O that frog or flower that stealthily
Snipped from the bone Black Tezcatlipoca's foot!
Trapped with his hands full of magic, what could he do
But wither a projected sun,
Drop two or three eternities into his purse unwrought,
And leave us to make sacrifices forever?
Snipped from the bone Black Tezcatlipoca's foot!
Trapped with his hands full of magic, what could he do
But wither a projected sun,
Drop two or three eternities into his purse unwrought,
And leave us to make sacrifices forever?
Denise Levertov, "An Admonition," The Poet in the World:
ReplyDeleteForm exists only *in* the content and language. The visual shape of a poem is not its form but a result of the notation of its form. Oh, not to quibble, it is true that the set forms exists abstractly, too; sonnet, sestina, etc., have their rules, and one can invent rules for new "forms" in this sense ad infinitum. But this is a rudimentary view. In fact--and not only in organic poetry and "free verse"--form is the total interactive functioning of content and language, including every contributing element. The form of a man is not that he has two legs, two arms, a head and body and no tail, but the sum of his anatomical, physiological, mental, textural, moral, motor, etc., structure. And the form of a poem comprises all the equivalent components you can think of.
"Form is never more than the extension of content." At the Vancouver poetry conference this summer ('63) I proposed to Robert Creeley, the originator of this now famous formula, that it should be changed to read: "Form is never more than the *revelation* of content"--to which he agreed). . .
We need a poetry not of *direct statement* but of *direct evocation*: a poetry of hieroglyphics, of embodiment, incarnation; in which the personages may be of myth or of Monday, no matter, if they are of the living imagination.