[Curtis Gale Weeks]

Jerry,

I should have responded sooner. True, w/o the dedication of some scholars of prosody, I'd have very little clue about what "happens" in most of my favorite poems. I'd sense all the factors, of course, but without much understanding.

It is interesting to note that as many prosodies exist as opinions on religion or philosophy. (Or so it seems to me.) The oft-suggested book by Mary Oliver makes the comment that formalist poetry cannot achieve the rhythms and sound of speech, for instance--a "fact" I do not believe, although formalist verse often presents normal speech somewhat deceptively. (I.e., behind the speech is a more rigid structure than that allowed by various free verse doctrines.)

I also was a big fan of Judson Jerome's The Poet's Handbook--it introduces aspects of meter and sound quite well--but have since given up my great admiration--it does not go beyond a cursory examination of various sonic devices, and makes hash of notions of strict meter.

But my growth as a poet--far from being finished, I might add--has led me from one to another and from there to another concept of prosody, until the demarcations of various "schools" have clouded my own perception. I'm not much of a fan of "voice-as-one-defining-method" of a poet, but I'm lately confused about where I want to take my poetry once I've begun it: where/what is my own "voice"; or, which voice for this particular poem? Critic X says this is the way poetry should reach an audience; Critic Y says, "No, follow this route." Etc.

Quite possibly, the old advice is best: I can be led to the river, but I must be the one who decides to drink from it, or how to cross it, or whether or not I should jump into it. This presents all kinds of problems.

From a very young age, I've been like I have imagined many other poets to be: in love with language and ideas. Whitman's admission that he loved the sound of his own name & babbled it incessantly in so many different ways, applies to me also. So a specialized, even if sometimes neurotic, understanding of language seems to me to be at least as valuable as the promulgated prosodies of the world. It is good to have multiple palettes, or different hues, presented to me, but my own poetry cannot follow fully the paths others have cut through the briar patches of the world.

I have visited various websites where the participants rarely mention the word "prosody" or Steele et al. and been shocked by poetry that was quite "fresh" and even inspired--which suggests to me that our own decisions at the river's edge are much more significant than how we have arrived at that river. (At those sites, I have however noticed frequent mention of established poets' poetry.) I have often thought that a firm understanding of language is the best foundation, even if we sometimes also get our materials from other poets and/or critics.

blah blah blah. Etc.

Curtis.

--BTW, I listened to a taped interview of Auden once, online, in which at one point he was asked whether some subjects have ever been beyond his reach...or something to that effect. He answered that "No," no subjects were impossible, but at various times in his life he realized that he was not yet at an age where he could handled certain subjects. He noted that this realization--that he was not yet ready for certain subjects--was, in hindsight, what had helped him to become a better poet. My point being: even the study of prosody cannot help the poet beyond a certain point, where personal growth might be the necessary next step.