I am having to compile poems for an English class project. One hundred wide pool by the end of the semester, preferably from a diverse array of sources. I culled collections and chapbooks from my library, hoping to cast my net with an open mind and narrow the field. I began "Best American Poetry 2004" during a break on campus. The founder of the series wrote a foreword that was well written and engaging. The guest editor was a seasoned poet of the experimental tradition, and her introduction lost me. As I turned to the first poem, I bore witness to a conventional line style of four lines per stanza. Kim Addonizio's "Chicken" was a metaphorical first entry in the collection, took me two readings to find a deeper meaning.
The second poem, Will Alexander's "Solea of the Simooms was eclectic, utilizing space to train the reader's eye in a wandering pattern. This poem was full of complex words, higher than a literal skim read's comprehension. It threw my concentration, but I finished the work and preceded to the third. At least there was a "flow" to the second's prose. Bruce Andrew's "Dang Me" was noise! Wild brainstormed sentences that used words to defeat the definition of the convention! A sentence is grammatically grounded as an arrangement of words that makes sense. This was nonsense with embedded fragments of advice and observation. I skipped it, despairing of the state of the art form, but slowly realizing the variety of modern poetry forms.
I thought, "If this is counted as great poetry, my sketched rhymes each week appear justified!" Which, I admit, is a frightening thought. The next few poems abated my unease with the genre vagueness, I actually smiled while purveying, "Your Friend's arriving on the bus," by Craig Arnold, though I still disliked its use of a profane word in one line.
I closed the book, planning on asking my professor for why the confusing second and third were considered great. I picked up a thick collection of Rudyard Kipling's poems and began from the start. A lot of terminology from India, but readable and clever - the works rhyme in a consistent manner. The small stories are funny, descriptive, and occasionally over my head with their references to a life I didn't know. I finished the day reading Shel Silverstein's "Falling Up," a childhood favorite of mine. I shall end as he did with the book.
The Castle, By Shel Silverstein.
"It's the fabulous castle of Now.
You can walk in and wander about,
But it's so very thin,
Once you are, then you've been-
And soon as you're in, you're out."
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