Poetry shouldn’t tell us what we already know, though of course it can revive what we think we know. A durable poet, the rarest of all birds, has a unique point of view and the gift of language to express it. The unique point of view can often come from a mental or physical deformity. Deep within us, but also on the surface, is the wounded ugly boy who has never caught an acceptable angle of himself in the mirror. A poet can have a deep sense of himself as a Quasimodo in a world without bells, or as the fine poet Czeslaw Milosz wrote:
A feast of brief hopes, a rally of the proud,
A tournament of hunchbacks, literature.
—Jim Harrison, “King of Pain,” review of The Pleasures of the Damned, Poems, 1951-1993 by Charles Bukowski, in The New York Times Book Review (November 25, 2007).
world without bells
Labels:
angle,
bells,
Charles Bukowski,
Czeslaw Milosz,
deformity,
durable,
Jim Harrison,
Quasimodo,
ugly
period style
May a poet write as a poet or must he write as a period? For modernism, in this perverted sense, likewise becomes a critical tyranny, increasing contemporary mannerisms in poetry instead of freeing the poet of obligation to conform to any particular set of literary theories."
—Laura Riding and Robert Graves, A Survey of Modernist Poetry (1927)
—Laura Riding and Robert Graves, A Survey of Modernist Poetry (1927)
Labels:
Laura Riding,
mannerism,
modernism,
obligation,
period,
Robert Graves,
the age
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