Strategy Response, Week 2

From this week’s reading in Writing Poetry I observed Eric Elshtain’s piece, “Early Maneuvers, Closing Matters.” I become extremely interested in this particular poem because of the expanse of linguistic play, and I even used this poem in am improv exercise. I what found most beneficial to reading and experimenting with this poem am what Writing Poetry dubbed, “building linguistic muscle.” Elshtain’s poem appears to be mainly concerned with creating a collection of fresh, unexpected, and defamililaizing images and phrases. What was valuable in using Elshtain’s poem for improv is that it helped me stay away from wanting to “create a story,” (which as we discussed in class this past Wednesday—aiming for an arch or story can sometimes hinder linguistic play). The improv from class in which we took a line from a Bruce Bond poem was oddly very hard for me to generate a page of writing, and when I went back and reviewed what I had written, I was frustrated to see that I had some kind of narrative stream at play. The imagery or fresh phraseology that should have come as a result of the exercise was lacking if borderline non-existent. I did not intend to develop a loose narrative, but unconsciously one seemed to unfold. Now, looping back to the Elshtain piece as base for improve I was feel I was able to generate a greater amount of usable phrases for future drafts. Why I had less trouble with Elshtain over Bond I do not know specifically—perhaps it was reading the whole poem several times and getting a feel for the syntax and flow of linguistics. What I really want to continue with as an exercise for manufacturing new words, phrases, signs, is Elshtain’s ability to play with sound and sense, while at the same time changing around syntax to develop freshness—nouns to verbs, verbs to nouns, the odd command, alternate realities, etc. By feigning to make sense and playing with syntax I was able to generate some useable phrases: without eyeballs the night means alabaster, you’d crawl slower if it wasn’t for the telegraph, our thumbnails only interact on a plane of compulsion, extend not only to slippers, but to crutches, which procreate in the winter months, etc. With these phrases I can already see that I have some common thread of handicap, the bodily, perhaps even lust in a strange way. Observing Elshtain’s linguistic techniques and imitating them for my own junkyard phrases I find to be immensely helpful in blocking out the “pre-established grid” of poetry.