Sunday 4 August 2013

You Don't Have to Pretend to Understand


What's wrong with poetry?  It's pretentious and boring.  It's written for the critic and not the everyday person.  Reading poetry is like cracking open a walnut and working to extract a small amount of meat.* 

I'd rather not.

Except maybe that's not good poetry.
Maybe good poetry is written with the reader in mind.  Maybe it's not hard to understand, and the little bit you work for makes it all the more delicious.  

The Iceberg Theory - Gerald Locklin

all the food critics hate iceberg lettuce.
you'd think romaine was descended from
opheus's laurel wreath,
you'd think raw spinach had all the nutritional
benefits attributed to it by popeye,
not to mention aesthetic subtleties worthy of
verlaine and debussy.
they'll even salivate over chopped red cabbage
just to disparage poor old mr. iceberg lettuce.

I guess the problem is
it's just too common for them.
it doesn't matter that it tastes good,
has a satisfying crunchy texture,
holds  its freshness,
and has crevices for the dressing,
whereas the darker, leafier varieties
are often bitter, gritty, and flat.
it just isn't different enough, and
it's too goddamn american.

of course a critic has to criticize:
a critic has to have something to say.
perhaps that's why literary critics
purport to find interesting
so much contemporary poetry
that just bores the shit out of me.

at any rate, I really enjoy a salad
with plenty of chunky iceberg lettuce,
the more the merrier,
drenched in an italian or roquefort dressing.
and the poems I enjoy are those I don't have
to pretend that I'm enjoying.




My favorite way to eat iceberg lettuce: Cut into wedges, and topped it with blue cheese dressing.


This daughter always makes my salad dressings for me.  Her speciality is ranch, but her blue cheese is solid.




Blue Cheese Dressing

Combine:
3/4 C mayo
3/4 C sour cream
2 tsp. red wine vinegar
3 garlic cloves, crushed
a little lemon juice
salt, pepper, and chives
4 oz. blue cheese, crumbled

Add as much buttermilk as you like to make it the right consistency.





*walnut metaphor from The Poetry Home Repair Manual by Ted Kooser.

4 comments:

  1. I have to admit that I am one who wrinkles her nose at iceberg lettuce. I hear myself in the author's harsh words. I prefer the dark, leafy greens,not only for their beautiful color, but also for their nutritional value. I see an iceberg salad as unsofisticated, boring, merely ruffage. The more I see wedge salads coming back in, the more tempted I am to get past my judgements and give it a try.
    After all, I take great pleasure in the uncomplicated whimsy of a poem about, for example, a kitten, as you mentioned in an earlier post. While I love to indulge in something more thought provoking, I do enjoy the leap back in time as I read the silliness of Eletephony or the sweetness of Hug-O-War.
    I promise to never turn my nose up at iceberg again...

    Lisa, I just love that you are teaching your kids the value of making their own dressing!

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    Replies
    1. I too prefer spinach to iceberg, at least most days, but it's a good parallel for poetry. Michelle, I'm sure you make your own dressings. I enjoy watching to see what you make in the kitchen. The pizzas you made the other day looked amazing. Poetry and cooking are very similar don't you think? To cook well, you must pay close attention and use your senses, and so it goes with poetry. Thanks for supporting me, Michelle. I have an idea for you soon. I want you to write something for me, and I hope you say yes.

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    2. I absolutely agree, Lisa. The same can be said for art, in any form. It is why, I think, I am an awful baker. There are too many restrictions, rules. Not enough room for creativity. One must follow a recipe to a "t" or risk miserable failure. I need things not so black and white. This is why I cannot share my recipes. Not because I want to keep them secret, but because I don't measure. I taste as I go. If it needs something, or I'm out of something, or I don't feel like using something, or more likely, I have forgotten to put something in, I change it. It is up to me. My "recipe". My creation. My art.
      I will always support you. You have a gift. I am so glad to finally have the opportunity to delight in it. And, because I love you so, I will probably say yes. Also, I am terrible at saying no.

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    3. Oh, this is good information to know because you are my next project, once I finish haiku. :)

      I used to feel the same way about baking that, but when Isaiah and really got into it, it changed for me. The more experience you have, the less you have to follow the rule (or at least you know what rules really need to be followed). I guess that lines up with poetry too. Look at e.e. cummings. He is the first example that springs to mind, but poetry is full of rule breakers. I'm glad. Isaiah is a rule follower- I drive him crazy. :)

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