17.iii.07 b: Gardens and Words

A word is a symbol of something --
a thing, a feeling, an abstraction of quality

A garden is also a symbol -- both the garden and the word
are products of the mind

A garden exists only in the mind
in the world outside the mind
there is only the plant, the ground, the water:
that they are in some sort of order
is no surprise but adventitious --
in the grand scheme of things many ordering schemes
are possible, and if an animal species
is involved, well -- whatever works.

Tomatoes have done well our of the bargain.
To have a place to flourish free of competition
and produce numerous offspring -- from the perspective
of the species this latter is the primary desideratum.

It's true that other species have been reduced in number,
but if we can believe the fossil records
this is not unheard of
and in fact the process of selection
relies upon attrition at some level.

Those of us who love words hope for their survival.
I mourn particularly the second person familiar, "thou".

Commentary:

Formally, this is an example of the sort of "poetry" to which one is often exposed at open readings.

What can be said about this piece that would qualify it as "poetry"?

Well, it's divided into lines. So it is not prose. Therefore, it must be poetry!

I'm not convinced by that argument. If this is poetry, it must justify its existence as such. Poetry typically builds on some sort of general pattern. What is the pattern here?

Well, we have an assertion (line 1) followed by three examples (line two)
a linked assertion with a condition (line 3b, line 4) and amplification (lines 5, 6) and then three examples (line 7) and then something of a conclusion (lines 8-12). An example is then given of the material of the conclusion (tomatoes, specifically: line 13), which is then abstracted into a principle (lines 14-16). A response to a possible objection to the application of this principle is given in lines 17-18, and then abstracted itself into a principle (lines 19-20).

Finally, a link is made to the first assertion about words, but through a new assertion (line 21), and an example given (line 22).

The pattern, then, is a rather loosely constructed logical argument.

The material of the argument: words, feelings, gardens, mind, ground, water, order, and finally "thou" could all be the stuff of poetry, but I think here we have only nominally, superficially, the appearance of poetry.

Yet the meditation here is not unpoetic. For surely, poetry is concerned with the way the mind and the world of matter interact. This passage (I hesitate to say "poem" at this stage, for it has not yet to my satisfaction been established as such) explores matters that could work perfectly well in a poem. But for my money -- and I wrote the darn thing, so surely I might have some say in its classification -- this is not a poem per se.

I include it here, first, as an opportunity to discuss the boundaries of poetry -- how far can one stray from fixed meter and rhyme before one is outside of the bounds of poetry? -- and second, as an offering to those whose definition of poetry permits such a piece as this. Obviously, I do occasionally write such things.

I generally write them in essay form, however.