Strange Terrain: A Poetry Handbook for Reluctant Readers

is forthcoming in spring 09.

Strange Terrain is based on the program "Entering the Realm of Poetry"
I developed for the NH Humanties Council & have taught in many venues since.
If you are interested in hosting or attending the program--in a single session
or series of sessions--contact me at 603-835-6783 or by email.
Meanwhile, this intro will get you started towards overcoming difficulties with poetry, letting go of a belief that you should "get" it, and learning to let it get you.

from HOW TO MAKE USE OF THIS BOOK

When I tell people I write poetry, I often experience a sensation of wind; my partner in conversation has backed off just enough to let more air circulate between us, as if it were viral.

There is something about poetry, about how it was taught, about its reputation as encoded messages only a certain kind of person can crack, that makes otherwise healthy, highly functional people, literate and perfectly intelligent—even those who love to read—squirm with a sense of inadequacy, burst into sheer belligerence, or quietly avoid it like the plague, especially in public.

But deep inside, there may be a wistfulness, some primal memory that knows it could be different—we could be let back in, we could have a nonadversarial relationship with these mysterious missives from the hearts and minds of others; we could be readers of poetry.

Think of it as Poem Traumatic Stress Disorder.

This book is your self-help manual.

It is my belief that everyone can gain from the “news” that poetry brings us. With a bit of instruction, poetry will bring you significant new interactions with the world around you, with ideas and sensations, with yourself and others—not to mention that it will literally expand your mind: According to a study published in
New Scientist, billions of neurons per millisecond light up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve whenever we read poetry.

To these ends, STRANGE TERRAIN is structured around three premises or necessities integral to being comfortable with—and finding comfort in—poetry:
Demystification, Information, and Remystification.

First,
demystification: Readers will benefit both from a glimpse of what it is that poets are up to in pausing to write about their experiences or perceptions of the world, and from a reminder that poetry is not personal or private “journaling” but an art and a craft. The two introductory chapters that follow this give you a chance to discard any sense of estrangement you might have felt in the presence of poetry in the light of this basic demystification of what poetry is. It may still feel like strange terrain, but at least you'll see landscapes you’re interested in exploring.

Information is what the Steps of this handbook are all about. They provide a walk through the strange terrain of poetry by means of 8 basic tools that I’m going to show you are already in your backpack. The reason that poetry is, in fact, approachable and effective (once you’re guided into its realm) is that it employs these elements that are so—well—elemental to our existence as humans here on Earth. While the poems you pass through here may not all be easy, you will become familiar with their landmarks—their shapes and words, their sounds and images, their narrative techniques. And through guided observation you will see, without being forced to analyze anything or to submit to the question, “What does it mean?” just how much meaning, emotion, and thought emerge from these elements.

The most important of the three necessities for appreciating poetry is the third, the one I call
Remystification. Let me get to it in a round-about way, by talking a bit about teachers.

Amongst the many people who may shy away from poetry are, of course, teachers—for the very obvious reason that they too are regular, educated, literate people who themselves had teachers of poetry who . . . etc. As a visiting artist-in-the-schools, I often hear even those teachers who do include poetry in their lessons, knowing it has value, confess with some embarrassment their doubt or helplessness in the face of it. Some have their students write poems, some assign readings, others march right in, full of technical information and blowing dust off manuals or texts they seem to have dug out of a time capsule. And why not? Poetry has been around a long, long time, hasn’t it? And so, with good intentions, most ask kids to write poems before they know what concrete things actually make up poems, analyze poems for their “hidden meaning,” underline examples of onomatopoeia and alliteration, and count and label the rhyming scheme.

Two crucial aspects of understanding poetry are missing in all of this, without which poetry can become alien and then anathema: the demystification and the mystery.

Here are some of the things I wish teachers were doing instead in opening their classrooms to poetry:


  • Reading a poem and saying nothing at all about it while the sounds and sensations sift through the room, through the listeners’ beings, through the windows and out into the day.
  • Expressing wonder at the amazing feelings, thoughts, rhythm, music, or mystery that a certain choice of words on a page can evoke.
  • Talking with gratitude about how poetry opens our hearts and minds to our lives today.
  • Bringing in local poets to talk about their lives and their writing process, and including in the discussion those students (at any age) who already identify themselves as writers.
  • Bringing in contemporary literary journals and poetry books to be pawed through and pored over.
  • Telling themselves and their wards in words and in silent attitudes this mind-changing secret about appreciating poetry: “It’s not about getting it.”
    And that’s the most important lesson I hope you take away with you from this book. Poetry will give you endless ideas to think about, confusions of emotions to explore, images of beauty and horror and everything in between to contemplate and share. It will surprise, delight and inform about all the ways language can be artfully arranged to viscerally express the impact of the world upon us. It will connect you to nature and civilization, other people near and far, now or then, and to your own inner life.

    But it will not give you answers.

    The mysterious nature of what poetry says—what often cannot be paraphrased—is its lifeblood. That doesn’t mean poetry must elude us; it means the meaning of life itself often eludes us. If you want to grapple with the value of this better, you can turn directly to “Step 8: Unknowing," because it explains in detail why poetry can’t be entirely explained. The only reason it comes last in the instruction process is because it is simultaneously the least definable and most defining of the Steps.

    Keeping the need for “remystification” in mind throughout may help you as you proceed on this exciting journey towards a deepening relationship between you and poetry.