Sunday, February 23, 2014

Wednesday 2/26/14 Class

Poem mimicking CK Williams' style:  autobiographical, about an important moment in your life that you've never considered before as "important."  Couple up.  Review.  Is there anything you would take out?  What moment(s) do you remember most?  What makes what you did poetic?  What makes it prose?  Is there a difference?

The Art of Syntax, pages 145 through 169.  This is the glossary section of the book.  I want you to choose 2 concepts from here, and then find examples that represent those concepts from the poet you've chosen for your paper. 

Skunk Hour

By Robert Lowell

(For Elizabeth Bishop)

Nautilus Island's hermit
heiress still lives through winter in her Spartan cottage;
her sheep still graze above the sea.
Her son's a bishop. Her farmer
is first selectman in our village;
she's in her dotage.

Thirsting for
the hierarchy privacy
of Queen Victoria's century,
she buys up all
the eyesores facing her shore,
and lets them fall.

The season's ill--
we've lost our summer millionaire,
who seemed to leap from an L. L. Bean
catalogue. His nine-knot yawl
was auctioned off to lobstermen.
A red fox stain covers Blue Hill.

And now our fairy
decorator brightens his shop for fall;
his fishnet's filled with orange cork,
orange, his cobbler's bench and awl;
there is no money in his work,
he'd rather marry.

One dark night,
my Tudor Ford climbed the hill's skull;
I watched for love-cars. Lights turned down,
they lay together, hull to hull,
where the graveyard shelves on the town. . . .
My mind's not right.

A car radio bleats,
"Love, O careless Love. . . ." I hear
my ill-spirit sob in each blood cell,
as if my hand were at its throat. . . .
I myself am hell;
nobody's here--

only skunks, that search
in the moonlight for a bite to eat.
They march on their soles up Main Street:
white stripes, moonstruck eyes' red fire
under the chalk-dry and spar spire
of the Trinitarian Church.

I stand on top
of our back steps and breathe the rich air--
a mother skunk with her column of kittens swills the garbage pail.
She jabs her wedge-head in a cup
of sour cream, drops her ostrich tail,
and will not scare.


How does this poem rhyme?  How does it work?  What about the specifics?  How do they build into abstraction?  How does meaning happen?  What the hell does the skunk have to do with it? 

Robert Lowell on

Write a poem in which a wild animal is the final stanza. 

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