[188] Ars Poetica

Continuing what is fast becoming a joint theme...

A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit

Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb

Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown -

A poem should be wordless
As the flight of birds

A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs

Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,

Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,
Memory by memory the mind -

A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs

A poem should be equal to:
Not true

For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf

For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea -

A poem should not mean
But be

 	-- Archibald MacLeish

  In the code language of criticism when a poem is said to be about poetry
  the word "poetry" is often used to mean: how people construct an
  intelligibility out of the randomness they experience; how people choose
  what they love; how people integrate loss and gain; how they distort
  experience by wish and dream; how they perceive and consolidate flashes of
  harmony; how they (to end a list otherwise endless) achieve what Keats
  called a "Soul or Intelligence destined to possess the sense of Identity."

  	-- Helen Vendler, poetry critic

Rather unsurprisingly, if you think about it, a number of poets have taken a
break from mirroring reality, and turned their gaze inwards, whether upon
other poets, other poems, the nature and role of the Poet, or, most
reflexively, the nature and role of Poetry.

Today's poem is a beautiful example. Titled Ars Poetica - 'the Art of
Poetry'[1] - it attempts to prescribe the nature of poetry, and - in a move
Hofstadter would have loved - does so in the form of a poem. Furthermore, it
does not seek to sidestep the possible pitfalls and inconsistencies this
approach leaves it open to - rather it meets them head on, using words like
'mute', 'dumb' and 'wordless' to set up a paradox culminating in the
wonderful last stanza, 'a poem should not mean / but be'.

En route, the main thread is woven through with several exquisite images,
speaking to the reader even as it advocates silence, progressing even as it
advocates motionlessness. And yet, at the end, it does resolve itself into a
seamless, integrated whole, as perfectly self-contained as the globed fruit,
or the timeless, frozen stillness of a winter's night. The reader is free to
pick it apart, to tease meaning from the tapestry of contradictions and
images. As for the poem, it simply is.

[1] and not, as several overingenious students have suggested, 'poetry my
a**e' <g>

Links:

A nice serial analysis of the poem can be found at
<http://www.newwinds.com/poethome/stuart06.htm> - I don't agree with every
one of his points, but overall he's done a nice job.

Biography:
MacLeish, Archibald

 b. May 7, 1892, Glencoe, Ill., U.S.
 d. April 20, 1982, Boston

  U.S. poet, playwright, teacher, and public official, whose concern for
  liberal democracy figured in much of his work, although his most memorable
  lyrics are of a more private nature.

There's an online biography at <http://www.poets.org/lit/poet/amacleis.htm>
and another at <http://www.rothpoem.com/duk_am.html>

m.

From: Peter Rashkin <prashkin@>

"For all the history of grief"

is one of my favorite all-time lines.

Peter Rashkin

From: Carolyn Bunch <cbunch@>

This is not a comment, but a request for help.
Can you help me find a poem - I am sure it was
written by Archibald MacLeish.  It  was about
circus perfomers and their audience.  I can only
remember the phrase "The armless ambidextrian"
and the end where the roof of the circus blows off
revealing "Nothing, nothing at all."  It has haunted
me for years and I cannot find it.  Any help will
make me weak with gratitude.
    Write me at  cbunch@

From: "McGillicuddy, Colin" <McGillicuddyC@>

If this is too lengthy, or too esoteric for your liking, you might try X. J.
Kennedy's "Ars Poetica" ; )

From: Trish Sutherland <trishs@>

Hello, I am only a junior in high school, but that poem is "The End of
the World". Just happen to be doing work on MacLeish and am specifically
explicating these 2 poems. Thanks for the input, it is a great help.