Charles Buckowski. Dec 7

Charles Bukowski was born in Andernach, Germany in 1920. His father was an American serviceman and his mother a native German. At the age of three his family moved to Los Angeles where he spent a good period of his life. Bukowski is a well know contemporary poet who has published more than forty-five volumes of poetry and prose. He died at the age of seventy-three. Charles Bukowski sometimes confuses me. From reading his poetry I can see man with terrible problems. He is often referred to as a womanized. This is evident within his poetry in many instances. Although Bukowski seems to have disdain for women there are occasions when the lighter loving side of his character is revealed. Bukowski seems to navigate from one end of the spectrum to the next within his poetry as he worked through is life, his numerous odd jobs, and alcoholism. His thoughts move from love, contempt for love, pain and sadness, happiness and contentment. It is refreshing when we see the happier side of Charles, but that is not always the case. Many of his poems are depressing and sometimes vulgar. In War All the Time he spends too much time at the racetrack. Maybe the racetrack was a big part of his life when writing this volume, but the amount of poems within it is too many. The structure of his poems is also uncomfortable. He has a wide variety of styles, but there are a lot of poems that have one to three word lines. This makes the poem seem to move along very quickly through a lot of white space. One of Bukowski’s sadder poems entitled the condition is structured this way. The main theme so this poem is pain. He begins the poem with the lines “all up and down the avenues / the people are in pain; / they sleep in pain, they awaken / in pain.” Not only are people in pain though, everything else is, the bridges, even the flowers. Bukowski says “there is no release,” because pain is everywhere. Because there is this pain he says “don’t ask why there are / drunks / drug addicts / suicides.” He then goes on to say that the reason there is pain is because “the music is bad / and the love / and the script: / this place now / as I type this / or as you read this: / your place now.” Reading Bukowski when feelings of confusion and melancholy maybe isn’t the best idea. Or maybe reading the sad Charles will make you realize that there is pain everywhere around you. Maybe I need to stop asking questions and realize there is nothing I can do about it. But why should I say that, if the mind is willing then change can happen on the outside as well as within. I want to find a hopeful poem of Bukowski’s right now, but there are few riddled within the this mess of alcohol, cigarettes, gambling, and loveless sex that is War All the Time.

experimental model

The Child of God Came, As I Lay Dying

As I lay dying,
she wouldn’t wait.

It,

like so many flames.
As I lay dying,
you want Darl?

Drinks,
you want Darl?
It,
now them others sitting there, like buzzards.
Get a good breed, because Mr.

came like a caravan.
Him, the musicians looked like compositions.
It must have thowed his neck out someway or another.
Later on,
dust and slats of sunlight

onto the floor
for ye and you all.

Get your goddamn ass
out along the cupped floorboards and subsided,
dust and slats of sunlight.

The experimental poem The Child of God Came, As I Lay Dying is an experimental poem derived from Charles Bernstein’s list of experimental poems. This poem is an altered form of the acrostic chance poem. A poem of acrostic chance consists of the title of a novel as the acrostic key phrase. Within this key phrase each letter corresponds to a numerical number prescribed by the order of the alphabet; A equals one and Z equals twenty-six. These numbers then translate into the page from which you generate the poem. From each corresponding page is a line of the poem taken from the first word that begins with the letter that the numerical value was adapted until the end of the sentence or line. This model is an alternative version of the acrostic chance because it combines two acrostic key phrases from the title of two novels; William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying, and Cormack McCarthy’s Child of God. The use of an experimental poem challenges the mainstream ideals of language, art, and ideology within poetry by altering the perception of the speaker and reader. With found text the identity of the speaker has changed and the language of the poem is inconsistent and sometimes incoherent and creates a greater need for analysis. This alteration of the mainstream style of poetry is, in the end, is unsuccessful. The poem lacks order and consistency. There is no central theme to the poem. Essentially it is only a combination of separate thoughts, trying to work together to create meaning. Even though some lines are taken from a particular novel, the thoughts and ideas are fragmented and incoherent. When these lines are taken out of context, the phrase inevitably loses its meaning and must lean on the whole poem to regain it. This redemption of meaning is possible, but not as concise as the typical mainstream poem, which uses the entirety of the lines to convey a certain theme or meaning. The only positive outlook for this style of poetry is the possibility of a meaning being developed by the reader. This idea again has a downfall because within mainstream poetry this development of meaning by the reader is still essential. This development of meaning must also be achieved by the poet, ultimately meaning the poem is created in hopes of a theme being inadvertently produced. This hopeful production of meaning is an unsuccessful style of poetry.

week of Nov 3-7: No real sense

The Language, or L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poets are a group of poets, sometimes considered avant garde, who emerged in the early 1970’s. This movement embodies the idea that language dictates meaning. Another key aspect of Language poetry is the importance of reader participation, where the reader must find meaning within the text. After reading a very small selection of Language poetry anthologized by Norton, I can see these underlying themes, but can’t spot the importance of this movement. When I say importance, I am not referring to the worth of the poetry, because everything created essentially has an importance to someone, but more an importance to the movement of what is Language poetry. Also to note, the meaning of avant garde also escapes me. The fact that people try and try again to be different and experimental to bring about a change in the social worth of something is in fact just the same as everyone else who wanted to be different. Once someone creates a movement to counter or replace a previous form of thought an acceptance of this idea is readily attained by either the mass or high culture of society and in time has become a normal aspect of society, which will eventually be overrun by another though. The creation of a form of poetry that looks involve the reader to find meaning within the text seems to be the overall aspect of any type of poetry. Essentially everyone is trying to do the same thing, but in different ways. In all poetry, art, or literature the involvement of the reader or observer is essential. No one can see or interpret the work the same, or should be encouraged to. The success or importance of any form of art is the personal connection one has to it; the creator included. The fact that the Language poets claim their poems requires reader participation is a statement of the obvious. In regards to classification; I am aware of its function. It functions in present and historical time frames to distinguish ideas. The point I am trying to make, or opinion I am ranting about, is the desire to be classified and the creation of art to gain this classification. I know there is no escaping it. It seems that the only thought of the world is the mark or change they will present to history. There is little individuality left. Every aspect of life is a summation of adjectives. This group is avant garde, and these are liberals, republicans, modernists, romantics, structuralists. What is the meaning behind all of it? The creation of change will only create another creation of change. The world is too easily shaped by history, which is what identity truly is; an adaption of the world onto yourself. I am myself within my own thoughts at the same time myself within the thoughts of my classmates. Individuality is impossible. Identity is a product of history. Essentially there is no point to this blog post. Thoughts are just opinion, similar and different to everything.

modeling poem 2

304

An empty bottle and cigarette ash
are all the remnants of his lost loves;
Charles is gone.
Empty was a word he kept in his pocket;
removed only when his sheets were wrapped
with growing grief.

Alone again ran Henry in stride;
he searched the cupboards, books, and lies
for hidden poems.
-- Mr. Bones is clever you once said
No one is coming, so I ransacked it all.
No avail – truths

are told Henry to those that care
to find their friends not growing at all
or, maybe?
to those who have tired from looking.
I see the water, Mr. Bones.
Where are you?


The poem 304 is a model in the style of John Berryman’s The Dream Songs. The title is numbered 304 to show a period extended to thoughts of death which sometimes materialized towards the end of the dream songs. Being a fan of Yeats, Berryman used a strict structure of three six line stanzas with lines one, two, four and five composed as pentameter and lines three and six composed of trimeter. This model adheres as closely as personally possible to this structure. Being not well versed in the use of meter; I did the best I could. Present in this model is the use of the alter egos Henry and Mr. Bones. I chose not to alter the names of these characters because I thought their names were essential to the whole theme of a dream song, and since I have not truly written close to four hundred of them; their names will be that representation. Henry, a character who has suffered an “irreversible loss,” is the speaker of the dream songs and this poem. Similar to Berryman’s poems Henry alternates from speaking in first person, second person, and third person. Another aspect of this model that is similar to John Berryman is his continual reference to dead poets and friends. The name Charles in this model is supposed to reference Charles Bukowski a contemporary poet who died in 1973. “Charles is gone,” refers to his death. Also in the poem there are traits that mimic Bukowski’s lifestyle. From the first line where it reads, “An empty bottle and cigarette ash / are all the remnants of his lost loves,” represents the idea that Bukowski was an alcoholic that continually smoked cigarettes and was, by some people, considered a womanizer. Again when the poem reads, “Alone again ran Henry in stride; / he searched the cupboards, books, and lies / for hidden poems” is a representation of a trait of Bukowski, who repeatedly hide his poems from vengeful lovers who have come back to torment him. Another similarity of this model to Berryman is the use of water as a depiction of death. Berryman who threw himself from a bridge in Minneapolis finds understanding in death with the use of water. A stylistic trait of Berryman was the use of caesuras and dashes. The dash represents a missing facts and ideas, unknown to the reader, and the caesura, which is a break in the line, adds an audible pause when reading and or speaking the poem. These breaks in the poem create more than one reading or interpretation of the line. This is apparent when it reads, “Mr. Bones is clever you once said / no one is coming, so I ransacked it all.” This gives a reading of Henry saying Mr. Bones is clever as well as Henry saying “no one is coming.” These traits can sometimes confuse the reader and give them an overall feeling of alienation that was very apparent in the writing of John Berryman.

week of october 20-24 Roripaugh and Berryman

The guest speaker Robert Roripaugh was a pleasant surprise. I enjoyed listening to him speak and read some of his poetry. He sometimes had a strange way of reading his poetry. He would begin soft a slow and in an instant, all of a sudden, the pitch of his voice would rise and he would put emphasis into his lines, or even just one word. This emphasis could sometimes have been needed, but other times it seemed out of place. I enjoyed how you could hear the emotion when he read, regardless if it seemed odd at times. My favorite of his poems were when he was describing the Wyoming wilderness. The poem that took place in autumn and was about a tree with yellow leaves had to be the most enjoyable. I believe it was dedicated to his wife also, which made it feel that much more pleasant. I also enjoyed the reference he made to the hunting trip that he and Lee Ann went on when she was child. I had remembered from Lee Ann’s book Beyond Heart Mountain the poem entitled “Ningyo,” where it reads, “Some drunk men / drove by in a pickup / and yelled, Goddamn, / it’s a girl.” After listening o Robert Roripaugh speak, it made want to read more of his poetry, a sometime I hope the chance arrives.

Another aspect of last week’s class I would like to discuss is John Berryman and his Dream Songs. Reading over these poems several times gives you a realization of the troubled state John Berryman was in. It is hard to fully grasp what he was trying to convey in these poems because of the few that are available to us in the Norton Anthology. One poem that struck me is titled “Henry’s Understanding.” When you think of the time and place of John Berryman’s death, you can see the correlation in this poem. This poem was published in 1972, the same year of his death. Judging from the title the word understanding can mean an understanding of his life or possibly an understanding of death and suicide. This understanding comes “suddenly, unlike Bach, / & horribly, unlike Bach, it occurred to me / that one night, instead of warm pajamas, / I’d take off all my clothes / & cross the damp cold lawn & down the bluff / into the terrible water & walk forever / under it out toward the island.” I’m not sure about the reference to Bach, but Berryman writes of going into the “terrible water.” When looking upon his death, Berryman jumped off of a bridge in Minneapolis. He also writes “ It only takes a few minutes to make a man. / A concentration upon now & here.” These two lines could mean a culmination of his entire life comes down to “now & here,” meaning the things he does at this point, his death, is what will make him. One line that confuses me is when he writes “walk forever / under it toward the island.” This line seems to convey feelings of being lost. Even after death Berryman still finds himself lost, walking forever towards what he wants, or who he wants to be. So, in turn, Henry’s understanding, isn’t an understanding at all.

week of october 13-17. Beyond Heart Mountain

While browsing through Main Street Books I came across Beyond Heart Mountain, by Lee Ann Roripaugh. Considering the fact that I am enrolled in two of her (your) courses I was interested in reading it. After a few weeks of it sitting on my bookshelf, I finally got a chance to read through it. Although the opinions of a lowly student not well versed in the criticism of poetry is not that important, this is what I thought of it. Also, I would like to note, that many parts of this volume of poetry led me to the World Wide Web to look up Japanese words, to better grasp the poems. (Happy early birthday by the way; this could seem strange, but you can find out all sorts of information on the web)
Throughout Beyond Heart Mountain the reader can see the cultural aspects of being part of a multicultural family and of a mixed descent. I myself can, in a small way, relate to some of the emotions involved with growing up in this sort of environment, for my mother is Korean and my father is American. In the introductory poem entitled “Pearls” the speaker harassed by some boys on bikes that “flew down / around me like noisy crows. / They kept yelling Kill the Jap! This scene shows the vicious possibilities of a child’s mind and their rejection of the unfamiliar. Another poem in part 1 of the volume called “A Dance of Wooden Shoes” feelings of embarrassment are present. It reads, “My mother’s in geta shoes, / clopping along the driveway. / Hai. Gotcha. Hai. I hope / the neighbors think it’s kabuki.” Although she is the speaker’s mother, alien to American culture, society has dictated that the actions of the Japanese neighbors are strange, and embarrassment ensues. The child chastised for being different, can sometimes transform, even for an instant, into part of the discriminating society.
Part 2, “Beyond Heart Mountain,” is a chronicle of different people and the time they were forced to spend at the Japanese Internment camp located at the base of Heart Mountain. The greatest part of this section is how some of the characters stories intertwine. The speaker in one is a character in another. Through these poems the reader can see the mistreatment of the inhabitants and the unsuitable living conditions. There are also parts that convey the draft of Japanese Americans and their refusal. Although not all refused, a large number of young men did refuse service and were thus sent to prison. This shows the corruption of the American government in the 1940’s when dealing with Japanese Americans.
The final poem of the volume entitled “Kakitsubata” is by far my favorite. The water lily fable is present in the poem and gives it a surreal feeling I really enjoy. When it reads, “Come to the place of eight bridges / where streams ribbon / around thickets of ghost-bamboo / like the nine tails of a gleaming, silver-tailed fox,” the image of the traveling monk is easily seen. The story of the traveler, the spirit of song, (not sure about all of this information I am speaking of, I read a play version, and a synopsis) and the poem he wrote about his far away love is seen in the lines “perhaps / for a moment / you suddenly remember the face of a woman / you once loved.” I also like the illusion of the kakitsubata spirit emerging into human form, “blossoming / limb by petal, petal to limb.” The final third of the poem I really cannot explain, but the emotions and images in these lines resonate wonderful things in my mind. “when you think I’m only a dream / you had one night, / the song of sparrows will always tell you otherwise.” These last few lines break the confines of reality and what society tells you is real. Images seen in dreams or even spiritual things outside of dreams are just as real as what you see in your waking life. There are no boundaries to the imagination and the mind.
Final thought, I also liked the poem “Ode to Sushi,” because I love sushi, and basically most things involved with Asian culture.

September 6-10. Covey

Having Bruce Covey come into class and give a reading was an interesting experience, but ultimately left me disappointed. By this statement I am not trying to imply that Covey is not a good poet, but he does not appeal to me. Combining found text into poems is very impressive and I’m sure challenging, but I feel that a part of the creative aspect of poetry that I enjoy is absent. I enjoyed some it, but not a lot. His use of google searches was an interesting idea and was sometimes comical, but the numbering before each line, which I heard in quite a few of his poems, was annoying. Sometimes these lists continued on and on giving me a desire for him to quit altogether. His poem entitled “odds,” I believe, was one of these. Hearing him read this very long and repetitive list at a high rate was too much. After a certain period of time the effect of the poem diminished and a tiresome feeling overcame me. Another one of his poems entitled “declaration” used found text from a speech from George W. Bush. He took words which appeared in the speech numerous times and put them in alphabetical order. When taking these words out of context, it completely alters the purpose of the speech. It has no meaning. It’s just a list of words. Any one in contemporary society can connote meaning to these words for they live in this historical time period and are aware of the current situation of the world, but again there is no real meaning. The effect of the speech will still be the same. Those who oppose will oppose and those who agree will still agree. That is the terrible thing about politics, no one is ever happy. By saying this I am taking no stance on the situation, because I have none. I try my best to keep myself completely devoid politics of any sort. Some may believe this to be ignorance, but like them I am allowed to have my opinions, no matter if there are none at all. Back to Covey, if I remember correctly he seemed to speak poorly about love poems; more than once. From hearing him say that in class automatically gave me a distaste for him. This distaste grew when I heard him read a poem he described or was entitled a love poem. I didn’t see the correlation. Why would you say that you feel bad about the person who it was written for. Do feelings and emotions for another person have no meaning to him? If not then he is saying to a large number of people and poets that they are juvenile and need a new basis for writing. Expressing feelings through words whether about love for another, nature, politics, life, death is an essential part of human life. Everything we do is a form of love. Everything you do you do because you want to, like to, or love to. The only thing that I have learned from Bruce Covey, is that I want to keep my poetry and work and thoughts devoid of him.