“Maximus, to himself” is one of my favorites of George Olson’s poetry. It displays the freedom in the lack of formalism within the verses iconic to Black Mountain Poetry while conforming to his lofty predetermined ideas on objectivity and projectivism. The poem itself is equal parts devastating and beautiful. The poet admits a nihilistic defeat […]
Dana Gioia, in the chapter entitled “Notes on the New Formalism” found in the text New Expansive Poetry, makes the claim that free verse uses aural techniques similar to the formal poetic usage of meter. He says, “ Poetry demands to be recited, heard, even memorized for its true appreciation (17). Gioia also claims on […]
This week, we read about African American poets before and after the BAM (Black Arts Movement) poets. I was moved by much of their work, and I again found myself with a dilemma: how do I respond to these poets and their work. I am fully aware that I cannot, nor should I, attempt to […]
Contemporary Poet Lyn Hejinian engages language as a “language poet” with humor and existential tonality. Her poems embody her experiences and existential observations in a similar way to confessional poetry; however, she acknowledges her own perception as distinct from a reader’s with her satirical play with words and the changing pronouns to encompass herself, the […]
Oh, praise the Language poets for rescuing the prose poem! I’ll admit I was a bit down ☹ after the formalist opinions on the matter, which I take to be not hostile to prose poetry, but skeptical of the apparently harsh break from English lyric tradition. The readings for this week revealed some of the […]
I think I’ve brought up this line from Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself: “To be in any form, what is that?” he asks. “Mine is no callous shell.” That line about shells can be read as a bit dismissive of traditional form, but what strikes me most is that first question–one that dominates American poetry: […]
I too am of a “vocal and articulate minority,” and too share similar repulsions with the New Formalists over the “tide of vapid free verse” (151), spewing from and within American MFA programs. Didn’t anybody ever tell you: nothing’s ever free! Everything comes with a price. This one is just logical positivism imbricated with liberal […]
In the spirit of the formalist poets of the twentieth century, I sought out to attempt to make form a valuable trait in the poem I wrote for this week’s blog post. The formalists argued that by moving entirely away from form, so much so that most of the top poets of the era were […]
What is it like to be a White male in the postwar rust belt: after the atom bomb, when America fights to achieve itself? “Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio” by James Wright gives a portrait of this life. In the close reading that follows, I attend to the poem’s signifiers of class, race, and […]
Three loblollies stand as thrones Of former monarchs, And there through the leaves of grass A copperhead moves. Sap, pollen, and singed fields Of forgotten crops sting the nose hairs. A shiplap dull colored house holds Hard the secrets of knowing. The well is full and pushes out With overflow. I have never known my […]