I believe every space and comma is a living part of the poem and has its function, just as every muscle and pore of the body has its function. And the way the lines are broken is a functioning part essential to the poem's life.
I believe content determines form, and yet that content is discovered only in form. Like everything living, it is a mystery. The revelation of form itself can be a deep joy; yet I think form as means should never obtrude, whether from invention or carelessness, between the reader and the essential force of the poem, it must be so fused with that force.
—Denise Levertov, from her statement for Donald Allen’s anthology The New American Poetry: 1945–1960.
Showing posts with label line break. Show all posts
Showing posts with label line break. Show all posts
living part
Labels:
artist's statement,
body,
comma,
content,
Denise Levertov,
force,
form,
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line break,
lines,
living thing,
part,
punctuation,
space,
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chopped into lines
Don't think any intelligent person is going to be deceived when you try to shirk all the difficulties of the unspeakably difficult art of good prose by chopping your composition into line lengths.
—Ezra Pound, "A Retrospect" (1918)
—Ezra Pound, "A Retrospect" (1918)
Labels:
Ezra Pound,
line,
line break,
poetry v. prose,
prose
advertencies of verse
All poetry is fragment: it is shaped by its breakages, at every turn. It is the very art of turnings, toward the white frame of the page, toward the unsung, toward the vacancy made visible, that wordlessness in which our words are couched. Its lines insistently defy their own medium by averting themselves from the space available, affording the absent its say, not only at the poem’s outset and end by at each line’s outset and end. Richard Howard’s deft maxim (“prose proceeds, verse reverses”) catches the shifts in directionality implicit in the advertencies of verse. It means to aim at (as its means are) the untoward.
A composed verse is a record of the meeting of the line and sentence, the advertent and the inadvertent: a succession of good turns done. The poem is not only a piece, like other pieces of art; it is a piece full of pieces.
Heather McHugh, Broken English: Poetry and Partiality (Wesleyan Univ. Press, 1993)
A composed verse is a record of the meeting of the line and sentence, the advertent and the inadvertent: a succession of good turns done. The poem is not only a piece, like other pieces of art; it is a piece full of pieces.
Heather McHugh, Broken English: Poetry and Partiality (Wesleyan Univ. Press, 1993)
Labels:
absence,
advert,
breakages,
fragment,
Heather McHugh,
line,
line break,
page,
poetry v. prose,
Richard Howard,
turn
line by line
Finally, no particular line is valuable except inasmuch as it performs a dramatic function in relationship to other lines in a particular poem: one kind of line ending becomes powerful because of its relationship to other kinds of line endings.
—James Longenbach, The Art of the Poetic Line (Graywolf 2008)
—James Longenbach, The Art of the Poetic Line (Graywolf 2008)
Labels:
dramatic function,
James Longenbach,
line,
line break,
line ending
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