Lit blog

[DeepAsleep]

I'm not trying to be contentious here, DA, but isn't the goal of slam to win the competition? And if you've got some thing you do that works, shouldn't you use it? So if this guy can win consistently, whatever you think about the quality of his poems as poems, what's wrong with that?

Finnegans Wake is never going to outsell The Da Vinci Code, however much more merit it has as Art. (Yeah, that's debatable. OK, OK. Pick some other artsy novel: War and Peace, Pride and Prejudice, Infinite Jest—the principle's the same.)

Correct me if I'm wrong—slam is performance, competition, judged by the audience. May the most popular gal or guy win.

Occasionally great art is popular (can you say "Dickens"?), but I think that's unusual.

Bless you for wanting it to be that way, though.

Well, the slam motto is, "The points are not the point. The point is poetry." If someone's winning with what are not poems in the "use of metaphor/figurative language" sense, do they deserve my respect? No. Will I speak out against bad art? Yes.

Also, performance AND content are the two stated criteria for judging a slam. The problem is an audience that often knows nothing about poetry.

Still - Yes, it's a competition - Omaha, as a scene is unusually focused on new work, for example. Everyone expects you to bring new stuff on a fairly consistent basis - three to five months being approximately the window on a solid piece, with exceptions for city championships and team finals, where it gets fairly cutthroat (though I take exception when people who haven't written new poems in years come in with the same, tired old shit, but that's a personal gripe that I mostly keep away from the scene.)

And I admit I'm biased. I haven't seriously competed since I got back, because I dislike where slam is often focused. I enjoy it, but I don't write to that form, and I have objections to a lot of things about it, as a whole. So, I perform, some, and I'm getting ready to start coaching a teen slam team.

 

[Tzara]

Well, the slam motto is, "The points are not the point. The point is poetry." If someone's winning with what are not poems in the "use of metaphor/figurative language" sense, do they deserve my respect? No. Will I speak out against bad art? Yes.

Also, performance AND content are the two stated criteria for judging a slam. The problem is an audience that often knows nothing about poetry.

Now think about that. Is slam meant to popularize poetry? (I don't know, of course. Just a guess.) What the hell does it mean that an audience doesn't know anything about the art they are there to consume? I don't really understand much about classical music. Does that mean I shouldn't have opinions about it or that my opinions, as a musically naive patron (at least compared to the performers), should have little value?

I could make the same argument for any art.

Yes, yes, I'm being contrary this evening. My holiday mood manifesting itself. Anyway, it's just a question. I am prolly on your side on it, but I wonder sometimes.

 

[DeepAsleep]

Now think about that. Is slam meant to popularize poetry? (I don't know, of course. Just a guess.) What the hell does it mean that an audience doesn't know anything about the art they are there to consume? I don't really understand much about classical music. Does that mean I shouldn't have opinions about it or that my opinions, as a musically naive patron (at least compared to the performers), should have little value?

I could make the same argument for any art.

Yes, yes, I'm being contrary this evening. My holiday mood manifesting itself. Anyway, it's just a question. I am prolly on your side on it, but I wonder sometimes.

Well, if what's being presented isn't poetry, then they're not judging art, just people poking hotbuttons in a way that isn't even artistic. Michael Guinn (The aforementioned KILLER OF ALL THAT IS FUCKING DECENT, IN SLAM) does a poem about how his mother tried to abort him with a coathanger, which he tends to follow up with a poem about watching helplessly as his father rapes his baby sister. Neither poem contains: A) Truth. B) Metaphor. C) Ethical judgement. People talk about the death of art - It's him.

 

[normal jean]

..............

 

[Angeline]

how long have I been away??? WTF is this quick reply feature anyway...nothing I ever do is quick....

anyway, I am laying out today, 1201 you may correct my lie/lay usage but I am still not working today. My body aches all over. Hubby says..." that's 400 dollars every day you dont work." Oh wellllll...... cant spend it if I'm dead, lol.

we've worked 17 days straight, are planning to go home on the 19th since the Ryan people are closing the job down the 20th anyway.

My youngest duaghter is at homefrom college, Im glad someone is there for the kitties, I miss my cats, YOuhave no idea.

I remember a post by Rybka, he was telling us that a neighbor had passed away, and he pondered how long he mght be umm, deceased before anyone found him and he worried about his dog.

He could be gruff, but he had such a sweet heart,after he said that, I sorried about him too. and wondered about myself, a predestined "cat lady". Im pretty sure thats how it will end, me working part time at Kmart till I am 75 and then dying at home alone and my poor cats eat my face before anyone finds me.... gross


so, who is new? what has happened, anything good? I think I saw a post by fire child, be careful girl, I worry about you but am thankful for your strength. xoxo

has anna had that youngun yet? bless her heart. who is newly published? there has to be someone...newly published. how is everything with evie and hugo? ifeel so deprived...

okAY, i have it on the Today show, when exactly, did Obama become a coke head? or, ex coke head if there IS such a thing,? if he ever had my vote, he would have lost it there


i miss you guys. i really do. and I have missed reading the new poems. hopefully I can catch up during break. \


hugs and kisses to you all.

~~~not-so-normal, jeane

I miss you, too sweet sis.

I was just saying to someone here (well Bijou lol) that I was really looking forward to the holidays because some of the poets who have been so busy will be around again.

No word on Anna, but Rainy announced the new ME edition. so I'm guessing she has been pretty wrapped up with that. Great issue, great poems there.

Obama is a cokehead? They said so on the Today Show? Lol. I must be watching the wrong channels--I guess they don't announce that stuff on the Food Network or the Travel Channel.

Hmmm. We fell asleep with the tv on last night. I woke up around 4 am to hear something about Ike Turner having died and then I fell back asleep and dreamed I was an Ikette in my maidenform bra. (Not really, I just liked the way that sounded.)

Love you sis. Come home soon.

 

[Angeline]

Well, if what's being presented isn't poetry, then they're not judging art, just people poking hotbuttons in a way that isn't even artistic. Michael Guinn (The aforementioned KILLER OF ALL THAT IS FUCKING DECENT, IN SLAM) does a poem about how his mother tried to abort him with a coathanger, which he tends to follow up with a poem about watching helplessly as his father rapes his baby sister. Neither poem contains: A) Truth. B) Metaphor. C) Ethical judgement. People talk about the death of art - It's him.

If you haven't checked out the sound files at UBU yet, you must! It's the antithesis of slam, sort of. Poetry reading without the slam rules making all the poems have that same "sound." And yet some of the files, like some John Giorno or Patti Smith stuff for example, are very performance oriented.

 

[champagne1982]

The ravens have come south with the snow
this month. Black notes on a canvas fresh
out of the north, plotted on wires
drawn tight by the wind to sing their own
carol. The storm flew by while they hunkered
against the trees, inside the thin boughs
of jack pine and spruce to dream of clear
sky and bright sun shadows highlighting
the dead. The ravens come south
to cleanse the land and play games
of imitation. I personally know one who sings
a perfect Polaris speed run. He must be Innu.

 

[wildsweetone]

how long have I been away??? WTF is this quick reply feature anyway...nothing I ever do is quick....

anyway, I am laying out today, 1201 you may correct my lie/lay usage but I am still not working today. My body aches all over. Hubby says..." that's 400 dollars every day you dont work." Oh wellllll...... cant spend it if I'm dead, lol.

we've worked 17 days straight, are planning to go home on the 19th since the Ryan people are closing the job down the 20th anyway.

My youngest duaghter is at homefrom college, Im glad someone is there for the kitties, I miss my cats, YOuhave no idea.

I remember a post by Rybka, he was telling us that a neighbor had passed away, and he pondered how long he mght be umm, deceased before anyone found him and he worried about his dog.

He could be gruff, but he had such a sweet heart,after he said that, I sorried about him too. and wondered about myself, a predestined "cat lady". Im pretty sure thats how it will end, me working part time at Kmart till I am 75 and then dying at home alone and my poor cats eat my face before anyone finds me.... gross


so, who is new? what has happened, anything good? I think I saw a post by fire child, be careful girl, I worry about you but am thankful for your strength. xoxo

has anna had that youngun yet? bless her heart. who is newly published? there has to be someone...newly published. how is everything with evie and hugo? ifeel so deprived...

okAY, i have it on the Today show, when exactly, did Obama become a coke head? or, ex coke head if there IS such a thing,? if he ever had my vote, he would have lost it there


i miss you guys. i really do. and I have missed reading the new poems. hopefully I can catch up during break. \


hugs and kisses to you all.

~~~not-so-normal, jeane

Rybka's beautiful dog now has a new owner and is being well taken care of. a group of people worked very hard to get her Vet checked and on a flight to her new home. Rybka sorted this out a while before he passed on.

i think that family and friends step in where they can when there is a need. don't worry about your cats, they will be loved by caring people just as you have loved them, i'm sure.

hope you feel better soon

 

[Tzara]

Well, if what's being presented isn't poetry...<sniparoonie>

I don't mean here to rag on DA, who is not only a vastly superior poet to my inhumble self, but a man of (cough) strong convictions as to the nature of poetry, especially slam, which he obviously loves with the protective fierceness of, well, a father. Good for him. Wish I had convictions like that.

But his truncated (may I even say "emasculated"?) statement quoted above, impassioned as it is, bothers me. I think it's because the more I read and look at things, the less clear it is to me what "poetry" is. Where the goddam boundaries are.

A dictionary is not a poem. I certainly hope we all agree on that, and if you don't you are either being meretricious or you're an idiot.

So what makes something a poem? Metaphor? (Haiku generally do not use metaphor or simile. PI fiction, on the other hand, revels in them and/or their sibling, the simile. So find the poem in this picture.) Image? (Better. But good fiction is rife with image as well. So, for that matter, is travel writing. Read Mary McCarthy's The Stones of Florence sometime. Good writing uses image. Like, why it's good.)

So what the fuck is a poem, anyway?

Um, I guess some thing that is poetical, hmmm?

Language. The more I know, the less I know. Son of a bitch.

No, I have no fucking answers, thank you very much.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

A dictionary is not a poem. I certainly hope we all agree on that, and if you don't you are either being meretricious or you're an idiot.

Or facetious. Or a true worshiper of the Word.

I am not in this discussion. I have never, nor will I ever, attempt to define the word poetry, nor do I claim to write poetry. It's just this thing I have.

But I am facetious, because all the vowels appear in order there and I love that. So I will idiotically suggest that perhaps the dictionary is in fact a meta-poem. It is the ultimate poetry collection.

The problem, as I see it, with defining poetry is that one almost always comes down to defining only what is NOT poetry. These discussions tend to inevitably lead there. And that leads to damnation. Give me a set of characteristics of "poem" as a checklist. Now tell me, how many of these characteristics does a set of words have to have in order to qualify as a "poem?" It just gets awfully imprecise.

Shouldn't you (we) just be writing? We can, if it becomes necessary, figure out what sort of category the word-thing goes in later, after it's manifested.

By the definition imposed by this particular board, for example, a "Poem" is defined as "anything you have written that you'd like to submit but which is written in fewer than 750 words".

It's all so arbitrary. Why bother with the word at all? Why not just look at the word-thing and see if it does what it wanted to do?

So much depends
on a red wheelbarrow.

the terribly facetious, meretricious, idiotic
bj

 

[Tzara]

But I am facetious, because all the vowels appear in order there and I love that.

I knew there must be a rational reason why I was in love with you, me being so effing rational.

 

[The_Fool]

There is no such thing as...

Nevermind. I said that already.

 

[Tzara]

There is no such thing as...

Nevermind. I said that already.

A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Nothing

is not

poetry.

This morning

the sun made poetry

on ice-covered trees

and I made poetry

on welcome skin

still in a warm bed

and the dogs

barked poetry

at squirrels

and the morning

and the evening

were the first poem

and in the beginning

in the morning

God made the Word.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

or:

Nothing is not poetry. This morning the sun made poetry on ice-covered trees and I made poetry on welcome skin still in a warm bed and the dogs barked poetry at squirrels and the morning and the evening were the first poem and in the beginning in the morning God made the Word.

 

[Tzara]

Here's where I quote one of my Youthful Intellectual Gods:

I have nothing to say and I am saying it and that is poetry.
...—John Cage​

I think it is best that now I remain at my most poetic.

Sshhh.

 

[annaswirls]

I had the pleasure of spending the day with our featured artist, Don Snell. It was my first interview I have written, and as I generally do not like to read interviews, I had no idea what I was doing. I think it came out okay, though, he and his wife both loved it, which is enough for me. http://www.mannequinenvy.com/snell.interview.html

I do hope that our readers take the time to really look at his work, he is amazing amazing amazing.

Meeting with him, getting all of the images together and putting together the site took a lot of time this past week. We also had some big time dealings with the school district, which took all of my time. I know I have neglected my own work this year, but I am okay with that. I am busy holding up giants and know it will make me strong.

The baby is officially full term, but I have over 2 weeks until my due date. I have had some bad back pain and cannot find the right combination of rest and movement, everything seems to make it worse after 10 minutes. Everything I eat either makes me nauseous or gives me heartburn no amount of Rolaids can cool.

Thank you for asking after me, I have enjoyed reading the blog and try to catch up every now and then, but am too far behind and walking too slowly to actually make a comment... I would need a megaphone to get my message up to the front

I will let you know when the bambino arrives! We still need a name we still need a name we still need a name.......

~J

 

[Tathagata]

or:

Nothing is not poetry. This morning the sun made poetry on ice-covered trees and I made poetry on welcome skin still in a warm bed and the dogs barked poetry at squirrels and the morning and the evening were the first poem and in the beginning in the morning God made the Word.

reading the dictionary in order isn't poetry
reading certain words from the dictionary in a certain order is
reading and repeating certain words over and over is a spell, or mantra, or chant
which has been done for thousands of years to change consciousness
which brings you to the place where poetry isn't words
it's the ice covered tree and the dogs and the dead squirrel on the side of the road
interesting circle

 

[LeBroz]

.
.

The deer must sense what's coming (2' of snow) as a doe with two fawns just slowly passed by my kitchen window, no more than 10' away. I stood as still as possible and moved slowly so as not to spook them — they kept eyeing me and kept bobbing their heads, watching their environment then digging through the snow (a couple inches left from Thursday) for something to munch on. A totally fascinating sight.

.
.

 

[FifthFlower]

The observations you've made are pretty much the defining qualities of slam. The problems this leads to could be best exemplified by this particular Pander bear. This guy wins. Consistently. I watched him win 700 bucks, a couple weeks ago. With poems like that. Pandering, bullshit, terrible, not-actually-poems.

...

I listened to both Danny Sherrard, whom I think you liked, and Mike Guinn, whom you did not, and I could not see why you liked one and not the other. They are both very similar.

Actually, they reminded me of Protestant pastors giving a fire-and-brimstone or a teary sermon rather than poets reciting poetry. Sherrard reminded me of one young, white pastor I heard many years ago, who would start crying, for no apparent reason. All of a sudden he would choke up and the tears would run down his cheeks. That's all I remember of his sermons. I haven't a clue to this day what he was talking about, but I won't forget those mushy tears, which he seemed to use somewhere in his routine. And Guinn does seem like he could be preaching to a black congregation just waiting for the choir to do some "praise the lord" chorus.

However, when you claim that one of them is doing poetry and the other is not, without a clear definition of what you want poetry to mean, I begin to wonder if the problem may be racial or cultural. You just happen to be more comfortable with the Sherrard culture rather than the Guinn culture.

 

[Senna Jawa]

You just happen to be more comfortable with the Sherrard culture rather than the Guinn culture.

Neither of these two guys cares (or has a clue--one or the other) about poetry. When listening to them without the distraction of looking at the image, it is even more clear that what they do is not even remotely concerned with poetry.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.

The deer must sense what's coming (2' of snow) as a doe with two fawns just slowly passed by my kitchen window, no more than 10' away. I stood as still as possible and moved slowly so as not to spook them — they kept eyeing me and kept bobbing their heads, watching their environment then digging through the snow (a couple inches left from Thursday) for something to munch on. A totally fascinating sight.

.
.

The view now from the same window is of a pristine Winter Wonderland, nice on a postcard but this one really sucks when it becomes all too real. Bet that doe and her fawns are holed up somewhere. I give the critters another day before they start tracking all over the stuff — the deer, rabbits, squirrels, raccoons, and stuff. Good thing I don't have to go anywhere for several days. I'll just take it easy for several shoveling days. Of course those weather people got it wrong again — they changed their projected snow total Saturday night, after the snow started falling, from 2' down to 1'. Seems they forgot that small detail that when a nor'easter forms, it drains the energy from an inland low pressure system. Whatever the reason, a foot of snow's still a foot of snow. Well, not quite. Most of it's that light fluffy stuff, so I won't be dying after 15 minutes of shoveling. The next week promises to be sunny with temps above freezing — there should be enough snow left to qualify as a White Christmas, though it'll be a sad looking sort of white.

.
.

 

[DeepAsleep]

I listened to both Danny Sherrard, whom I think you liked, and Mike Guinn, whom you did not, and I could not see why you liked one and not the other. They are both very similar.

Actually, they reminded me of Protestant pastors giving a fire-and-brimstone or a teary sermon rather than poets reciting poetry. Sherrard reminded me of one young, white pastor I heard many years ago, who would start crying, for no apparent reason. All of a sudden he would choke up and the tears would run down his cheeks. That's all I remember of his sermons. I haven't a clue to this day what he was talking about, but I won't forget those mushy tears, which he seemed to use somewhere in his routine. And Guinn does seem like he could be preaching to a black congregation just waiting for the choir to do some "praise the lord" chorus.

However, when you claim that one of them is doing poetry and the other is not, without a clear definition of what you want poetry to mean, I begin to wonder if the problem may be racial or cultural. You just happen to be more comfortable with the Sherrard culture rather than the Guinn culture.

This is a looooong and sticky debate, and I'm going to say that the above quote is probably the nearest thing to 'leaving it where it lies' that I can point at and say, "Alright, that's fine."

 

[DeepAsleep]

I should be sleeping.

I am not sleeping.

Spent the last four days at Diona's house, wrangling the boys, cooking, picking up after the boys, laying it on thick, and reading Rumi. She has asked me to learn Arabic, so that I can read to her.

I am strongly considering it. I like both math and romance.

 

[Tathagata]

Spent the last four days at Diona's house, wrangling the boys, cooking, picking up after the boys, laying it on thick, and reading Rumi. She has asked me to learn Arabic, so that I can read to her.

I am strongly considering it. I like both math and romance.

" And if that's not lovin' you
then all I got to say
Is God didn't make little green apples...."


I believe thou art smitten young friend
it does my heart good to see it

rock on