Reflections: Latter 2007

This set of poems entitled “Deconstruct” contains the poetry encounters I made under the guidance of contemporary poet Jan Heller Levi.

This writing period was one of my most revision-intensive experiences in poetry. The sense of “self” from my previous set of poems is still heavily present in these poems, but here we have a “self” that is beginning to open up and reaching out to other bodies. It is yet another transitional phase; the body goes from internal, private dialogues with the multiple personae of “self” to learning to communicate as a whole with outside influences… Extensions, and learning to feel, understand, and finally come to terms with the existence and barriers of other consciousness outside the ego…

Jan Levi was unique, but relevant to my previous poetry mentors. Her images and her metaphors are living, breathing proof of existence—they are in the “present tense”. She has a tendency to immediate reactions, to approach subjects/matter head-on. I think from that I have started to explore my own encounters, and to yield power from moments of awkwardness.

“His Pillow” was a favorite of mine within this set of poems. The revision process of this poem showed a lot of “deconstruction” of layers and contradictions, as shown in this previous draft of the poem:

(Draft 4)

We are not stigmas under the sun
Only when our breaths are covered by
Midnight shadows and
Cricket cries;

Your grey sheets are not enough.

Like tattoo-regrets on
The shivering body I denied you,
I want to be unwritten
With inkless pores,
Ones that will not spill even when embarrassed,
Frightened

I am,

Because you only get annoyed by my laughter-
Joyless and thickly accented
With the echoes of you on my tongue.

I wonder if you knew
Your hazel eyes
Asked whether I care to be
(Unloved),

Just seconds ago.

The language in this previous draft was definitely less concrete, and the images are a lot more metaphorical. There is a lot of “covering-up” in this draft, as hinted by words like “tattoo-regrets” and “unloved”. There was clearly not enough here to propose the feelings of jealousy, reasons for insecurity, and the “alternate” who’s been plainly outlined in the final draft of this poem.

A lot of thoughts needed to be revised to push out the underlining meanings. The speaker here was just a bit too self-involved and he failed to reveal the persuasions of the outside forces and other consciousness.

Now look at the changes in the final draft.

Notice these lines and their enjambments:

“You want me only\on your side of the bed;”

“Your grey sheets are not dark enough\for my scent?”

I was trying to work with the awkwardness of the situation—allowing the reader to pause for a moment and imagine the reaction, the face of the person being addressed.

The idea of “his pillow” also became more important, and further explored. It brings up the presence of “another” throughout this poem, a third person perhaps.

He is not physically present, but we know he exists, and he exists for the sake of the poem. It’s the idea of the body, an impenetrable body that we can’t fully understand but need for the feelings to work. Structurally, the appearance of this “third” becomes the poem’s turning point in terms of focus. If you noticed the pronoun usage, it is clear that the beginning of the poem is more concerned with the “you”, whereas the latter is more concerned with the “I”. But “his pillow” also acts as a thematic turning point, setting the point of climax for the poem.

This process of finding meaning through revision became an important part of my craft in poetry. It’s almost as though I was sifting my words through revision and finding things that I’m most concerned about.

Let’s look at the revision process in “Father”:

I was actually quite shock at the direction this poem took through the revision process. Perhaps the subject matter was had always existed subconsciously, but its appearance definitely came as a surprised.

One can see the difference in this very first draft:

Testicles are hard
to draw;

You need to be open minded,
See pass the obstructing penis

And imagine
The smooth white surface resting shyly
Against the scrotal sac.

Your hands trying to form the delicate shapes,
You want to touch them,
feel them slip
Into shadows, curves,

Your fingers dig
Deep into the tubule mass,
The complexity that frustrates
The pencil, you no longer care for.

Only the velveteen encircling,
The union,
A blossom.

The origin of this poem actually came about while I was at the Metropolitan Museum of Art working on drawing studies of various body parts of Greek statues. I remember I was struggling with getting the appropriate texture—the discrepancy of flesh to stone. I was conflicted between representing the sculptural forms as cold, hard, and lifeless objects, or to allow them to pulse and breathe on my page. This conflict is evident in many parts of in this first draft. The speaker begins by establishing his struggle, and proceeds to describe very factually what he comprehends visually on the surface. Something happens after the third stanza however, a barrier is breached and the speaker is no longer just observing, but “touching” or at least thinking about touching the figure. The subject of the poem is thus created. This “touch” has breathed life into the inanimate object of the poem and thus creating a new focal point for the reader as well as for poet.

Let’s look at a later draft:

(Draft 6)

I cannot draw your testicles.

Even in my hands
you harden and pull away;

I just wanted to feel what I never understood-

Why you never held me as closely,
as unconditionally
as your enveloping scrotum against my cold fingers.

I want to see beyond the brown skin,
the black hairs,
to break the pale white shells
and spill the reason why
I exist.

But it’s your silent indifference
that never allows me
to look, to ask,
to dig any deeper.

Notice that in this version the “object” has already been given a persona.

Notice the images:

“…you never held me as closely,\as unconditionally\as your enveloping scrotum against my cold fingers.”

“…the brown skin, the black hairs…”

The speaker is no longer looking at just a lifeless figure, but exploring it (or him) underneath. The speaker is searching for a soul to speak with almost. It took a few more revisions and some conversations with myself on the page, but eventually it just occurred to me that the speaker should be addressing his father. And I say “should” because it was a conscious choice, and I believe this poetic authority was definitely something I discovered during this revision period. It is that ethos that upgrades a person who writes in his journal into a writer, and that ethos that transforms scraps of free-writing into poetry.

It is as stated in “I keep a vase of dried roses”, it’s what and how the poet has decided to make the speaker do which makes his actions poetry-worthy.

Thanks again for reading!