I have read this debate wit hgreat interest and I have to admit to my
undying shame I hadn't actually heard of Billy Collins until all this
started. But, Billy Collins or no, it seems to me that a poet can't ignore
something like this happening, and, since a poet or any artist, is trying to
make sense of the world and communicate the realities of existence to
his/her fellow beings, you can't blame people for trying to make sense of
the terrible events by trying to write about them.

The problem is of course that with something like this you also get such an
emotional overload that it is very difficult to carry out some of the more
impassive tasks of writing poetry, such as tempering the emotion with some
sort of form and content.

Personally I hope that people do write and write again about what happened
in NYC on 11 September, because:

It should never be forgotten
It is part of a grieving process, relating what happened to "normality"
It should be explored in an artistic process
Out of this might come some fitting requiem for those who died

Whether or not any of the poetry produced is "good" in the sense of
communicating a new or unfound meaning about the events is up to people to
exercise their critical faculty and find out. I suspect that out of all the
millions of words probably already written on the tragedy, some will in time
survive, just in the same way as Tennyson's poem on the Light Brigade or
Gerard Manley Hopkins on the Wreck of the Deutschland, or the War Poets of
the Trenches.

Personally I don't believe any subject should be forbidden to poetry, but it
doesn't automatically follow that all poetry written about controversial or
difficult subjects is good poetry.

Another point to bear in mind about the poetry surrounding the WTC attacks
is the lack of direct personal involvement in the events. Most poeple
writing about it are writing about something they saw on the TV, so the
experience has already been through one filtering. On a psychological level.
this needn't necessarily be a bad thing - I can imagine if I had been
wandering out to get my morning coffee and bagels and had seen 5,000 people
die in front of my own eyes I might be struck dumb for the rest of my life.
Some things are too big for the human mind to take in immediately. However,
if you are going to write a poem about something, you need to reflect on it
and give it some all round consideration. But on the other hand, distance
does sometimes make analysis easier. It is all a trade-off.

Finally, although it may seem superficially a black and white issue, the
killings in NYC are in fact a very complex event, full of unanswered
questions. It is fairly easy to write a propaganda piece for either side,
but not necessarily a poem.

Just in case my last comment above is taken as anti-American, I should add
that, again, personally, I hope the Americans find whoever was responsible
and bomb the crap out of them.  I would draw a direct parallel with the evil
fanatics who carried out these atrocities and the Nazi movements of the
1930's. My father's generation learnt to their cost that appeasement does
not work with people who so not share the values of democracy (for all its
faults) and will not negotiate. It cost 5 years of war and millions dead to
stop them last time, and it's a case of "here they come again". What else
can we do?

I would (finally finally) like to balance all of these comments with a
straightforward out and out objection to Blunkett and Blair's latest wheeze,
to bring in compulsory ID cards for all UK citizens under the cover of a
clamp down on terrorism. As a people we are already surveilled and snooped
on by the state at every end and turn. MI5 presumably already know who these
loony mullahs are in London and Birmingham, inciting people to celebrate on
the street in a totally unacceptable fashion, and issuing Fatwas.  They have
broken the law, and should all be rounded up, tried, and, if convicted,
stuck in a camp on the Isle of Man or somewhere else where they can't incite
more violence and terrorism. But ID cards for all, I think not.
STEVE RUDD







----- Original Message -----
From: Lynn Owen <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Saturday, September 22, 2001 5:57 PM
Subject: Re: Billy Collins and me


> I'm thinking Robert Hass.
> 'no odes to trade embargoes' = Poetry Wales.
> Nerys Owen Williams: Robert Hass interview.
> The task of a poet is to say what they see, not what they are told.
> Lynn
>
> Sent: Saturday, September 22, 2001 1:25 PM
> Subject: Re: Billy Collins and me
>
>
> > It is surely the task of the poet to find the image that will transmute
> the
> > 'unbearable' into 'the bearable'. If he/she cannot do that,.. well - let
> > him/her go dig ditches. ----- Original Message -----
> > From: Bob Cooper <[log in to unmask]>
> > To: <[log in to unmask]>
> > Sent: 22 September 2001 02:47
> > Subject: Billy Collins and me
> >
> >
> > > This article's been drifting round the electrickery of a few people's
> > > e-mails, and a couple of other lists, so I thought I'd post it here
too.
> > >
> > > A subject too big for poetry
> > >
> > > Don't ask the U.S. laureate Billy Collins to write about Tuesday's
> > disaster.
> > > The terror is overwhelming, he tells SANDRA MARTIN
> > >
> > > By SANDRA MARTIN
> > >
> > > Saturday, September 15, 2001
> > >
> > > Like most people, U.S. poet laureate Billy Collins was following the
> sweet
> > > banality of routine on Tuesday morning. "I was driving back from
taking
> > the
> > > dog out around the lake we usually walk around," he said in an
interview
> > > from his home in Westchester County in New York, when he heard on the
> > radio
> > > that there was a fire in the World Trade Center.
> > >
> > > "I know people don't smoke any more, but I thought somebody had thrown
a
> > > match in a wastebasket," he recalled. When he got home, he turned on
the
> > > television as the second plane was plowing into the south tower, an
> image
> > > has been crashing into his forehead about every 90 seconds since then.
> "I
> > > think that it has created a kind of burn on people's retinas," he
says.
> > >
> > > "Will you ever write a poem about what happened on Tuesday?"
> > >
> > > "No," he says in a response that comes quickly and emphatically.
> > >
> > > "Why not?"
> > >
> > > "You can't approach something like this frontally in a poem - at least
I
> > > can't. It will knock you over. It is like walking into a big wave. You
> > will
> > > fall on your bathing suit."
> > >
> > > Isn't it his job to set aside his feelings and write a poem offering
us
> > > solace, inspiration and wisdom? No, says Collins. "I am a person
before
> I
> > am
> > > the poet laureate."
> > >
> > > Rather than toiling away in an office in the basement of the White
House
> > > composing birthday poems, his role is to be a literary ambassador,
> > > travelling the country and raising consciousness about the value of
> > poetry.
> > >
> > > Still, being poet laureate is an odd position for Collins because he
> can't
> > > think of any activity that is more private, solitary and deeply
> subjective
> > > than writing poetry. "Poets, as they become published and go out and
> give
> > > readings, move out of that condition of solitude into something like a
> > > public life, and the position of poet laureate is the most public
> extreme
> > > that a poet can achieve. In some unfortunate ways, it pulls you out of
> the
> > > cell of privacy that you tend to write in."
> > >
> > > The scale of the devastation has reduced the idea of fame to rubble -
> for
> > > once, the famous are ordinary. That is the way it should be in a
tragedy
> > of
> > > this magnitude, he says.
> > >
> > > "Maybe some people can say things better or differently than others,
but
> > > there are no experts here. My reactions are not aesthetic or poetic or
> > > professional. They are simply human."
> > >
> > > Tuesday made Collins realize how very different this tragedy was from
> the
> > > Oklahoma bombing. "That was one horrible moment," he says. "This seems
> to
> > be
> > > the beginning of many horrible moments, and I think it makes the
future
> so
> > > unsettled and so strange that it is impossible to walk into this
ongoing
> > > storm of uncertainty and find a position to speak from, let alone to
> write
> > > something."
> > >
> > > Poems -- at least good ones -- do not spring forth fully formed on
> > command.
> > > The creative imagination works away in private, digesting direct and
> > > vicarious experience. For Collins, a poem takes place in "an Emily
> > Dickinson
> > > backyard." It is not a "directly reactive performance to public
events,"
> > he
> > > says, adding that he doesn't "write a poem with a gun to my head" or
> rush
> > > things into print.
> > >
> > > Besides, he feels you can't "really get your arms around" something
this
> > > big, that a poem could get crushed by the sheer weight of the event.
> > "There
> > > is a tremendous lot of bad poetry that has been written about subjects
> > that
> > > are too big for the poem," he says. Poetry has always been a vehicle
to
> > > contain and express grief, but that doesn't mean you need a new poem
> every
> > > time there is a public or private tragedy. People take solace from
> > rereading
> > > old and familiar ones.
> > >
> > > "Poetry is one of the original grief counselling centres," Collins
says.
> > "It
> > > has always been a way of giving form to wailing and to the convulsions
> of
> > > grief and in that sense, it is always relevant because it gives form
to
> > > emotions that are flying out of control."
> > >
> > > Collins has been writing poetry long enough and well enough - he has a
> > stack
> > > of collections including Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and
Selected
> > > Poems, which is being published by Random House this autumn - to know
> that
> > > poetry flourishes in private moments of reflection. Making poetry too
> > > specific is the best way to give it a limited shelf life, he says.
> > >
> > > "There is something basic about any human experience, including this
> one,
> > > but the specifics of this terror are overwhelming. Poetry always has
to
> > find
> > > the private scope, and the events that are being played out this week
> are
> > on
> > > too cosmic and shocking a scale," he says. "You don't read poetry to
> find
> > > out about the poet, you read poetry to find out about yourself."
> > >
> > > Before he retreated to the private spaces that poets inhabit, Collins
> > > reminded me that the late American poet Richard Hugo said, "Never
write
> a
> > > poem about anything that ought to have a poem written about it;"
> Dickinson
> > > said, "Tell the truth but tell it slant;" and W. B. Yeats wrote the
> > > definitive comment about poetry on demand in On being asked for a War
> > Poem.
> > >
> > > I think it better that in times like these
> > > A poet keep his mouth shut, for in truth
> > > We have no gift to set a statesman right;
> > > He has had enough of meddling who can please
> > > A young girl in the indolence of her youth,
> > > Or an old man upon a winter's night.
> > >
> > > Billy Collins will be appearing at the International Festival of
Authors
> > in
> > > Toronto in October...
> > >
> > >
> > > Any comments?
> > >
> > > It seems to say things I feel are true for me right now. I haven't yet
> the
> > > inkling, though it may be the only way I will discover I'm writing
about
> > it,
> > > will be if I am following Emily Dickinson's advice where I "tell the
> > truth,
> > > but tell it slant."
> > >
> > > (True art, I guess, needs anger. So will I feel the same when Wild
West
> > Bush
> > > sticks on his sheriff's badge and goes to get the baddie, Dead Or
Alive?
> I
> > > remember the silence and the subsequent guilt I felt when the Gulf War
> > > happened, and, before that, the Falklands war.)
> > >
> > > Bob
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > From: Bob Cooper
> > > [log in to unmask]
> > >
> > > _________________________________________________________________
> > > Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at
> http://explorer.msn.com/intl.asp
> > >
> > >
>