|Sunny Days in Heaven
Spiritual/Political/Philosophical Blog on the Nature of Truth and Falsehood and Heaven
Tuesday, January 11, 2005 Now, Muse, let us sing of rats!
Every now and again I take a peek at the state of the art and craft of poetry, one of my great loves, and turn away in shame and disgust. It's like checking up on your beloved but lost daughter, and seeing her turn a trick in the street. Or your lost son lying in his vomit and feces drunk in the gutter. You have to turn away as fast as you can or you will go mad screaming to heaven, howling in pain.
I once tried to fight for poetry, but it was a losing cause that I eventually abandoned. Here is an article the apprises us again of where poetry has gone. I recommend following the link to read the few samples of poems offerred. They have to be seen to be believed, but I don't have the heart to post them here. It's better with the context of the column.
From The Boston Comment:
The Best American Liturgy
How Contemporary American Poets Are Denaturing the Poem,
By JOAN HOULIHAN
Perhaps there is a parallel, cult-like aura of inviolability protecting this new writing from critical inquiry: such writing, which verges on a kind of liturgy, comes with its own form of worship and its own tenets of faith. True believers do not question its methods; they accept its sacramental texts as the Word. In neither case is readability or critical inquiry at issue. Like artifacts of automatic writing, these liturgical offerings are akin to divine revelation—believe in it or don't, but do not examine, question, or evaluate it. The church of new writing has established what every church needs: their articles of faith. They call theirs “poems.”posted by Mark Butterworth | 9:00 PM |