On Muldoon

On Muldoon

I would have to agree with the Irish poet who quoted in the article Reading Paul Muldoon, that Muldoon’s technique is very much like “walking on air.” The forms he takes, sestinas, sonnets, etc, are highly mastered. His line breaks and rhymes are well thought and never teeter on trite or cliché, instead lines that may be capable of these qualities read sarcastically or ironically. He throws in so many Irish place names, names of people, from those in his personal life to Greek Gods, that unwinding one of his poems takes thorough research and contemplation. I often found myself looking up words which had many definitions. I found myself struggling with which definition to fit into the poem, and often found that perhaps multiple ones could work. I found myself skeptical of my readings, feeling I had not gotten the entire picture of what Muldoon was after, even in his shorter pieces that require less investigation. Poems such as “At the Sign of the Black Horse, September 1999” could take years to master, or perhaps the entirety of their meaning is impossible to possess by anyone other than Muldoon himself. In a few readings of this poem all I could accomplish was the fact that it carried themes of destruction, due to a hurricane, stability and instability in both actual structures and people, memories of places, individuals, and objects. It contained found language of street signs and postings found in buildings, and it often found itself describing the poet’s son Asher, how he looked and the movements he was making.

What I Found Most Interesting

in Moy, Sand and Gravel was Paul Muldoon's playfulness with form, of which Joel makes brief mention in his post. I'm particularly interested in form because I am so incapable of experimenting with it myself, so after reading this collection I spent a significant amount of time trying to understand why he writes into a form so often and so well.

On one level, a lot of the consistencies of the book, such as rhyme and coupletting and the occasional alliteration seem to be working internally, within the confines of what it means to actually produce manuscript that is entertaining and lively and fun to read. Muldoon has a fantastic awareness of the sonic value of words and language, one that I think is often overlooked by a lot of poets because it calls for a sacrifice of emotion or meaning. For instance, on page 13, "The Braggart" (I don't know for sure if we were even supposed to read this particular one), he writes,

He sucked, he'll have you know,
the telltale sixth toe
of a woman who looked like a young Marilyn Monroe,

her hubby getting a little stroppy
when he found them there in the back of that old jalopy.
Other papers please copy.

The satirical content of this piece cannot be overlooked and it is so easily incorporated into this AAA rhyme scheme that I kept wondering if maybe it was a song or something extremely pop culture. He loves this juxtaposition of serious and funny, the formal and the informal. I wonder if his use of form and rhyme is intentional so that readers who are not typically moved by poems about Marilyn Monroe (or the like) will become more instantly engaged with the piece and want to know more.

Looking at the book as a manuscript/a group of pages all linked together into a book (as I suspect we were supposed to do also), I was pretty fascinated by his choice of font and titling, as well as his cover art. Muldoon's poetry (I've only read one other of his books) has always resembled something beautiful but grey and elusive. It's a rabbit-like sort of catch-me-if-you-can style of writing and I love to see myself trying to grab at it and fail. Even though he has fantastic and obviously complicated language and word choice (Kate and Shannon's entries both involve definining words that are basically unknown to 90% to the rest of universe) he always manages to create sort of uncomplicated images...he's got mad talent.

Muldoon's Homesickness

As I read Moy Sand and Gravel, the first Muldoon book I've read, one of the things I found myself most curious about was the idea of the person fitting into a whole. This is seen throughout the book, as the speaker regularly draws on wife & child to invoke a poem. Further though, Muldoon himself raises an interesting scenario in which he is both an Irish poet and an American poet. The landscapes of the book run from Muldoon's youth in Moy to the speaker's driveway in New Jersey. How does Muldoon find a balance between these two different experiences? The effort to maintain the two worlds is apparent in his poem Homesickness (p. 71), where he uses extended metaphors (see p. 70, p. 53 for further examples from this book) as an important device in the poem. Perhaps more noteworthy, and that which first drew my attention, is the use of 2-line, italicised, refrain-like stanzas following each body stanza. The precise nature of these refrains lead me to suspect they were part of some established tradition - an Irish folk song, most likely. In researching these lines, I found that they seem nothing more than the invention of Muldoon. They, do however, have a very important significance to bridge Muldoon in America to the Irish Muldoon. The refrain is a nod to the lord of Irish poets, W B Yeats - and one that Muldoon uses often in his poetry. A very interesting essay on this device's use by Muldoon, which includes selections of exclusive Muldoon interview, can be found here:

http://heldref-publications.metapress.com/app/home/contribution.asp?referrer=parent&backto=issue,13,14;journal,11,21;linkingpublicationresults,1:119956,1

It seems the most important thing for students to notice in reading Muldoon is his intense attention to craft. Homesickness features a end-rhyme scheme of "abcdacbd," meticulously structured. Muldoon has surpassed mere linguistic talent though, as his poetry, for all its structure and form, is able to find meaning that is often lost in the use of form by lesser-skilled writers.

Close Reading of Muldoon pp. 16-17

Kate Litterer here. First, so sorry that this is so long. I’m going to imitate Shannon’s investigation into “Tell” by listing unclear or loaded word/images in the poem “A Collegelands Catechism” on pages 16-17.

Collegeland is a small village in county Armagh in Northern Ireland. Paul Muldoon is from Armagh.

Catechisms are doctrinal manuals often in the form of questions followed by answers to be memorized, a format that has been used in non-religious or secular contexts as well.

“Orchard County” refers to the Irish county Armagh.

“Garden State” is the official nickname for New Jersey. Paul Muldoon lives in Griggstown, NJ.

Bounty refers to a ship that was purchased by the Royal Navy for a single mission in support of an experiment: she was to travel to Tahiti, pick up breadfruit plants, and transport them to the West Indies in hopes that they would grow well there and become a cheap source of food for slaves. However, there was a mutiny on the ship and it eventually shipwrecked. The commander Muldoon discusses may have been William Blighe.

Jean Francois Gravelet (aka The Great Blondin) was the person “who cooked and ate an omelette / midway across the Niagara Falls”. He was a daredevil who crossed the Falls numerous times in very interesting ways.

Setanta was a mythic character who was born of God and woman (human). He killed a vicious hound to save the fort of Culain and thenafter was known as Cuchulain and had to guard the fort.

Diogenes was a celebrated Greek cynic philosopher who is said to have lived in a tub, wearing the coarsest clothing and living on the plainest food. Many of his sayings have been preserved, and serve for occasional quotation.

Maid of the Mist is a tour boat at Niagara Falls.

***

Paul Muldoon’s “A Collegelands Catechism” asks its reader to do some research right away. The title suggests that the poem will use a serious form (doctrinal manual) and will investigate the Irish county in which Muldoon grew up. The idea that Muldoon himself is writing a catechism allows me to read the poem as if he may provide specific memories in place of widely known facts or concepts…he does this, kind of.

The poem opens with the catechism form: “Which is known as the ‘Orchard County’?” (1). Already, I’m expecting Muldoon to compare the Orchard County (or Armagh, which houses Collegeland) to another place. He does this, and asks “Which as the ‘Garden State’?” (2). Muldoon is asking which unknown/existential space is known as either the place where he was born or the place he now lives. Not only is he asking about information that is personal to him, but he is dichotomizing these two very different places and all of the baggage that might come with them (ie, Ireland vs. America).

Muldoon concludes the first stanza with another question about the “captain of the Bounty,” asking the reader again to do research outside of the poem in order to find the answer; I did the research and I believe the answer to his question is William Blighe, the captain of the Bounty. While the first stanza’s first two lines work well together, this third question works almost like a trivia question, again turning the reader from one scene to another and leaving the reader to ponder the power of the places (Ireland, America, the ocean/Tihiti/Fugi).

The second stanza opens with another water scene and another question: “Who cooked and ate an omlette / midway across Niagara Falls?” (5-6). Again, this question requires research to answer the trivia-like question. At this point in the poem, I wonder if Muldoon is combining/linking these questions so that his reader will realize the enormity of the tones one could find in those places (a ship mutiny; a man who not only crosses the Falls but does something as wild as cooking while doing so??). Next, Muldoon transports the reader to a mythical place, asking them to pull the mythology into their real life in order to answer the question “Where did Setanta get / those magical hurley balls / he ram-stammed down the throat / of the blacksmith’s hound?” (7-8). This question definitely requires the reader to complete some research, but the answer is even more interesting than the previous answers. However, I’m not completely sure how Muldoon jumped from the Niagara Falls question to this mythical question…except perhaps that he was moving from something that seemed fictional to something that was truly mythical.

Mythology continues (sort of) as Muldoon asks the reader to identify a Greek philosopher based on his random act of hanging out in a tub, which to be sounds completely random. From here, Muldoon again mixed reality with fiction and mythology…the philosopher “might overhear, / as he went to rub / an apple on his sleeve, the mutineers / plotting to seize the Maid of the Mist” (14-17). Muldoon has laid out his preliminary questions, with separate scenes and themes, and now he is using that information to construct his poem’s mega-question From here, the scene is again Niagara Falls (“crossing the Niagara gorge”), the philosopher’s tub is now “the tub in which he might light a stove / and fold the beaten / eggs into themselves” (20-23).

Whoa! Now I see how my research is paying off…I never could have gotten to the ridiculous place that I am now in the poem if I hadn’t known the details of the images and places that are being melded together. Muldoon continues to ask some questions for which I could find no trivia-like answers: “Who unearthed the egg-trove? / And who, having eaten / the omelette, would marvel at how the Mounties / had so quickly closed in on him, late / of the ‘Orchard County’ by way of the ‘Garden State?” (23-28). Is an egg-trove also mythical? Is there a specific egg-trove? Also, why does it matter who unearthed it? Again, Muldoon compares that question to the following question in the manner in which he asked his first two questions: who has been caught when he tried to escape to the “’Orchard County’ / by way of the ‘Garden State’?

Ahh…so the poem completes its circle now and places the reader back between America and Ireland. However, I don’t think that this poem is meant to close all of its cases upon its completion. I think, instead, that Muldoon was asking us to stretch our brain muscles and try to get as much out of the poem as possible.

Muldoon

I’ve chosen to take a closer look at Tell on page 19. First, I’m going to define any words I didn’t quite get:

Scullery- a small room or section of a pantry in which food is cleaned, trimmed, and cut into cooking portions before being sent to the kitchen.

Comanche- a member of a Shoshonean tribe, the only tribe of the group living entirely on the Plains, formerly ranging from Wyoming to Texas, now in Oklahoma.

Muster- to assemble (troops, a ship's crew, etc.), as for battle, display, inspection, orders, or discharge.

Score- a notch, scratch, or incision; a stroke or line.

Pare- to cut off the outer coating, layer, or part of.

Tilley- seeds of a small tree.

Keeping in mind that Muldoon experienced a lot of political unjust in Ireland, I see a lot of parallels to this throughout his collection. I feel that he blends aesthetic imagery that is simplistic and seems innocent with the violence destroying the beauty, particularly in fruits. This poem in particular introduces nature with a delicate harshness as a metaphor for a family in the Comanche tribe. The poem hints at war-like behavior. The first stanza introduces a temporary rhyme scheme of ABAB, CDCD…etc. The tone is set with the idea of wind being ‘raw,’ illuminating hints of anxiety, turmoil. The use of the word ‘scullery’ also sets the tone for physical violence: the pantry where food is cut and trimmed. This poem also sets up like an epic-highlighting one character in almost a heroic-like anxiety. The second stanza provides the reader with concrete information about the character, as possibly a Comanche Indian, suggesting his name was ‘Crow.’ Again, the violence is portrayed with scalps hanging in the tepees, in association with the word ‘muster,’ suggests to discharge orders or an on-coming battle. This idea of war in the Alps focuses on the physical continuity, while the metaphoric idea of fruit represents the violence, creating an aesthetically pleasing poem. In stanza 3, the epic seems to tell the story about a supposed male (here is free verse, the rhyme is violated), and the association between peeling apples and peeling the scalps of men in battle parallel each other in metaphor. ‘Score’ and ‘pare’ suggest more violence but associated with fruit: the cutting of something. Again, the poem suggests battle or ‘bloodshed,’ paralleling it to apple coring and being an apple peeler. The tension of the poem builds as an idea of surrender, when ‘the red-cheeked men put down their knives,’ while the idea of a ‘father connives’ as if there is a mutiny in the tribe. Does this suggest killing one’s own tribe or member? Is this backstabbing? Showing the true violence of war and battle is one-sided? Does the apple at the end suggest he missed? Does the apple represent a head? So many questions, but I’m wondering if the title Tell suggests something along the lines of knowing like in poker, someone has a tell, or does this talk about the oral telling of a story or narrative/epic poem? Just some thoughts. Overall, this was my favorite poem of the collection. I enjoyed Muldoon’s use of fruit in an age of political instability and turmoil.

Obadike & Bohince

Obadike’s collection uses simple language. Her poems most often consist of short lines. Yet, these factors do not make her poetry elementary at all. It is still intensely packed with emotion. She gets down to the raw simplicity of the heart, mind, and body. The poems are packed with feelings of uncertainty dealing with love, and self-identification. In several poems, the speaker does not want the person they are with to look at them though they still seem to want that person present.

“I just like how your hands / Hold on to me so tight. / Don’t watch me when we dance” (26).

The speaker wants the other there, not because they love them, but because they don’t seem to want to be alone with only themselves, who they seem afraid of or ashamed of at times.

The poems often show the simple thoughts going through the heads of the young. A girl that wants to ride with boys just because of their older age and their nice stereo, thoughts about puberty, the body, sex, etc. These poems often use slang, for instance, dope, dibs, jinx, you owe me a coke, etc, to show the immaturity and imagination of youth.

Bohince’s collection seems like a journey through different times and landscapes of her, or the speaker’s life, mixing childhood occurrences with feelings she has as an adult, with lovely and sometimes violent descriptions of her father’s farmhouse and property. Sometimes these times are specific, like a time she was swimming or a time her father was sleeping, other times the poems describe something more generic, like the feelings of the first day of hunting season which happens year after year.

Bohince’s poems are rich with adjectives. These adjectives don’t seem overdone, but necessary to the books flowing pace. The adjectives she uses are also often unusual and fresh, such as “kit foxes,” “gauzy ruin,” and “self-same branches” (6).

Bohince seems like she may use the act of hunting, killing deer, to compare to her father’s murder. She talks about some people seeing death for mere profit, and how they don’t think about the act of killing the deer but think of the profit of its parts; skull, ribs, spine, meat, etc… There are extremely beautiful images of nature throughout this collection. Bohince seems to notice the tiniest animals and plants around her and captures them into her words as if to not let them be forgotten to the world. Often though, she takes her skill at naturalistic images and turns them violent, showing that both nature and man have violent tendencies.

Obadike/Bohince

In thinking about the way these two collections unfold as entire books, I found each to have its merits.

Obadike was the more useful of the two to me. (Perhaps it is just because I enjoyed her writing more than Bohince's, but that's neither here nor there.) I liked that the book started out at one time in the author's life and then went off into unconnected territories. This book made me think about collections of poems in terms of constellations. I admire the way that Obadike used the book in a non-linear fashion, but at the same time achieved some sense of what we might call narrative. By starting at one place in time and then moving backward or into the metaphysical and then returning to the original place with a renewed sense of authority or uncertainty was an original approach to the lyric tradition.

It is for this reason that I enjoyed Obadike more than I enjoyed Bohince. Bohince's work all stemmed from a place of authority that did not seem earned. Perhaps the author deserves the kind of weight she was trying to impart onto the collection, but if it does not come from within the book itself, the reader is wary of such authority. The process mentioned above, of beginning, leaving and returning, employed by Obadike gave her final poems the kind of authority that Bohince's flatly try to assert.

Obadike and Bohince

Obadike’s work threw me for a loop. I liked her work, and I didn’t like her work. Many of the successes of her poems is the subtle humor and simplicity of language and casual attitude. However, at times this beautiful simplicity had me thinking: “Cliché!” at times. Thus, the battle (or tensions) between clever and defamiliarizing of a made-phrase, to catching a made-phrase in action continued throughout her work. For example of the simplicity in made-phrases and casualty: “She sneezes/on the chance someone/ will bless her” (54). Here the poem “Strategy” flows nicely and is strange because of its enjambments. It borderlines cliché when talking about sneezing and the common response of “bless you.” Obadike did this throughout her work, sometimes leading up to a made-phrase and completely changing the context. I felt like a lot of her work was predictable: “starve us with their hunger,” “smell so sweet,” etc. Then, she’ll say something completely unexpected like “risk is a mashed up fruit” (52). “Clink” is a great example of how her simplicity is stunning and unexpected. I just wish there weren’t so many made phrases. This tactic seems as if some of the poems were forced into existence, especially after hearing that Ben Lerner said sometimes poets need to make their book 64 pages in length. I just question some of the poems. I am torn as to whether or not I enjoyed the work, but I can at least say, half of the time I was impressed with Obadike’s devices. I felt also at times the gender was skewed and it may be possible that the speaker had no intended gender or switched lots of times. I really liked this approach to creating a work of poems. I like that I have a challenge in reading poems. Overall, Obadike has an interesting approach to emotional and self-connection.

As for Bohince, I wanted to focus on the acrostic poems and what they do in terms of “saying something.” When I was in grade school I used to love doing these poems, because you not only could write a poem, but you could make other words or a poem with the left margin as well. It was nice to have a horizontal poem and a vertical one. I must say though, I thought this form of poetry was elementary and at times a little kitschy. However, this style of poetry reoccurred multiple times throughout this collection. Does this set the tone for a childlike author or does it have a deeper meaning? “Memento,” “Outhouse,” and “Geese In Snow” all have the title in the poem as the acrostic. I think this was too simple and a waste of a device. I feel that Bohince should not have given away the poem by revealing it to the reader right away. I think this defeats the purpose of actively engaging or challenging the reader. So, I must say I was disappointed in this. However, “Acrostic for My Father” (40) reveals that the vertical poem says “I dream of you.” I think this is clever that this was not revealed to the reader, however, at the same time the message is cliché. If I had not read the back of the book, which interprets the collection to be a murder mystery, I would have never known or guessed the poem(s) serve as an elegy or finding out the mystery. When describing the father or mentioning him with “I dream of you,” it seems really kitschy. I feel like this work was forced into an interpretation, and that’s disappointing. I would much rather read something that I could come up with my own conclusion, and not be told what is supposed to happen. Bohince has beautiful poetry and defamiliarized associations and images, however, I’m caught up in plot and I’m not happy. It clouds the talent she has of writing poetry.

Comments on Bohince’s Work

In an overall summarized evaluation of Bohince’s work, I’d say the arrangement collection is successful if the content and chapter separations intentionally work to convey a struggle between feelings for the speaker’s father. I found part one of the book misleading in that it creates a negative story filled with bad memories (seen clearly on page 12) and underlying dislike and distress. The feelings held and displayed in part one are quickly combated in part two by a more sympathetic portrayal of emotions toward the father (page 35), a rendering that overflows partially into part three before original feelings are revived.

To justify my claims, I have attempted to recount my feelings and interpretations of the book in the following paragraphs.

Opening Poems:
The first poem is filled with religious tones and striking imagery. The title, “Prayer,” plays an interesting role for the opening poem of a book. It leaves one to question whether this opening prayer will serve as the commencement to a religious ceremony, a start to a series of testimonies on abandonment, or a prelude to a tragic story. The ending, “when no one else will speak to me,” infers a sense of desertion and loneliness. Such a gloomy opening for a book entitled, Incident at the Edge of Bayonet Woods, leads one to believe that the incident was not a happy one.
Aside from the inferences obtained in the opening poems, I found the abstraction of concrete images deceptive as well. In the first two poems, especially, several phrases seized my attention, a feeling I expected to see throughout the collection. Instances like, “a clot of feeling,” “I felt something then// in the approximate bones of a field mouse,” or “soil glittering with the misery of rain,” poetically combine concrete images with abstract emotions. A technique promptly abandoned after the second poem. This is not to say that imagery is not throughout the collection, because that would be a false statement (the collection is filled with vivid images), I just think this particular type of image ends abruptly.

Part I:
Part one gave scenes and snapshots of childhood images, memories, and feelings that worked to create a story; a story that generates a feeling of anger. In the chapter we get poem about the “Black Lamb” and the “Hide Out.” There is a seemingly clear negative relationship between father and speaker.

Part II:
Part two commences with similar yet noticeably different religious tones found in the opening poem of the book. In fact the first several poems in part two have religious inferences. It’s here that the book strays away from the topic and reverts back (after the religious poems p.35) to the relationship with a conspicuously atypical feeling. At this point, the father figure image plays a stronger role in influencing the emotions of the poem, rather than the negative memories introduced in part one. The poems on page 39-40 relate the sympathetic side of the speaker’s standpoint.

Part II:
For the most part, part three of the book continues displaying the sympathetic side, until about page 52, then the author writes, “His cruel creature, the lie of his beauty// beginning there in that element.” This is the part that aims to tie the first two parts together by showing the tension in feelings toward the father’s life. In some instances the speaker is cleaning a room trying to get a smell of her father, while in others she is attesting to the stressful life of being a woman (p.55). The book ends with the religious undertone that surfaces throughout and opens the book. The last poem entitled, “Charity,” is an appropriate conclusion, because the Bible notes (I Corinthians 13:13) that of faith, hope, and charity, the greatest is charity, and with the numerous biblical references it’s appropriate that charity ends all.

Bohince & Obadike Response

I'm going to focus my post on something a little different than usual. I'll get to the content of the books near the end, but I really want to bring up the tangible, physical element of reading this past week's books. In the past few months, I've become increasingly interested in book design. I'm currently taking a design course and have found it a new hobby to find books, which, despite the old adage, can be judged by their covers (so to say). It is hardest to judge poetry books, I feel, because the craft inside can always differ, despite the design. In addition, in the small-press world of poetry, it is hard to use "good" (i.e. high-production) design due to finances and limited printings. Despite this, I feel that the books by Obadike and Bohince lend themselves to design judgment.

Beginning with the cover of Bohince's Incident at the Edge of Bayonet Woods, it is important to notice the sharp colors and textures used (notice the soft drop-shading of the title - it is the same forest green used on the back cover). There is consistency in the text layout and an ambiguously bold image (consider Lerner's Lichtenberg Figures). Inside the book, details like the embossed maker's page invite the reader in and create the sense that the book at hand has been carefully appended. Likewise, the soft, speckled creme pages add a semi-rustic feel, complementing the content.

Obadike's Armor and Flesh, then, is an extreme away from Bayonet Woods. The cover features a bold, nearly overpowering shade of yellow, with an uncomplementary black text. The text choices on the cover serve as a big indicator of the quality of book design. amd from that the quality of the book can (almost certainly) follow. Compare the back covers of both books. The soft gold lets the forest text set INTO it on Bayonet Woods. On Armor and Flesh, the black text is setting ON the bright yellow, nearly looking like it will slide off of the lacqeur gloss of the cover. And this high gloss is another important note; using the bright yellow only enhances the shine of this finish, and as silly as it seems, interfered with my expereince by being more quick to become cold, creating a negative experience as a reader.

I brought up design last week concerning the in-class version of Ondaatje versus the original version I took out of the Carnegie Library. It was important to note how the narrative was experienced with or without the image of Billy on the cover. I also mentioned the unlikelyhood that Ondaatje had anything to do with the newer cover feat. the Billy image. And it is hard to say just how much input Bohince or Obadike put into the design of their books, but I feel that it is a very important element of how one's work is percieved. I hope that everyone understands this as we work on our manuscripts and in the future thinks about who is handling and what will happen to work that is published.

I agree in large part with many of the sentiments already shared about the work. Much has been made of the female experience/female voice these two poets use. As a male, my experience does differ from these experiences in some way. I viewed Bohince's book as less about a specifically female experience as much as about the father/daughter and generational experience (...how many poems have I read about a baby-boomer dealing with cleaning out a deceased parent's home?) As critical as that jab may be, Bayonet Woods is a good book, that finds its focus in narrative, consistent voice and careful language.

As for Armor and Flesh, the language seemed flat and unresponsive to the poet's whims, forcing Obadike to depend on what Lizzie reffered to as "blatant objective." To close with one last note that depends on my design-premise, it is valuable and reinforces the "blatant objective" when one considers the cover art of Obadike's book - a form entering a second skin, flesh entering into armor, a woman into a man... the same objective-fulfilling image pairs Obadike had to rely on throughout her project.

Bohince/Obadike

Starting with Paula Bohince:

I did enjoy Incident at the Edge of Bayonet Woods, however I agree with the term "sobering" to describe it. Actually, it was pretty grotesque in parts. Not necessarily employing the same kind of violence that Ben Lerner's book did, but I felt it elicited a very similar emotional reaction. For example, on page 19: "Johnstown" seemed to capture all the essential elements I found within the whole book.

It was consistenly feminine/heavily gendered. She describes a rape, something that is almost always connected to the victimization of a woman (and in this case it is) and the destruction of the feminine spirit/innocence/womanhood. In many of her other pieces I notice the same attempt to destruct the female voice and sexuality. The poem "Pond" also lends itself to this notion of the victimized...for lack of a better word. She starts by saying, Don't be mean to me, which comes off almost childlike, and if not childlike, most certainly womanly in the sense that it's absent of any masculinity at all. She plays into the historical gender roles a lot and yet I did not see any "uprising" or redemption of the female. At times, I thought perhaps Bohince intended for the book to whine a little bit using violent content and imagery (it is successful in this).

Another poem I found very telling was pg. 32 Eating Fish in Pittsburgh. Bohince's commentary on the family and the father/daughter relationship she establishes throughout the book reminds me of Sharon Olds. She unintentionally (or maybe intentionally) digs herself into a role again, but adds nature and the primal tone that nature commands to explain things. For instance: and the rain/the smell of fish oil in my clothes/the bones I kept, as gifts. All very human, very natural images pursuing a kind of nature vs. nurture tone.

As for Mendi Obadike's Armour and Flesh, I'd have to go with Lizzie on this one. I had a hard time with the experience of reading it/ i.e. I felt like maybe it was trying for something it wasn't really achieving. I'm aware of the experimental nature of her and her husband's collaborative work, but maybe because of the lack of supplemental material (ie the photography and videography that I've heard accompanies her poetry), I couldn't get into it. Something about the work seemed flat and unalive, though often I was impressed by the sequencing, for instance "One Black Girlhood" landing in front of "In the Street." Thought this was an interesting choice for the first two poems of the batch because they were so scrappy or something. Gritty? No. Political? I can't pick a word to explain them, but they remind me of vertical prose poems and have plotlines with climaxes. Given the research I'd done on Obadike, I was floored because she is remarked as a renowned artist. I'll be excited to hear how the rest of the class experienced her.

Response to Bohince

In reading Bohince's "Incident at the Edge of Bayonet Woods" in conjunction with Obedike's "Armor and Flesh," it was impossible for me not to develop an immediate bias on the success of the book, as Bohince so clearly has a greater grasp for not only language but also the mysterious and the enigmatic present within the image. In particular, I found the poem "Johnstown" put this on full display, when she movingly describes a rape victim, "left crumpled in a tree stand/wearing only a muzzle of ice, her mermaid hair frozen/ in wierd angles." The image is incredibly emotionally evocative, drenched in the dark and grotesque; I felt I was reading something out of a Grimm's fairy tale.

I agree with Camiele that this book is very sobering. I think this overall dark and twisted tone deals in direct connection with the themes that tie the book together: Bohince's relationship to her father and her reaction/reflection on his brutal murder (by someone she trusted and cared for), the speaker's doubt in God and the fruits of prayer, as well as the murder of innocence and the violence of the world (most noticably when she is talking about animals, ie. lamb, deer, the cardinal). There is a huge sense of desperation, of the world being cursed (whether we are speaking about Bohince's ancestor's of Bayonet Woods, the current inhabitants of Johnstown, the Easter Lamb). I would have to say, though, the curse falls mainly on the speaker's shoulders. In "Black Lamb," I feel it is the speaker, and not the actual lamb, who is "deep in troublesome clover,/alone, quaking beneath dwarf pines."

After several readings of many of these poems, it is difficult for me not to appreciate the complex mechanics working in this book to create a sense of completeness - the acrostic pieces, the Gospel conceit, the vivid descriptions of rural Pennsylvania, its poverty and tragic history, the speaker's clinging both to her father and to her ancestors, all of whom have shaped her to be "the curse" of what she is (though perhaps this is too negative a description). However, like Camiele, I had mixed feelings as far as the originality/beauty/success of individual pieces. While I certainly despised none of them (what a wonderful contrast to Obedike!), some of them lacked a specific energy that stayed with me after I had finished reading them. An example of this would be "Eating Fish in Pittsburgh," which I felt had more of an "over-dramatic" autobiographical feel to it, revealing details of the speaker's life without giving me much of a greater insight. Also, I was let down by the final piece, which seemed to me very much an "in conclusion" segment attempting to answer all of the reader's questions concerning early ambiguities/conflicts within the speaker. Bohince writes, "But what the Book/omits, what the song, is how He allotted/for each gift one brutality/for balance." While I think this is beautifully worded, it seems a panacea for the speaker's early interactions with God and prayer.

As a first book of poems, I feel the piece succeeded on a large level, at least, interesting me enough to look out for her future work. I feel she might have been feeling out a lot of things within her own work; but I feel many things here as part of a grand experiment, and certainly, a moving narrative.

Bohince

The overarching nature of this collection of poetry is one of deep sorrow and almost impending solitude. Each poem draws heavily on the atmosphere that pain and loneliness seem to provide. Meaning, Bohince leaves very little in the way of hope; by the end of the book the soul is left open and raw.

Her imagery is such that even in moments when humour is allowed, and after a torrential downpour of emotional overdrive, necessary, all one manages to glean from it is an overwrought sense of desperation. Though the imagery is vivid and even invites the reader to continue to sift through the drama and find the meat of the poem, on the whole the experience is somewhat of a let down in terms of the desire to immerse oneself in the world of Bohince's characters. Quite simply, I found myself less than intrigued by the characters that show up throughout the book.

Even the obviously Biblical characters of John, Lucas, and Paul left much to be desired in terms of what they could actually do for the book as a whole. Let's be honest, one doesn't use obvious Jesus references unless they want someone to get the idea that these Apostles, as Bohince openly calls them, meant something to the narrator of the book; however, I didn't get the sense that there was much of anything to be taken away from these characters except a few quick jabs of wisdom in the most superficial of ways--these are characters who seem to have a connection to the narrator; however, very little to do with the reader.

As someone whose main goal it is to understand the form and layout of a book, I was intrigued to note the separation of sections. Three sections must mean that there are at least two voltas within the text; however, I didn't notice much of a difference in terms of tone or even content. By tone, I mean there is nothing more to be taken except the inevitability of demise, loneliness, and almost no hope. From the very first poem in which Bohince entreats the attention and adoration of God himself--"Adore me, Lord, / beneath this raw milk sky, your vision / of silvery cream comprising daylight"--there is an incessant somberness in each section. Though, I suppose in terms of focus in the book, the sections serve to allow a change of scenery. The first section flows as does the water with which it is built. Each image is in part a fluid and natural transportation from one poem to the next as in "Spirits at the Edge of Bayonet Woods": "constant swirling, watched her weep beside / the river's illiterate banks, lay her dress upon / its slick grasses, wade into the inch of loam / then lie facedown in its merciful pull." (pg. 18) As I said, the imagery does a great job creating atmosphere and shift in scenery; however, some of the poems take a turn for the melodramatic--case in point: "Spirits at the Edge of Bayonet Woods". There is, and I'm sure Bohince knows and understands this, a difference between drama and melodrama. In fact, I'm sure she does, because in the very next poem, "Johnstown", Bohince finds the medium between the drama of life and the Maudlin nature of soap operas.

Another aspect of the book that I found fascinating: Bohince's use of the acrostic. Now, I'm one to write a vertical lyric now and again. The problem that arises with most acrostics, however, is that they don't say as much as the one vertical line itself. It seemed as though she was trying to create a poem as important to the story as the actual act of the acrostic itself; however, again Bohince leaves much to be desired. Though the imagery is simplistic, the "message" even simpler, Bohince seems to sacrifice a lucid connection from poem to poem for the supposed cleverness of an acrostic. Though an exception is "Acrostic: Geese in Snow" on page 36, even this poem's imagery is ultimately sacrificed for such a lofty and figureless word as "curse"--the poem's final word.

Bohince's poetic imagery and even her desire to create something with deep meaning falls drastically shorter than what I had hoped. However, there are moments when lightening strikes, and it strikes hard. Such poems as "Johnstown", "Quarry", and "Pond" create a breathtaking environment and opens the reader so that the words are raw and very real.

Obadike and Bohince

This book was a complete disappointment. I normally don’t like using blanket statements like that to describe a work, but I found Obadike’s “Armor and Flesh” wholly lacking in our areas of focus. I was consistently unimpressed by each individual poem, and despite some attempts to tackle layered conflicts, the blatant objective of the poems made them flat and uninteresting, employing clichés like “She wears a mask,” or “Is chance/a cousin of romance?” and basic puns like “she sneezes/on the chance someone/will bless her” (which would arguably work as a line, but certainly not an entire poem).

Obadike’s attempt at form was equally disappointing: “Eschew and Languish” as well as “Carpool and the Tape Deck” were immediately transparent as a villanelle and sonnet (respectively), and showed basically no control or play with either form. Also, the devotion to the form completely stifled her content, resulting in stanzas like “Don’t watch me when we dance. / I don’t love you. I don’t. / All that you feel is chance.” The rhymes become so predictable, that I had essentially recited the poem prior to reading it. The sonnet started out with more promise, an actually story, without some direct allegory to be forced down the eye sockets of the reader. Unfortunately, Obadike once again compromised word choice in order to maintain the form, awkwardly throwing in chunky sentences about the car resembling a circus.

Obadike’s serves as an example of a poet who seems unable to craft strong, individual poems, and instead strings them together, hoping the result will be more elaborate and beautiful. Regrettably, predictability and stale language of each piece inhibited any chance (or more accurately, desire) to absorb a theme.

On Bohince:

Paula Bohince’s “Incident at the Edge of Bayonet Woods” used bizarre and engaging descriptions that had me rereading individual poems over and over again. Her word choice is so deliberate, that even when I’m not fully sold on an image, her consistency and devotion to one voice is difficult to criticize. She consistently mixes simple diction with long, scientific phrases, and words you haven’t heard or thought of in years. The eerie “Trespass” is somehow terrifying and delicate: “Above and around us, the electric fence/ hums like God--/ a magnification of the dreaming gnats we awakened/ discovering the lode of bones.”

Despite her pristine voice, we are constantly finding ourselves outside, alone or in danger. The contrast is certainly appealing enough to pull you to the next poem. Conversely, the drawn-out imagery and frequent density do make the collection more difficult to read in one sitting, but the slow progression of one central story make it fairly easy to pick up again.

Bayonet Woods as a Sequence

Kate Litterer here. I just finished up Incident at the Edge of Bayonet Woods and I have to say that the back cover's description of it as "a kind of mystery novel" was pretty apt, not necessarily because the collection had a progressive plot and denouement, but because of the character's development through Bohince's ordering for the poems. All of the collections we've read thus far told one speaker's voice (even though CWBK hosted other speakers, i.e. the Chisums, it centered on Billy's story; IEBW also hosts a few others' voices, i.e. farmhands, but centers on the speaker's story).

The speaker seems to me like a grown woman who describes her childhood through an adult's memories, using words that might not have been accessible to a young girl but are through an adult's vernacular. The use of the young girl's view of the world is instrumental to the collection, as even when the book nears its end, a tone of fear or abandonment or powerlessness exists. An example of the adult voice/child memory take place in "Landscape with Sheep and Deer", page 4:

I remember the arrhythmia of their movement
across the drenched pasture,
stuttering by my father would say.
What I'm trying to say is remote as a cloud
passing through woods, his face
in a window above the pen,
a clot of feeling. (1-7)

While the girl speaker has intense emotions of grief and pleasure, she most probably wouldn't say "arrhythmia," and the line "What I'm trying to say is [...]" makes me feel that the speaker now vividly remembers her childhood spent beside her father. This makes her loss of her father striking; she misses him tenderly and remembers many seemingly insignificant things about their life together. I agree with some who have already posted on Bohince: her diction is precise and allows her to create a tone of twistedness or grotesque discomfort, even when she discusses softer objects, like sheep or family. That precise voice and clarity of detail showed me that the speaker must be the now older, more mature daughter, and because her feelings of loss and loneliness continue to throb in the present, through the poems, I couldn't resist reading it through in one sitting to see if she finds solace.

Obadike: And then it was over.

Kate Litterer here (alias Carol Caravan). Especially after reading Shannon's carefully-worded post, I am a little smokey in regards to Obadike's collection, but not because I feel she is not a talented writer. In fact, I thought her use of epigraphs and footnotes were meaningful, and although I feel she could have used hip-hop lyrics more evidently and instrumentally to tackle questions of race and personhood, I thought those were important to her collection.

I felt that once I hit "Shook" (p. 9), Obadike pulled me into the themes of her collection, which investigate racism and womanhood, or specifically her speaker's attempt to find a place of safety and comfort both in her personhood and outwardly. I give her a lot of credit for creating a multi-faceted, multi-personalized speaker whose voices aren't quite in dialogue with one another and I feel that this poem makes obvious the plight of feeling comfortable with oneself when one wants to act in different ways. Obadike's speaker is uncomfortable in the dinner situation: "At dinner, I sit next to a woman who speaks as if hemorrhaging" and "One of me can hear a rumbling, but she can't locate it" (lines 1 and 5). The speaker's discomfort comes out when "another of [her]" begins crying violently: "She thinks they mistake / my convulsive weeping for something else" (lines 9-10). But, as the narrative speaker assures the reader, "She doesn't know I am still dry" (lines 10-11). Another speaker emerges and "wants / to protect the talking women," although "She is the weakest among me and fears / the one who shakes" (lines 16-18). Ultimately, Obadike unites her three women-selves to a voyeuristic state: "We only hear the forks on ceramic / and the murmuring at other tables" (lines 23-23). The word "murmuring" shows the reader that the speaker/s has/have not gained stability or comfort and that she/they crave to act emotionally like the fast-speaking woman in the beginning of the poem, but do not. This sense of discomfort or weakness as a female speaker reemerges in the collection.

My blog title, "And then it was over," refers to the way I felt after the last poem, "Residue." "Residue" details the speaker's relationship with her period, which, in relation to the questions of femininity and sex throughout the book, might have symbolized a sense of strength and power. But the poem only briefly allows the speaker to recognize the special, individual power she holds, first as an attraction to a "nasty boy" and then as a house for eggs. Obadike writes: "[...] I bent to witness / unused eggs leak out of me, secret / words whispered from my uterus / to no one" (lines 17-20). While the speaker's blood is an object and does hold mystical power (to create; sexually attractive to the nasty boy), it is also a private thing, something for "the bookstore bathroom toilet" and something that to be "[lost] down a foreign drain" (line 1, line 24). Reading this poem, I thought "the speaker is finally finding a sense of comfort and strength that she derives from her womanhood"...and then I turned the page and it was over.

While the book didn't completely create closure for the female speaker's sense of comfort or protection, I don't think Obadike necessarily meant for it to close up happily so the reader could say, "Right on, girlfriend!" Instead, I was left contemplating the ways that the female speaker was strong, facing racist institutions and telling about it, and bringing up women's discomforts so they could be made obvious--I had the feeling throughout this collection that the speaker was yelling with her mouth wide open but no sound was coming out (and I mean that in a good way, because obviously I, as the reader, could hear what she was saying).

Failure in "Armor and Flesh"

Mendi Lewis Obadike's first book of poetry, "Armor and Flesh" is transparent in the themes it attempts to tackle - sexual and racial identity, the battle within the self between love, apathy and anger, articulation and silence. The speaker in Obadike's book is "wanting softness, but "needing hardness." I feel this book is born of trauma, and regardless of whether it is truly an autobiography, is clearly confessional in nature. This is evident not only because of the consistent use of the I, but also the nature of poems, such as "Gassed," which seem only concerned in providing a background (of life events) in which other poems can be considered, as in, the weight of a particular piece cannot survive, but this may act as something as an unconscious influence. Many of the shorter pieces in this book seem far from complete, and in fact, they act more like small connector blocks to drive home the issues of larger more complex ones. For example, "How She Figures," while yes, incredibly vague, could easily attach itself to poems considering the women of Haiti, Dominican Republic, and Caracas, or the confessional pieces involving the inability to speak, or the pieces involving racism. I think "Tug of War" works in much the same way, as a poem standing on one leg, which has no particular context, but existiing as an elaboration on other pieces. "Strategy" also applies here ("She sneezes/on the chance/someone will bless her"). When I consider that for this class, we are studying how a book is created, thematically and structurally, I see Obadike's "connectors" as immature and not quite thought out, perhaps poems which were started but never finished, yet could have been stanzas in other pieces.

It is immediately noticeable that Obedike lacks a mature and refreshing language with which to tackle these issues. There are perhaps a few lines which I might not have heard before, but certainly I have seen all of her forms before. She relies on the audience's cultural connection with her experiences, such as our knowledge of racism in the South, the Rodney King decision, a cursory knowledge of the hardship ridden lives of Haitian women, to engage us, rather than attempting to redefine our perceptions, deepen them. Also, her extensive use of the shadow poem reveals to me that she is more comfortable working with the language and form of others, rather than inventing her own (not to mention her use of song lyrics). It is a shame to me, that in trying to articulate a unique and personal experience, one which, in its human suffering and identity confusion, many could emotionally connect with, she makes little attempt to confront cliche. An amazing example of this is "Excess Makeup Reverie" where she speaks of the woman as wearing a makeup mask. Although, I am unaware of whether her work is mostly cliche, or just unoriginal, or maybe didn't go through enough revision.

This book was disappointing, but I feel I have learned, in a sense, what not to do with a book of poems. How blatant connections and language can ruin the mystery and complexity of poetry, and how shadow poems can be used as a crutch.

I Don't Know...Maybe I Just Don't Like the Pictures...?

The most intriguing aspect of Ondaatje's ...Billy the Kid is his understanding of poetry. There is gong to be much debate whether or not his foray into poetry was worthwhile; however, his UNDERSTANDING of the beast is what fascinates me.

While for the most part his poetic pattern is lower-cased, three stanza, almost no articles, it fascinates me that he tries to take a turn for the nuanced in poems such as that on page 29--a mirror poem, though I'm having a hard time understanding precisely what it is that made him decide on that tactic. My problem is that there seems to be a desire for him to be a poet rather than his actually being a poet. What I mean to say is, he suffers from many poets’ plight of trying to seem poetic—through such tactics as the mirror poem on page 29.

Though I'd be lying to myself if I said his poetry superseded his prose, I would also be doing his poetry a disservice if I didn't mention his ability to create natural image. That is, he uses language that very intricately gives a tangible depiction of the sensual body, death, and fear. Poems such as that on page 11 show Ondaatje’s ability to work within image strongly and creatively: “moving across the world on horses / body split at the edge of their necks / neck sweat at eating at my jeans”. His imagery is very visceral and it leaves nothing to the imagination (thank Jah). However, that’s not to say that at times his word choice takes a turn for the campy and incredibly trite, as in the poem on page 16 when describing his ejaculation as “love juice” (which, for all those interested, is also the title of a cheesy J-Pop song). But, I have to wonder if his word choice is a product of the need to explore the indiscretion of the “Wild West” and one of its biggest heroes, Billy the Kid?

By far and away the most uninteresting aspect of the book is the use of physical images--that is, the photography. Though they are historical in terms of their attachment to the literal reading of the "Wild West", they underscore the ability of the words to do the work for themselves. There is something to say for the scrapbooking nature of the book, but I wonder if, perhaps, the use of images is nothing more than an immature poet’s way to collide literal image with lyrical image?

However, something that I'd like to explore is the use of blank picture frames at what seems to be the beginning of a new era in the character of Billy the Kid. Those moments, indicated with a square of empty space and italicized words, not only do the work of preparation. They seem to forcibly open the readers mind to something new. This image is the most important in terms of a literal picture on the page.

Whether or not the prose outshines the poetry, one thing that I almost refused to do was force meaning on the words through the images. If anything, what I can glean from this book is its attention to capturing what can only be described as the inner monologue/diary of one Mr. Billy the Kid. Though journal-esque collections come a dime a dozen, what interests me is the books refusal to answer the question of its historical relevance. The focus should be, not on the accuracy of the times, but rather the accuracy of one character's experiences and interactions.

I also see a common thread among this collection, the Lichtenberg Figures, and The Sonnets: there's most definitely a move to create collages through ideas, styles, images, etc. A poet's collection turns into his obsession, turns into his book of poetry. If that's all that we can get from Ondaatje's poetry, at least that's something fascinating, right?

Billy the Kid

From only my brief past knowledge of BTK, as well as what I've discovered following a brief perusal on the Wikipedia, I find that the element of paradox strikes the very core of his mythic legend. A man who lusted for murder and the occasional Mexican sombrero should, by all conventional standards, be reviled in his cloak of infamy. This was (is) not the case for young Billy, however, whose mythical status is still adored/disputed by contemporary historians and occasionally families through oral tradition. As it is difficult for these qualities to effectively coexist, here is Ondaatje's The Collected Works of Billy the Kid which mixes historical account and multi-layered mythology through the juxtaposition of poetry and prose. The text blends a variety of perspectives in order to establish a frequently filth-laden account that feels surprisingly natural, even when considering the jarring collision that comes from stylistic shifts. I appreciate the recurrent mention of characters (as with Sally Chisum), although I felt more inclined to drink in the lack of stability in overall terms of narration; narration is probably the wrong word, but rather the sense of credible authenticity. This is much like history more broadly, cultivated from news clippings and word of mouth that eventually build legend. Take “The Kid Tells All” (81), which incorporates an account of the conflicting character traits for which the Kid stands; “I: But you were wanted for cattle rustling weren’t you?. Yes… [but] they had to practically catch me with stolen cattle in my bed.” Ondaatje occasionally facilitates this kind of humor when constructing pieces within the collection; in this case, it paints Billy as a somewhat likeable, certainly accessible, hero of sorts. The counterpoint to this argument is that he is allegedly performing this interview from jail, with the Texas Star granted rights to exclusivity. The selected images of BTK accompany the media fixation well, and Ondaatje manages to keep the focus fresh despite the relatively narrow scope of the surface subject matter. One of the poems, on page 27, utilizes a dark agenda (involving internal damage) with a strict poetic device. Through the variance in the lenses, Ondaatje’s collection provides a surprisingly deep pool for interpretation that likely makes a statement about myth in perpetuity more generally.

the ORIGINAL btk --- found here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billy_the_kid

The Collected Works of Billy The Kid by Michael Ondaatje is a story stooped in fantasism and legend. Ondaatje attempts to enter the mind of the American West’s most famous celebrities. Not one of Hollywood though. Rather, Ondaatje brings the reader through the life of the western frontiers greatest murderers, Billy the Kid.

The book is sprinkled with both prose and lyrical poetry. Ondaatje tries numerous different forms of writing, and often even includes pictures in order to make his case. This allows him to penetrate the minds of different types of readers, and accommodates for many different preferences. He begins a piece of prose in all italics accompanied by a “pictures”. This picture however is just a blank box, leaving the readers imagination to figure out what lies between its lines. The first line of this italicized piece of prose reads “I send you a picture of Billy…”. Right off the bat Ondaatje wishes the reader to begin picturing Billy the Kid, because from this point on it will be his task to change and alter that picture with stories from his life.

Another great example of the forms Ondaatje expresses is found on page 81 in a piece entitled “The Texas Star March 1881. The Kid Tells All: ‘Exclusive Jail Interview’”. On display here is a completely unique way of attacking the poetic form. This long question and answer session allows Ondaatje to fill the reader in on a large amount of information about Billy’s life, without ever having to say it. He lets Billy tell all, in response to questions from a reporter (who might as well be the reader). One of my favorite lines in this sequence is the interviewer’s third question asking “I: You were reported as saying, as adding, to that phrase – ‘If I make it’ when asked that question before. B: Well, sometimes I feel more confident that at others”. These lines not only made me chuckle, but also really helped capture an overall theme of the novel.

In looking at the poetry in the book verses the prose I find that they have a strong symbiotic relationship. The prose is much more story based, and we learn a lot about interactions and specific stories relating to Billy. The poetry is much vaguer, and I see it as a venue for Billy’s personally feelings to be unleashed. Less so actions and interactions going on around him, and more so thoughts and even feelings that I believe come straight from Billy himself.

Despite the books lack of consistent poetic form, I find the collage almost soothing, in that I am never bombarded with one type of interpretation. Ondaatje was able to aptly fuse two forms, without either being to constricting, or too overpowering, upon the other.

Ondaatje Response...by me!

In focusing on the formation of Michael Ondaatje’s collection, The Collected Works of Billy the Kid, I am left with both inquisitiveness and amazement at the accomplishments of the works. Ondaatje introduces his collection with an empty frame over an italicized description of an unseen picture. Initially, this opening passage filled me with curiosity. The are several references to unidentified things, “the Perry shutter,” “Pyro,” the horses, etc. The frame and caption give explanation to and represents the pictures and specimen the reader finds throughout the book both figuratively and literally. To better understand the purpose of Ondaatje’s introduction, I compared it to that of a movie introduction. If this collection were a movie, the caption would be read while soft music plays in the background as the camera spans across various pictures soon to be encountered in context. Then, the movie begins…
Following the open ended introduction, Ondaatje kicks off his collection with two different opposing poetic styles, poetry and prose. The first poem is frank with minimal detail. “These are the killed.// By me) –” It leave you with several questions, many of which are modestly addressed in the subsequent prose poem on the opposing page. These poems play off of each other in placement and content. In the prose poem, a story is explained. To reference the movie example again, the first poem would be a scene of people being killed. The audience/reader is not sure of who or why. After the violent opening scene, the story begins to unravel and we see people together (as described on page 7) while a voice narrates what’s taking place; then the actors take over….
Throughout the first part of the book, many of the poems serve as narrations. They give brief summaries of general info, while the prose offers more detailed explanations.
During the collection, Ondaatje uses several artistic devices to share the story. The prose, poetry, photographs, interviews, and captions are compiled in a way that leaves you with questions and answers at the same time. Most of the questions arising in the poetry, and being answered in the other included forms. I think the arrangement of different types of writing successfully work in keeping the reader’s attention. The switching up artistic inclusions comes just before the audience may get tired of one writing style. Ondaatje never goes more than four or five pages with the same artistic style. Even the poems have different poetic devices such as spacing (p.53), indentation (p.67), or reflection (p.27) that make each poem different in more than content.

One of the more interesting elements in Ondaatje's Billy the Kid the woven elements of language and texture. Apparently the poet is known for his approach to the senses, but it seems overwhelmingly so in this book. I'm in complete agreeance with Shannon's comment about Ondaatje exploring the myth of Billy the Kid, rather than necessarily the real guy. By using heavily textured/image-rich/sometimes overly romantic and overly emotional language, Ondaatje asks the reader to "come closer" and form a more personal relationship with the myth of Billy. It seems as though one language (that of intensely violent/dark text) is layered and sewn within another language (that of fantastical/mythical text). The passages and poems are dense and compact, like his words are meant to be taken seriously, almost like we should be reading BTK as a biography and not as a "Collected Works."

It seems like he's really dealing with a push and pull of formal vs. content. On the obvious side, there is a super strong tension between the poetry and the prose. Added into the mix is the graphic images, for example on page 13 after the Charlie Bowdre poem, or the interview on pages 81-84 (is that real or created? I love the idea of putting something into a book that you wrote but it looks like you didn't. Ondaatje is basically begging the reader to step out of their comfort zone and experience his work beyond the typical "poem-poem-poem-poem" structure. While I was reading I was sufficiently uncomfortable with the graphics and also with the constant change in form. However, after analyzing my reaction, I'm pretty sure this is how Ondaatje wanted the Works to be heard/felt/experienced. Considering the text relies on image and sensory detail, it seems to be a primary concern to him that the reader is communicating and gripping each section (prose, graphic, poem) for what it is, rather than what it is not.

Going along with an idea that Nicolette brought up, I also feel that death is so commonplace and mundane in the community brought forth in Billy the Kid that you're essentially forced to pay attention to other stories going on in the book. Normally death is pretty shocking, but it seems as though Ondaatje would rather focus on multiple lives rather than the numerous deaths and killings.

The Myth of Billy the Kid

It has come to my attention while reading previous posts that a great amount of attention is given to the "informative" or historical accounts/pieces within this work. I think, coming to this piece, especially if it is with only a cursory knowledge of Billy the Kid, it is only natural to look for sign posts or guides into the "real life" and "real person" of "William Bonney" (his birth name was Henry McCarty). However, I see Ondaatje's project here as a look into the nature of myth, with the clear intent of challenging and complicating our view of yes, a historical person, but more essentially, a name, a time, and a way of life (the outlaw).

To me, this intent was made clear on the first page, which is conviently lacking the photograph that is referred to in the prose underneath. I feel that the blank photograph is an introduction about what the reader really knows about Billy the Kid- nothing. A photograph of him is given on the book's cover, and yet Ondaatje chooses within the book's pages not to represent Billy, but the acquaintances and settings in which he interacted. There are a fem moments where Billy (as the speaker) recalls certain photographs taken of him, but these are never shown. I believe this allows Ondaatje the free reign to construct a theoretical universe for Billy in which what is believed to be known contends with the unknown.

In speaking about the relationship in the book between "prosaic" sections (most all of which I catagorize as prose poems) and the "poetic" sections, I agree their is a tension. The imagination of the poems where Billy interprets his the memories of his life (the deaths he witnessed, his friends, the western landscape) are beautiful (not childish, as someone else mentioned), haunting, and provide a complex emotional character. I do not believe Ondaatje created a coherent character, but a many-faceted amalgamation of conflict. Just as society as a whole is unable to agree on his character, his horror or his heroism, the reader is unable to get a clear idea of what Billy thought of himself. This is often brought up in the recurring them of madness. A particularly telling image of Billy, I think, occurs on page 33, when he recounts an experience with Sallie Chisum. He places her in the bath with her bedsheet wrapped around her, lifts her out, and watches while she tries to escape from the entanglement - all used as an illustration for "a mad man's skin." I feel here that Billy's mind, his ego, and his violence are all struggling in the net that legend has wrapped around him.

Despite this being my second time reading this book, I felt with immediacy again the confusion imposed on the reader by Ondaatje's inverted chronology and multiple speakers (some of which must be guessed by context). (Actually, I was suprised when I accidentally read a poem in the voice of Billy, when it actually turned out to be Garrett.) Again, I feel this confusion further contributes to the inability to grasp a clear picture.

One thing I found particularly interesting was the tension between Sallie's rather ambiguous accounts in juxtaposition with the later portrayal of her complicated (perverse?) affair with Billy. I love Sallie's description of Billy as "a courteous little gentleman" who was "the pink of politeness."This image is certainly difficult to reconcile with the image of him watching her naked struggle in a mad man's skin.

Rather than looking for the truth in any of the events and relationships Ondaatje portrayed in the book, I reveled in his imagination of Billy's mind. I feel "getting into the mind of the myth" is really what drives the piece, and collects together all of its disjunct parts. One of the most artful and moving books of poetry I have ever read.