ENGLISH 644: WRITING SEMINAR—POETRY  (Fall 2009)

 

Instructor: Richard Terrill                               Phone: 5500

Office: AH 212C                                            Hours: T 2-3; W 1-3; Th 11-12, + by appt.

Email: richard.terrill@mnsu.edu

 

TEXTS

Twitchell, Chase, and Robin Behn. The Practice of Poetry

Addonizio, Kim.  Ordinary Genius

Olson, Christina.  Before I Came Home Naked (not yet released)

Ratzlaff, Keith.   Then A Thousand Crows

 

COURSE OBJECTIVE

We will practice the art and craft of writing poetry from early drafts through revision, workshop, and more revision.  We will critique each other’s work in a fair and thorough manner.  (In carrying out these tasks, we will meet several of the competencies for the MFA in creative writing, namely: 1) the creation and revision of new writing 2) intensive grasp of theory and techniques of poetry writing 3) broad grasp of other literature or English-language issues.)

 

This class is open to graduate students in the MFA program only.  Others may be welcome if there is room in the class and upon submitting to the instructor a sample of poems of suitable quality.

 

CLASS REQUIREMENTS

To earn an "A" or "B" you should do all of the following:

 

1.  Turn in, without missing your deadlines, at least 1000 words of weekly writing through the first third of the semester, followed by one poem per week in the middle third, and a portfolio in the last weeks of the term.  Submitting a poem to the workshop suggests that you've taken it as far as you can on your own.  No first drafts please during this stage of the semester. You shouldn't submit material you've had workshopped before unless there has been substantial revision.  

 

2.   Turn in to its author a helpful and thorough critique of each poem that comes before the workshop on the night that we discuss that poem.  Critiques should be prepared before class begins.  This critique may consist of marginal comments and often a brief end comment.

 

3.  Don't miss class.  Please show up on time. 

 

4.  Participate regularly in class discussion.

 

5. Do the assigned reading on time. 

 

If you don't meet the above requirements, the appropriate grade is "B" or lower.  I reserve the right to differentiate between and "A" and a "B" based on the above criteria.

 

WORKSHOP ETIQUETTE

WRITERS, of course, are not allowed to speak during the group's critique unless a misprint or error is causing problems, or they feel the group is beating a dead horse. 

 

READERS:  You owe the writer a complete and thorough critique based on an intelligent reading.  While this doesn't in my view justify personal attacks (or glowing praise of the writer rather than the writing), neither are you doing anyone any good by saying simply "Thanks for sharing" or "Gee, I liked/hated all of it."  In class, you can disagree with anyone at any time, but don’t argue at length or for the sake of arguing. 

 

MY THEORY OF CRITIQUING A POEM:

I like first to ask myself, “What is this student (or friend or colleague) trying to do?”  It helps me to know the student’s other work to make this judgment.

The next thing I might ask myself is, “Can this be done?” and even “Is it worth doing?”  I’ll try to think of other poets who have written similar poems that could serve as a model for this student’s work (and perhaps as a model for my reading of it).

Then I ask myself, “What suggestions can I make to help this student make a better poem of the poem that he or she wants to write?”  This could be anything from changing a line or a word, to keeping only a line or a word and making another attempt at the whole poem, to just moving on to something else.  My purpose is not to get the student to write like me (though naturally I have my biases).

            I’m also interested in the student’s writing process.  In other words, my critique might sometimes be directed more at the next poem this student is going to write than at this one.  I also like it if the student is given some options of how to proceed with revision or with the writing of other poems—advice which the student can, of course, choose to ignore.

Some of my suggestions may not be “mainstream” criticism, but rather a hunch or or my personal bias; if so, I will identify them as such, as well as try to give what I think to be the “standard” suggestion.

Finally, I reserve the right to change my mind based on what the rest of the group thinks.  This is the sign of a good discussion.

 

SYLLABUS

 

9/1, 9/8, 9/15, 9/22.  Turn in each week multiple copies of at least 1000 words of “poetic material” based on exercises in Ordinary Genius and Practice of Poetry.  Try the suggested exercises for the week, then move on to others of your own choosing (or design).  The material you submit will probably not be first drafts, but lines/stanzas/drafts culled from the most interesting material you generated from your week of exercises.  You should begin to shape at this material into something that resembles poetry, if it didn’t come out that way to begin with.  In order to get 1000 words worthy of submitting, my assumption is you’ll need to write at least twice that much over at least four days.  Submit the “poetic material” for class consideration in the following form:

 

(title, page number, name of exercise)

Genius 35, American Sentences

Practice 80 In the Waiting Room.

 

10/6  Read  Then, A Thousand Crows

 

10/6, 10/13, 10/20, 10/27, 11/3:  Turn in multiple copies of a poem for workshop.

 

11/17  Read Before I Came Home Naked

 

11/17 or 11/24  Turn in multiple copies of a five poem portfolio (including at least one new poem and at least one revision) for fifty minutes of class consideration.

 

 

BEGINNING OF A SAMPLE SUBMISSION OF “POETIC MATERIAL”

 

Genius p. 33 American Sentences

 

If your bucket leaks, don’t dally like an apple

enjoying the view.

 

Because a light south wind is kindest in these parts,

we set off for home.

 

It will rain a lot between this moment

and the time we’ll all be dead.

 

Do you mind if I smoke,

or do you mind if I don’t mind

that you do?

 

Groucho: “No train will be sold after the magazines leave the depot.”

 

The scent of lake water, bluegills on a stringer

—all summer we prayed.

 

A natural death is the only one possible, strictly speaking.

 

Your  letter arrived today without a stamp,

without an envelope.

 

Like night clapped around our ears,

we hear darkness whenever we take rest.

 

At forty seven, Samuel Barber figured out how to get paid (or get laid?)

 

Because loss is a card game, you need to cut before anyone deals.

Don’t paste faces of old lovers over the jacks and queens in the deck.

 

She murmurs, unsteady, because her past is something to look backward to

 

It rains a lot here, especially on rainy days; then the sun comes out.

 

 

Genius Page 35, borrowing first lines (and writing in five beat lines)

 

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks

the bones of my body give way to night.

The tingling migrates from toes to shins

and my vision pixiliates to the tiny dots

on old wireservice photos.  There’s Nixon

looking in a pumpkin, Lucky Lindy on the courthouse steps.

 

The fitness instructor, supple as a taut hammock,

takes us through her tropes.  I’m like that with language

leading a group in a darkened room, mats spread each way.

They’re not used to this kind of rigor, easy for me.

 

We bend to pain and back again. 

 

Beyond all this, the wish to be alone,

knowing that in the lyric resides repose,

the breath in and out of pain in a jar.

Let’s hear just a bit of Copland, one cut

of Coltrane.  Gentlemen, start your banners.

 

[borrowed first lines & write in iambic pentameter]

Come to me in the silence of the night

Find me in the darkness of the hallway

or try, feeling you way through many airs.

 

The house was quiet and the world was calm.

The rain had ended and the porch had dried.

My dog had made his rounds about the roomn

settled back in the spot he’d risen from.

 

the plants were growing, violins unstuck

from speakers mounted on the walls.

All that was missing was a severed head

maybe an unsent letter from the dead.

 

How to Live (my own exercise: write the “opposite” of a poem, in this case, a poem of mine)

 

I’m never lost in a crowd, but the crowd is lost on me. 

the night always ends come morning,

the earth a thin darkness

saturated with certaintly, garrulous, a cacacophny

always standing on chairs and riding no hands

without much healthy to eat.

hardly catholic, which used to mean accepting and universal

 

the green roots of the cityscape don’t show

independence day fires in the parking lots of the big supermarkets

Random?  Open to all?