Okay, I don't mind playing the uneducated dweeb that leafs through a magazine looking for something to catch my interest and something to inspire and something to giggle at and one would think that a craft magazine belonging to the Association of Writer's and Writing Programs would offer plenty.
One look at the calls for content, starts out interesting and then soon become defeating for a new writer. What, I'm supposed to sit down and write one entry for each each day and send? Ha. Ha. Ha. What about polish? What about advance research? What about picking the correct language?
As a poet, I turned to two articles on poetry, the first being "Two Modes of Disclosure: A Meditation on the Craft of Poetry" by H. L. Hix. I giggle when I see "synoptic moment" which is write up the alley with luminal and other such words that one can't touch and require deep diving into the dictionary, not that doing so is bad at all. His picture shows a young man who looks too happy to be weighed down by a "synoptic moment". However, like a good dweeb, I turn to his article and let out a sigh of relief. He's not going to lead me into a synoptic moment without defining it. Thus, here is a truly great writer who has saved me from my own ignorance. And it is true that some poems flag the reader early on and then explain while other leads you to a revelation at which the poem turns. And it is true that craft wants us to have an aim, a desire for what we hope to share when we write a poem. It was a relevant paper because I tend to always want the poem to turn at midpoint or sometimes the end while I don't often write for the "ta ta" share of here it is, sort of poem. Many of my earlier poems sought to capture the fleeting drift of shadow across a field of hay like a tick of a clock that is explained many times but now I am paying attention.
I am working on poetry which have elements of slipstream, where the point of focus slips from one moment to the next while creating a continuation of thought. I'm not always successful at first but we all know we need to revise. I'm sort of thinking now that these amount to a series of "synoptic moments" rather than just one and wondering if that means I am trying to convince someone of something or if the whole poem gets so weighty it floats? Where is Plato when you need him to interpret yourself for you?
Funniest by far and intentionally so is an Audrey E. Ferber article titled "Love, Death, and Books" which rather humorously offers a series of titles as the entire article content, proving her point, that the books were talking to her.
The "Interview with Maxine Kumin" by Christian McEwan shares one of the defects of the interview article, it seems as if the writer wants the interviewee to know the questions and have well prepared answers that lead to the next question but instead the interviewee answers with a comment that closes the discussion so then the interviewer is scratching their head thinking, now what do I do, okay I'll explain what my question meant for your to answer. I am just teasing because we get to know much of Maxine Kumin's background and some of her poetry. Christian McEwan is well-prepared and afterwards, all I want is to have a farm where I can walk past my garden, down to the river, over to the woods, and up past the barn and around and about. It seemed as if she had a piece of heaven similar to Anne of Green Gables childhood farm. The everchanging moment of a big space is more opening for me to have something to say than some of my present place where the following of the curves of a lizard dash is perhaps the best one might offer.
Fun issue.
One look at the calls for content, starts out interesting and then soon become defeating for a new writer. What, I'm supposed to sit down and write one entry for each each day and send? Ha. Ha. Ha. What about polish? What about advance research? What about picking the correct language?
As a poet, I turned to two articles on poetry, the first being "Two Modes of Disclosure: A Meditation on the Craft of Poetry" by H. L. Hix. I giggle when I see "synoptic moment" which is write up the alley with luminal and other such words that one can't touch and require deep diving into the dictionary, not that doing so is bad at all. His picture shows a young man who looks too happy to be weighed down by a "synoptic moment". However, like a good dweeb, I turn to his article and let out a sigh of relief. He's not going to lead me into a synoptic moment without defining it. Thus, here is a truly great writer who has saved me from my own ignorance. And it is true that some poems flag the reader early on and then explain while other leads you to a revelation at which the poem turns. And it is true that craft wants us to have an aim, a desire for what we hope to share when we write a poem. It was a relevant paper because I tend to always want the poem to turn at midpoint or sometimes the end while I don't often write for the "ta ta" share of here it is, sort of poem. Many of my earlier poems sought to capture the fleeting drift of shadow across a field of hay like a tick of a clock that is explained many times but now I am paying attention.
I am working on poetry which have elements of slipstream, where the point of focus slips from one moment to the next while creating a continuation of thought. I'm not always successful at first but we all know we need to revise. I'm sort of thinking now that these amount to a series of "synoptic moments" rather than just one and wondering if that means I am trying to convince someone of something or if the whole poem gets so weighty it floats? Where is Plato when you need him to interpret yourself for you?
Funniest by far and intentionally so is an Audrey E. Ferber article titled "Love, Death, and Books" which rather humorously offers a series of titles as the entire article content, proving her point, that the books were talking to her.
The "Interview with Maxine Kumin" by Christian McEwan shares one of the defects of the interview article, it seems as if the writer wants the interviewee to know the questions and have well prepared answers that lead to the next question but instead the interviewee answers with a comment that closes the discussion so then the interviewer is scratching their head thinking, now what do I do, okay I'll explain what my question meant for your to answer. I am just teasing because we get to know much of Maxine Kumin's background and some of her poetry. Christian McEwan is well-prepared and afterwards, all I want is to have a farm where I can walk past my garden, down to the river, over to the woods, and up past the barn and around and about. It seemed as if she had a piece of heaven similar to Anne of Green Gables childhood farm. The everchanging moment of a big space is more opening for me to have something to say than some of my present place where the following of the curves of a lizard dash is perhaps the best one might offer.
Fun issue.
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