Here’s the thing about reading poetry: so much of it is impactful, it’s hard not to write about every single poetry book I read.
But doing that would mean that I never stop, so in the interest of saving time, I’m going to keep this post to five or fewer books of poetry I read this year that have impacted my own writing.
First is My Life and My Life in the Nineties by Lyn Hejinian. This is a book of prose poetry written in one long sequence that captures moments of the speaker’s life from her birth up until she’s 45 years old. Each poem is 45 sentences long. It’s a truly remarkable book of poetry in that it reads a lot like memoir, though there’s no particular narrative carried through the poems. Each section is filled with snapshots, images, and very specific experiences of her life. One of the pieces I wrote in winter semester was inspired by this book. It was one of the first books that allowed me to see all the various ways that a writer can create poetry. And while not my favorite collection from what I’ve read this year, it still impacted my writing in big ways. Which is a good reminder: we don’t have to enjoy a book to learn from it.
Next is Lighthead by Terrance Hayes. This phenomenal book is filled with evocative language and emotions that cut deep. It’s a collection that examines what it means for humans to construct our experiences. It’s very dreamlike and surreal, as well as being grounded and concrete. The blending of those two things, surrealism and concreteness, is absolutely masterful in this collection. I think this book, more than most that I’ve read this year, has helped me see what it means to approach emotions with nuance. My writing tends to orbit around different emotions and the experiences that awaken them, but I don’t always capture the nuance required for my reader to really be brought into the experiences with me. As I told my mentor in my last packet letter, it’s hard for me to embrace nuance and ambiguity in my writing because so many of the experiences I’ve had aren’t nuanced or ambiguous. My marriage was emotionally abusive; I was neglected and lied to and mistreated; these are facts.
But poetry doesn’t just list out the facts. For that matter, neither do essays. Creative writing must me more than a list of facts. In the last residency, one of my previous mentors said that I am so reverent to the facts of my experiences that I sometimes miss the truth of them in my writing. To give a more concrete example, my current mentor, in her feedback on my creative thesis, said that poetry is a place where I can play with my story. What was it like thinking of names for my unborn babies when I was pregnant, for instance? There was no actual naming process because my pregnancies didn’t get that far along, but I can use poetry to dream up that experience. So while it wouldn’t be a factually true poem, it would be an emotional truth. I think Lighthead helped me see this more than almost any other book I’ve read this year.
After that is Illuminations by Arthur Rimaud. I’m actually rereading this book right now and using it as inspiration for revising a piece I wrote in winter semester. This is a highly surrealist book without any connecting narrative whatsoever. It’s primarily prose poems with some sections of verse scattered throughout. What makes this book work the way it does is the imagery. They are vivid, visceral, emotional, evocative. I’ve found myself rereading sections more than once because they’re so rich in images, it can be hard to appreciate them all.
The lack of narrative, too, is an interesting component to this book. It’s not written in any kind of linear order (or at least it doesn’t seem to be), and yet the reader always maintains a sense of what’s going on within the text. This is the importance of nuance and imagery made manifest. I don’t have to understand the specific circumstance of a poem to absolutely relate to the emotions it promotes. I have another collection from Rimbaud that I intend to read next year because this one has been amazingly impactful.
Lastly, there’s Poet in New York by Federico Garcia Lorca. This book…I almost don’t even know where to begin. The imagery is like nothing else I’ve ever read. So visceral, so completely surreal and stunning. I found myself reading this book as slowly as I could because, goddamn, the poems were too beautiful. They reminded me a lot of Pablo Neruda (his imagery and specific poetic style) and e.e. cummings (the way he compiles surprising and unexpected images). It’s a collection about the poet’s life in New York, and in it, Lorca captures the beautiful and, at times, violent landscape of New York City at that time. Race, gender, sexuality, religion, violence, poverty, etc. are just some of the themes carried through this phenomenal piece of work. I intend to read much more of Lorca because, damn, his poetry is breathtaking.
There are other books, and I will get to those at a later time. For now, I encourage you to read more today. Find something you’ve wanted to read for a while, pick it up, and begin.
