Geek
and Form
Yesterday
I published a Fibonacci Poem called ‘Geek Poetry’. The background of this poem consists of some
conversations I recently had regarding Fibonacci poetry.
I
work at a Spiritual Book and Tea Shop.
The Book part of the shop is kind of new agey; though we strive to also
have depth in each of the religious sections by including central texts of each
tradition. Still, New Age sells. We have a section on Numerology. Last week a customer purchased about seven
books from the Numerology section, including several books that are
specifically about the Fibonacci sequence and numbers. As he was checking out we struck up a
conversation; it isn’t often that someone purchases books on Fibonacci from our
store and I was curious. I mentioned
that I wrote Fibonacci poems. He was
aware of Fibonacci poetry, though the customer is not himself a poet. It turns out he is a mathematician with a
focus on mathematical sequences; hence the interest in Fibonacci. But he finds the Fibonacci poetry attractive
and interesting. Then he said, “Have you
ever considered using the Lucas?” And I
got to respond, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have written some Lucas poems.”
The
Lucas sequence is another numerical sequence generated using the same additive
procedures as the Fibonacci. The
difference is that the Lucas sequence begins with the number 2 and 1, whereas the
Fibonacci starts with 0 and 1. Hence the
Lucas sequence is 2 – 1 – 3 – 4 – 7 – 11 – 18, etc. (The Fibonacci sequence is 1 – 1 – 2 – 3 – 5 –
8 – 13, etc.) There are interesting
relationships between the numbers in the Fibonacci and Lucas sequences.
Anyway,
as I was saying, back to the customer, he smiled when I said I had written some
Lucas poems. Unfortunately, he had an
appointment to get to, so our conversation drew to a hasty close. But the last thing he said as he walked out
the door was, “Geek poetry, I love it.”
The
second conversation about Fibonacci I had was with a friend, I’ll call him
George, who loves poetry and even teaches a class in poetry at a Junior College
once a year. George teaches a formless
approach, or a free verse approach, to poetry because he believes introducing
students to formal elements will make them feel bad about themselves. George is a therapist by profession and views
poetry as a means to a therapeutic end.
For this reason, no rules are to be introduced because it might
interfere with ‘self-expression’ and the therapeutic goal.
When
I published ‘Safe Harbor’ through Createspace I gave my friend George a copy. The second collection in the book consists of
Fibonacci poems. George asked me about
them. I told George about the Fibonacci
sequence and how the numerical sequence can be applied to the syllable count to
generate a formal, syllabic, structure.
George was not pleased; in fact he frowned. He then said, “What does that do for you?” Doesn’t that just strike you as the kind of
question a therapist would ask?
My
answer was general, not form specific. I
talked about how surrender to the parameters of a form focuses the mind, how it
gives the poet a sense of joining a community of poets who share an interest in
the form. But from George’s point of
view such a procedure is limiting; it impinges on self-expression and that is a
bad thing. As usual when it comes to
poetry, George and I disagreed.
For
the mathematician customer, who delights in the world of numbers, applying a
numerical sequence, such as the Fibonacci or Lucas, to syllabics made immediate
sense. This is because for such a
mathematician numbers are a felt presence.
Because numbers are a felt presence, and in some sense inherently
esthetically attractive, it makes intuitive sense to use those numbers, and
numerical sequences, for poetic purposes.
For the therapist, poetry has become completely subjective and functions
as a vehicle for self-expression. From
this perspective using a specific numerical sequence, such as the Fibonacci or
Lucas, subverts the therapeutic purpose because the adoption of such a sequence
is not, from a therapeutic point of view, an example of self-expression; the
sequence comes from ‘outside’. This
affirms what I have suspected for some years; namely that the therapeutic point
of view is subversive of formal poetry in general.
The
final conversation regarding Fibonacci happened just a few days ago; also at
the store. The store uses window washers
who come to the store once a month. They
are a couple. They wash most of the
store windows on Main Street. Usually
the husband is the one who washes our windows.
As they have been washing our windows for over ten years I have got to
know them over time. At one point, about
six years ago, I had to attend traffic school and she was also a member of the
class; we got to commiserate with each other about how unfair it all was; but
we also whispered funny, snarky, asides to each other during class.
In
other words, I have grown fond of both of them over the years. This month I gave him a copy of ‘Safe Harbor’
after he washed the windows. A few days
after receiving it he dropped by to tell me how he and his wife were reading
the poems to each other and enjoying them.
He mentioned specifically liking the Fibonacci group of poems. I, of course, liked getting this kind of
feedback. I also liked that they
specifically enjoyed the Fibonacci poems; not because they know about numerical
sequences, but just because they liked the shape and the subject matter. This was not a geek’s response, just the
response of someone enjoying the poems as written. And it was not a therapeutic response either;
at least not in the sense that they were concerned about poetry as
self-expression.
My
own view, as often stated here, is that syllabic poetry is a craft; like
pottery or baking or carpentry.
Composing a Fibonacci poem resembles a potter deciding to make a
cup. A cup has, broadly speaking, a
form. If a potter decides to make a cup,
that decision functions to determine a large number of decisions for the
potter. Similarly, a syllabic poet
crafting a poem in accordance with an objective form (a form whose parameters,
or shape, are exterior to any specific poet) will yield to the shape of that
form. If a syllabic poet decides to
compose a Fibonacci certain consequences follow, such as the opening very short
lines. Just as the potter accepts the
limitations of what it means to shape a cup, the syllabic poet accepts the
limitations of the Fibonacci (or other syllabic form).
The
potter makes a cup and, hopefully, someone will be attracted to its
craftsmanship and then use the cup at home, or the office, to drink from. The syllabic poet makes a poem of a specific shape
and, hopefully, others will find it attractive and enjoy reading it. This is, I think, what keeps the syllabic
poet engaged with form.
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