. . . I was a teenager working in a paint store & got caught huffing Nitrous Oxide. (We actually did this.) Must be feeling guilty about the mild euphorias of opioid pain medications.
Just before waking this morning, I dreamed I had moved back into the old house and furnished my childhood room with the turret as a studio. My first creative writing teacher Tom Brush was there and suggested that I rent the place out when I wasn’t in residence — apparently I still had a teaching job and would only be in Santa Cruz part of the year. I was saying I’d want to be very exclusive and limit the rentals to people I knew and trusted. I could tell Tom was a little envious. This is another dream about repossessing my childhood, I think.
I’m still getting my bearings in this discussion so I’m going to indulge in just a bit more terminological meandering before I get down to looking at some actual poems.
In Kenneth Burke’s The Philosophy of Literary Form, there is an otherwise unremarkable essay on using Freud as a guide to interpreting poetry, in which Burke deploys three terms, each naming an aspect of a poetic text on which the critic might want to focus. By implication, it’s possible to suggest that different poets might display more interest in one or another of these aspects, or modes.
Burke writes that the critic can look at the dream, the prayer, and the chart aspects of any particular poem. Dream corresponds roughly to the Freudian unconscious presented more or less raw. In my earlier discussion of amateur and professional poets, the amateurs would exhibit a predominance of dream discourse: self-expression. In Burke’s telling, prayer stands for the desire to communicate and brings in technique: rhetoric, rhyme, meter, all the canons of “professionalism” I was talking about earlier. In prayer, then, the poet turns toward the audience. Chart is the term Burke develops the least in this system and I’m not quite sure what to make of it. I had assumed, based on my previous reading of this essay (years ago), that the chart aspect of the poem embodied the reality-testing function, that it aspired to describe states of affairs; but going back to the essay yesterday, it appears that Burke may have something more linguistic in mind: “As to the poem as chart: the Freudian emphasis upon the pun brings it about that something can only be in so far as it is something else. But aside from ambiguities, there is also a statement’s value as being exactly what it is. Perhaps we would best indicate what we mean by speaking of the poem as char if we called it the poet’s contribution to an informal dictionary. Burke goes on to describe what has been variously called by others the poet’s personal “mythmaking,” or perhaps even the poet’s “voice.” It ammounts to the creation of an idiosyncratic constellation of meanings more or less unique to a particular poet–his or her “vision” of the world, if you will.
In writing this up just now I began to wonder whether Burke’s terms can be mapped onto Seth Abramson’s pragmatic, syntactic, and cognitive-symantic types of poetry. On second thought, I’m not sure that the exercise would lead anywhere productive.
Note: Cross-posted to The Plumbline School. Please comment there.