April is National Poetry Month, created in 1996 by the Academy of American Poets to celebrate聽an ancient literary genre that captures readers’ minds and hearts as powerfully today as ever.
Rochester聽has, for generations, taught students the pleasures and possibilities of poetic expression, counted famed poets among its faculty, and hosted an聽array of聽writers who have made exceptional contributions to the art of verse.
Can聽poetry thrive in an age of instant communication? Seven years ago, Rochester Review asked that question of the University’s poetry faculty and students, and found that the answer was an emphatic “yes.” The pace of digital life has only quickened since 2010, but the slower process of聽reading and crafting聽poetry continues, robustly, at Rochester.
This story originally appeared in Rochester Review, March鈥揂pril, 2010.
A cell phone trills. A聽BlackBerry vibrates, bristling for immediate attention. 鈥淭weets鈥� accrete, each bearing fleeting news of someone鈥檚 latest passing thought on Twitter. Now, now, now, now, now.
In an era of such frenzied exchange of language, it might seem that there would be little place for the poem. But poetry never has been more alive at Rochester than it is today, in writing workshops and poetry readings, informal gatherings and solitary sessions where a聽writer confronts a聽blank sheet鈥攐r screen. Far from being blotted out by contemporary mores of communication, poetry provides a聽kind of corrective.
鈥淧oetry, like all great writing, whether poetry or prose, forces you to be very slow,鈥� says , the Joseph H. Gilmore Professor of English and an acclaimed poet and literary critic. 鈥淵ou have to read very slowly. You have to write very slowly. That鈥檚 what I聽say to people who say they don鈥檛 understand poetry.
鈥淧oetry, like all great writing, whether poetry or prose, forces you to be very slow.鈥�
鈥� James Longenbach
If you try to speed through language the way we do in most of our lives, poetry will be not just irrelevant, but incredibly frustrating.鈥�
Speed, succinctness, transparent and uncomplicated meaning鈥攖hese are the currency of now ubiquitous electronic communications. But poetry, which also concerns itself with condensation of thought, is an art of shades of meaning, ambiguities of purpose, and the pleasures of language itself.
鈥淲e鈥檝e become the culture of the sound bite鈥攁nd poetry is precisely the opposite of that,鈥� says Thomas DiPiero, a聽professor of French and of visual and cultural studies, as well as the senior associate dean of the humanities. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a聽way of thinking鈥攁 very specific way of thinking. It鈥檚 been called 鈥榗oncentrated thought.鈥� 鈥�
And, judging by the English majors as well as students from disciplines throughout the College who fill English literature classrooms each semester, it has a聽powerful appeal.
鈥淭here鈥檚 a聽strong sense, a聽thrilling sense, of writing among the undergraduates, and not just of poetry but of fiction as well; you can鈥檛 have one genre without the other,鈥� says Longenbach, the author of critical works such as The Resistance to Poetry and The Art of the Poetic Line, as well as volumes of poetry including Draft of a聽Letter and Fleet River.
Offered through the English Department, the poetry workshops that Longenbach and colleague an assistant professor of English, teach are part of the department鈥檚 creative writing program. Directed by Joanna Scott, a novelist and the Roswell S. Burrows Professor of English, the program is grounded in an understanding that writing is a creative discipline that draws on the study of a wide range of literature.
鈥淚n workshops, half our time is spent reading the greatest poems we can read,鈥� says Longenbach, whose poetry has also appeared in publications such as The New Yorker, The New Republic, Slate, and The Paris Review. 鈥淭o write one poem, you have to have read a聽thousand of them.鈥�
Grotz, whose poetry volume titled Cusp won the Bread Loaf Writers鈥� Conference Bakeless Prize in 2003, says that she teaches students to 鈥渞ead as a聽writer would.鈥� Joining the University faculty last fall, Grotz also translates French and Polish poetry and will teach in Rochester鈥檚 new literary translation program.
Grotz found her own way to poetry slowly, teaching herself by reading other poets before taking up the academic study of poetry. A聽Texan who grew up 鈥渋n a聽house with no books,鈥� she was 鈥渓ike a聽musician who could pick out a聽tune,鈥� she says.
In her students, Grotz seeks to develop a聽facility with writers鈥� tools. 鈥淢y philosophy of teaching at least introductory-level poetry is to break it down into what writers call 鈥榗raft lenses.鈥� To have the students think of themselves as writers, with skills they want to develop鈥攊mage, music, and so on.鈥�
For Giulia Perucchio 鈥�13, who took Grotz鈥檚 workshop last fall, that approach was invaluable. 鈥淲e connect huge, fluid things with very specific images,鈥� she says. A聽graduate of Rochester鈥檚 School of the Arts, she came to the University already focused on creative writing. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 the best thing I聽learned from her: how to be very specific, very direct.鈥�
Poetry鈥檚 roots at Rochester run to the University鈥檚 beginning. Ashael Kendrick, a聽scholar of Greek and one of the professors who came to Rochester when the University was first formed in 1850, translated and anthologized poetry. In 1968, Anthony Hecht 鈥�87 (Honorary), the former John H. Deane Professor of Rhetoric and Poetry, received the Pulitzer Prize for poetry while at Rochester, where he was a聽member of the English department for 18 years.
In many ways, the name most closely associated with verse at Rochester is that of the late Hyam Plutzik, who preceded Hecht as the John H. Deane Professor of Rhetoric and Poetry and taught at the University from the mid-1940s until his death in 1962. A聽widely published poet concerned with themes such as the relationship between science and poetry, Plutzik taught writing workshops and gave weekly poetry readings on campus.
Today he鈥檚 memorialized in the Plutzik Library for Contemporary Writing at Rush Rhees Library, where professor emeritus and poet Jarold Ramsey is also honored with the Jarold Ramsey Study. The library houses the William and Hannelore Heyen Collection, an extensive poetry archive assembled by poet Heyen. Rare Books, Special Collections, and Preservation also holds collections鈥攊ncluding early editions, manuscripts, and correspondence鈥攂y John Dryden, Hilda Doolittle (H.D.), John Gardner, Carl Sandburg, and Alfred, Lord Tennyson, and other notable poets.
Tyler Goldman 鈥�10, an English major with a聽creative writing emphasis from Balacynwyd, Pa., took part in the literary translation program鈥檚 inaugural course, translating Roman lyric poetry into English. He says among the values of literary translation is its ability to heighten a聽writer鈥檚 awareness of language. 鈥淚t allows you to think critically about the way language operates,鈥� he says.
That awareness is key to any writer鈥檚 development, Longenbach says. 鈥淚 teach poetry almost exclusively as craft,鈥� he says, 鈥渉ow we focus and sharpen the way we harness language. I聽tell students we鈥檙e almost never going to talk about the subject of a聽poem. What鈥檚 unique is the way the language takes you through the experience.鈥�
There aren鈥檛 a聽lot of different subjects for pop songs, he observes, but we listen to our favorites again and again. Why? It鈥檚 not that we can鈥檛 recall them鈥攓uite the opposite. It鈥檚 our attraction to how they express an experience. Poetry, which he calls a 鈥渟onic art,鈥� is the same.
鈥淵ou read a聽poem many times, not because you can鈥檛 remember the words, but because you want to inhabit the way it moves through language.鈥�
Pulitzer Prize鈥搘inning poet Galway Kinnell 鈥�49 (MA) agrees. A聽poem is 鈥渘ot just an exposition of an idea or an event, but a聽reliving of it,鈥� he says. That evocative force lies in the images and music its words create.
鈥淚n poetry workshops, I聽find, students learn to attend to the precision of their language more powerfully than in any other class I聽teach,鈥� says Longenbach, who became interested in poetry in college, after having spent 鈥渁 great deal of my youth involved in music, as a聽pianist.鈥�
Such exactness is not what everyone anticipates, however. Grotz and Longenbach find ways to help their students appreciate that poetry鈥攍ike all art forms鈥攔equires a聽blending of feeling and craft.
鈥淵ou鈥檙e working with young people who feel passionately about something, and you鈥檙e helping them learn how to connect that passion to a聽passion for the beauty and accuracy of language,鈥� says Longenbach.
Strong emotion can be an impetus for a聽poem, but it鈥檚 not enough. 鈥淧eople who write not-very-good poems have compelling emotions, too,鈥� he says, 鈥渂ut they haven鈥檛 figured out how to get it on the page.鈥�
In Grotz鈥檚 workshop, Rainer Maria Rilke鈥檚 Letters to a聽Young Poet, a聽slim volume of correspondence from Rilke to an aspiring poet, helps frame discussion of the emotive dimension of poetry. She delivers the book to students in a聽sealed envelope, just as a聽letter would arrive.
鈥淭o my mind, Rilke really helps to address the other reason young poets turn to poetry: expressing themselves, thinking about what it means to be human,鈥� says Grotz. 鈥淚 contain our 鈥榮oul talk鈥� to Rilke. Otherwise we focus on technique. It helps us talk more clinically about the craft鈥攂ut it鈥檚 very hard to talk about one without the other.鈥�
鈥淭echnique is what allows empathy to come through as empathy and not just as 鈥業 have these emotions,鈥� 鈥� says Emily Claman 鈥�06. After graduating with a聽degree in philosophy, she earned an MFA with a聽concentration in poetry from Washington University in St. Louis and credits her work with Longenbach and poet and former Rochester faculty member Sally Keith for her pursuit of a聽poetic career.
When he was an undergraduate, poet Ilya Kaminsky recalls, Longenbach spoke with him 鈥渙n a聽line-by-line basis鈥� about poets Frost, Lowell, Walcott, and聽Ashbery.
鈥淛ust think of it: James Longenbach, famous poet and literary scholar, has spent hours and hours of his time reading poems of a聽first-semester freshman who did not even know English well at that time,鈥� says the Odessa, Ukraine, native who is now a聽professor of poetry at San Diego State University. 鈥淪uch generosity of spirit is what makes education possible and what truly propels talent to聽grow.鈥�
Workshops are not the only courses in which Rochester students encounter poetry, of course. And poetry doesn鈥檛 stand alone, says Longenbach鈥斺�淭here鈥檚 a聽climate of writing here: fiction, poetry, and increasingly, playwriting鈥濃�攏or is it separate from the work of the larger English department.
When Kenneth Gross, a聽professor of English who has published extensively on Renaissance and modern verse, teaches his course on lyric poetry, he guides students in 鈥渟lowing down, and dwelling on images and ambiguities.鈥�
Such ambiguities are an irreducible part of poetry鈥檚 complexity, and its power鈥攁 dimension, in fact, of the very precision Grotz and Longenbach instill. 鈥淧oetry works, and sticks around, because it鈥檚 not clear. There鈥檚 something that can鈥檛 be put into words, even though it is words,鈥� Gross says.
Poetry 鈥渕akes you consider multiplicities鈥攐ften contradictory multiplicities鈥攐f meaning,鈥� says DiPiero. 鈥淩eading poetry is like reading the world.鈥�
And while students in his courses鈥攏ot just English majors, but an 鈥渋mpressive range,鈥� says Gross鈥攎ight be uncertain in approaching poetry, he reminds them that 鈥渢hey have a聽lot of experience with rhythmically shaped language: nursery rhymes, prayers, music lyrics, epitaphs, even jingles.鈥�
In his lyric poetry course, Gross鈥攁uthor of books such as Spenserian Poetics: Idolatry, Iconoclasm and Magic and Shylock is Shakespeare鈥攆ocuses on Shakespeare鈥檚 sonnets and the poems of John Keats, Emily Dickinson, and Elizabeth Bishop. They鈥檙e short works that 鈥済ive them a聽sense of a聽single poetic intelligence,鈥� he says. 鈥淔or these poets, the major poems are the intense, short lyrics. They鈥檙e very meaty objects of analysis.鈥�
But he shows students, too, that poetic language inhabits places they might not expect. In one course, he spent a聽week examining with students the texts of national anthems such as the Star Spangled Banner and La Marseillaise.
鈥淚t made them take up things they didn鈥檛 think of as poems鈥攐r even as things to be read鈥攁nd see them as rather charged.鈥�
Not to be overlooked, either, is the sheer enjoyment that engaging with a聽poem as a聽writer or a聽reader can provide. 鈥淗owever dark or difficult a聽poem, in some way it has to foreground pleasure,鈥� says Gross.
That pleasure is what feeds literary readings like the Plutzik Reading Series, which brings readings by contemporary novelists and poets to the Rochester community.
鈥淭he Plutzik Series pulls an audience beyond the classroom鈥攁nd also feeds back into the classroom,鈥� Gross says, as faculty members鈥攑articularly Longenbach, Scott, and now Grotz鈥攊ncorporate work by visiting writers into their聽courses.
Like the Neilly Series, a聽writers鈥� lecture series supported by an endowment from Andrew H. 鈥�47 and Janet Dayton Neilly, the Plutzik Series is 鈥渁 huge part of the literary community here. It transcends poetry,鈥� says Goldman.
鈥淥ften, when I聽taught poetry classes, even workshops,鈥� before coming to Rochester, 鈥渢here was a聽part of my job that was being a聽salesman鈥� for poetry, Grotz says. 鈥淗ere I聽don鈥檛 feel the need to sell poetry at all. The students come interested and hungry.鈥� How to keep them fed, she adds, 鈥渋s a聽wonderful problem to have.鈥�
For Samantha Miller 鈥�11, a聽double major in English and philosophy from Henrietta, N.Y., who is in Grotz鈥檚 workshop this semester, poetry counterbalances the more impatient and utilitarian interaction with language she has in other facets of her life. 鈥淲e鈥檙e so used to text messaging, e-mails鈥攊nstant gratification and immediate answers. And poetry takes a聽lot more time,鈥� she says. 鈥淚n a聽sense, poetry doesn鈥檛 fit with our times, but I聽think that makes it even more important and valuable.鈥�
Miller hopes one day to teach poetry at the college level and says her literary study at Rochester has shaped not only her professional ambitions but also the very way she sees the world.
鈥淲hat you can gain by studying poetry is a聽new set of eyes,鈥� says Miller. 鈥淵ou have a聽new appreciation for even the most minute things around you.鈥�
It engenders, says Kinnell, 鈥渁 tenderness towards existence.鈥�
Ultimately, Grotz suggests, there鈥檚 even something elemental to聽it.
鈥淓verybody knows poetry isn鈥檛 what you do to make money,鈥� she says. 鈥淎nd it鈥檚 not read the way popular fiction is, by any means. It may seem like an old-fashioned thing to do. But it鈥檚 the perfectly packaged thing for a聽human being. It鈥檚 totally human-shaped, human-made.
鈥淚t鈥檚 breath.鈥�
