Poetry Editor Jenn Houle's Answers
1. In the early 19th century, Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote: "Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world." Regardless of how true it was in his day, it certainly doesn't seem true in ours. In her mid-life memoir, Fear of Fifty, Erica Jong quipped "No one bothers to kill poets in America. It is enough to let them rot in universities, undead." The question is: Nevermind poetry's impact on society, does poetry, at all, legislate (and by legislate I mean "regulate" and "determine") the way you are in and with the world?
Yes, it absolutely does. In moments of uncertainty, it is to poetry that I turn, and it is through poetry that I attempt to articulate and understand the true nature of whatever it is that I am bewildered, awed or upset by.
2. And on that note, to re-animate another great dead poet: "Is the world too much with us?"
Way too much with us, same as it ever was. The world is inescapable — the opportunity to reach an understanding with it is ours.
3. Ezra Pound famously asserted that in order for poetry to survive, poets had to "make it new." Recently, Poetry Magazine (Pound's old musing grounds) published an article, essentially re-asserting this, but arguing that poetry must become a desirable commodity in order to make it any deeper into the millennium. So, two-part question: Is poetry a commodity in the straight sense of the word? Should it be written for profit? And if not, how will it ever penetrate the larger marketplace? And if you say it shouldn't, tell me why you think a poet's hard won insights shouldn't be rewarded financially? This is a thorny one, especially considering I am asking you to give me your insights for free. Have at it.
Obviously, it cannot, and should not be done for profit. But I don't believe a little more recognition for the best would hurt, either. Awful of me to bring money into it, just awful. This is art we're talking about, and any art created with profit in mind is commercial filler — right? Well, I don't know. Is the practice of medicine corrupt because of the amount of money doctors make? Oh, wait. Wait. I guess what I am getting at is a question of value…and the value of a good poem is impossible to quantify. I believe we should assign value to the poets we deem worthy by supporting their work, and paying them to speak, inspire and educate us. As far as what this might mean for the quality and caliber of work that comes to attention — well, let's cross that bridge when we come to it. Awful question. I do have a nerve…
4. On that note: Should poetry be more mainstream than it is? If it was, would mediocrity prevail?
My fear is that it already does….and it does so precisely because innovative poetry is no longer mainstream…there's no real yardstick out there in the collective. But overall, I believe poetry, like bread, as Dalton Roque once wrote, should be for everyone. A more competitive marketplace would breed excellence, no? Well, it could, if we were all willing to be pitiless, but open-minded and thoughtful.
5. Poetry has been used as a rallying cry for revolution and it has been the vehicle by which rulers circulate their dogma, but today, our leaders certainly no longer speak to us in poetry. Some poetry belongs to "the people", but most people don't read poetry. Is poetry, now, only for poets? Sorry, I mean poetcriticks. And if so, how then, does it differ from a corporate memo?
This is one of my biggest pet peeves about poetry — it really seems to me that the only people discussing it are poets. We all sit around talking about TV shows, despite the fact that most of us are not in the television industry. TV writers know how to reach and engage (benumb? hypnotize? trick? placate?) their audience in a way poets no longer seem able to. As a result, I see a lot of poetry written with other poets in mind. There's nothing wrong with this, on its own terms, but I definitely do believe it limits the audience poetry will attract and retain.
6. What is the most ridiculous thing someone has said to you about writing poetry?
That it's a complete waste of time, and I should do something more productive with my spare time — like clean house.
7. What is the most ridiculous claim you have ever made in defense of poetry? (Even if it was true.)
That it sets me apart from the rest of humanity, somehow…allows me access to insights others will never attain.
8. When you're really writing, do any of these questions matter?
Nope.
9. But, do any of these questions matter?
In the long run, no, absolutely not — on a personal level, yes, sometimes.
10. Has poetry ever taken you on a journey? Where to?
This is a kind of trite question, but yes…certain poems have the ability to lift me right out of my daily rounds. John Keats' 'Hyperion' — every time I read it, I am in Mnemosyne's lost realm. I can see fallen Saturn — I can feel the ancient world disappearing. It transports me. This is just one example — my own experience of writing often results in an inward journey, which in turn transforms the way I interact with and perceive the external. It can be very significant, sometimes restorative, sometimes unsettling, but almost always revelatory.
11. John Keats espoused the virtues of Negative Capability — a state of being at peace with the great mysteries. Wislawa Zsymborska said (and innumerable other poets have shared the sentiment) that poetry is born of a perpetual "I don't know". In your experience, is this an accurate statement?
For me, yes. It's my mode of being, but I am, I suppose, to some extent searching for at least a little certainty. In searching, I discover poetry, pause over it, and then continue the hunt.
12. Oftentimes, in talking about poetry, we tend to say, almost as a matter of course, that it requires us to remain "open" on many levels — imaginatively, creatively, emotionally, and yet, the end product of this openness is a poem, an artifact, a closure: or is it? Is the end product of poetry perhaps, not the poem, but something else? What?
The desire to continue searching, the link to the next insight — the overture — the invitation to participate, to speak, to answer, or to reconsider an old stance.
13. Does poetry, at its best, not demand that we "close" ourselves to some things — i.e. specifically so that we might see them anew?
Yes, sometimes it is about focusing on one single aspect of an object, emotion or situation. Paradoxically, microscoping sometimes helps with overall perspective.
14. It has been claimed that poetry has become dominated by a bunch of whiners, and that it is no longer saying much of import. Assuming that this is just categorically untrue, what are some of the most important things you've gleaned lately, either directly, or indirectly from reading another poet?
That it is always worth it.
15. From writing poetry yourself?
That I don't know everything, and that I have to keep at it.
16. Do you remember the first time a poem struck you, and resonated deeply? What happened there?
It was an Edgar Allan Poe poem, 'Irene', and the musicality of it absolutely filled me. I was about eight years old, and I began to experiment with rhyme myself. I've no doubt that this early awareness of the musical potential of language impacted my poetic development.
17. Have you ever wanted to give up writing poetry? If so, what changed your mind?
Yes, I have. I've written poetry so shameless that I've been, again, paradoxically, ashamed of myself. What changes my mind? I guess it's not a choice, really — I've been writing poetry since I was a very small girl. Sometimes I struggle with it, but it is so much a part of my makeup now, that giving it up would be like renouncing myself entirely. I often think myself to sleep in poetry. I'm wired that way.
18. Do you think poetry's loss of profile is due to society's overwhelming complacency, or do you think it's the other way around?
Little from A, little from B —
19. What is the greatest discovery you have made via poetry?
That nothing is impossible to communicate.
20. Might poetry function as a map of consciousness, written as we go, with individual poems becoming markers for others? If so, as a woman poet, do you feel any responsibility for your poems? Are you conscious of your readers?
Yes, yes, and yes.
Editor's Bio: Jenn Houle is a Canadian writer whose work has recently appeared in several acclaimed Canadian journals (including CV2, Lichen, The Antigonish Review and Arc). Her blog can be viewed at signastra.blogspot.com
BIO: Patricia Wellingham-Jones, a former psychology researcher and writer/editor, is a three-time Pushcart Prize nominee. Her work is published in numerous anthologies, journals, and Internet magazines, including HazMat Review, Red River Review, Rattlesnake Review, Phoebe, A Room of Her Own, The Raintown Review, Centrifugal Eye and Ibbetson Street. Recent chapbooks include Don't Turn Away: Poems About Breast Cancer (PWJ Publishing), Hormone Stew (Snark Publishing) and Voices on the Land (Rattlesnake Press). Her website is www.wellinghamjones.com. Email: comments@moondance.org