Is Your Messiah Fully Resurrected? Pt. 2
I didn’t have an analytical paper for Cleveland State University, but they required that I have one—even though it was for writing. It’s their way of understanding how I think. I didn’t know where to start it so I turned to my other friends [actually, just my one friend that continually bails me out from this life].
The paper was based on the expansive definition of the intention of death in poetry, and it was my contention that death was and is always the background to a bigger notion. Simply—poems about death have very little to do with death. I read Louise Gluck, Billy Collins, Stephen Dunn, and Jane Kenyon—writers that were either past Pulitzer Prize winners or poet laureates, and what I discovered is that no one [to my knowledge] has ever written an analysis paper on these poems. They write reviews.
”Brilliantly managed…” says the Library Journal.
”Perhaps none can lead us so deeply into our own nature…” says The New York Review.
”She has written a masterpiece of restraint in a clairvoyant voice…” says Magill’s Literary Annual.
”He uses ordinary words…” says some illiterate pig-fucker from The Boston Globe.
Who says shit like this in workshops? May-I-Kiss-Your-Ass-Comments, defined as glowing reviews so that the PR people will hand these to their publishers so they will either insert these in either the front or back of the book. Where are the real comments, like, “These words are an abomination on the English language, may the Lord and Literature have mercy on your empty shell that you call a soul.” Where are those comments?
But again, I’ve digressed—it’s just that the process of writing these analytical papers on poetry is already difficult, because there aren’t many ready sources—it’s all conjecture, based on intellect, and God help your monkey ass if your stupid and not well read. Then you’re simply fucked—in that Gimp slash Pulp Fiction style of being fucked.
But the bigger question is—am I egotistical enough to not only interpret what the poet said, but more importantly can I point out what the poet’s intent was. It’s easy to say this and this happened in said piece, but to ID the bigger picture—even I don’t feel that bold. Most of the time I don’t even know what my intent was—it was inspired from something that I witnessed or am vaguely admitting to, but bigger picture intent? Thought about it, never got to it—like that book that so-and-so recommended to me. It’s not that I can be wrong, but in this case, it’s how wrong or wrong in so many degrees. If you’re completely off then people will either praise you for your outside-the-box thinking, or pity the fact that no one, earlier in your life, has pointed out your obvious learning disability. Challenging my writing skills, that’s all right—I’m accustomed to it, but to challenge my thought process, that’s a little bit more personal.
The paper was based on the expansive definition of the intention of death in poetry, and it was my contention that death was and is always the background to a bigger notion. Simply—poems about death have very little to do with death. I read Louise Gluck, Billy Collins, Stephen Dunn, and Jane Kenyon—writers that were either past Pulitzer Prize winners or poet laureates, and what I discovered is that no one [to my knowledge] has ever written an analysis paper on these poems. They write reviews.
”Brilliantly managed…” says the Library Journal.
”Perhaps none can lead us so deeply into our own nature…” says The New York Review.
”She has written a masterpiece of restraint in a clairvoyant voice…” says Magill’s Literary Annual.
”He uses ordinary words…” says some illiterate pig-fucker from The Boston Globe.
Who says shit like this in workshops? May-I-Kiss-Your-Ass-Comments, defined as glowing reviews so that the PR people will hand these to their publishers so they will either insert these in either the front or back of the book. Where are the real comments, like, “These words are an abomination on the English language, may the Lord and Literature have mercy on your empty shell that you call a soul.” Where are those comments?
But again, I’ve digressed—it’s just that the process of writing these analytical papers on poetry is already difficult, because there aren’t many ready sources—it’s all conjecture, based on intellect, and God help your monkey ass if your stupid and not well read. Then you’re simply fucked—in that Gimp slash Pulp Fiction style of being fucked.
But the bigger question is—am I egotistical enough to not only interpret what the poet said, but more importantly can I point out what the poet’s intent was. It’s easy to say this and this happened in said piece, but to ID the bigger picture—even I don’t feel that bold. Most of the time I don’t even know what my intent was—it was inspired from something that I witnessed or am vaguely admitting to, but bigger picture intent? Thought about it, never got to it—like that book that so-and-so recommended to me. It’s not that I can be wrong, but in this case, it’s how wrong or wrong in so many degrees. If you’re completely off then people will either praise you for your outside-the-box thinking, or pity the fact that no one, earlier in your life, has pointed out your obvious learning disability. Challenging my writing skills, that’s all right—I’m accustomed to it, but to challenge my thought process, that’s a little bit more personal.
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