The Geometry of Poetry
For more information on this week's poet, Rita Dove, see the following links:
http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/185
http://www.people.virginia.edu/~rfd4b/
Geometry
I prove a theorem and the house expands:
the windows jerk free to hover near the ceiling,
the ceiling floats away with a sigh.
As the walls clear themselves of everything
but transparency, the scent of carnations
leaves with them. I am out in the open
and above the windows have hinged into butterflies,
sunlight glinting where they've intersected.
They are going to some point true and unproven.
posted by B. Ryan | 1/30/2006 03:52:00 PM
3 Comments:
I almost feel like I should have titled this post "The Architecture of Poetry." When I read Dove's poem, I get the sense that the technique of writing is as precise and exact as math, and that the act of writing is akin to building a house, from the blueprints to the construction to the interior decorating.
Writing, to me, is all about finding the exact words from many possibilities to achieve the end product. From what I remember of high school math (which is very, very little), this is similar to what it takes to prove a theorem. If I am completely wrong on this, forgive my math-challenged brain.
Anyway, Dove has chosen her words so carefully. There is nothing excessive, nothing out of place. That is what I admire about this poem. I also particularly like her choice to end the second stanza with the word "open." The space that follows reinforces the meaning.
For more on perceptions of space, houses, etc., check out French philosopher Gaston Bachelard's "The Poetics of Space." It is one of my favorite books.
I think that Dove does something interesting here, by having the construction of the poem be the dismantling of a house. The creation of the poem is, in a sense, the creation of space.
I really like the imagery in this poem. It is surreal and bright. I also find Dove's emphasis on the beauty and allure of the unproven particularly attractive. It helped me reflect on my educational upbringing in ways I usually do not think to do.
Science is like a wonderful addiction. With mathematics as its vehicle, science rewards the examiner with the thrill of finding answers - and more often than not - with the thrill of unveiling more questions. Dove encourages a step back from the process of proof and discovery in order to appreciate, what seems to me, the sacred backdrop of uncharted imagination; a context that should never be removed from the examiner's perspective. This theme is similar to Tagore's warning in the third stanza of Ask the Possible... "A mind all logic is like a knife all blade./It makes the hand bleed that uses it."
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