Monday, October 8, 2012

Grandmother of Form: Adelaide Crapsey Day 2012


Grandmother of Form

Today is Adelaide Crapsey day, the anniversary of her passing.  I think of Crapsey as the Grandmother of English Syllabic Verse.  Her meticulous research into English prosody, her analyses of the syllabic structure of English, laid a foundation from which she was able to intuit a different approach to writing English poetry.  Because her life was so short (September 9, 1878 to October 8, 1914) she was not able to complete her projects.  But she was able to lay the foundation for a syllabic approach to English poetry.  Simply by creating a syllabic form, the Cinquain, Crapsey demonstrated the efficacy of English syllabic verse.

At the time Crapsey was writing and doing research metrical poetry still dominated.  The avant-garde was, however, beginning to emerge and ‘verse libre’ was making significant inroads.  But Crapsey steered a course that offered a different alternative; neither a traditional metrical one nor one grounded in free verse.  Evidently this was not easy for her to do.  The research she did into English prosody must have been very time consuming: she literally counted all of the one and two syllable words in works like ‘Paradise Lost’ and this was long before the use of computers or other technological assists.  In other words, she counted them all by hand. 

Why did she do this?  My sense is that she had an intuition that the predominance of one and two syllable words in English was significant for English language prosody.  But she needed to feel a strong foundation for this intuition.  The predominance of these short words tilts English towards a syllabic approach in the same way that a language like Chinese, consisting of one-count words, single syllables, lends itself to a syllabic approach to poetry.

There are other poets who made significant contributions towards a syllabic approach such as Dylan Thomas and Marianne Moore.  But neither of these poets created a specific English syllabic form, a form that others could use.  This is why I consider Crapsey to be the most significant of the early English syllabic poets, because she saw the possibility of a specific syllabic form for the English language.  This, I believe, is a crucial step in establishing English syllabic verse.

So let’s take a moment to express our gratitude to Adelaide, the Mother of Form.


Saturday, October 6, 2012

Sudden Wind

Sudden Wind


It's dark so early
And it was gray the whole day
Of cold and drizzle

Crocheting a large blanket
While sharing family news

Afternoon T.V.
Reruns of Perry Mason
Followed by Star Trek

Pluto in the telescope
Coursing slowly through the signs

A crystal clear sky
On a night without a moon
Beyond city lights

The scent of cherry blossoms
Drifts like incense in the air

Grandfather's advice
Through constant repetition
Casts a kind of spell

"I never gave it much thought,"
(That's not entirely true)

Glasses of iced tea
Leave rings on the wood table
After the ice melts

It was an office romance;
Surprisingly, it lasted

The diagnosis
Is a six month prognosis;
Nothing can be done

A sudden wind tears the leaves
Off the oak and chestnut trees

Friday, October 5, 2012

Thirty-Two

"I am getting old,"
She says at age thirty-two.
I wanted to laugh
But I saw fear in her eyes,
"You're not so old," I advised.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Almost a Ghost

The aging Marxist
Trying to hand out pamphlets
To those rushing by
In front of the Post Office
A youngster checks his i-phone

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Beneath Our Feet


Beneath Our Feet

I recently took a trip to visit some friends in Portland.  My hosts were most gracious and I had lots of time to write poetry and read some books I had been meaning to get to for a long time.  One of these books was Robert Pinsky’s ‘The Sounds of Poetry’.  I really enjoyed Pinsky’s brief guide to aspects of English prosody.  It is written in a breezy, highly accessible style; in addition the author uses the first person so you feel like you are being taught by knowledgeable Uncle who feels passionately about the topic of prosody.  At times Pinsky is opinionated.  And at other times he can be dismissive.  But on the whole I found the book thoroughly enjoyable.

I was particularly struck by a section in Chapter 3, ‘Technical Terms and Vocal Realities’ where Pinsky discusses the role and function of iambic interpretation of English ‘vocal realities’.  Such interpretation of English has been central to English formal verse for many centuries and remains so to this day for many English language poets.

What I found revealing, and applicable to a syllabic approach, was Pinsky’s discussion of alternative ways of parsing English speech.    Pinsky uses Robert Frost’s poem ‘To Earthward’ as an example.  Pinsky focuses on the line ‘Love at the lips was touch’ and parses the line in a standard way, as iambic trimeter, with the first grouping, ‘love at’, possibly a trochee (which I found a little odd; it seems to me ‘love at’ instantiates an iamb fairly easily).  Here is what Pinsky writes about different ways of parsing this line:

“What reason is there not to divide each line differently, for instance by describing the first line,

‘Love at the lips was touch,’

“as two feet: one thunketta (‘Love at the’) followed by a thunk-pa-thunk (‘lips was touch’)?  Though I have invented somewhat silly-sounding terms, they make sense: they describe something all can hear.

“But still other descriptive terms for the same line – the same vocal reality – would also make sense.  For instance, I could also describe the line

‘Love at the lips was touch’

“as an initial monosyllable (“Love”) followed by an anapest (“at the lips”) and an iamb (“was touch”).”

Pinsky offers a few other possible parsings of the line and then concludes:

“What is wrong with these terms?  Nothing – in the sense that, though arbitrary, they do register something that is there in the sound of the words.  Each set of terms does give a roughly accurate description of what one hears.”

(Robert Pinsky, ‘The Sounds of Poetry’, pages 54 and 55)

Pinsky goes on to reject these alternatives on the basis that such an approach fails to distinguish between ‘rhythm and meter’.  Pinsky’s view is that the iambic meter is central, and that the other types are a rhythmic reading that overlays the underlying iambic pulse.

The syllabic approach to English poetry has a different understanding.  Let me illustrate by making an analogy to music.  Let’s start with twelve even pulses:

1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12

How will these twelve evenly spaced pulses be felt?  One way is to have three measures of 4-4 time:

1 – 2 – 3 – 4 : 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 : 1 – 2 – 3 – 4

This will produce the kind of rhythm that is used in countless songs and compositions. 

Another way of handling the twelve pulses is four measures of 3-4 time:

1 – 2 – 3 : 1 – 2 – 3 : 1 – 2 – 3 : 1 – 2 – 3

This is a common dance rhythm, the basis for the minuet and waltz.

One could have six groups of two pulses each:

1 – 2 : 1 – 2 : 1 – 2 : 1 – 2 : 1 – 2 : 1 – 2

Which is often heard in marches.

One could have two groups of six:

1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 : 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6

This is an alluring rhythm found in many compositions.

And one could divide the twelve pulses into one group of five followed by a group of seven:

1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 : 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7

Composers like Bartok and Brubeck might do something like this.  It is also one of the basic structures for Japanese poetry.

Each of these arrangements articulates the twelve pulses differently.  Underneath all of these arrangements lies the bedrock of the twelve pulses and their steady march forward.

What I want to suggest is that the flow of syllables resembles the flow of pulses in music.  And the metrical arrangement of syllables into iambs, trochees, anapests, etc., is a way of arranging the syllables, just as different meters in music are different ways of arranging and combining the steady flow of the musical pulse.

From a syllabic perspective the English language isn’t primarily iambic or primarily anapestic.  Just as music allows for different meters so also the steady flow of syllables allows for different arrangements of metrical validity.  The reason Pinsky was able to uncover numerous ways of parsing the rhythm of ‘Love at the lips was touch’ is the same reason that the steady pulse, or beat, of music can be arranged in different meters.  An iambic interpretation of the line is legitimate (and knowing Frost was likely the poet’s intention).  But other rhythmic arrangements are also legitimate and equally valid.

Pinsky’s view, and it has a lot of support from centuries of metrical verse, is that a particular meter underlies the English language; that particular meter is the iamb.  From a syllabic perspective it is not a particular meter that underlies the English language, rather it is the flow of syllables.  In other words, beneath the metrical feet of English language poetry one finds syllables.  And syllables are congenial, are willing, to be shaped into various metrical arrangements; just as the pulse, or beat, of music is congenial, willing, to be shaped into various meters, or groupings.  Both the flow of syllables and the pulse of music are fluid as to the possibilities of grouping them into metrical units.

I enjoy visiting coffee houses and listening to people talk.  Similarly, I enjoy hearing people talk on the street, at the store where I work, and in other ordinary situations.  What I hear is a flow of sound that has a basic, but fluid, pulse.  This fluid pulse ebbs and flows, becomes slower or faster, but always seems to be there, even as the conversation moves from one person to the other.  I think it is this pulse that allows us to distinguish particular words in an ordinary conversation.  It is generally not appreciated that there are no spaces between words in ordinary speech; rather there is a continuous flow of sound, interrupted by breaths, emotional stressing, thought searching, and other considerations.  It is the underlying fluid pulse which allows us to parse the flow of sound into units of words and it is the syllable which is the carrier of the pulse.

It is for these, and other, reasons that I tend to think of syllabics as more fundamental, more primal, than meter.  I realize that this runs counter to centuries of English language prosody; a point I take seriously.  Yet, I don’t think a syllabic view of English language poetry is in conflict with a metrical view.  To continue with the musical analogy, arranging the twelve pulses into particular groupings doesn’t conflict with music in 4-4 time, or in 3-4 time.  Similarly, regarding the syllable as the basic unit of English language poetry allows for iambic constructions, but it also allows for other kinds of metrical constructions as equally valid and equally a part of the English language; a point that, I believe, Pinsky illustrates rather well.  But it would be wrong to insist that 4-4 time is the primal reality of the musical pulse, thinking of 3-4 time as somehow a substitution.  And, I think the same can be said for poetic meters; namely, that an iambic pulse does not exclude the possibility of other arrangements of the flow of English syllables.  Looking beneath our feet at the syllabic stream of the English language and one finds a wide range of metrical possibilities.  Some, such as odd-numbered lines, have only recently been used systematically.  Others, I suspect, remain to be discovered.



Zenith

Zenith

Fog in the morning
Wet leaves covering the ground
The sound of a crow

Lovers lingering in bed
Comfortable with each other

Touching the window
A branch of the apple tree
Covered with blossoms

He returns to his report,
His boss wants it on Friday

Trucks on the highway;
Office supplies, groceries,
Food, furniture, clothes . . .

"After you go to the gym,
Could you pick up a movie?"

On Sunday morning,
In the church's parking lot,
Empty spaces

Underneath a spacious sky
A family gathering

Beneath the oak trees
Sheltered from the steady heat
And the constant glare

The strength of the July sun
As it reaches its zenith

Bright white drifts of weeks-old snow
Covered with many footprints

Under the full moon
A rabbit stops to listen
Before vanishing

Monday, October 1, 2012

October

Strange afternoon --
Summer heat in October
And I'm overdressed

The willow beside the stream
Still has its leaves; the oaks don't

On the other side
Of the National Forest
Children are playing

In the thickly falling snow
It seems that ghosts come and go

She throws the I Ching --
What did he mean when he said,
"I'll see you later?"

Due to office politics
The branch office changes hands

This October spring
The plum blossoms disappeared
After a few days

"Yes, I know that you love me.
Do you know I don't love you?"

He prints the email,
"I can't think about it now,"
He says to himself

The longest day of the year --
The full moon will have to wait

For almost three months
Above the arctic circle
There's constant daylight

Rising from the tundra plain
An enduring mountain range