More Responding

As a poet, I tend to get more caught up in the perfect word to capture an idea that is playing around in my brain. What this series of poems helped me understand more clearly is that sometimes there is no perfect word, but by arranging the words on the page and structuring them in different ways, that the idea can be conveyed just as well if not better than words alone.

For example, in "A Plan for a Curriculum of the Soul," the structure to me reads almost like an equation. Poetry and math don't normally seem to fit together in this sense. Sure, there is the meter and line structure ideals, but this is different. What I learn then is that structure is not confined to any particular school of thought. We can pull pieces from math or science or anywhere and introduce them into writing. And somehow, the dullness of math translates into something interesting--it makes the piece come alive in a way that is new.

Lay all your ideas on the table. Plan out your poem. Pick the words. Then see how the idea can be twisted or distorted through structure to better convey your meaning or perhaps to distort it beyond recognition. Why be bound to structure? Poetry does not need to be ababcdcdefefgg nonsense. We can invent new ways to put our hearts on paper. We can create new revolutions and new styles. We can be more than poets, better communicators, and make the world listen.