Self discovery, I guess, is a slow learning process. Information comes by drip and drop and not always in a timely, logical and precise manner. The absence of discipline somehow works best for me. School makes me tired. I’m one of those people who needs space between information.
Last night I picked up the New Millennium Writings, a collection of short stories and poems that includes winning works from their semi-annual competitions. Pamela Uschuk’s Shostakovich: Five Pieces, winner of the NMW Awards, winter 2009-10, wove scenes of Russia, Stalin, everyday living and music into one brilliant tapestry. There’s a lot to be learned there. To render poetic images without losing the reader is always a great accomplishment. I’m always looking for holes in a poem. It gives me some kind of pervert glee when I see the logic is not being followed through. Hers has none of this flaw and I love it.
I figured out two things before I went to bed. There are meander poems that begin at one point and end at a place that is completely foreign and incomprehensible. The problem with these poems, in my opinion, is that they fail to carry the emotion through the unrelated imagery. Then there are poems soaked in metaphors, comparing, for example, nature to language. It is all good if you can pull it off. In most cases I find them pompous and tedious. Reading the New Millennium assure me that my view of things are indeed subjective. I read the “challenging” poems again, trying to nudge my way into the poet’s verse, but found myself very sleepy.
