Today, we're turning back time two years ago this winter break to fully document my favorite responses so far in classes at Stony Brook, beginning with EGL 204 (Spring 2020) with Marisa Stano and Prof. E.K. Tan! Poring over my class notes, I dug the following up, where I analyze the concrete and metaphorical worlds of two poems for my first response of the class which was cleverly titled "Strolling on Two Tendrils and Two Rivers." Also, I'll include a couple of gems from my written notes almost exactly two years ago to this day:
-Writing is a way to contain and master emotion
Structure & Style: -A recollection -mediation -inquisition -realization
-Life always comes back, time is transcendent
Despite my extensive past experience studying and creating poetry, the poems “Metaphors” by Sylvia Plath and “One Art” by Elizabeth Bishop never fail to stand out as examples of how metaphors and imagery can induce powerful experiences of seeing and unseeing in unsuspecting readers. In both of these poems, there is a singular moment where a captivating shift between concrete and abstract observations occurs, that cleverly persuades the reader into the poet’s universe. For example, in “Metaphors,” the split between the real and the unreal occurs at the very beginning of the poem, where the narrator states that “I’m a riddle in nine syllables.” The authority and mystery of this first line captivates us and guides us into believing what seem like outlandish metaphors in the rest of the poem, such as “A melon strolling on two tendrils,” and “money’s new-minted in this fat purse.” In comparison, the first line appears to be the most mysterious line of the poem due to the nine-syllable riddle left unsaid, until the reader realizes that Plath is referring to pregnancy. By starting off confident in its embrace of the ridiculous and focusing on the mysterious sensations of pregnancy using metaphors felt throughout the whole body, “Metaphors” grants us empathy into the poet’s personal universe of sensation, which would have been unique and unseen by outside individuals if not for being laid bare in this poem.
Another touching example of how the unseen becomes visible in poetry is in “One Art” by Elizabeth Bishop. This time, the shift between the concrete and the imaginary or personal world occurs more subtly and not as audaciously as in Plath’s “Metaphors.” Bishop’s usage of a strict villanelle structure cleverly tries to persuade us that everything that occurs in the poem will be logical and simple to understand, as the reader follows the soothingly hypnotic rhymes and alliteration down each stanza. Instead of an audacious abstract statement in the first line like in “Metaphors,” Bishop leads us along the path of her experience with largely concrete, relatable claims about the nature of losing objects such as keys and houses, as well as commonly lost information such as names and places. As such, the shift between the concrete and imaginary becomes incredibly convincing -- by the fifth stanza where Bishop claims she “lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent,” we are fully persuaded by her argument after her previous consecutive realistic claims. Maybe it is possible to lose cities and continents just as easily as watches and keys. And maybe it is possible to lose people close to you without it being a disaster. Luckily, Bishop seems to realize her mistake, when she finishes by stating that the art of losing “may look like (Write it!) like disaster.” She appears to realize that the universe where losing doesn’t matter, that she has tried so hard to convince us of, has ceased to be convincing the moment she implies that losing people can be just as inconsequential as losing little concrete items. The poet gives up persuading us of the legitimacy of her imaginary universe and demonstrates her respect for readers’ emotional intelligence when the narrator apologizes and says “I shan’t have lied,” knowing that suspension of disbelief has likely been broken for many readers who have experienced the concrete devastation of losing people. However, the beauty of the personal universe of “One Art” does not overstay its welcome, tempting us with its idealistic conviction that we are all mostly strong enough to possess and lose unseen cities, continents, and extraordinary people, with an emotional resilience hidden just behind the concrete knickknacks and disappearances of ordinary life.
An additional word on poetry: hearing frequently from fellow students and even serendipitous encounters with members of the community that they don't understand the genre or the purpose of poetry at all, means an opportunity to educate many people! The header image for this post was taken from a Google search of "poetry photo iowa city," which is the location of the famed Iowa Writers Studio and whose high school program I experienced on scholarship. It is a portion of the Literary Walk, a series of bronze panels featuring the works of 49 writers with ties to Iowa, highlighting moving quotes and art about books and writing. Apparently, it was conceptualized by the Iowa City Public Art Advisory Committee in 1999, which means the landmark is exactly the same age as me.
Walking alone down the streets of Iowa City during early summer evenings at age sixteen, I felt deeply the significance of the location while exploring shops and storefronts, the sky dimming in my wake yet conversely reinvigorating the air around me, as if I were moving in the shadows of a water-stained bell jar. Bookstores like Prairie Lights Books and Cafe, a wide, well-lit space reminiscent of commercial bookstores such as Barnes and Noble or the Strand, where our cohort read our final pieces for Iowa City locals, and The Haunted Bookshop, a charming and quainter atmosphere where I navigated thin alleys and closely-placed tall bookshelves while petting a particularly indolent cat by the windowsill, made an impression on me as locations of literary appreciation and community. While workshopping fiction in an intimate group setting of approximately ten students with Maria Kuznetsova, we learned about tornado warnings, pizza farms, murder mysteries, and were catered to by particularly kind and encouraging campus staff for two weeks. The appreciation for literature was insurmountable at the University of Iowa and surrounding Iowa City, as one of 42 UNESCO Cities of Literature on 32 countries and 6 continents.
Prairie Lights in this picture looks as it did when we read there!
However, I found the second image for this post interesting as well, as it perpetuates an unnecessary stereotype about poetry being inherently opposed to financial value. On the contrary: there is money to be made, fun to be had, and communities to enrich with poetry, the genre of which frequently represents the greatest freedom of linguistic and emotional expression possible. Recently, I enjoyed browsing the Stony Brook Creative Writing BFA testimonials as a representation of the value of creative writing through many student voices.
I'll be honest - poetry means a lot to me. From chasing after writers to get them to sign the free books I received at writing workshops, such as my pursuit of an elderly, wheelchaired James Tate to sign my copy of The Ghost Soldiers when I was fourteen years old at the Juniper Institute for Young Writers at UMass Amherst, to receiving signed copies of Life on Mars by Tracy K. Smith at City College and other various chapbooks at the Brooklyn Public Library, poetry and other forms of creative writing defined my entire high school and early college years (as well as my bookshelf at home). Small presses would send me publications monthly by mail whenever I'd landed a piece in their magazine, and memories of ascending stages and moving to the front of a well-attended event to read across the country persist. Through writing poetry and other assorted short pieces even as a young high-schooler, I spent all of my afterschool time exploring writing cultures as wide ranging as the Asian American Writers' Workshop and Girls Write Now to the Nuyorican Cafe and Gold Comedy, prowling the heart of the city and country as a frequent poetry presenter and student. Participating in poetry truly made New York City feel like home to me, a young Chinese American woman, and gave me an insider's look at a wonderfully inclusive literary culture.
These experiences completely changed my life and career aspirations and I hope to share the value of studying the humanities with all of you. It was my heavy involvement in competitive teen poetry in NYC and submitting to online spaces as localized on the Submittable platform that led to the Iowa Young Writers Studio and further discoveries in creative writing as well as extensive travel opportunities including the art and science education program Girls on Icy Fjords. Poetry is a unique form, both academically and professionally, and learning it on any level, whether you're a beginner or experienced performer may help you stand out in whatever you do. On Silkworm Reading, the literary culture of these educational spaces is reflected in the readings chosen for QUICK CREATIVE INSPIRATION and the Resources We Love sidebar. For excellent exercises to create modern poetry cohesive with the evolving, cutting-edge youth writing scene, may I refer you to Christina Im's syllabi for results of an exciting and provocative nature.
To end the semester of Fall 2021, after a difficult academic hiatus during the pandemic, I read a poem and short piece about the English major, cultural heritage, the metaphorical usages of violence, and random hijinks such as a one-credit internship with the University Police Department with fellow Chinese Americans. My instructor for CWL 305, Rajdeep Paulus, had nominated me for the event, and the reading was attended by many classmates and community members (over fifty, by memory), bringing us closer together. The following is the roster of those who read along with me:
It's exciting to see former teachers publish a novel, or classmates found a lit mag or win a fellowship, being fully immersed in literary culture by following each of your connections' lives, and engaging in exchanges that can be more intense than those in real life through the often personal nature of creative writing. A sense of community is absolutely imperative if the humanities are to survive their frequent denigration by those less educated about its benefits, and this post's origin as a review for the very first response for EGL 204, a common requirement for the English major and a frequently-taken general education elective, should indicate the many possibilities that follow intensive study of poetry.
Readings for this week:
