Poetry

Perhaps rather than thinking about what makes a poem good, we think about what a good poem does.

Danusha Lameris writes at her newsletter of the way a poem slows us down (A (Gorgeous) Fungus Among Us - by Danusha Laméris).

"When I read a poem I like, I am savoring," she says, and she highlights the luxurious, sumptuous language of Ellen Bass writing about fungus (!) in Fungus on Fallen Alder at Lookout Creek and how it changes her understanding of fungus:

"Sumptuous is the word I’m looking for, a word I’ve never before associated with a fungus, but now I do. Not only in the slowed-down moment of reading the poem, but also in the years since."

This sense of seeing something differently seeing anew, is key for her understanding of what poetry does:

A good poem invites us back into the world and rewards us with fresh seeing. Often, we write to find our way back to ourselves.

Notice that ending. There's a cycle here, reading and writing, going out into the world and returning back to ourselves. Perhaps: Writing

In a panel discussion about Swahili poetry as philosophy/philosophizing, an indirect comment on what a poem/poetry might do:

What people use as philosophy in Kenya’s coast might not be defined as philosophy the way it is understood in the Western sense. But what is philosophy? It is that which looks obvious but is not obvious. — Kadara Swaleh

The article continues:

In this sense, a poetic verse that takes something seemingly self-evident – say, the idea of utu (personhood or humanity) – and reveals its hidden complexities can be considered philosophical. [...] As Anke Graness observed, the project’s ongoing conversations about possible definitions of philosophy suggest that the answer might be “more simple than we think” – perhaps encapsulated in poetic reflections on everyday humaneness and dignity."

Is this just another way of saying that poetry rewards us with fresh seeing, as Lameris suggests above?

This conversation is not just helpful in thinking about the nature of poetry, but the relationship between Poetry and Philosophy.

Adrian Matejka, in his Editor's Note for May 2025 Poetry, relates poetry to the collaborative work of musician and listener. Having riffed on his growing up with jazz music around him, he imagines reader and poet sharing "understandings and confusions in equal value":

"'Miscommunication' has the Latin root 'communicare,' which can mean either 'common' or 'shared,' and in poetry, I imagine 'shared' speaks to everyone involved -- both poet and reader offering their understandings and confusions in equal value. After all, a poem is not an argument or a debate. It's more of a secular communion amplifying our common experiences like the back and forth between musicians and listeners."

This passage comes just after his portrait of Miles Davis as a genius that was "notoriously grouchy and difficult to work with," who explained away his being misunderstood by saying, "If you understood everything I said, you'd be me."

Although I like the idea of poetry as poet/reader collaboration, I wonder if there's more to mediate on here the Miles portion of the equation: on the presence and possibilities of miscommunication, misunderstanding. (Which does not preclude dialogue or collaboration. Could perhaps contribute to it.)