Wallace Stevens reads "The Snow Man"

Comments

[Edward Williams]

Exquisite nonsense, from the finest of all suburban poets.

[Bill]

Nice voice (I hadn't heard it before), but not very well trained. He sounds like Clive James taking the piss out of his own poem.

Why nonsense, Edward? It seems a fairly simple statement to me, that there is a certain melancholy in a winter landscape to which only long exposure inures one.

[Edward WIlliams]

Thanks Bill, for explaining this to me. It makes it seem so much more profound, and so less truly insipid, to hear the meaning repeated, by one who, in the words of the poet himself, must have a mind.

For a real poem about winter, read mine:
stagepoetrycompany.typepad.com/ stage_poetry_co/2006/12/first_winter.html - 21k -

[Come now, Eddie]

Better stick a pin in that ego before it sucks all the air out of the room!

[Edward Williams]

What air? What room? One needs an ego these days, to combat the sheer bravado of bad poets. I am just a humble fellow in person though, so don't get all worked up yourself, Bud.

[stan]

Ed, from your comment, I understand that you recognize the genius of the said poet, but don't fancy this particular poem. Could you please give a reason why you feel it to be nonsense?

// I really would love to know, because I don't feel the same. Maybe, your point of view would have some strength.

[Edward Williams]

There are poetic conceits that just don’t work for me. In the Stevens poem, “Winter” having a “mind” is one of them. I think certain conceits belong to certain eras; and though Stevens is a true poet for his time, he seems now quite deluded. Romantic poets also are wildly off key.This isn’t so much a judgement or a preference, but an idea about the relationship between language and consciousness. My own conceit (as poet) is fully on display here: http://www.sulaco.us/StagePoetryCo/

[Elatia Harris]

Ed, without making reference to your poetry -- which you have linked to twice now, so people who want to know it can easily find and judge it for themselves -- I must object to your disposing of Wallace Stevens as a poet whose sell-by date has already occurred. Sorry, too, that you can't read the Romantics, that your idea about the relationship of language and consciousness precludes that pleasure. Please get back to me in 10 years -- not less, I beg of you. If, by then, you don't find your remarks here to be a sign of extreme callowness, then I'll give you a dollar for every one of those years. Meanwhile -- offer what you can offer to the world, in the knowledge that it's not necessary for dead geniuses to be deluded or off key before a young poet can come into his own.

[Edward Williams]

Elalia
You grossly misunderstand me on everything! I totally appreciate all historical poetry, and precisely because it expresses unique truths. Nobody appreciates the Romantics more than I, or the modern poets, who just because they were great, are finished. If you can swoon over them, fine.

Also, I am not a young poet. But even when I was I knew enough not to be stupidly sentimental. And defensive. Not to mention insulting.

[Elatia Harris]

Sorry if you feel insulted, Edward -- that wasn't the big idea. If you are not a young poet, then maybe you can still see how I inferred that you were -- your remarks have a "young at heart" feeling. I don't see the point of belittling great poets of the recent or historical past, however. They are anything but finished, and they don't need me to defend them, but I think for your own sake you might hold off slighting them, if only because it sets a poor tone for anyone hoping to read your poetry with an open mind.

[Edward Williams]

Dear Elatia
I have no idea why you think that anything I have said in this thread indicates I am "belittling" the poetry of the past. I am just putting it in perspective, and I feel I have the authority to do so. I am probably the greater defender of this literature, and if you read my own poetry you should be able to see that it depends completely upon the inheritance of the language that other poets have provided. Only it attempts to make an advance into territories unique to contemporary consciousness. This is to celebrate history, not defy it.

We are in a moment where the greatness of poetry is challenged, by the pathetic leanings of pseudo lyrical and confessional poets whose very basis of operation is a denial of the possibility of expression. The Wallace Stevens poem is in fact nonsense, based on a poetic conceit that is sentimentally revelent only to that depressed generation for which he obscurely wrote. While its language has resonance, it is a lie, and emotional trickery, a debasement and a false philosophy. Is this a negative opinion? I don't think so. It is just true, and if you read Stevens thoroughly you will see he himself knows it.

Stand up comedians like Billy Collins, insipid dialogue makers who specialize in you-and-I poems that just characterize fulility, all the faintly obscene poetry that is published non-stop in literary magazines, this is a downturn from the time of Stevens and Eliot and Pound--poets who at least had a sense of language, despite their (mabye) honest despair.

Our time seems to be one of complete hilarity; and in that mix, maybe novelty. In my view, the language is rioting in our mouths.

[aguy109]

Ed, I read part 1 of your "Reality" poem and I like it. The world would certainly be a better place if the bullying were restricted to poets hawking their wares. As to whether you are a 'better' poet than Stevens, I count myself too 'igorant' to judge, but I suggest a fencing duel to finalize the issue.

[Elatia Harris]

Ed, to get an idea -- and a good one -- why I would think you have belittled the great poetry of the past in your remarks here, you have only to read them. Your trail of adjectives is by now stronger evidence of your beliefs than your insistence on having been misunderstood. And that's okay, really -- to be a poet having giant issues with the giants of poetry, and pretty big issues, too, with your particularly high-profile contemporaries, whom history will judge.

What I'm getting at here -- and I apologize for having used language that was unfriendly to you -- is that every artist presents his art in a certain atmosphere of his own making. A poetry lover could be forgiven for sensing that your poetry was now wreathed in an atmosphere of lip-service, resentment and condescension -- hey, we've all been there. But it places an insupportable burden on your poetry -- which you want people to read, don't you? Maybe you do figure Wallace Stevens for a Mid-century Depressive, but that's what I call a second date topic of conversation -- something you tell your date after she's already come to know you a bit. What your present m.o. does is to set your poetry up for a disappointing reception, one that is rigged against it. I think if you want to be read, you need to find another way in.

[Edward Williams]

Elatia
Thanks for the advice, but I am way past help on that score. I don't make these judgements on other poetry in a calculation. And can hardly keep them secret, for some kind of "second date" as you put it. The idea of trying to get readers just for the sake of it makes me ill.

[Paul]

Edward,

I like your input on Stevens. I've always found him to be vastly overrated and a darling of the academic world. His work is remote, apolitical, and elitist. He doesn't take a stand. He writes as if he's speaking down to the reader. It's as if he's saying "You're not smart enough to be reading this," when in fact an authentic poet realizes the lack of substance in his work. Your thoughts, please.

[Vivian Darkbloom]

Edward,

I read your comments about the irrelevant 'poetic conceit' and some mutterings about 'nonsense', clicked on the link to your poems, clicked at one on random ('sympathetic suffering'), listened to the audio- which was like a bad dream- read as far as the stuff on 'souls' and came to the swift (hasty?) decision that i was needlessly riled by the comments of a man haunted by the cold feeling of standing in overwhelming shadows.

Paul- you're name would fit the most simple of limericks perfectly. You probably aren't smart enough to be reading Stevens. Rather than become defensive, think about that.