[Susan McLean]

Bruce Bennett:
I opted for “Dear Exuberant Divorced Worldly Woman” to represent the fine sestinas I received, partly because of the sheer boldness displayed by its author in taking up a challenge even the challenger dismissed as a joke, but primarily because it is an exceptional poem as well as a poster child for the possibilities of the sestina form. A preliminary warning, however. This poem will probably require a number of careful readings before one can fully savor the intricacies of the argument – or quasi-argument; I was reminded of Wallace Stevens’s high-spirited (and often hard-to-follow) “arguments” that intentionally parody the form of argument. Readers may be reminded as well of Pound’s admiring definition of the sestina “as a form like a thin sheet of flame folding and infolding upon itself.”


Challenge: Incorporate these words into a sestina: Poetry,
Fiction, Exuberant, Divorced, Worldly, Woman. Or try these:
Man, Writer, Northeast, Wise, Adventurous, Lively. Just kidding,
of course, but I’d love to hear from divorced/widowed male, 55+
for possible long-term relationship.
..............................................Personal ad in Poets & Writers

Dear Exuberant Divorced Worldly Woman,

Perhaps poetry matters only to the man
at home in fiction, or to that rare writer
who, exuberant only north by northeast,
finds himself divorced from the world (nowise
wishing to be worldly) but adventurous
in his dreams of woman. She will be lively

as only woman can be—with that liveli-
ness poetry was born for and which man,
if unworldly enough and adventurous,
can image. Though fiction lie, a good writer
may lie, divorced from the world and wise-
ly so, exuberantly. But why northeast?

Does exuberance belong but to the northeast?
Is woman languid if she’s but midwest lively,
or midwest man divorced from all things wise
and beautiful? Is poetry from such a man
a lesser fiction? Do you think such a writer,
though otherworldly, less adventurous?

And what is worldly? what adventurous?
Exuberance can be hard if from the northeast
the wind brings a chill fiction to a writer
that his dream of woman—lovely and lively
enough to dance in poetry and bless a man—
is divorced from possibility, that it’s unwise

for him, supposedly divorced from the wise,
true, and worldly good, to feign adventurous-
ness or dare believe poetry. Yet such a man
might rival in exuberance any northeast-
erner. Dear woman, let me belie that lively
and hurtful fiction; find in me that writer

who can fiction such truth that no writer
could divorce it from the real, that the wise
would embrace it, and every woman of lively
wit find in it such worldly, adventurous
exuberance as would thaw the polar north. East
of Eden, poetry is still the best of man.

Might not a wise woman and such a man, a writer
of exuberant poetry, create a lively adventure—us—
divorced from the fiction of the worldly northeast?


To me, the opening lines are distinctly reminiscent of Stevens, both in what they say and the tone and syntax in which they say it. I’m not sure how to take that first “north by northeast” – is it an echo, possibly, of Hamlet’s “mad north-northwest”? – but neither am I convinced I’m supposed to be. “Northeast” is one of the twelve words specified in the challenge, and, once the reader is beyond whatever puzzlement that phrase occasions, he or she can revel in how resourceful the speaker is in the ways he plays on the geographical and symbolic meanings of “northeast”.

The same is true of the almost Shakespearean reveling in the ways one can banter about the concepts – and the realities – of “fiction,” “lie,” “truth,” and imagining, especially in relation to love. Such “adventurous” intellectual play is evident everywhere in this sestina as it luxuriantly proceeds to make its romantic case on behalf of this “unworldly” suitor/writer who, it turns out, has himself been seeking an ideal “other” equally acutely aware that romance and poetry offer the best that this world, “East of Eden,” can offer. He alone, he argues in almost casuistical detail, can appreciate such a creature, and if his somewhat tortuous reasoning at times approaches the outer verge of sense, he sufficiently sticks to his point, so that, by the time he launches into direct entreaty - “Dear woman, let me belie that lively/ and hurtful fiction; find in me that writer/who can fiction such truth…”, we can feel almost certain this lady will indeed be won.

One has no way of knowing whether the writer of the personal ad ever read this response, and, if so, what might have, or has, come of that, but the reader is happily convinced these kindred souls seem destined for each other. “Might not a wise woman and such a man, a writer/of exuberant poetry, create a lively adventure – us –“ “Yes!” the reader wants to proclaim emphatically. “And blessings on them!”

[Michael Cantor]

Damm, that's good! What a fine end (if this is the end - not sure if we'll get to a Baker's Dozen or not) to a fine Bake-off.

What makes this one particularly admirable is that the writer takes on the double challenge of both groups of words, and follows the sestina rules for each - which means that the same two words must be together in the same line six stanzas in a row (not even counting the envoi), in addition to all the other sestina mishegas - and even with that additional weight tied to his/her writing hand, still manages to avoid the Curse of the Sestina and keep the thing moving briskly and interesting all the way down. I think that what makes it all happen is that - as we get into that dangerous S4/S5 territory where many sestinas founder - the writing gets loopier and loopier, ie: Dear woman, let me belie that lively/and hurtful fiction; find in me that writer/who can fiction such truth that no writer/could divorce it from the real...

Indeed! (I hope they hooked up.)

[Jesse Anger]

Wow,

To use some street slang- this is bananas. Michael and Bruce have pretty much covered any impressions I have had( and more). The balls it took to take this one on. And to not falter as Michael noticed in S4 and 5. Sometimes, when I get 3 quarters through a poem with success I get nervous and tank it. The writer of this got through all that drama and still continued to rise.

I still only have the thing half figured out. Great sestina.

J

[Andrew Frisardi]

I often feel that the first task of a poem is to convince the reader that he or she would rather read that poem at that moment rather than, say, water the tomatoes. It’s tougher to convince the reader of that when the poem is a sestina, but this one convinces me of that from the start and keeps it up for the whole 39 lines. Remarkable and imaginative writing. I especially admire how its robust and refined language carries me effortlessly over the parts that are hard to follow. There’s an authority and directness to the voice that lends it credibility right off the bat.

[Petra Norr]

The poet really did an impressive job at incorporating all those words into a sestina. If this were a contest (and not a bake-off) and that was the goal, this sestina would probably win. But since that's not the case, I'm afraid this sestina would go at the bottom of my list as far as well-written, enjoyable poems go. It's about as far from my idea of good poetry as you can get.

[John Whitworth]

I'm with the good guys here, or rather the guys who say this is good. Most sestinas are, well, rather boring and if you have ever tried to write one you will know why this is. I don't think of Stevens much. His voice is primarily romantic in my opinion and this isn't like that. The person this reminds me of is Ashbery. I don't much like Ashbery though I see him as clever and necessary. I like this better because the tone is more likeable.

[Tim Murphy]

Yeah, this is just immensely accomplished. Congratulations, Anon.

[Catherine Chandler]

I'm afraid I'm with Petra on this one. The only thing "accomplished" IMHO is that all the rules demanded of the form have been followed. Only by sheer force of will did I read through the whole cumbersome thing. It did nothing for me, emotionally or even intellectually, and I'd never be tempted to read it again.

[Gail White]

Michael Cantor took the words right out of my mouth. I enjoyed this one a lot.

[Patti McCarty]

Originally Posted by Susan McLean

Readers may be reminded as well of Pound’s admiring definition of the sestina “as a form like a thin sheet of flame folding and infolding upon itself.”

And this one burns brightly!

I wonder if sestinas aren't one of those love-or-hate forms. I must confess I used to be in the latter category, or at least strongly dislike and somewhat baffled by them. I've played with a couple recently, though, and they have a way of growing on you! I find myself agreeing with Stephen Fry who said [sestinas are] a bitch to explain but a joy to make. What fun the author must have had writing this one :)

If you like sestinas, I highly recommend Nola Garrett's "The Dynamite Maker's Mistress."