Words

In the reading for Tuesday's class, Kennedy & Gioia have the plum and icebox poem by William Carlos Williams that we read at the beginning of the semester in the chapter on words. Their commentary on "This Is Just to Say"--"Some readers distrust a poem so simple and candid. They think, 'What's wrong with me? There has to be more to it than this!' But poems seldom are puzzles in need of solutions. We can begin by accepting the poet's statements, without suspecting the poet of trying to hoodwink us." So far, I've had that reaction to some of Collins' poems. They are very straightforward and accessible...and I find myself asking, "Am I missing something?"

What makes Collins work so clear? In terms of syntax: he often writes in complete sentences that are enjambed; still, the poems read like prose. Collins uses standard punctuation, closes all his stanzas, and capitalizes with consistency. He frequently uses the pronoun "I," which makes many of his poems seem like they are journal entries that he jotted down without any obsession with including complex imagery or deep metaphors. In terms of diction, Collins uses everyday words. When he creates specific imagery, he uses colloquial (think "curlicued") rather than academic descriptive words. Collins seldom uses similes/metaphors/allusions in his poetry, and when he does allude to something, it is something commonplace (like a reference to the book "All the King's Men") not something overly academic or literary. Most of the titles of his poems are simple as well, focusing on everyday events: "On Turning Ten," "Tuesday, June 4, 1991," and "Monday Morning." It is clear that Collins' intention is to pen poetry that an average adult can read and enjoy.

Here's a poem-- "Thesaurus"--that I think exemplifies Collins general style. He takes something that is traditionally considered in the realm of the literary and turns it into a very concrete object that seems warm and friendly. While words like "astereognosis" might be in the poem, they appear as the oddity.

It could be the name of a prehistoric beast
that roamed the Paleozoic earth, rising up
on its hind legs to show off its large vocabulary,
or some lover in a myth who is metamorphosed into a book.

It means treasury, but it is just a place
where words congregate with their relatives,
a big park where hundreds of family reunions
are always being held,
house, home, abode, dwelling, lodgings, and digs,
all sharing the same picnic basket and thermos;
hairy, hirsute, woolly, furry, fleecy, and shaggy
all running a sack race or throwing horseshoes,
inert, static, motionless, fixed and immobile
standing and kneeling in rows for a group photograph.

Here father is next to sire and brother close
to sibling, separated only by fine shades of meaning.
And every group has its odd cousin, the one
who traveled the farthest to be here:
astereognosis, polydipsia, or some eleven
syllable, unpronounceable substitute for the word tool.
Even their own relatives have to squint at their name tags.

I can see my own copy up on a high shelf.
I rarely open it, because I know there is no
such thing as a synonym and because I get nervous
around people who always assemble with their own kind,
forming clubs and nailing signs to closed front doors
while others huddle alone in the dark streets.

I would rather see words out on their own, away
from their families and the warehouse of Roget,
wandering the world where they sometimes fall
in love with a completely different word.
Surely, you have seen pairs of them standing forever
next to each other on the same line inside a poem,
a small chapel where weddings like these,
between perfect strangers, can take place.

The lines in the second stanza that describe a thesaurus as "a place where words congregate with their relatives, a big park where hundreds of family reunions are always being held" demonstrates Collins' knack for giving something inanimate lively qualities...he turns a thesaurus into something friendly. Collins compares pairs of words to a bride and groom inside a chapel; this is a good example of his use of familiar, everyday imagery. Additionally, in the fourth stanza, Collins references himself--something that he does frequently. With the first-person reference, he creates a strong rapport with the reader. By saying that he seldom uses his copy of the thesaurus, Collins paints himself as a common man, not an erudite poet.