Drafty Annotation of O'Hara's Meditations in an Emergency

These poems in Meditation in an Emergency are of a time, location, and context. And by "of a time" I also mean of the moment. Each poem seems an unattached snapshot; a stream of consciouness portrayal of the way reality and thought/feeling permeate one another. This encapsulation gives the poems power and focus but it also requires the reader to strive to join the narrators of these poems in a context that may be forgien to them. For example, I'm a west coast poet without much experience or expertise in the visual art or music disciplines. O'Hara leans heavily on these disciplines as inspiration and illustration. So I had to accept that the peices of mucis or art he referred to were powerful. This gave the poems less of an impact for me and makes me suspect this book was not written with a very wide audience in mind.

That said, there are very interesting lines drawn here between what was then thought of as "high art" and "low art". O'Hara praises the comonplace in the same stanza as the cutlurally prized. He even has an entire poem about the movies, and in another bemoans the slow death of the ballet.

I'm impressed with the variety of forms put forth by O'Hara. It's and interesting sampling of beat influence. Some pieces are one single block of stanza (Chez Jane) while others have a clear cut stanza set up and line distribution (Jane Awake). The form choices make subtle impacts on the reader and  wish I knew more about how he made arrangement choices.

In my opinion he is at his best in the mixed prose/poetry format in the title poem Meditations in and Emergency. There of a beautiful mix here of strange imagery and declaration. It's a deeply quotable piece with bits like "It is more important to affirm the least sincere" and "It is easy to be beautiful; it is difficult to appear so." It's also the only piece here that makes direct reference to O'Hara's homosexuality. I belive it is hinted at in Poem (p.60 ) with the metaphor of foreigness as a possible stand in for the, at the time unspeakable, sex acts traded between men. I wanted to like this poem but the racism of this poem makes it offensive and staunchly sets its voice in a time and perspective that dehumanizes others by using their "exoticism" to the wrier's benefit. This is unfortunate and off-putting since there is such an enticing tenderness and truth to this poem.

I consider For Grace, After a Party a more successful, less offensive, and well-rounded portrayal of an interaction between lovers. One that, minus the name in the title, goes completely without gender signifiers of either the lover or the other characters. The narrator speaks of the strange pleasure and crooked ache of attending a party along with someone you long for. And it kicks in the end like a haiku with reality pushing things back into old patterns.

As a reader I often had trouble grasping what the point of each poem was. And while some of the poems (like For Grace, After a Party) benefit form this ambiguity, much of the time I found it frustraitng and confusing. The strange and vivid images were enough to push me through the poems with a lovely hunger, but I rarely felt "full" at the end of them.

I remember taking Blas Falconer's workshop on finishing a poem at Antioch. He used his own "perfectly well written" poem with one very piercing line as an example of an unfinished poem that needed to be fueled from the depth that one line came from. O'Hara has many piercing lines but I don't know if all his poems are "finshed" in this way. This contribute to the snapshot-esque feel of this book and I think also why so many of the details seem to have aged poorly since the book came out in 1957.

Book Review: Ordinary Genius

Note: I've got less than a week before my next work packet is due for grad school. So um... today's essay/post is actually my annotation of Kim Addonizio's fantastic Ordinary Genius.

Seriously, if you are at all interested in poetry (writing or reading it) buy this book. It is extraordinary. 

It was difficult to read quickly because the rich slew of wisdoms and practical exercises/suggestions constantly tug the reader toward their own notebooks and ideas. Ordinary Genius leaves its reader hungry for the possibility of their own literary actions (whether its reading or writing). It reads like an intense flirtation, extremely playful and forthright. All of the challenges/exercises arouse rather than intimidate the reader. Which is admirable considering the wealth of materials Addonizio refers to/recommends as well as those she quotes or includes wholesale. She never lets the book get dull and it is clear that Addonizio has love, joy, passion, frustration, and fascination with the craft of poetry.

Ordinary Genius was viciously difficult for me personally to get through quickly because I wanted to stop and respond to every prompt. Consequently I wrote much more poetry this month thanks to these prompts, my notebooks is now littered with the heading “prompt from O.G.: ”.

Not only does it include multiple specific examples of craft elements Addonizio also includes non-examples and portraits of what not to do (usually written by herself). Because of its well controlled and wide ranging references and its approachability Ordinary Genius would be an absolutely fantastic textbook for a beginning or intermediate poetry course. Its sections are equally well suited to being used in a modular take-what-you-like fashion or as a workbook that students could move through slowly and consecutively.

For use in a modular fashion I highly recommend the following sections for beginners: 1. leaping into the dark; 10. read this; 11. identity 1: boys, girls & bodies; 12. three meditations; and 15. me myself & I. And I recommend the following for more advanced/intermediate poets: 22. metaphor 1: the shimmer; 23. white heat, necessary coldness; 24. bag of tricks; 28. music & meter; 29. write a sonnet; and 34. do-overs & revisions.

As a poet who often has the habit of overwriting I was the most intrigued and challenged by section 23. white heat, necessary coldness in which Addonizio quotes Anton Chekhov:

*see below for my feels about the "he or she"

This is a balance I am now on the lookout for in my revisions. Addonizio's identifies of this poetic principle in simple terms. her doing so clearly demonstrates an ability to create space in her work for readers with different levels of skill and experience with poetry. This “coldness” is a sophisticated balance to strike. One beginning (and even seasoned) poets may not succeed in achieving, but one they will absolutely benefit from being able to recognize.

Addonizio has an absolute knack for selecting appropriate examples of craft principles she's trying to illustrate. The range of examples chosen restricts itself to no time period or specific poetic style. But it's not just the exercises and suggested readings that make Ordinary Genius such a gem.

The way she groups and explores concepts of creativity, practice, poetry, and human experience is succinct and inviting. In the section read this she frees writers and potential poetry enthusiasts from what I see as the biggest barrier to entering the world of poetry: 

This comes after her personal anecdote about being touched by a Keats poem but not understanding many of its complexities for years. On the first page of the first section of Ordinary Genius she states that

There is a lot of uncertainty in any creative act. Some people love this—it's what draws them, over and over, to make something out of nothing. Other people can't seem to get past it; they don't want to confront the unknown. It's useful to recognize that uncertainty is going to be there, however you feel about it.

My only critique of this book has to do with its somewhat simplistic presentation of gender roles and gender rhetoric. Despite how transgressive and important I find the content and exercises in the section on gender identity I was bothered by assumptions that go along with her use of “the opposite sex” and her use of *“he or she” where “they” would be more inclusive. Because of the section's either/or approach to gender I found myself ill equipped to participate in many of the exercises. However, I definitely think they are very valuable prompts!

Ordinary Genius is so much more than just a workbook about “how to write good poems”. It breaks open the how's and why's of what makes poetry so powerful culturally and personally and then tied that back to actionable craft elements. All of the advice and exercises come from a deep and true observations about how poetry functions as a force of human nature. I highly recommend it to any poet/writer looking for a good read and a little something to kick their practice in the ass. I especially recommend it to writers new to poetry or just feeling insecure about their place in its admittedly strange and intimidating depths. Ordinary Genius is your perfect guide.

Check In

Hello friends. My my, have I ever been a busy bee lately! I prepped for and attended the very first residency for my MFA program and generally had my mind blown out of the water in so many ways.

I'm mostly posting right now just to check in with you dear reader, and wanting to let you know that despite my spotty posting on this blog for the last 3 months I am still very much so here and writing up so many storms: some poetic, some nonsensical, some for the rigorous documentation that goes along with being in school again, and some stuff about books too.

I have a few blogposts in the works right now but they need refining, and hopefully I'll find the time between school work in the next two weeks to polish them up for publication. But for now I'll give you some morsel of what I've been working of for grad school.

I've selected a section of or my first book annotation. I read Jericho Brown's Please and I was so impressed I needed to share my thoughts/love for it. I would highly recommend to anyone who likes to read words:

You'd think that the jagged subject matter of Please would relegate it to the “tragic black story” trope* but no, Brown keeps it from being that simple. This book is triumphant, ecstatic, and also heavy with grief. It doesn't pull any of its loving lyrically-saturated punches. The poems in Please don't aim to be universal, they aim to be honest. And in striking those achingly honest melodic cords, the universality of intimacy, othering, violence, and suffering rumble out in slow, synchronous harmony.

Here's a photo of my favorite poem from this book:

PS: I somehow absolutely feel that I should be getting out one post each month at the very least. See you all in July. 

(good lord summer's flying fast ain't it!?)

*Many groups are only allowed to be represented as solely tragic figures in mainstream culture. This simplifies their stories and oppressions. I'm referring to this oversimplification when I say "tragic black story" trope. I don't think this limiting approach to telling stories that involve tragedy is specific to black folks, but I do recognize it as a way that they've had their narratives (over)written.

March Was Enormous

It's been almost two months since I've posted.

So much has happened. It's hard to know how to tell it all and what I should mention first.

Last month took a trip back to Seattle. It was a strange delightful and full of both warmth and ache.

And also It was very very wet.
I collected so many hugs from the loved ones I left behind in the Puget Sound.
I visited my grandmother who'd had a stroke the week before I arrived

A few hours after my after my flight got into SeaTac I received the first of two life-changing phone calls I would get in March.

The call was from chair of the MFA program at Antioch University. He said "I'm delighted to offer you admission to our program." The cohort begins this June. I was elated and confused and many many feelings besides that. Antioch was my top choice of the three schools I applied to, and the personal attention, professed commitment, and recognition I've received from the faculty has been amazing. But it's going to cost a lot. After a conversation with my partner in which he advised me against going graduate school (he asked "Could you wait a year?"), I spent two very painful days thinking I wouldn't go.

I know I might be in debt forever, and that this decision is more risk than investment but I couldn't say no. I sent off my Intent to Register form last week. Bring on the debt.





Last Thursday morning my father called me to tell me that my grandma Iris McCutchen had died. It's been less than a week. My mind and my body is still processing her being gone. And I have NO idea what to say or think about this.





I'm sick this week, but part of what I've gleaned from the frenzy of March was to keep moving and that  I shouldn't let shame and fear stop me from doing.

Earlier this week I started a Patreon account (a crowdfunding tool for creative folks like me):

And I've once again committed myself to writing a poem every day in the month of April. And sort of against my better judgement I'm rebooting my tumblr to archive the poems I write over the next 29 days.

So here I go.

Academic Roadblocks. Help me get through?

This is the kind of day where I have crawled back into bed 3 times.

This is the kind of day that I make my wardrobe decisions for very practical reasons:  I picked a warm top, with soft absorbent cuffs, perfect for wiping away wet salty regrets.

I feel lost. No that's not right I don't feel lost. I know where I am and I know where I want to go. I feel stuck. I feel stopped at every fucking turn and my chest is ready to give in

The heater is on full blast and I still feel frozen.

Applying for grad school is expensive. Each application costs a $50 or more and each school requires an official transcript be sent out from my alma mater which cost 10 bucks a pop.

That right there is close to $300, not to GO to any of these schools, just to be considered. On some level I see this as paying to be noticed by academia and it makes me sick.

Sometimes, for me, academia is a loan shark.

Yesterday I started looking into requesting official transcripts. Former students must apply to regain access to their school information. This morning, after waiting a full twenty four hours to have my student account rebooted I was excited to log on and send out my transcripts.

I couldn't order transcripts because of the holds had been placed on my account

Not only am I required to write and turn in an self-evaulation for the quarter during which I was asked to leave the graduate school program (which I can easily remedy and might give good closure), but more significantly I owe money.

Unbeknownst me, I owe the Evergreen State College $350. More than 100 of which is interest accrued during the three year period I didn't even know I owed money.

350 dollars is the exact amount of money I've saved up to apply to three grad schools. There is no room in my finances for something like this.

I don't want to be writing about this today. I want to be tucking my head under the covers and crying about the impossibility I feel right now. The frustration and shame are crushing. Distractions keep tugging at my numb, begging me to push away this reality.

I hate this because it's one more roadblock, telling me that grad school is too expensive for people like me to even apply for. And that I am not "serious" about writing because I don't have enough money. I feel like I should just give up and accept my station as clinically unhirable in my chosen field and not worth a twinkle in the eye of academia.

This is the exact kind of barrier that years ago made me think that if I was good enough at school, if I was smart enough, if I did everything just right, I'd somehow end up "better off" than my family.

I've given up on being better than or even better off. I just want to learn how to eek out some sort of subsistence by doing what I love. And I want to have a degree I can make a few bucks with. Right now I don't have and combination of the following necessities for doing so:
the right contacts or
the right professional tools and/or
the right letters at the end of my name

Getting these things is starting to seem like a complete impossibility. I know I'll feel differently tomorrow and my fighting energy will rise to take on these barriers. But I will need help.

I've never done this before, but I am starting to realize that part of planning for tomorrow, when I will be fighting for this again, is asking for help.

So here goes.
Will you help me follow my passion and become the writer I dream of being?

If you can please donate.

You can do so through my gittip account.

Or contact me through twitter and we can work something else out.

I know that those of you who read my blog care about my writing, and whether you can give or not, the fact that you care matters a whole fucking lot. So thanks. For the bottom of my bruised heart.

<3 WRM