Poem: The Nude that Stays Nude

Photo: William Logan from the Sewanee website

Don’t do what all the other little buggers are doing.

Don’t try to make the poem look pretty. You’re not decorating cupcakes, Cupcake.

Don’t think you’re the only bastard who ever suffered — just write as if you were.

Don’t eat someone else’s lunch. For eat read steal. For lunch read wife. For wife read style.

Don’t be any form’s bitch.

Don’t think if you cheat on form or slip the meter, no one will notice. They’ll know and think you a fool. Don’t think it impossible to cheat on form. If you do it well, they’ll think you a genius.

Don’t think if you declare yourself avant-garde, your sins will be forgiven.

Don’t blubber if you never receive prizes. Look at the poets who won the Pulitzer fifty years ago. See who’s there. See who’s not.

Don’t think you’re special. Stand in a library amid all those poets who thought they were every inch the genius you think you are.

Don’t double-space your lines and think the poem better. It just takes up more room.

Don’t think regret is 20/20. Regret is myopic. Hope is astigmatic. Trust is blind.

Don’t think what you have to say is important. The way you say it is what’s important. What you have to say is rubbish.

Don’t think you don’t have to read. You read in order to steal. Read more, steal better.

Don’t think your poems are good because they sound good read aloud. Get your hearing checked.

Never write poems about poetry.

Don’t play to the audience. Your audience is full of dopes, cheeseballs, and Johnny-come-latelies?—?besides, they’re laughing at you all the way home.

Don’t think you’ve been anointed by early success. Look at the critical darlings of a hundred years ago. Look at the darlings of twenty years ago.

Never wish you were there. Wish you were here.

Don’t think you can ignore grammar. You need grammar more than grammar needs you.

Never eat the pie if you can own the fork.

Don’t think new is better. Don’t think new is not better. Don’t think, read. Don’t think, ink.

Poetry is the nude that stays nude.

Never write the first line if you already know the last. The best poem is the unwritten poem.

Don’t break the window before you look at the view.

Don’t think that if you have two manuscripts, you have two manuscripts. You have one manuscript.

Don’t eat jargon, because you’ll shit jargon.

Don’t think poetry is a religion. It’s more important than religion.

~ William Logan

Poem: The Nude that Stays Nude

Photo: William Logan from the Sewanee website

Don’t do what all the other little buggers are doing.

Don’t try to make the poem look pretty. You’re not decorating cupcakes, Cupcake.

Don’t think you’re the only bastard who ever suffered — just write as if you were.

Don’t eat someone else’s lunch. For eat read steal. For lunch read wife. For wife read style.

Don’t be any form’s bitch.

Don’t think if you cheat on form or slip the meter, no one will notice. They’ll know and think you a fool. Don’t think it impossible to cheat on form. If you do it well, they’ll think you a genius.

Don’t think if you declare yourself avant-garde, your sins will be forgiven.

Don’t blubber if you never receive prizes. Look at the poets who won the Pulitzer fifty years ago. See who’s there. See who’s not.

Don’t think you’re special. Stand in a library amid all those poets who thought they were every inch the genius you think you are.

Don’t double-space your lines and think the poem better. It just takes up more room.

Don’t think regret is 20/20. Regret is myopic. Hope is astigmatic. Trust is blind.

Don’t think what you have to say is important. The way you say it is what’s important. What you have to say is rubbish.

Don’t think you don’t have to read. You read in order to steal. Read more, steal better.

Don’t think your poems are good because they sound good read aloud. Get your hearing checked.

Never write poems about poetry.

Don’t play to the audience. Your audience is full of dopes, cheeseballs, and Johnny-come-latelies?—?besides, they’re laughing at you all the way home.

Don’t think you’ve been anointed by early success. Look at the critical darlings of a hundred years ago. Look at the darlings of twenty years ago.

Never wish you were there. Wish you were here.

Don’t think you can ignore grammar. You need grammar more than grammar needs you.

Never eat the pie if you can own the fork.

Don’t think new is better. Don’t think new is not better. Don’t think, read. Don’t think, ink.

Poetry is the nude that stays nude.

Never write the first line if you already know the last. The best poem is the unwritten poem.

Don’t break the window before you look at the view.

Don’t think that if you have two manuscripts, you have two manuscripts. You have one manuscript.

Don’t eat jargon, because you’ll shit jargon.

Don’t think poetry is a religion. It’s more important than religion.

~ William Logan

Quote on immortality of poems

Source: h+

I is for immortality, which for some poets is a necessary compensation. Presumably miserable in this life, they will be remembered when the rest of us are long forgotten. None of them asks about the quality of that remembrance--what it will be like to crouch in the dim hallways of somebody's mind until the moment of recollection occurs, or to be lifted off suddenly and forever into the pastures of obscurity. Most poets know better than to concern themselves with such things. They know the chances are better than good that their poems will die when they do and never be heard of again, that they'll be replaced by poems sporting a new look in a language more current. They also know that even if individual poems die, though in some cases slowly, poetry will continue: that its subjects, it constant themes, are less liable to change than fashions in language, and that this is where an alternate, less lustrous immortality might be. We all know that a poem can influence other poems, remain alive in them, just as previous poems are alive in it. Could we not say, therefore, that individual poems succeed most by encouraging revisions of themselves and inducing their own erasure? Yes, but is this immortality, or simply a purposeful way of being dead?

~ Mark Strand

Quote on immortality of poems

Source: h+

I is for immortality, which for some poets is a necessary compensation. Presumably miserable in this life, they will be remembered when the rest of us are long forgotten. None of them asks about the quality of that remembrance--what it will be like to crouch in the dim hallways of somebody's mind until the moment of recollection occurs, or to be lifted off suddenly and forever into the pastures of obscurity. Most poets know better than to concern themselves with such things. They know the chances are better than good that their poems will die when they do and never be heard of again, that they'll be replaced by poems sporting a new look in a language more current. They also know that even if individual poems die, though in some cases slowly, poetry will continue: that its subjects, it constant themes, are less liable to change than fashions in language, and that this is where an alternate, less lustrous immortality might be. We all know that a poem can influence other poems, remain alive in them, just as previous poems are alive in it. Could we not say, therefore, that individual poems succeed most by encouraging revisions of themselves and inducing their own erasure? Yes, but is this immortality, or simply a purposeful way of being dead?

~ Mark Strand

RipRap

Credit: Bruna Fernandes

Lay down these words
Before your mind like rocks.
      placed solid, by hands  
In choice of place, set
Before the body of the mind
 in space and time:
Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall

riprap of things:
Cobble of milky way,

straying planets,
These poems, people,

lost ponies with
Dragging saddles—
             and rocky sure-foot trails.  
The worlds like an endless

four-dimensional
Game of Go.

ants and pebbles
In the thin loam, each rock a word

a creek-washed stone
Granite: ingrained

with torment of fire and weight  
Crystal and sediment linked hot

all change, in thoughts,   

As well as things.

~ Gary Snyder

RipRap

Credit: Bruna Fernandes

Lay down these words
Before your mind like rocks.
      placed solid, by hands  
In choice of place, set
Before the body of the mind
 in space and time:
Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall

riprap of things:
Cobble of milky way,

straying planets,
These poems, people,

lost ponies with
Dragging saddles—
             and rocky sure-foot trails.  
The worlds like an endless

four-dimensional
Game of Go.

ants and pebbles
In the thin loam, each rock a word

a creek-washed stone
Granite: ingrained

with torment of fire and weight  
Crystal and sediment linked hot

all change, in thoughts,   

As well as things.

~ Gary Snyder

Eyeglasses

Source: Unknown/favim.com

The Egyptian forerunner of poetry
consisted of glass globes filled with water,
a kind of magic in how it bent words
 and made them appear larger.

Later, sailors used simple poems
to watch out for pirates or sea serpents,
and by the time they became
something we would recognize today,

they were in the hands of monks
who were the only ones who could read
back then. Eventually, Ben Franklin
who could not see without poetry

improved further on the design
and even displayed his work in portraits.
Now, fashion designers make poems
that cost hundreds or thousands of dollars.

For the poor, there remain cheaper
alternatives though such poems
are often thicker, clunky, and more likely
to draw stares as you walk down the street,

past the bank and the park, right past
your bus stop, marveling at the crisp imagery
of the world as though seeing it,
pardon the cliché, for the first time.

~ Michael Meyerhofer

Eyeglasses

Source: Unknown/favim.com

The Egyptian forerunner of poetry
consisted of glass globes filled with water,
a kind of magic in how it bent words
 and made them appear larger.

Later, sailors used simple poems
to watch out for pirates or sea serpents,
and by the time they became
something we would recognize today,

they were in the hands of monks
who were the only ones who could read
back then. Eventually, Ben Franklin
who could not see without poetry

improved further on the design
and even displayed his work in portraits.
Now, fashion designers make poems
that cost hundreds or thousands of dollars.

For the poor, there remain cheaper
alternatives though such poems
are often thicker, clunky, and more likely
to draw stares as you walk down the street,

past the bank and the park, right past
your bus stop, marveling at the crisp imagery
of the world as though seeing it,
pardon the cliché, for the first time.

~ Michael Meyerhofer

The New Poetry Handbook

Photo credit: wallyir from morguefile.com

1 If a man understands a poem,
he shall have troubles.

2 If a man lives with a poem,
he shall die lonely.

3 If a man lives with two poems,
he shall be unfaithful to one.

4 If a man conceives of a poem,
he shall have one less child.

5 If a man conceives of two poems,
he shall have two children less.

6 If a man wears a crown on his head as he writes,
he shall be found out.

7 If a man wears no crown on his head as he writes,
he shall deceive no one but himself.

8 If a man gets angry at a poem,
he shall be scorned by men.

9 If a man continues to be angry at a poem,
he shall be scorned by women.

10 If a man publicly denounces poetry,
his shoes will fill with urine.

11 If a man gives up poetry for power,
he shall have lots of power.

12 If a man brags about his poems,
he shall be loved by fools.

13 If a man brags about his poems and loves fools,
he shall write no more.

14 If a man craves attention because of his poems,
he shall be like a jackass in moonlight.

15 If a man writes a poem and praises the poem of a fellow,
he shall have a beautiful mistress.

16 If a man writes a poem and praises the poem of a fellow overly,
he shall drive his mistress away.

17 If a man claims the poem of another,
his heart shall double in size.

18 If a man lets his poems go naked,
he shall fear death.

19 If a man fears death,
he shall be saved by his poems.

20 If a man does not fear death,
he may or may not be saved by his poems.

21 If a man finishes a poem,
he shall bathe in the blank wake of his passion
and be kissed by white paper.

~ Mark Strand

The New Poetry Handbook

Photo credit: wallyir from morguefile.com

1 If a man understands a poem,
he shall have troubles.

2 If a man lives with a poem,
he shall die lonely.

3 If a man lives with two poems,
he shall be unfaithful to one.

4 If a man conceives of a poem,
he shall have one less child.

5 If a man conceives of two poems,
he shall have two children less.

6 If a man wears a crown on his head as he writes,
he shall be found out.

7 If a man wears no crown on his head as he writes,
he shall deceive no one but himself.

8 If a man gets angry at a poem,
he shall be scorned by men.

9 If a man continues to be angry at a poem,
he shall be scorned by women.

10 If a man publicly denounces poetry,
his shoes will fill with urine.

11 If a man gives up poetry for power,
he shall have lots of power.

12 If a man brags about his poems,
he shall be loved by fools.

13 If a man brags about his poems and loves fools,
he shall write no more.

14 If a man craves attention because of his poems,
he shall be like a jackass in moonlight.

15 If a man writes a poem and praises the poem of a fellow,
he shall have a beautiful mistress.

16 If a man writes a poem and praises the poem of a fellow overly,
he shall drive his mistress away.

17 If a man claims the poem of another,
his heart shall double in size.

18 If a man lets his poems go naked,
he shall fear death.

19 If a man fears death,
he shall be saved by his poems.

20 If a man does not fear death,
he may or may not be saved by his poems.

21 If a man finishes a poem,
he shall bathe in the blank wake of his passion
and be kissed by white paper.

~ Mark Strand