Two poetries are now competing, a cooked and a raw. The cooked, marvelously expert, often seems laboriously concocted to be tasted and digested by a graduate seminar. The raw, huge blood-dripping gobbets of unseasoned experience are dished up for midnight listeners. There is a poetry that can only be studied, and a poetry that can only be declaimed, a poetry of pedantry, and a poetry of scandal. I exaggerate, of course. Randall Jarrell has said that the modern world has destroyed the intelligent poet's audience and given him students.
—Robert Lowell, 1960 National Book Award acceptance speech.
Showing posts with label raw. Show all posts
Showing posts with label raw. Show all posts
proper names
Proper names are poetry in the raw. Like all poetry they are untranslatable.
—W.H. Auden, A Certain World, 1970
—W.H. Auden, A Certain World, 1970
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