A blab/rant about prosody--lacking coherence. (deal with it.)
I'm so used to workshops where I sit silently while others tear my work (read 'tear' in whichever way you please, which may be influenced by whether or not you were interested in my poetry...) that it's nice being put on the spot by Laura asking what we're trying to do--where we're going--how we get anywhere--do we get anywhere--why is there a point in getting anywhere. As a result, these questions are in my head each time I sit down to read, write (poetry or not), etc.
A small part of my "goals" for the class is to increase productivity that has been lacking since the major life changes I've incurred in the last few years--the most productive period of my poetic life was a great moment where I lived BY MYSELF in a beautiful and fairly spacious apartment in North Berkeley. Now my writing is interupted by a waking baby and another writer's quirks (and I know he's equally disturbed by mine).
My productivity has been increased lately by music--or rather music induced trances. I wallow in my headphones nightly, so loud that Sean can hear them from across the room, or tonight from the next room. I sit on the futon and mouth lyrics as I write...I am completely entranced. I find myself playing the keyboard as a piano...I think of my language with a rythym, my hands conduct a rythym as they hover above keys anticipating the proper attack. (I was thinking of this habit of mine while reading the Sudnow for those of you in Walter's class). And in Craft today during Dillon's presentation, I noticed that he also at times approaches his keyboard as if it's a piano, His hand holding the invisible ball and wrist bouncing and curving in releasing a chord. I am probably cheating knowing that Dillon is a musician.
In what ways does our poetry change when our prosody changes? When our place changes? So many of you have just moved, from Portland, Philly, Pittsburgh, Atlanta, Colorado. How does this affect your work? Jacob requested that we continue the discussion about our ideal readership, the ideal situations in which our poetry is encountered, etc. I am still wrestling with this...esp in working on the poems/writing the poems that I plan to turn in as my next submission. Perhaps I am wrestling with it too much that it's hindering the production of the actual work (not to mention that I'm procrastinating the actual writing of them since I'm blogging rather than writing poetry....damn.)
I'm so used to workshops where I sit silently while others tear my work (read 'tear' in whichever way you please, which may be influenced by whether or not you were interested in my poetry...) that it's nice being put on the spot by Laura asking what we're trying to do--where we're going--how we get anywhere--do we get anywhere--why is there a point in getting anywhere. As a result, these questions are in my head each time I sit down to read, write (poetry or not), etc.
A small part of my "goals" for the class is to increase productivity that has been lacking since the major life changes I've incurred in the last few years--the most productive period of my poetic life was a great moment where I lived BY MYSELF in a beautiful and fairly spacious apartment in North Berkeley. Now my writing is interupted by a waking baby and another writer's quirks (and I know he's equally disturbed by mine).
My productivity has been increased lately by music--or rather music induced trances. I wallow in my headphones nightly, so loud that Sean can hear them from across the room, or tonight from the next room. I sit on the futon and mouth lyrics as I write...I am completely entranced. I find myself playing the keyboard as a piano...I think of my language with a rythym, my hands conduct a rythym as they hover above keys anticipating the proper attack. (I was thinking of this habit of mine while reading the Sudnow for those of you in Walter's class). And in Craft today during Dillon's presentation, I noticed that he also at times approaches his keyboard as if it's a piano, His hand holding the invisible ball and wrist bouncing and curving in releasing a chord. I am probably cheating knowing that Dillon is a musician.
In what ways does our poetry change when our prosody changes? When our place changes? So many of you have just moved, from Portland, Philly, Pittsburgh, Atlanta, Colorado. How does this affect your work? Jacob requested that we continue the discussion about our ideal readership, the ideal situations in which our poetry is encountered, etc. I am still wrestling with this...esp in working on the poems/writing the poems that I plan to turn in as my next submission. Perhaps I am wrestling with it too much that it's hindering the production of the actual work (not to mention that I'm procrastinating the actual writing of them since I'm blogging rather than writing poetry....damn.)
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