I'm reading Then the War by Carl Phillips, the Pulitzer Prize winner for 2022. From his poem Little Shields, in Starlight:
Maybe there's no need for us to go anywhere more far
than here, said the dogwood leaves, mistaking speech
for song, to the catalpa leaves, imitation silence.
At
the risk of sharing lines of poetry out of context here, I am intrigued
by the idea here that asks what the dogwood leaves might say to the
catalpa leaves. Or, I ask myself, how would one imitate silence? How
does one sing? And then, leaves would know probably about the need for
travel. Contradictions such as that between remaining rooted and
imagining how far to travel drive tension in Phillips's poems. In our
own writing, we can study other writers we admire and bring into our own
writing these new techniques and structures.
I love how Phillips' phrasing creates what he calls a muscularity of syntax (or sentence)
"As far as I can tell, anymore, all that poetry at the end of the day
is, is patterned language. The relationship between pattern and the
meaningful disruption of that pattern gives poetry the muscularity
required to become memorable." - Muscularity and Eros: On Syntax, Carl Phillips, At Length Magazine
In Tangled Roots Writing
workshops and coaching sessions, as writers we read and write through a
lens of tenderness to understand ourselves and others and to apply this
depth of meaning to the page.
Poetry in the Garden workshops Tuesday nights August 22nd and 29th 5:30-7 pm
$25 each Tuesday workshop
All levels of experience welcome! This is a generative poetry workshop - join us for one or both evenings.
