Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Denotation. When a poem requires heavy lifting from a diction, what is being denoted?

What's the issue (the worry) of finding out new-to-you words? Consider them, new acquaintances over tea and/or mussels. Of made-up words, quite grand, I'd say.

Connotatively speaking, a dictionary is so like a cupboard respectfully full of good food. To share.

Catharsis? Does the poet or the listener garner more catharsis?

Or it the collective body of words and the spaces they sculpt? To put it another way, if the poet hasn't experienced catharsis in writing the poem, can the listener do so? Can catharsis be a one-way street. Perhaps, a cul-de-sac? Dead-end being quite an unfortunate phrase.

Is cooking any more cathartic than eating? Depends.

Archetype. Is the archetype the basis for poetry?

Always an inkling of. (Aside: please, please read Murakami's The Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. Archetypes galore). Anyhow. Archetypes are a jumping off vista for everything. Of which, poetry includes every thing imaginable & imaginary.

Archetypes in the kitchen? All which is ripe (hot or cold) and suitable for hand & mouth.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Conflict. Is there always an undercurrent of conflict in a poem?

Perhaps, more to the point the dialects of gestures on a page. Or across the digital. And sometimes, the absence of. Conflict & conversation.

Food -- when to say yes, when to decline. For instance, is that mold hosting a proper conversation with the cheese. Or should the cheese be pitched. The nose sometimes doesn't know.
The mouth, however...

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Personification. Can a poem be free of personification?

Language poetry is an interesting term (as well as a vehicle for some mighty compelling & nifty work). Isn't all poetry a subset of language? Come to think of it, isn't language a subject of the personal, treading on the tips of personification? All resulting in a resounding probably.

All is itself and something other. Brings me to cabbage. What does the cabbage personify? And in the aggregate, cabbage soup?

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Subject. Must poems have a subject?

Yes and no. Yes, if it's not restricted to the narrative. No, if it is. Seriously, is the subject of all poems, the personal, thinking. Perspective & memory.

Must a meal have a subject? Most likely. Consider, tapas with their subject of varied, small plates. Color, texture, and architecture.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Resolution. Do poems inwardly seek resolution?

Yes, if sound is plot, which of course, it is.

In food, I find a colorful salad of this-and-that works best to resolve the day. For instance,
Persian cucumbers
Kumato tomatoes
fresh basil (or cilantro)
snap peas
olives -- green or black
Mandarin slices -- fresh, of course
nuts -- I prefer raw almonds or walnuts
sliced avocado
olive oil


drizzle a couple of drops of Sciabica's Jalapeno olive oil -- warm & buttery

mix again & top with more fresh herbs

an additional twist of pepper does no harm

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Reversal. In poems of the non-narrative type, is there a reversal?

Consider the larger question -- does each poem contain a protagonist? Yes, silence. On the joyous occasion when the reading and page combine, the hearer knows precisely when there is a reversal in favor of the protagonist, silence.

In a meal, it is the sigh, the smile during. When the knife & fork (or spoon) are put down and the clash (sometimes imperceptible) is silenced.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Foreshadowing. Does every poem imbed foreshadowing?

And before that question can be tackled, this question arises -- does every poem imbed a shadow? Words predict their progeny, don't you think?

What is the shadowy side of food? Eggplant but not blueberries.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Falling Action. How can one recognize falling action in a minimal poem?

as if
if were
a quilt


Among beets there is a discernible falling (& rising) rhythm. Now, can you hear? The same can be said of cheese. However, it is more difficult to discern.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Elision. Can the unstressed be unarticulated in a poem?

What is left out, speaks the loudest? How wide in the chasm between the stressed and the unstressed.

When dining at another's home, one often comments (in an unarticulated way) whether the cook is stressed. Souffles are a prime example.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Connotation. Can a poem devoid of connotation?

Onion & self.

About food -- self & onion. Why am I thinking condiments?

Go back to the personal -- memory & rewind.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Foreshadowing. What do poems foreshadow?

Their end. The beginning of the next.
And always a deep, rich silence.

A meal foreshadows the next ripe season. Today, pea shoots. In the long tomorrow, peaches.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Allusion. Does all poetry reference something, someone?

Can we all agree on the reference? Or is poetry more like the onion -- whole. Concentric circles wrapping around an allusive center. Of course, many think poetry elusive.

Moving on from the whole onion, are leeks, in particular, allusive? By their inherent grit, elusive.

Friday, February 3, 2012

Cento. Are all poems partially a cento?

Where does influence end; inspiration begin? Is there a finite number of words; a finite way of arranging? Perhaps, fine poets at their core are mimics.

Think of a great meal. Consider how the cook was influenced and inspired by carrots. Assuming, of course, your remembered meal included this form of beta carotene. You get the gist, right?