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Unit poetry

This is an animated example of a 'unit poem:' written as if by typewriter and then destroyed by an explosion. It takes a short time to load.

Unit form is a very rigorous and demanding form in concrete poetry. It uses a completely new organizing principle which allows the poem to be shaped exactly. The 'units' are letters, punctuation marks and spaces. By exercising complete control over the number of units in each line, the poem can be shaped exactly. The poem 'Collision' has an augmented half and a diminished half. In the augmented half, the lines increase by 3 units from line to line. So, there are 45 units (letters+punctuation marks+spaces) in the first line, 48 units in the second and 51 in the third. In the diminished half, the lines decrease by 3 units from line to line.

Unit poetry needs a font which, like the typewriter, doesn't use proportional spacing - spacing where the characters have variable width. The font used in 'Collision' is a monospaced font, Courier New. The poems in this form were composed on graph paper, initially.

This is the poem in static form, which allows the shape and construction of the poem to be appreciated more easily:

Unit poetry gives the maximum contrast between text and the white space which surrounds the text. The white space between words is the absolute minimum. As a result, the impact of the text is increased. Other forms of concrete poetry usually give shape to the poem by increasing the space between words - in other words, by allowing more white space into the text. This may decrease the impact of the text.

Aerial bombardment is, of course, an overwhelmingly important issue. See, for further information - and insights:

Ian Patterson, 'Guernica and total war.' Reviewed by Christopher Silvester on the page:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/arts/main.jhtml?xml=/arts/2007/04/15/bopat14.xml

W G Sebald, 'On the natural history of destruction.'

This in another poem in unit form, Level Crossing:

The poem is about a car which is hit by a train and converted into a block of scrap metal. The poem is a block itself, and symmetrical. Each line is exactly 43 units long. I'm conscious that this poem, in Keats's phrase, doesn't make "all disagreeables evaporate." A poet's work as a whole should have this effect. It need not be so in every single poem. A single poem can show untransformed horror, can express an unrelievedly bleak vision. Besides, the repulsive content of the poem is not all. It's in tension with the serene and harmonious shape of the poem.

I'm aware of Cesar Vallejo's words in Poem XXVI of 'Trilce:'


Rehusad, y vosotros, aposar las plantas
en la seguridad dupla de la Armonia.
Rehusad la simetria a buen seguro.

Refuse to place your footsteps
in the double security of Harmony.
Refuse to allow symmetry to
make you sure
.

but in my 'symmetrical' poems' I'm doing something unexpected and, I think, well worth doing: using serene, symmetrical shapes in tension with disharmonious content. Mathematicians and scientists take an interest in symmetry. I think poets can take some interest in symmetry too, as an instance of pattern. There's the maximum of tension between the harmonious shape and the bleak and discordant content. This is an aspect of what I call tensile art. In general, in the face of opposites, poetry which is distinctively modern will not reject one of them but will tend to affirm both, often precariously, with great tension. The poets of the past who seem most modern to us have done exactly this: Catullus, for example, with his 'Odi et amo,' 'I hate and love.'

'Collision' in its animated form could be considered as a contribution to 'Kinetic Art,' art involving movement, which had its genesis in the Futurist Manifestos of 1909, 1910 and 1912. "In Kinetic Art the composition is not given all at once." (C. Barrett, 'Kinetic Art' in 'Concepts of Modern Art,' edited by Nikos Stangos.) The repeated construction and destruction in these animated works are intended to illustrate Nietzsche's idea of 'the eternal recurrence,' the idea that all events, the worst and most terrible as well as the best, are repeated endlessly. "The idea of eternal recurrence, the highest formula of affirmation that can possibly be attained" (Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, 'Thus Spoke Zarathustra 1) is stated in other places in Nietzsche's writings, for example, 'Beyond Good and Evil,' Section 56 and various sections of 'Thus Spoke Zarathustra' itself. I don't accept the idea of the eternal recurrence for one moment - who could? - but the idea is interesting, as the most radical of all affirmations.

The next unit poem is even more exacting in its form than the previous poems.

It's a poem in centred rhyme, the first line rhyming with the last, the second line rhyming with the penultimate, and so on. The first line has exactly the same number of units - characters, punctuation marks and spaces- as the last (15) the second, which is longer, has exactly the same number of units as the next to the last (21) and so on. The lines are linked by sound, linked by length and linked by completion - the later line completes the earlier. The symmetrical poem expands and then contracts - the lines are augmented and diminished.

The poem is fictional: it doesn't refer to any experiences of my own. If a prose writer uses 'I' it's recognized that the reference may be fictional or non-fictional and no insincerity is intended if the reference is fictional. It has come to be assumed that if 'I' is used in poetry, the writer is referring to his or her own experiences, thoughts, feelings.

The poem is 'nested,' there are brackets within brackets within brackets, so it will give an impression of dislocation when it's spoken. (For a discussion of parentheses in poetry see 'But I digress: the exploitation of parentheses in English printed verse' by John Lennard, 1991.) On the other hand, the poem on the page will give an impression of harmonious, rational procedure. Here, the poem on the page and the spoken poem are very different in kind.

So, the poem on the page and the spoken poem are linked but are also contrasted. Elements which are linked will contrast with elements which are unlinked. Two elements which are linked may also, as in this case, contrast with each other.

The fact that life can contain such extreme contrasts, that the harsh and the repulsive are contrasted with overwhelming happiness, I express in another poem in free verse, one which is not in concrete form:

Your life,
full
of chance and finalities,
can have the smiling assurance of
something which never thinks before it acts.
Nature accompanies wars and killings,
i
ts own hidden or hyper-dramatic killings,
with snow settling, winds blowing,
t
he sun rising or setting with such simplicity
on such carnage.
Be happy, be contented, be unsatisfied, be many.
Feel the ecstasy of the hunter,
t
he terror of the hunted,
t
he anger of the one who acts to stop the killing,
b
ut of course, so rarely can.

My view is far removed from Nietzsche's. I regard Nietzsche as almost a low-tension thinker. Tension is used as a technical term in Linkage Theory (please see the General Glossary.) A low-tension thinker can't keep opposed ideas in consciousness simultaneously, but has to emphasize one whilst denying others. There's a low-tension view which cannot come to terms with the shocking aspects of reality but instead distorts reality by, for example, sentimentalizing it. Nietzsche was anything but a sentimentalist yet he could do justice to the wonder of life. He could keep the two ideas in consciousness at once, the harshness of reality and its wonder. However, he refused to acknowledge one more strand which can't be wished away without distorting reality, or so I claim: active humanitarianism, the urge to reduce suffering, to improve the world, an attempt which will often be frustrated ("...the anger of the one who acts to stop the killing,/but of course, so rarely can") but which is not always frustrated, an attempt which is difficult and sometimes impossible but absolutely essential. This is a high-tension view.

Axis poetry

Please click here for an example of axis poetry. There's a vertical axis and the poem is divided, approximately, into two halves. The poem is read 'along' the line, preferably by two readers (the rhymes of the two halves are 'along,' horizontal) but the grammatical sense is vertical, 'down' each of the two columns. The diction of each half is straightforward, but the reading breaks up the poem, making the diction less straightforward. There are changes in syntax and punctuation which increase the contrast between the two halves of the poem, for example, 'still' in the half-line 'still and distant' is different, grammatically, from the 'still' in the half-line next to it, 'still, distant.' Although the diction is unexceptional - 'milky' applied to light and to ice, for example - I'd claim that the plain and simple wording is transformed by putting the words and phrases in the two halves of the poem in close proximity.

There's a linkage between graphic design and axis poetry, since the technique affects the appearance of the poem on the page. As in the case of other formal innovations, form should not be considered in isolation from content. Intense emotion, the force of the content, can almost compel the adoption of a form, such as the sonnet. Later, I use poetry by Shakespeare to illustrate the argument.

The layout of things far removed from poetry underlies the axis form. Consider a simple set of mathematical equations and the way in which the equations are laid out on the page, or a set of linkage statements in the notation I've devised and the way in which these linkage statements are laid out on the page, the linkage brackets <> in a vertical line. The contents and linkage brackets are left blank in this illustrative example.

a = c - b
b = 2
c = 4
a = - 2

[ ] <> [ ]
[ ] <> [ ]
[ ] <> [ ]

Lines of poetry can be laid out on the page in a similar way. Each line has a linkage of some sort in the centre, a left side of the line and a right side of the line. The linkages in the centre, laid out in an imaginary vertical line, are the axis of the poem. The poem is divided into approximately two halves, left and right. (Centred rhyme - see the page concerned with 'linkage by sound can also be considered as a form of axis poetry, although in this case there is a horizontal axis and the two halves of the poem are upper and lower.) Although the meaning of axis here is completely clear and straightforward, it's worth including here a dictionary definition of axis: 'a real or imaginary line ... about which an object, form, composition, or geometrical construction is symmetrical.' (In centred rhyme, there is an axis too, but the axis is horizontal, not vertical.) Since axis poetry gives shape to the poem on the page, it's most conveniently classified as a form of concrete poetry.

What linkages may there be along the vertical axis? There are various possibilities. These are only a few:

A space generally shows the position of the vertical axis. The organizing principle which links the left side of the line and the right side of the line and which is, as it were, placed in the space, may be no more than a pause, the space being the visual counterpart of the pause. This is a diversification of the caesura. The caesura is generally applied in an informal way, the space in centred poetry is applied in a systematic way, and is presented in a systematic way on the page. The result is a series of split lines. James Dickey employed split lines in his poetry, sometimes with one space in the line, sometimes with more than one, presenting the spaces unsystematically, without a vertical axis. An excerpt from James Dickey's 'The Firebombing:'

Slants   is woven with wire thread
Levels out holds together like a quilt Off the starboard wing cloud flickers

Another organizing principle is faulting. The linkage is with the geological process called faulting in which layers of rock, subjected to pressure, fracture and move along a fault plane. In faulted poetry, the vertical axis is the fault plane, the lines of poetry are the strata- and the emotional force of the poet is the physical pressure applied to the material. Faulting has been employed - not so much under a different name but not under any name - by various poets. I see it as important because it opens up the interior of the poem - see the entry under 'zoning' in the Glossary of Literary Linkage Terms.

Another is equality, the linkage being with the equals sign in equations like the ones above. There can't, of course, be strict equality. Mathematically, equality may indicate that the expressions on either side of the sign have the same reference. This can be implemented in lines of poetry, the left side of the line having the same reference as the right side of the line.

The space may simply indicate a boundary, as in the example of an axis poem reachable by a text link from the page on Composite poetry. This poem, 'Derwentwater: Summer and Winter,' is for two voices and the space shows the boundary between the two voices, voice 1 on the left and voice 2 on the right.

Other organizing principles are conjunction and disjunction. Disjunction - disconnection or separation - is suited to many different contents: opposing views, sharply contrasted views, but also a dialogue between different minds, of the kind found in Yeats' 'A Dialogue of Self and Soul,' or Yeats' 'Ego Dominus Tuus,' although the form generally demands more succinct statements than in either of these. Like the other organizing principles, disjunction can lead to poetry which transcends the organizing principle, to a poetry which is not at all abstract. If there should be any doubt about this, consider this very clear and, in fact, systematic example of disjunction, even if the disjunction isn't shown along a vertical axis, from Shakespeare:

CRABBED Age and Youth
Cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather,
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare;
Youth is full of sport,
Age's breath is short,
Youth is nimble, Age is lame;
Youth is hot and bold,
Age is weak and cold,
Youth is wild, and Age is tame:—
Age, I do abhor thee;
Youth, I do adore thee:
O! my Love, my Love is young!
Age, I do defy thee—
O sweet shepherd, hie thee,
For methinks thou stay'st too long.

Setting out a few lines as centred poetry, along an axis:

Youth is full of pleasance   Age is full of care
Youth like summer morn       Age like winter weather
Youth like summer brave      Age like winter bare


Transept poetry

In transept poetry (the name is a provisional one) there's a very pronounced contrast between the vertical axis of the poem and the horizontal axis, or axes. Short, or very short, lines make up the vertical axis and longer, or much longer, lines make up the horizontal axis. The linkage is with the transepts of a church - the wings of a cruciform church at right angles to the nave. Suppose you are in a church with a very long, narrow nave and at the end of the nave, furthest from the transepts. Walking along the nave gives a feeling of spatial constriction but, when the transepts are reached, the feeling of spatial opening. The feeling is well expressed by Nikolaus Pevsner, in his entry for the interior of Ely Cathedral in 'The Buildings of England: Cambridgeshire.' The reference is to the Octagon, which is 'a delight from beginning to end for anyone who feels for space as strongly as for construction. For the basic emotion created by the Octagon as one approaches it along the nave is one of spaciousness, a relief, a deep breath after the oppressive narrowness of the Norman work'

Now consider a poem in the shape of an inverted cross, a long, narrow vertical axis made up of very short lines, and, close to the base of the poem, a couple of much longer lines, the horizontal axis, and then the continuation of the vertical axis. Even though the poem will necessarily be small in extent, contrasts in the 'architectural space' of the poem will have an impact, particularly if the style and, perhaps, subject matter of the vertical and horizontal axes also show marked contrasts: a much looser and more relaxed style - perhaps prose - in the horizontal axis. There will be a feeling of space expanding, an opening out, as the reader 'travels' from the vertical to the horizontal axis. Transept poetry, then, can provide new spatial experiences in poetry, spatial surprises, new vistas.

Obviously, there are other possible placings for the horizontal axis, the longer line or lines. It may be placed at the base of the poem, so that the poem ends with the long horizontal axis and the vertical axis is not resumed. It may, on the other hand, be placed at the top of the poem, so that the shape of the poem is a 'T.' There may be two (or more) horizontal axes: ± If a less dramatic contrast is required, the horizontal axes may be shortened, so that there is less contrast between horizontal and vertical axis: ‡

The poetry I've written in this form is particularly bleak - t's not included here - but bleak subject matter isn't an inevitable requirement in transept poetry.

Colour effects

I've written concrete poetry in forms other than unit and axis poem. I give just one example here, 'Winter Night.' Please click here to see this poem. The winter night is suggested by the use of Aerial black type. The poem is discussed in the page on Linkage by Meaning.

In conclusion

Concrete poetry - or pictorial poetry - is the epitome of the poem on the page. The poet shapes the poetic material in a literal sense and is a designer as well as a writer. This is a branch of poetry which should be revalued. Here, contemporary poetry is closest to contemporary visual art. I would speak of establishing a linkage between a poem and visual art. Pictorial poetry need not be representational. It's a way of ordering words in space so as to make a significant boundary or a significant texture on the page or a larger surface, such as the wall of an art gallery.

 

 

 

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