Friday, August 9, 2013

A Letter to Poets

Recently, Ari said to me, "Mommy, when you were in preschool, did you have Chinese class?"
"Why, no, bunny. I didn't."
Ari: Did you have Spanish class?
Self: Not in preschool. (Actually: never.)
Ari: Well, did you have music class?
Self: I did not.
Ari: What about French?
Self: Nope.
Ari: Then how do you know
Self: Know what?
Ari: Anything.

I come from a childhood which was sorely lacking in education. My preschool taught like: sharing and coloring and using the damn toilet. The global art focus isn't how they used to do it, people. And I have some thoughts! Of course, my child is perfect, and so shares beautifully and has never had an accident or even forgotten to wash his hands and can color like Mark-fucking-Rothko, but I've noticed! That some other children who are graduating from preschool do not do these things so well, especially the sharing bit, and I wonder if perhaps they've spent too much time in Chinese class. Some of them can't even seem to pull up their sodding underwear. At five! What are they going to do in kindergarten? Flash everyone? Ari, naturally, pulls his up like a champ, and has the extra bonus ability to get it on backwards without ever having taken it off! Impressive, right?

Speaking of foreign languages: I love poetry because am English teacher, but I do not understand why poets sometimes feel the need to use foreign languages (sometimes more than one!) in their work. Do they think poetry as a genre is not incomprehensible and pretentious enough already? Really? Or are they trying to trick us!!! Meaning: do they think we will be too ashamed to admit that we don't know the particular Swahili phrase they've used and will just assume it is something brilliant and never ask? When in fact! Maybe they are saying "pop goes the weasel" or "add two cups flour (sifted)" or something. Now, I know some of you people are on the verge of writing to complain that I am stifling somebody's spirit by saying "add two cups flour (sifted)" is not poetic. Whatevs.

In this poem, I can't even tell which words are foreign and which words I just don't know! I suppose the italics could have helped, but "dental" and "perfect" are definitely English, and "Artemisia" is definitely not.

Dear Poets, You are lucky anyone reads your stuff. Very few do. I am one of them. I pay money for poetry; I go to readings and events; I donate a serious chunk of my income to poetry support. There are about 16 of us left. You do not want to piss us off. I understand, of course, that you don't write for money. However! I think you do want us to attempt to understand your work, or at least keep trying to make a world where a poet can exist and not starve. I want you to know that every single time I see a foreign word (even if I do know what it means!) in a poem I stop reading. I want you to know that every single time I see a word that is italicized for no apparent reason, I stop reading. I want you to know that every time I see a word I don't know, I look it up, and then I (say it with me) stop! reading! I want to understand, and I will work hard, be flexible, and let it sit with me and demand no concrete meaning. But, I draw the line at you people being cryptic on purpose. I freaking hate that shit. So does everyone else. I mean it. You think I am kidding, don't you? But I'm not! Others may say, "Oh, I enjoy a vague poem, with some international flavor." Bullshit. They lie.

Using big words for no reason is snobbery. I think poetry should be accessible, and even though you don't write for the masses, so do you. What are you hiding?

Love,
me

The end.

No comments:

Post a Comment