Reading Hal Sirowitz “Deformed Finger” reminded me how parents, society and media perceive deformities as something unacceptable. The poem is a narrative about a child who constantly sticks his finger in a ketchup bottle and does not obey his mother’s rules. The mother of the poem tells her son that if his father finds a fingernail in the ketchup “He’ll yank [his finger] out so hard that for the rest of [his] life [he] won’t be able to wear a ring on that finger.” She goes on to tell him that when he gets a girlfriend she will not take him seriously because of his deformed finger and the fact that he did not obey his mother’s rules.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Deforemed Finger
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The poem Ah Billie by Diana Hernandez-Correa does a beautiful job of portraying the late Billie Holiday's career and lasting musical impact. Much more than a simple biographical account, the poem employs its own lyrical and rhythmic elements that allow the poem to parallel the highly emotionally moving effect that Holiday was renowned for having on stage. So much is packed into just a few lines of the poem,
She was Empress
under the lights
as she'd begin to cause the steam
to rise
from bellies' core
in dip and turn
injecting
sound thru waves-the mere sounds of her
first notes could be enough
to shake your soul out of its mundane lane
delivering you to a place of fantasy
where she reigned- Queen
It is no accident that each of these lines forces the reader to progress through the poem at a slow, rhythmic pace. Its as if Holiday and the poet are simultaneously seducing you into a beautiful and inescapable trance. Vivid imagery is used to convey Holiday's impact on her listeners. The poet writes that Holiday is the Queen of "a place where gardenias grew wild in black velvet underground/ midnight blue and red blood hills as lime green rivers glowed/ in/ hollow caves that freely flowed from darkness into/light/ sending electric chili chills of buzz/ thru runaways". What imagery! One can't help but imagine the electric, tantalizing effect that Holiday must have bestowed; for if a poem that is merely hoping to capture her essence can be so powerful, then she must have been nothing short of a goddess. The referentials that the poet includes further add to the biographical insight of the poem. The word/line "injecting" is repeated multiple times in this poem, each time in a non-literal sense. This metaphorical usage of injecting alludes the Holiday's muddied past of drug abuse and self-medication. The poet dedicates an entire stanza to this sad reality, emphasizing Holiday's reliance on drugs and alcohol to remedy her reality. Hernandez-Correa writes,
she'd nurse away the nonsense of life's
(unreliability of love)
in the dark with last song sung
she'd cradle her inner bruises
close her eyes tight long
enough to will herself away
having tucked the pain
deep down inside herself past
that medicated voice
Without prior knowledge of Holiday's past, the reader could still pick up a general sense of her troubles. The line "she'd cradle her inner bruises" refers to the emotional, outwardly-invisible scars that the musician endured. From physical abuse in her relationships to a troubled childhood, Holiday experienced many of the dark sides of humanity. With singing and addiction as her main emotional outlets, it is no wonder that both endeavors were severely powerful.
Interestingly, I get a strong sense of identification between the poet and Holiday. Small inserts such as "(unreliability of love)" and the last stanza (which metaphorically relates listening to Holiday's music and hard drug usage), allude to the poet's own troubled history and perhaps the basis for her strong appreciation for Holiday's work.
With the inclusion of lines from some of Holiday's best known songs ("When you hear a song in bloom/ like a flower crying for the dew/ that was my heart serenading you.../ a prelude to a kiss" and "Hush now, don't explain") also add to the lyrical aspect of the poem. There is just so much to this poem, form its musical impact to its emotional content, and it does a superb job of capturing the essence of the beloved Billie Holiday.
- e. gutilla
She was Empress
under the lights
as she'd begin to cause the steam
to rise
from bellies' core
in dip and turn
injecting
sound thru waves-the mere sounds of her
first notes could be enough
to shake your soul out of its mundane lane
delivering you to a place of fantasy
where she reigned- Queen
It is no accident that each of these lines forces the reader to progress through the poem at a slow, rhythmic pace. Its as if Holiday and the poet are simultaneously seducing you into a beautiful and inescapable trance. Vivid imagery is used to convey Holiday's impact on her listeners. The poet writes that Holiday is the Queen of "a place where gardenias grew wild in black velvet underground/ midnight blue and red blood hills as lime green rivers glowed/ in/ hollow caves that freely flowed from darkness into/light/ sending electric chili chills of buzz/ thru runaways". What imagery! One can't help but imagine the electric, tantalizing effect that Holiday must have bestowed; for if a poem that is merely hoping to capture her essence can be so powerful, then she must have been nothing short of a goddess. The referentials that the poet includes further add to the biographical insight of the poem. The word/line "injecting" is repeated multiple times in this poem, each time in a non-literal sense. This metaphorical usage of injecting alludes the Holiday's muddied past of drug abuse and self-medication. The poet dedicates an entire stanza to this sad reality, emphasizing Holiday's reliance on drugs and alcohol to remedy her reality. Hernandez-Correa writes,
she'd nurse away the nonsense of life's
(unreliability of love)
in the dark with last song sung
she'd cradle her inner bruises
close her eyes tight long
enough to will herself away
having tucked the pain
deep down inside herself past
that medicated voice
Without prior knowledge of Holiday's past, the reader could still pick up a general sense of her troubles. The line "she'd cradle her inner bruises" refers to the emotional, outwardly-invisible scars that the musician endured. From physical abuse in her relationships to a troubled childhood, Holiday experienced many of the dark sides of humanity. With singing and addiction as her main emotional outlets, it is no wonder that both endeavors were severely powerful.
Interestingly, I get a strong sense of identification between the poet and Holiday. Small inserts such as "(unreliability of love)" and the last stanza (which metaphorically relates listening to Holiday's music and hard drug usage), allude to the poet's own troubled history and perhaps the basis for her strong appreciation for Holiday's work.
With the inclusion of lines from some of Holiday's best known songs ("When you hear a song in bloom/ like a flower crying for the dew/ that was my heart serenading you.../ a prelude to a kiss" and "Hush now, don't explain") also add to the lyrical aspect of the poem. There is just so much to this poem, form its musical impact to its emotional content, and it does a superb job of capturing the essence of the beloved Billie Holiday.
- e. gutilla
The Battle, by Gwendolyn Brooks is a look at some pretty intense domestic violence. In the poem, we see that the narrator is speaking from a third-person perspective of an event in her neighborhood. In fact, she hears it from her mother, who heard it from the landlady of Moe Belle Jackson, the woman who this violence is occurring. What startled me most was not the obvious descriptions of violence towards Moe Belle Jackson by her husband, but the accessibility of such private information throughout the the neighborhood.
Moe Belle Jackson's husband
Whipped her good last night.
Her landlady told my ma they had
A knock-down-drag-out fight.
Something that happens behinds closed doors, I suppose does not stay there long.
This poem seems to be divided by stanzas into three parts: 1.) What happened to Moe Belle, 2.) How the Narrator would deal with the situation, and 3.) How Moe Belle Deals with the situation; in which number two and number three are completely different things.
When the narrator puts herself into the situation, the outcome is violent. For some reason, I think that the narrator of this poem is still very young, because, of their immediate jump to use violence against Moe Bell's husband. She is speaking from an outside point of view, which is extremely different than if one is actually in the situation. It reminds me of the countless accounts of women who have said that they would never, ever let themselves become rape victims, they would fight and kill if they had to, and yet when the day came, they felt powerless. The narrator has all the potential, will power that Moe Belle does not for self preservation, because she is not in the immediate situation.
I like to think
Of how I'd of took a knife
And slashed all of the quickenin'
Out of his lowly life.
Putting herself in the situation, she is wishing in my mind, to be an active part in stopping domestic violence.
When we get to stanza three, we see the way that Moe Belle treats the situation:
But if I know Moe Belle,
Most like, she shed a tear,
And this mornin' it was probably,
"More grits, dear?"
This is a story which obviously has no happy ending, except in my mind, strengthening the narrators resolve to not be one of those victims.
The language in this poem has a pretty big indicator of it's place of origin. When I read it aloud, I could not help but give it an accent, and some of the words and phrases are just sort of place specific in their own way:
Ma.
Whipped her good.
I'd of.
Quickenin'.
Mornin'.
Grits.
All of these words sort of get a twang in your mouth that give you a sense of the south, or of some neighborhood that has that closeness between neighbors, but also that language that is spoke between them. What also interests me is the rhyming words within this poem:
Night, Fight
Knife, Life
Tear, Dear.
These are some pretty powerful words that are absolutely necessary for painting someone's perspective on a certain gruesome event such as this. It's a one sided fight that ends in defeat. The last stanza, although contains no violence, is probably the most hard-hitting of them all, because we see that Moe Belle is taking such a passive response to this egregious act, and that stirs us up even more than violence itself.
Bluey aka. Michaela C. Ellis
Moe Belle Jackson's husband
Whipped her good last night.
Her landlady told my ma they had
A knock-down-drag-out fight.
Something that happens behinds closed doors, I suppose does not stay there long.
This poem seems to be divided by stanzas into three parts: 1.) What happened to Moe Belle, 2.) How the Narrator would deal with the situation, and 3.) How Moe Belle Deals with the situation; in which number two and number three are completely different things.
When the narrator puts herself into the situation, the outcome is violent. For some reason, I think that the narrator of this poem is still very young, because, of their immediate jump to use violence against Moe Bell's husband. She is speaking from an outside point of view, which is extremely different than if one is actually in the situation. It reminds me of the countless accounts of women who have said that they would never, ever let themselves become rape victims, they would fight and kill if they had to, and yet when the day came, they felt powerless. The narrator has all the potential, will power that Moe Belle does not for self preservation, because she is not in the immediate situation.
I like to think
Of how I'd of took a knife
And slashed all of the quickenin'
Out of his lowly life.
Putting herself in the situation, she is wishing in my mind, to be an active part in stopping domestic violence.
When we get to stanza three, we see the way that Moe Belle treats the situation:
But if I know Moe Belle,
Most like, she shed a tear,
And this mornin' it was probably,
"More grits, dear?"
This is a story which obviously has no happy ending, except in my mind, strengthening the narrators resolve to not be one of those victims.
The language in this poem has a pretty big indicator of it's place of origin. When I read it aloud, I could not help but give it an accent, and some of the words and phrases are just sort of place specific in their own way:
Ma.
Whipped her good.
I'd of.
Quickenin'.
Mornin'.
Grits.
All of these words sort of get a twang in your mouth that give you a sense of the south, or of some neighborhood that has that closeness between neighbors, but also that language that is spoke between them. What also interests me is the rhyming words within this poem:
Night, Fight
Knife, Life
Tear, Dear.
These are some pretty powerful words that are absolutely necessary for painting someone's perspective on a certain gruesome event such as this. It's a one sided fight that ends in defeat. The last stanza, although contains no violence, is probably the most hard-hitting of them all, because we see that Moe Belle is taking such a passive response to this egregious act, and that stirs us up even more than violence itself.
Bluey aka. Michaela C. Ellis
Of the poems we read for this week, there are those that seem like rap written down and others that speak of music in content. I did not come across a poem displaying jazz through its form, or one written to represent a type of music (except rap, which I reject as the only musical/poetic choice for people of color). Rap, being 80% attitude, often loses something on the page; it is not alive until it is performed. Perhaps the constraints of rhyme lend the danger of the contrived line, and, as a result, many of the works are not very good as poems. I am positive I would have a more favorable reaction to Linda Cousins were I to see her perform the piece. (Even in terms of rap though - mo' power to the message - the shit is wack.)
I think that music is a goal in the writing of poetry. The search for melodic or discordant sounds to demonstrate meaning (or examine language) is a primary task. The choice to be a poet or musician is not an arbitrary one, though. Asking this is like asking why a person would choose to be a painter rather than a sculptor. The answer lies in how expression forms in the mind of an artist, and the physical form it calls for, the transformation of thought to being, and the path of interpretation. There are elements of both in each, and there are artists who express themselves in multiple media. But no one chooses to be a poet. Musicians too (not manufactured pop icons) are called.
For people of color, there is the issue of visibility. By asking us to consider the choice to be a poet or a musician of color, is the group suggesting that would-be poets choose hip hop as a platform to be seen and heard and paid? This week, a lot of would-be rappers chose poetry as a venue and, in my opinion, fell flat on both accounts. (Dead Prez was the only rap-worthy AND poetry-worthy piece I read.)
Rap is largely clever wordplay, unexpected rhyme. A piece of Dead Prez (who are just dope anyway, and got together in Tallahassee):
"Organize the hood under I Ching banners
Red, Black, and Green instead of gang bandanas
F.B.I. spyin on us through the radio antennas
And them hidden cameras in the streetlight watchin society"
The rhyme is bent, hints at accent - "banners" to "bandanas," and bent again with an unexpected match in "antennas," then pushed to the limit and buried in the middle of the next line with "cameras." The space in front of the rhyme is packed with syllables, quick steps to the riff climax, the hot finish move. Rhymed word choice shows the flexibility of sound, the adaptation that the ear works on language. The change in placement displays wizardry in an essential skill of rap: unlikely rhyme stacked high enough to demonstrate deftness in use and contortion, but not enough to get tired; and then stretched as a segue into the next rhyme scheme; the rhythm maintains the line while the rhyme does a change up, seamlessly ending a thought and beginning a new rhyme scheme (next line ends "right to privacy). This level of complexity leaves Ms. Cousin's "start/part" "mystery/history" waiting on the school bus...
I appreciate the melody of a poem, how the letters interplay like instruments, notes ringing on multiple levels. I appreciate the interplay of instruments in a musical piece as well (unexpected notes bring delight), but music is a language that moves me beyond speech. I think of it as the most ancient of languages, where there was understanding before words. The multi-verse moves on vibration, so sound existed before words. Principles of the physical, mental/emotional, and spiritual understanding of vibrations carries over into the formation and selection of words, why one word might be a better choice than another (why an "s" feels soft, why a "k" feels abrupt).
There is music in this stanza of "Rapid Transit" that is distinct from the theme of the poem - a second line of content, complimentary to the topic of street music.
"someone lights a saxophone
and the marvelous
breath of God
sweeps the subway"
The s sounds set and maintain a soft jazz tone, while the x, v, and w's act as visual percussion. The single syllables of "breath" and "God" punctuate the set smoothness of the stanza like high or low notes breaking the continuum of melody. The line breaks insist on breath that molds the import, paces our intake.
But this poem is not a song. It uses principles of music inherent in language; but it is to be read, not played. I'm listening to Stevie Wonder as I write this, and it strikes me that a song, in terms of lyrics, must return to the chorus, the obvious thread of the song. Within this loop, the music is allowed to speak. A song is released from the frame of a story when the music takes over. Indeed, a great melody can save sorry lyrics (not found in Stevie's songs, of course). On the page, the words have to stand on their own, create their own music. Repetition does not do the same job without the intensity of the singer's interpretation. Lyrics are words packed into a train - they ride in the vehicle (of music). In a poem, the words have to walk; they have to carry themselves.
I think that music is a goal in the writing of poetry. The search for melodic or discordant sounds to demonstrate meaning (or examine language) is a primary task. The choice to be a poet or musician is not an arbitrary one, though. Asking this is like asking why a person would choose to be a painter rather than a sculptor. The answer lies in how expression forms in the mind of an artist, and the physical form it calls for, the transformation of thought to being, and the path of interpretation. There are elements of both in each, and there are artists who express themselves in multiple media. But no one chooses to be a poet. Musicians too (not manufactured pop icons) are called.
For people of color, there is the issue of visibility. By asking us to consider the choice to be a poet or a musician of color, is the group suggesting that would-be poets choose hip hop as a platform to be seen and heard and paid? This week, a lot of would-be rappers chose poetry as a venue and, in my opinion, fell flat on both accounts. (Dead Prez was the only rap-worthy AND poetry-worthy piece I read.)
Rap is largely clever wordplay, unexpected rhyme. A piece of Dead Prez (who are just dope anyway, and got together in Tallahassee):
"Organize the hood under I Ching banners
Red, Black, and Green instead of gang bandanas
F.B.I. spyin on us through the radio antennas
And them hidden cameras in the streetlight watchin society"
The rhyme is bent, hints at accent - "banners" to "bandanas," and bent again with an unexpected match in "antennas," then pushed to the limit and buried in the middle of the next line with "cameras." The space in front of the rhyme is packed with syllables, quick steps to the riff climax, the hot finish move. Rhymed word choice shows the flexibility of sound, the adaptation that the ear works on language. The change in placement displays wizardry in an essential skill of rap: unlikely rhyme stacked high enough to demonstrate deftness in use and contortion, but not enough to get tired; and then stretched as a segue into the next rhyme scheme; the rhythm maintains the line while the rhyme does a change up, seamlessly ending a thought and beginning a new rhyme scheme (next line ends "right to privacy). This level of complexity leaves Ms. Cousin's "start/part" "mystery/history" waiting on the school bus...
I appreciate the melody of a poem, how the letters interplay like instruments, notes ringing on multiple levels. I appreciate the interplay of instruments in a musical piece as well (unexpected notes bring delight), but music is a language that moves me beyond speech. I think of it as the most ancient of languages, where there was understanding before words. The multi-verse moves on vibration, so sound existed before words. Principles of the physical, mental/emotional, and spiritual understanding of vibrations carries over into the formation and selection of words, why one word might be a better choice than another (why an "s" feels soft, why a "k" feels abrupt).
There is music in this stanza of "Rapid Transit" that is distinct from the theme of the poem - a second line of content, complimentary to the topic of street music.
"someone lights a saxophone
and the marvelous
breath of God
sweeps the subway"
The s sounds set and maintain a soft jazz tone, while the x, v, and w's act as visual percussion. The single syllables of "breath" and "God" punctuate the set smoothness of the stanza like high or low notes breaking the continuum of melody. The line breaks insist on breath that molds the import, paces our intake.
But this poem is not a song. It uses principles of music inherent in language; but it is to be read, not played. I'm listening to Stevie Wonder as I write this, and it strikes me that a song, in terms of lyrics, must return to the chorus, the obvious thread of the song. Within this loop, the music is allowed to speak. A song is released from the frame of a story when the music takes over. Indeed, a great melody can save sorry lyrics (not found in Stevie's songs, of course). On the page, the words have to stand on their own, create their own music. Repetition does not do the same job without the intensity of the singer's interpretation. Lyrics are words packed into a train - they ride in the vehicle (of music). In a poem, the words have to walk; they have to carry themselves.
A poem can be music and music can be a poem, I would present this assertion to a classroom of skeptic students about to write their first poem. So a rap can be a poem? Uh, yes and a poem can be a lyric on the page, yes, yes, yes. I feel its all about delivery, a rap can be read without a musical beat and a little toned down and can pass as a poem.
A memorized poem is more accessible then a poem in a book,
and more accessible than a song played on a friend's I-pod.
Yet, music is music and poetry is poetry. Each one has its own intimate qualities for the listener. The message can be in a song or in a poem. Bob Dylan is a poet and a musician. He says, " Anything I can sing, I call a song. Anything I can't sing, I call a poem." He is an example of a poet manipulating his voice and reciting a poem like a song. Then a hook and a call and a response comes in, it's a thin line and I truly love both art forms.
The poem "I'm a Hip Hop Cheerleader" by Jessica Care Moore ignites feminist hip hop heads and gives room for them to re-think what they are dancing to - it may just freeze up your spine. The narrator creates a space of freedom and restrictiveness in that too tight skirt. The narrator calls out the male dominated rap scene that does not nurture or heal, nor does it allow for women to shine and hold court with other men. If anything the narrator goes through a reincarnation or perhaps there are two narrators speaking: one who can "tolerate all your hoes" and the other who is wise and conscious of the hip hop game. The poem has tinges of sardonic humor, of being fed up. A hip hop cheerleader is definitely different from your everyday football cheerleader. Image is everything in this poem, the cheerleader still has on her short pleated skirt because "when you're a woman sometimes all you have is a minute", she got your attention and now she will flip it.
"I'm a hip hop cheerleader
carrying hand grenades and blood red pom poms
screaming from the sidelines of a stage I built
afraid to part down the middle
for feminine riddles
raining words of proverbs
of prophets who never get heard
because the microphone is just another phallic
symbol"
Juxtapose this poem/rap with Dead Prez's "Police State" and you get a different tone: there is more rhythm, occupied by a very male voice but a conscious male voice, albeit, a different sort of radical, here the narrator is flipping off the state, the state of being under surveillance while they list in their chorus: the world being controlled by the white male. In both poems there is an enemy, there is blame and there is education for the reader, there is knowledge there is another way to live in both poems and to open up your "third eye", another very late 90's 2000's term! There is something about these poems that demand an unveiling of the nausea and repetition of your same ole' song or poem, unveil , and dissect and refocus. The narrator seems young, militant, radical, mentored, alive and can battle somebody in some politics. This is a rap and Jessica Care Moore's piece is a poem.
A memorized poem is more accessible then a poem in a book,
and more accessible than a song played on a friend's I-pod.
Yet, music is music and poetry is poetry. Each one has its own intimate qualities for the listener. The message can be in a song or in a poem. Bob Dylan is a poet and a musician. He says, " Anything I can sing, I call a song. Anything I can't sing, I call a poem." He is an example of a poet manipulating his voice and reciting a poem like a song. Then a hook and a call and a response comes in, it's a thin line and I truly love both art forms.
The poem "I'm a Hip Hop Cheerleader" by Jessica Care Moore ignites feminist hip hop heads and gives room for them to re-think what they are dancing to - it may just freeze up your spine. The narrator creates a space of freedom and restrictiveness in that too tight skirt. The narrator calls out the male dominated rap scene that does not nurture or heal, nor does it allow for women to shine and hold court with other men. If anything the narrator goes through a reincarnation or perhaps there are two narrators speaking: one who can "tolerate all your hoes" and the other who is wise and conscious of the hip hop game. The poem has tinges of sardonic humor, of being fed up. A hip hop cheerleader is definitely different from your everyday football cheerleader. Image is everything in this poem, the cheerleader still has on her short pleated skirt because "when you're a woman sometimes all you have is a minute", she got your attention and now she will flip it.
"I'm a hip hop cheerleader
carrying hand grenades and blood red pom poms
screaming from the sidelines of a stage I built
afraid to part down the middle
for feminine riddles
raining words of proverbs
of prophets who never get heard
because the microphone is just another phallic
symbol"
Juxtapose this poem/rap with Dead Prez's "Police State" and you get a different tone: there is more rhythm, occupied by a very male voice but a conscious male voice, albeit, a different sort of radical, here the narrator is flipping off the state, the state of being under surveillance while they list in their chorus: the world being controlled by the white male. In both poems there is an enemy, there is blame and there is education for the reader, there is knowledge there is another way to live in both poems and to open up your "third eye", another very late 90's 2000's term! There is something about these poems that demand an unveiling of the nausea and repetition of your same ole' song or poem, unveil , and dissect and refocus. The narrator seems young, militant, radical, mentored, alive and can battle somebody in some politics. This is a rap and Jessica Care Moore's piece is a poem.
In his book What to Listen for in Music, Aaron Copland states the following:
There are two ways in which structure in music may be considered: (1) form in relation to a piece as a whole and (2) form in relation to the separate, shorter parts of a piece. The larger formal distinctions would have to do with entire movements of a symphony, a sonata, or suite. The smaller formal units would together make up one entire movement (99).
Copland then goes on to explain that there are similarities between the construction of a musical piece and the writing of a novel:
Paragraphs are composed of sentences. In music, the sentence would be analogous to the musical idea. And, of course, the word is analogous to the single musical tone.
The similarities between poetry (words) and music have long been known. Both have an audible component as well as a visual one: they are represented on the page as well as in the ear. Both have “tone.” For example, the difference in tone between a B Flat and an A Major is clear to the ear. When the single notes are struck, B Flat is minor, darker, more nuanced. A Major is ringingly clear, bright and optimistic. When the notes are played individually, the A Major sounds uncomplicated because nothing interesting is happening inside the soundboard. The note is clear and unadulterated. When the B Flat is played, the difference in tone emerges because inside the console, the note is being dampened, affected, changed in some way. We hear the different forces exerted on the note as tone. The tongue and the mouth similarly exert different levels of force on sounds. When we say “oo”, more involvment is required by the body. Conversely, sounds like “ah” and “a” as in “apple” require less involvement and produce a different tone.
When played together, B Flat and A Major are dissonant, giving a distinct impression of disorder and chaos. We can hear instinctively that the two do not belong together. If a composer desired to produce that effect, he would know exactly how to make it happen. By placing different notes together, the composer can make his listeners cringe with discomfort, feel soothed with euphony, or imprisoned in imposed silence, among other things. The poet is a composer also, with these same tools in her grasp.
Music also does something poetry does not intrinsically do: music provides direct access to the emotions. With words, we are required to listen to them, to know them, to dismantle them, then reassemble them, while running them through a filter of personal experience and knowledge. The presence of so many different levels of understanding often causes the words to be reassembled incorrectly in the receiver’s mind, often through the use of signs and symbols, some of which the listener may not understand or be able to correctly appropriate. The meaning of poetic words and phrases can therefore be lost or misinterpreted, thus producing a varied array of results. Music, however (apart from lyrics), does not pass through the same filter. Music is produced by the body and is received by the body. It is wordless, and the ear relies on tone and rhythm to convey a bodily emotion. We are more serious when we hear the sounds of the cello, more incited with the bold brass of the trumpet, and swayed to movement by drumbeats. We do not need words because music falls within the realm of the unspeakable and is understood without language. Poetry, however, seeks to become more like music in this way.
Steven Bonafide Rojas’ “The Creed of a Graffiti Writer” is an excellent example of how certain musical conceits can be used to get the point of a poem across intuitively, just as music does. Just as Duke Ellington’s “Blues To Be There” starts with a raucous brass interlude, strident and insistent, so does “The Creed of a Graffiti Writer” begin with long vowel sounds demanding time on the tongue and a higher pitch in the voice to produce. The poet’s choices of long i sounds (strike, night, hide), oo and ou sounds (New, our, moon, source), long o sounds (York, shadows, patrol, stroll), demand duration and are the equivalent of long brass notes. Like the trumpet or the trombone, these sounds draw attention to a theme that will be recurrring.
For the poet, the themes are repeated in the sentences beginning “We are”, and we can expect to find in them certain literary devices that provide some of the same effects as musical ones. Beginning with “We are The Addicts of Aerosol” of line 8, we find alliteration (both consonance and assonance), symmetry (provided through accent), prominence of hard consonant sounds and long vowel sounds (duration and tone), and similar line length. Word choice profoundly affects the way we perceive the tone of poems. For example, Rojas could have chosen a different word than “strike” and still have achieved the same literal meaning. Consider, “We attack at night,” or “We bomb at night.” But choosing the long i sound has implications greater than the literal meaning of strike: it compliments the duration of night and hide. The great “brass” intro to Rojas’s poem provides the whole work with the “in your face” manifesto quality the poem needs to achieve in order to be successful.
Ellington’s “Blues To Be There” would have an entirely different effect if it began with the percussive notes of the solitary piano or the long, low notes of the saxophone. First, however, Ellington has to give you a sense of the liveliness the “blues singer” is missing out on. The “there” of the “Blues To Be There” must first be established as a major theme. After this occurs, the saxophone takes over with its yearning drone. The blues singer (the beholder) is perhaps looking out over the river, to the lights of the city, yearning for a place he cannot be. The percussive instruments that mark the progress of time are relinquished to the background.
One can see in Rojas, this similar percussion in the background of his poem. The first nine lines have an accentual rhythm that is symmetrical. One can see the rhythm of accents per line being 2-2-1, 2-2-1, 2-2-1. The accented words are as follows:
Line 1: strike, night
Line 2: streets, York
Line 3: canvas
Line 4: hide, shadows
Line 5: pig, strolls
Line 6: moon
Line 7: only, source or light (depending on individual intonation. In my intonation, the stress could fall on one or the other, but not, as far as I could tell, on both.)
Line 8: Addicts, Aerosol
Line 9: Krylon
Individual variations could occur on line six, where “our” could technically be accented. However, if the line’s enjambment is followed, the stress falls most naturally on the first word in the next line, “only.”)
In music, duration and dynamics are very closely linked. Duke Ellington exploits the feeling we experience at the height of yearning by drawing the saxophone up to its highest pitch, holding it, then dropping it down into the depths, creating an upwelling of breath like an exhale. Suddenly, the reedy sound of the clarinet takes over, trilling through rapid notes, speeding up the listener’s response. Rojas mimics this pattern by using long vowels in opposition with short ones. He writes:
Our tags rag black books and cardboard
scratched on windows and train doors
stickers slapped over any motherfucker
you had beef with
only in self defense (BUM, 212)
In these lines, you can see the prevalence of short vowel sounds. They take less time on the tongue and their effect is to increase the speed of the lines as they are read/spoken. Where once, the words were drawn out and insistent, now they are fast, almost tripping over themselves, jubilant and free. Coming so soon after lengthy-sounding lines like “We are the Tye Dye Tone,” these short vowel sounds have the same effect on the reader that Ellington’s clarinet riffs produce in the listener.
Finally, at the end of “Blues To Be There,” Ellington repeats the refrain of the beginning, but in more muted tones. The sounds are long and low like voices drifting over the water. The blues singer has realized that he is not in the place he yearns to be. He is distinctly where he is and a sort of matter-of-factness of concrete reality takes over. For Rojas, this moment is the clarification of his intent: the restating of who he is and what he does.
We are the artistic poets
that perform magic with spray paint
and just call ourselves writers
Graffiti Writers (213).
There are in these lines no patterns of insistent long vowels, no subverting short ones. There is a distinct deficit of alliteration. Though alliteration does exist, it is not found here with the same prevalence and force as in previous sections of the poem. There are no double entendres, no hidden agendas. There are only the direct words; all the artifice of the previous lines relegated to the background like the accentual rhythm, which here is roughly 3-3-2-2. There is only now the artist, the blues singer, stating the crystal clear message: No apologies.
There are two ways in which structure in music may be considered: (1) form in relation to a piece as a whole and (2) form in relation to the separate, shorter parts of a piece. The larger formal distinctions would have to do with entire movements of a symphony, a sonata, or suite. The smaller formal units would together make up one entire movement (99).
Copland then goes on to explain that there are similarities between the construction of a musical piece and the writing of a novel:
Paragraphs are composed of sentences. In music, the sentence would be analogous to the musical idea. And, of course, the word is analogous to the single musical tone.
The similarities between poetry (words) and music have long been known. Both have an audible component as well as a visual one: they are represented on the page as well as in the ear. Both have “tone.” For example, the difference in tone between a B Flat and an A Major is clear to the ear. When the single notes are struck, B Flat is minor, darker, more nuanced. A Major is ringingly clear, bright and optimistic. When the notes are played individually, the A Major sounds uncomplicated because nothing interesting is happening inside the soundboard. The note is clear and unadulterated. When the B Flat is played, the difference in tone emerges because inside the console, the note is being dampened, affected, changed in some way. We hear the different forces exerted on the note as tone. The tongue and the mouth similarly exert different levels of force on sounds. When we say “oo”, more involvment is required by the body. Conversely, sounds like “ah” and “a” as in “apple” require less involvement and produce a different tone.
When played together, B Flat and A Major are dissonant, giving a distinct impression of disorder and chaos. We can hear instinctively that the two do not belong together. If a composer desired to produce that effect, he would know exactly how to make it happen. By placing different notes together, the composer can make his listeners cringe with discomfort, feel soothed with euphony, or imprisoned in imposed silence, among other things. The poet is a composer also, with these same tools in her grasp.
Music also does something poetry does not intrinsically do: music provides direct access to the emotions. With words, we are required to listen to them, to know them, to dismantle them, then reassemble them, while running them through a filter of personal experience and knowledge. The presence of so many different levels of understanding often causes the words to be reassembled incorrectly in the receiver’s mind, often through the use of signs and symbols, some of which the listener may not understand or be able to correctly appropriate. The meaning of poetic words and phrases can therefore be lost or misinterpreted, thus producing a varied array of results. Music, however (apart from lyrics), does not pass through the same filter. Music is produced by the body and is received by the body. It is wordless, and the ear relies on tone and rhythm to convey a bodily emotion. We are more serious when we hear the sounds of the cello, more incited with the bold brass of the trumpet, and swayed to movement by drumbeats. We do not need words because music falls within the realm of the unspeakable and is understood without language. Poetry, however, seeks to become more like music in this way.
Steven Bonafide Rojas’ “The Creed of a Graffiti Writer” is an excellent example of how certain musical conceits can be used to get the point of a poem across intuitively, just as music does. Just as Duke Ellington’s “Blues To Be There” starts with a raucous brass interlude, strident and insistent, so does “The Creed of a Graffiti Writer” begin with long vowel sounds demanding time on the tongue and a higher pitch in the voice to produce. The poet’s choices of long i sounds (strike, night, hide), oo and ou sounds (New, our, moon, source), long o sounds (York, shadows, patrol, stroll), demand duration and are the equivalent of long brass notes. Like the trumpet or the trombone, these sounds draw attention to a theme that will be recurrring.
For the poet, the themes are repeated in the sentences beginning “We are”, and we can expect to find in them certain literary devices that provide some of the same effects as musical ones. Beginning with “We are The Addicts of Aerosol” of line 8, we find alliteration (both consonance and assonance), symmetry (provided through accent), prominence of hard consonant sounds and long vowel sounds (duration and tone), and similar line length. Word choice profoundly affects the way we perceive the tone of poems. For example, Rojas could have chosen a different word than “strike” and still have achieved the same literal meaning. Consider, “We attack at night,” or “We bomb at night.” But choosing the long i sound has implications greater than the literal meaning of strike: it compliments the duration of night and hide. The great “brass” intro to Rojas’s poem provides the whole work with the “in your face” manifesto quality the poem needs to achieve in order to be successful.
Ellington’s “Blues To Be There” would have an entirely different effect if it began with the percussive notes of the solitary piano or the long, low notes of the saxophone. First, however, Ellington has to give you a sense of the liveliness the “blues singer” is missing out on. The “there” of the “Blues To Be There” must first be established as a major theme. After this occurs, the saxophone takes over with its yearning drone. The blues singer (the beholder) is perhaps looking out over the river, to the lights of the city, yearning for a place he cannot be. The percussive instruments that mark the progress of time are relinquished to the background.
One can see in Rojas, this similar percussion in the background of his poem. The first nine lines have an accentual rhythm that is symmetrical. One can see the rhythm of accents per line being 2-2-1, 2-2-1, 2-2-1. The accented words are as follows:
Line 1: strike, night
Line 2: streets, York
Line 3: canvas
Line 4: hide, shadows
Line 5: pig, strolls
Line 6: moon
Line 7: only, source or light (depending on individual intonation. In my intonation, the stress could fall on one or the other, but not, as far as I could tell, on both.)
Line 8: Addicts, Aerosol
Line 9: Krylon
Individual variations could occur on line six, where “our” could technically be accented. However, if the line’s enjambment is followed, the stress falls most naturally on the first word in the next line, “only.”)
In music, duration and dynamics are very closely linked. Duke Ellington exploits the feeling we experience at the height of yearning by drawing the saxophone up to its highest pitch, holding it, then dropping it down into the depths, creating an upwelling of breath like an exhale. Suddenly, the reedy sound of the clarinet takes over, trilling through rapid notes, speeding up the listener’s response. Rojas mimics this pattern by using long vowels in opposition with short ones. He writes:
Our tags rag black books and cardboard
scratched on windows and train doors
stickers slapped over any motherfucker
you had beef with
only in self defense (BUM, 212)
In these lines, you can see the prevalence of short vowel sounds. They take less time on the tongue and their effect is to increase the speed of the lines as they are read/spoken. Where once, the words were drawn out and insistent, now they are fast, almost tripping over themselves, jubilant and free. Coming so soon after lengthy-sounding lines like “We are the Tye Dye Tone,” these short vowel sounds have the same effect on the reader that Ellington’s clarinet riffs produce in the listener.
Finally, at the end of “Blues To Be There,” Ellington repeats the refrain of the beginning, but in more muted tones. The sounds are long and low like voices drifting over the water. The blues singer has realized that he is not in the place he yearns to be. He is distinctly where he is and a sort of matter-of-factness of concrete reality takes over. For Rojas, this moment is the clarification of his intent: the restating of who he is and what he does.
We are the artistic poets
that perform magic with spray paint
and just call ourselves writers
Graffiti Writers (213).
There are in these lines no patterns of insistent long vowels, no subverting short ones. There is a distinct deficit of alliteration. Though alliteration does exist, it is not found here with the same prevalence and force as in previous sections of the poem. There are no double entendres, no hidden agendas. There are only the direct words; all the artifice of the previous lines relegated to the background like the accentual rhythm, which here is roughly 3-3-2-2. There is only now the artist, the blues singer, stating the crystal clear message: No apologies.
What makes music, music and poetry, poetry? What is it exactly that differentiates the two? Those are the things I was thinking about while reading Xiong's "because I am it's a race thing trip" and began to think of the spaces between words and phrases less as pauses and more as beats, moments were perhaps a drumbeat or a certain note would repeat throughout a song. The repetitions in two particular places seem to take on the quality of choruses. First:
______________________geisha
I mean
______________________china doll
I mean
______________________lotus blossom
I mean
______________________passive submissive exotic slant-eyed slut
The number of syllables in the words on the right slowly grow from two to three to four while the repetition of the words I mean continue to string the phrases all together into a cohesive rhythm that lulls the reader right before the form breaks and explodes into a rapid flow of insults/expletives. The feel of the words is a slow build to a crescendo of sound, an explosion of emotion. What does this do for the reader? I think it has the effect of shocking someone from complacency. By using the specific pejoratives the author chose it serves to link the more aversive bigotry of the first few phrases, those termed "harmless" or "compliments" by people privileged enough not to see it or be affected by it, to the more explicitly insulting and problematic burst out line.
The second example of a chorus-like moment I found was :
america_______________________railroads
america_______________________ laundry
america's chinese
america_______________________ home of the brave
america_______________________ sugar canes
america_______________________ concentration camps
america's japanese
america_______________________ land of the free
america_______________________wonder bra and corsets
america_______________________plastic surgery and liposuction
america's______________________demonization of women
don't lecture me about the savage practice of footbinding
Even though the words are completely different than the example above there are quite a few parallels - the use of repetitive language on the left side while the right side words slowly grow larger and larger this time by an increase in lines rather than syllables and the same scheme is used an increase of 2->3->4 and again the rhythm is broken by a much larger explosion of words that serve to break the reader from a the steadiness experiences in the previous lines. The focus is different as well in this case it is less about exposing the stereotypes of American mono-culture and more about exposing the hypocrisy of the West. The refusal of America to ever accept it's Asian-American communities despite continual contributions to that society. It's foretold by the very first line of the poem:
I am asian________america
The divide between asian and america no matter of family history, contribution or pain or servitude at the hands of the government. None of these seem to make a bridge between asian and america, always outside of society.
The last phrase in that second chorus discussing the demonization of women in Western society which is consistently misrepresented as freedom and used as a way to other many different cultures. I'm reminded of a article that came out in Vogue magazine during the initial invasion of Afghanistan where they spoke of the horrible position of women there and that they would serves as liberators...by teaching the women cosmetology and how to open their own beauty salons. The article went on to say that they had learned many of the women could not read the instruction manuals they had brought and so instead of teaching the women how to read they were now providing manuals with diagrams so they would not have to read. What type of liberation is that?
Women are in a marginalized position throughout the West but the focus of any continued work in that direction is subverted outward in a spread of our "liberation" which is really no liberation at all. That's what Xiong is calling up here, critiquing the American's continual condemnation of footbinding while other forms of physical painful and debilitating are acceptable--plastic surgery, dieting at increasingly young ages, stiletto heels that cause immense back problems later in life, etc. It's not about supporting footbinding at all but pointing out that America has its own fair share of problems that it chooses to ignore while it continually demonizes other cultures.
The uses of the repeated slow build in these two "chorus" sections serves to punctuate the poem, to make these passages stand out and resonate like a song you just can't get out of your head.
______________________geisha
I mean
______________________china doll
I mean
______________________lotus blossom
I mean
______________________passive submissive exotic slant-eyed slut
The number of syllables in the words on the right slowly grow from two to three to four while the repetition of the words I mean continue to string the phrases all together into a cohesive rhythm that lulls the reader right before the form breaks and explodes into a rapid flow of insults/expletives. The feel of the words is a slow build to a crescendo of sound, an explosion of emotion. What does this do for the reader? I think it has the effect of shocking someone from complacency. By using the specific pejoratives the author chose it serves to link the more aversive bigotry of the first few phrases, those termed "harmless" or "compliments" by people privileged enough not to see it or be affected by it, to the more explicitly insulting and problematic burst out line.
The second example of a chorus-like moment I found was :
america_______________________railroads
america_______________________ laundry
america's chinese
america_______________________ home of the brave
america_______________________ sugar canes
america_______________________ concentration camps
america's japanese
america_______________________ land of the free
america_______________________wonder bra and corsets
america_______________________plastic surgery and liposuction
america's______________________demonization of women
don't lecture me about the savage practice of footbinding
Even though the words are completely different than the example above there are quite a few parallels - the use of repetitive language on the left side while the right side words slowly grow larger and larger this time by an increase in lines rather than syllables and the same scheme is used an increase of 2->3->4 and again the rhythm is broken by a much larger explosion of words that serve to break the reader from a the steadiness experiences in the previous lines. The focus is different as well in this case it is less about exposing the stereotypes of American mono-culture and more about exposing the hypocrisy of the West. The refusal of America to ever accept it's Asian-American communities despite continual contributions to that society. It's foretold by the very first line of the poem:
I am asian________america
The divide between asian and america no matter of family history, contribution or pain or servitude at the hands of the government. None of these seem to make a bridge between asian and america, always outside of society.
The last phrase in that second chorus discussing the demonization of women in Western society which is consistently misrepresented as freedom and used as a way to other many different cultures. I'm reminded of a article that came out in Vogue magazine during the initial invasion of Afghanistan where they spoke of the horrible position of women there and that they would serves as liberators...by teaching the women cosmetology and how to open their own beauty salons. The article went on to say that they had learned many of the women could not read the instruction manuals they had brought and so instead of teaching the women how to read they were now providing manuals with diagrams so they would not have to read. What type of liberation is that?
Women are in a marginalized position throughout the West but the focus of any continued work in that direction is subverted outward in a spread of our "liberation" which is really no liberation at all. That's what Xiong is calling up here, critiquing the American's continual condemnation of footbinding while other forms of physical painful and debilitating are acceptable--plastic surgery, dieting at increasingly young ages, stiletto heels that cause immense back problems later in life, etc. It's not about supporting footbinding at all but pointing out that America has its own fair share of problems that it chooses to ignore while it continually demonizes other cultures.
The uses of the repeated slow build in these two "chorus" sections serves to punctuate the poem, to make these passages stand out and resonate like a song you just can't get out of your head.
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