishment with a poetry staircase, as seen on Dorianne Laux's Facebook page: patrons read one or two lines on each step as they ascend. Present it as a safety feature, encouraging people to slow down and "watch their step".

    Write a stunner sonnet. Show it to no one but the transit authority, encouraging them to put one line on each bus, trolley or train as part of a contest to see who can reconstruct the entire poem. Tell them it will boost interest in public transportation.


  • Niche: Special interests: particular sports, games, hobbies or occupations.

    Most unions, professions, and pastimes have a ruling body that produces a glossy bulletin for its members or afficionados. Some even have television access, as with the NFL Network. Given the lack of competition--many won't have had a poem submitted in decades--publishing in these paying venues is often a slam dunk.


  • Juvenilia: Nursery rhymes, "teenspleen", etc.

    The deaths of Dr. Suess and Charles Bukowski have created something of a vacuum.


  • Song lyrics: Theme songs to movies and TV shows, popular songs, operas, etc.

    If you don't have musical skills you can find a busker on any street corner--they're almost as numerous as poets. The typical approach is to write songs and hope to crack the radio market directly. Yeah, good luck with that!

    A much easier course is to write theme songs for movies or television pilots. In the time it took you to read this far hundreds of films went into production. Seeing what a great theme song can do for a movie, you'd think the music would be a high priority for directors. You'd be wrong.

    One day before they were supposed to begin final editing, the producers of "The Thomas Crown Affair" suddenly realized they didn't have a theme song. Overnight, one of them managed to hit a grand slam: "Windmills of Your Mind". Get your song into the hands of anyone on the set--even a lowly Production Assistant--and you may be surprised at how quickly it is gobbled up.


If you dream of winning a Nobel, Pulitzer or Griffin Prize you are a literary poet. If you fantasize about winning an Oscar, Emmy or CLIO, you are a commercial poet. Do you submit your work primarily to art-related publishers? Or do you seek an audience larger than the average tea room?

Consider these seemingly contradictory fact lists:

  1. Expressed as a percentage of the population, fewer people purchase or read poetry than at any time in the past.


  2. Only a tiny minority of people living today can cite a single line of contemporary poetry.


  3. Not one person is making a comfortable living from the publication of poetry in books, magazines and webzines.


  4. Few people can name more than 3 living poets or the title of a single volume of contemporary poetry.


  1. That there is more money being made today from verse--a mere subset of poetry--than at any time in human history.


  2. More people listen to verse today than at any time in human history.


  3. The biggest selling author of the 20th century wrote nothing but rhyming verse.


  4. Poets rank among the best known celebrities.


How can both sets of facts be true?

The answer lies in how precisely we use the terms "poet" or "poetry". If we are talking about "literary poetry", the stuff we read in existing e-zines, magazines and books, the first list pertains. Only when we use the broader, dictionary definition of poetry does the second set of facts come into play. The nursery rhyme, the advertising jingle, the songs we listen to on our radios and IPods, many of the slogans we see on bumper stickers, greeting card doggerel, these are all poetry. N.B.: No one specified good poetry. Yet.

Consider these two poems:


  • You'll wonder where the yellow went
    when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent.



  • That time of year thou mayst in me behold
    When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
    Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
    Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
    In me thou seest the twilight of such day
    As after sunset fadeth in the west,
    Which by and by black night doth take away,
    Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
    In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
    That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
    As the death-bed whereon it must expire
    Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
    This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
    To love that well which thou must leave ere long.



Shakespeare's Sonnet LXXIII needs no defence. It might be a consensus choice as the greatest poem of all time. Nevertheless, the jingle has considerable technical merit, too. Note the effective "w" alliteration, the perfect vowel-by-vowel rhyme of "yellow went" and "Pepsodent", the metronome-breaking anapest starting L2, the positional assonance of short and long "u" sounds in the first foot of each line and the repetition of "r" sounds in the ensuing syllables, "-er where" and "your". All of these may explain why, despite our best efforts to lose it, this jingle sticks in our minds long after we've forgotten others of that ilk and era.

Both poems are masterpieces of their genres. Before you guffaw at the notion that they are equal, consider the viewpoint of the sponsor and ask yourself: "How many tubes of toothpaste did Sonnet LXXIII sell?" Each genre has its own aims and poems can only be judged based on their success at achieving those targets. Even if we believe one genre inherently superior to another we must bear in mind the famous Payton-Suey joke:

Chicago running backs Walter Payton and Matt Suey were camping in the arctic. Payton dashed into their tent and began hurriedly donning his track shoes. Suey asked what was happening. Payton explained that a hungry polar bear was on its way.

"You can't outrun a polar bear!" scoffed Suey.

"I don't need to," countered Payton. "I just need to outrun you!"


To be a successful commercial poet you don't need to be the best poet alive. You don't even need to be the best commercial poet around. You just need to be at least as good as anyone else in that specific genre or contest.

The key words are imagination and initiative. There is a story told in some detail of a woman who made custom greeting cards to order. Just before major holidays she would set up a kiosk in an area heavily trafficked by forgetful, procrastinating business people (there's another kind?). The customer would select a floral design and a poem before the recipient's full name was entered into a laptop. Why the full name, when only the first will appear on the card? Because before printing it out the lady could warn the customer that someone had already bought that same card for that person--maybe even that same customer the year before! (I did say "forgetful", right?) The entrepreneur would fold the paper, fresh out of the printer, into a card and then, as a final touch, scent the envelope to match the floral design. The lady charged an exhorbitant price but, because the recipients loved the cards so much, no one complained. When you clear $4,000 on a Valentines Day lunch hour you really don't have to work more than a week or two a year.

Quality and Qualities

We shouldn't assume that commercial poetry appeals only to non-poets. The greatest commercial poet of all time, William Shakespeare, kept the Globe and Blackfriars theatres alive selling [dramatic] poetry into a population decimated by the bubonic plague.

Granted, most commercial poetry is trash but Sturgeon's Revelation, "90% of everything is crud", rules commercial and literary poetry alike. Is this a problem or an opportunity? The cultural "attention deficit disorder" that Edward Hirsch mentions requires that speech be expressed in sound bytes. How can this need for compression be anything but good for poetry?

To quantify this gaping opportunity consider this question: "Does any lyricist believe s/he can't write better verse than Bernie Taupin?"

Quality survives, especially in commercial verse. Leonard Cohen's earliest songs (e.g. "Suzanne", "Bird on a Wire") are still being played on the radio. Does anyone under 50 know or care who The 1910 Fruitgum Company or Grand Funk Railroad were? Look at how many theme songs are written by the greatest lyricists of our time: Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Buffy Ste. Marie, etc. The right song can help make a film (e.g. "The Rose", "Moon River", "White Christmas", "Up Where We Belong", "Windmills of Your Mind", etc.). This explains why these authors usually want a percentage of the gross. Would you rather have $100 from this film and $1,000,000 from the next or a flat $1,000 from all of them? (That $1,000 isn't a figure plucked from air; it is exactly what John Stewart made from selling the recording and television rights of "Daydream Believer" to the Monkees.)

Persistent is the notion that "academic" poets are more technically sound than popular ones. Indeed, this used to be true. For example, T.S. Eliot and Ezra Pound were infinitely superior prosodists to Robert Service and Edna St. Vincent Millay. Since then, though, practical commercial poets continue to study the basics while MFA, MA and PhD students graduate without knowing even the most rudimentary aspects of scansion, jargon or technique. The tortoises have left the hares in the dust.

Are there other fundamental differences between the two cultures, commercial and literary? Certainly, not the least of which is the fact that there is no commercial poetry culture. This is less a reflection of their sparse numbers than their:


  • independence/granularity - How much would a jingle writer, a lyricist and a documentary poet have to discuss?


  • competitiveness - "Does Macy's tell Gimbel's?" Canadian translation: "Does Eton's tell The Bay?"


  • anonymity - Who knows who wrote the Pepsodent jingle?



Clearly, there isn't the sense of tshinanu that we see among the literaries. Perhaps owing to the fact that other poets are not their audience, blurbing is a concept foreign to commercial poets.


Skills, Context and Technology

New technology can be viewed in any of three ways:


  • a benign continuation of poetry's existing nature, adding only new venues and media;

    Many remain oblivious or indifferent to technological possibilities. Their online participation, if any, is usually limited to social (e.g. Twitter, Facebook), PoBiz (e.g. Harriet) or "theme theory" (i.e. manifestos arguing that poems about such-and-such are inherently superior to ones about so-and-so, that philosophical or allusive poems are preferable to emotive, dramatic or humourous ones, etc.).


  • an advance, redefining poetry as it takes art into a new realm;

    Poets' poets, perhaps in an attempt to mollify their potential market (i.e. other poets), may argue that novel outlets will somehow expand the definition of poetry, even beyond the "anything goes" stance already taken.


  • a rediscovery of poetry's theatrical origins.

    If we watched a play or movie where the actors were reading from a script would we think the production unprofessional? If so, how do we suppose the public feels about poetry readings?

    Barring concrete poems, acrostics and the like, what is the role of the written word in performance arts like film, theatre and poetry? Answer: none beyond connecting the author with contemporary and future performers.

If we accept poetry as primarily an audiovisual art form, today's successful poet needs to employ other skills, beginning with the ability to perform. Photography, film/video, slide shows, web design, music and promotion are some of these other avenues that may need to be mastered or achieved through networking/collaboration.

The academic poet treats readers like peers or students, expecting a greater appetite and a more fungible definition of poetry. They believe in bulk. Theirs is the poetry book, 'zine or reading. Some will enjoy an occasional slam or open mike. The experience becomes a collage that overloads the senses: an elegy is followed by a bawdy tale, a parable, a joke, then a rant about depersonalization. Audience members feel like foster children being bandied from home to home, or like teenagers learning about the evils of tobacco/alcohol by being forced to smoke/drink until they vomit. The poems blur and compress like disparate movie trailers.

By contrast, commercial poets seem to adopt the "less is more" philosophy, preferring that a poem be isolated from other poems but not from other art forms (e.g. music, theatre, film, etc.).

-o-