The Limits of Minimalism in Poetry

Steven Ratiner recently published an interesting and thoughtful argument in the Red Letter Poem Series (found on Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene (http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2022/01/red-letter-poem-94.html) exploring minimalism and concreteness in poetry, especially as it applies to poet Aram Saroyan. Ratiner quoted Seamus Heaney and tapped into the opinions of such poets and non-poets as Robert Creeley, Robert Duncan, Ronald Reagan and Jesse Helms. Below is a brief, humble, and somewhat incomplete answer to Ratiner’s arguments.

 Minimalization in its extreme ends in madness. Seamus Heaney was right to suggest that poetry is born out of superfluity, but it is a superfluity of verbiage choices, not exactly an extra of unproductive oozing. This extra may still exist after the fact of composition, but then the writer or the editor will, we hope, trim it. Play-words used by Saroyan, such as lighght, or j;u;n;g;l;e, or picassc, or an “m” with three humps, no matter how rich  the interpretation, or how many awards they receive, are not poems. They are sources of inspiration, poetic matter, and possibly a part of some artistic whole. Saint Therese of Lisieux once claimed that everything is grace. Well, in a theological universe, maybe. But poetry, derived from craftsmanship, does not have universal pretentions.

 I am never comfortable playing gatekeeper. God knows, there are always exceptions to each zealous and seemingly dogmatic statement. Poets do push boundaries and play with their creations. Much of art is childlike, however, it usually portrays a seriousness of beauty and an objectivity of delight. Think of Pound’s In a Station of the Metro,

 The apparition of these faces in the crowd:

Petals on a wet black bough.

 Here meaning charges the language and the poet and his muse invent an unforgettable image. The muse or the miscellaneous other or the objective correlative share the authorship. The lines derive from a collaboration of sorts, not merely the confessional. It is more than just a child finger painting or a poet-baby spitting up sounds or words that are intrinsically important or beautiful. We could take any word in Pound’s poem and infuse it with imagination and possibility, but it would still not be a poem. Our mental inspirations gleaned from the word may tickle us or lead us down unexpected paths, but the word itself is not a poem. If one considers it a poem, than everything is a poem. Sounds nice! But instead of beauty and metric, one earns only chaos without real craftsmanship.

 (If you’re thinking about the rivalry between Mozart and Salieri in the movie Amadeus, don’t. It never happened that way. Mozart was not the crude child to the studied artist Salieri. If anything, a sophisticated but playful Mozart owed much to his crafty teacher and was supported by him.)

 Mr. Ratiner touches upon the problem and the perception of elitism. This is indeed a problem, which affects the “willing suspension of disbelief” and, ultimately, the size of the artistic audience, which the poet is preaching to or trying to touch in some way. Often, I’m sure, the would-be audience thinks they are being conned by art. They think everything is a Jackson Pollock redo. No, I am not on the same side of Ronald Reagan or Senator Jesse Helms but (in the context of federal funding)… they did tap into the absurd nature of artistic extremism. Some poetic pretentions derive from a profound self-centeredness, not unlike a young child. We admire, and should admire, the awe and fascination that a child’s eyes exude, not the babe’s innate selfishness which, by necessity, begets attention. Yes, to wonder. No, to elitism.