Of Poetry And Shellfish

I finished reading my first poetry book. Nice to shake off my poetry virginity, and who is the lucky poet who can add a notch on the bedpost? Tony Hoagland (naturally, the poet du jour of MSU's MFA program) and the book was What Narcissim Means to Me. I've never had a proper poetry class. I was once in a class that had poetry in its title, but it was Victorian poetry and I only remember one of the Bronte girls poems called Goblin Market. Had a Shakespeare class too, but we only read plays. Oh, I've read a Shel Silverstein book or two in my day. Does he count against my poetry virginity? I mean, Silverstein is technically poetry, but that can't count....that's like saying calling a bicyle seat a legitimate deflowering agent, which it is not. So, Mr. Hoagland...I'll remember you always. :)

And, you know, I liked the book well enough. Hoagland certainly makes poetry seem less mysterious to me, very gentle you could say, with the narrative qualities of his writing, but that's not saying I'm all fired up for counting syllables and wacky spacing either. I read it, understood the messages I think, but my problem with poetry is, to me, just like complicated seafood you've never eaten before. Clearly it's food, and liked by someone otherwise it wouldn't be on the menu in the first place. But when the plate is in front of you it's all claws, eyes, shells and meat somewhere in it. The wait staff hands you an array of tools that look appropriate for mideval denistry and they give a little bow and say, "Bon appetite." Now what? Eat the claw...how? smash it with the mallet or crack with that metal thing, then yank out the meat with the tiny fork, or is that too crass and simple...too Red Lobster...maybe cut it down the tail with a knife and spoon out the flesh...what if its bad or some innards get swallowed with the meat...are the innards okay to eat...is there a manual...the fuck do I do with that thing?

I read through that Hoagland book like a hobo eating a free sandwich. I didn't notice anything particularly illuminating about spacing, or how many lines, I didn't notice any rules or syllable patterns. I'm not even sure that's the point. Doesn't poetry need to follow some prescribed rules, which is why it's some whole other division of writing otherwise isn't it just prose with a little less emphasis on development and story, but it's all-in for meaning and fancy-pants words? But if there are rules, what do the rules mean? Why stick to stuff like that if it doesn't really hold any extra meaning to what you are trying to say?

Guh....I am completely unprepared for my Contemporary Poetry class....unless they do a bunch of rhyming couplets. I'm good at that....while wearing a hat. (See?)

Oh, no Sal Fasano pics to be had. Oh well.

VIVA EL MUSTACHE!!!!!