I’ve been thinking a lot about poetry’s health lately. Too often I feel it’s the wallflower in book review sections, never mind in people’s lives. Who really cares about the art we’re so passionate about? We know it can change lives, but does anyone else?

I feel better after reading this wonderful piece by Charles Simic, the former US poet laureate. He’s right – there’s poetry happening everywhere: on the web, in universities, and even in bars. In my home town, Ottawa, Canada, we have the Tree Reading Series, one of Canada’s oldest, plus a host of others, all surprisingly well-attended. See ByWords’ Calendar of Literary Events.

What gives me real heart is an In/Words reading I attended recently. In/Words (on Facebook) is traditionally aimed at the university crowd, and even though it was a rainy summer night the place was full of young people. Despite all predictions of the death of poetry, poetry is still hot.

But it’s growing and changing too. There’s wonderful visual poetry: see derek beaulieu and Amanda Earl’s new work (which I love).

And there’s also a new stream marrying word and image interactively online. Take a look at J. R. Carpenter’s webpage, Lucky Soap, especially Entre Ville (click on the windows). She’s one of my heroes. After seeing her present her work last March at Carleton University, I went home and wrote the following:

Illuminated

for J. R. Carpenter

The ancient monks did it, dipping
quills into colours that still glow
around the edges of their words
angels hovering above
townspeople in their markets
a baby here, a donkey carrying
bread on the next golden
page. Even the first letter
of a poem could be a serpent
unto itself, coiled with the gleam
of mis-spent life, a warning
to readers of what lies
ahead. Ah, but these pictures
were for the ignorant
a friend says, images to carry
where words can’t. No
matter. The two together
are lovelier
than this page.

As you can see by looking ahead to the final version below, this poem didn’t require a huge edit. It’s one of those rare ‘gift’ poems, where many images came out fully formed. Other images, however, did require more visualization. I didn’t want the angels to just hover over the townspeople but there wasn’t space in this poem for too much detail. So, after several attempts, I settled on a single, tight phrase, one that allows readers to supply their own wings. A couple of drafts laid cucumbers and cabbages on the market stalls but they were obtrusive and got cut in favour of the simplicity of the patron who was always pictured being generous.

These changes were made on posting day; an older version of this poem can be seen on the Tree Reading Series website, as I gave it as a sample of my work for my reading as part of the Hot Ottawa Voices. But in my poems, change is a constant. I love editing poetry.

One last note: I deliberately left the word ‘No’ as a line ending. I wanted to refute the reason my friend gave for illuminated manuscripts, even though I know she’s technically correct (I still like to think the monks were having fun). By leaving ‘No’ hanging there, readers hear it before they continue on to my real use. I learned this trick from an online critique (sadly before I knew to save links). There is so much to learn from reading what others see in great poetry – check out Arc Poetry Magazine’s How Poems Work.

Here’s the (current) final version.

Illuminated

for J. R. Carpenter

The ancient monks did it, dipping
quills into colours that still
glow around the edges
of their words, angels hovering
wing-spread above townspeople
in their markets, a king’s
purpled horse prancing
by a wailing child, coin flashing
while a donkey carries
bread on the next golden
page. Even the first letter
of a poem could be a serpent
unto itself, coiled with the gleam
of mis-spent life, a warning
to readers of what lies
ahead. Ah, but those pictures
were for the ignorant,
a friend says, images to carry
what words couldn’t. No
matter. The two together
are lovelier than this page.