Schrödinger's poem
A semantic meaning is crafted within a poetic structure,
along with the following device (which must be secured
against direct interference by the meaning): in the final
strophe, there is a self-referential contradiction, so
insignificant that perhaps in the course of a reading, one
of its implications has a subtle impact, but also, with equal
probability, perhaps it does not; if recognition occurs, the
device reverses the previous thrust of the poem, and
through an irreconcilable paradox releases an epiphany
that wavers on the cusp of irrational chaos. If one opens
this poem to the vagaries of a reading public, one would
say that its meaning is still coherent if meanwhile the
contradiction has gone undetected. The poetics of the
entire structure would confuse this, however, by having
within itself both a coherent and an incoherent meaning,
each of which potentially express themselves as entirely
separate manifestations of the poem, while at the same
time, in their juxtaposition, creating a third implication
which is entirely beyond the scope of language or rational
thought.
It is typical of these poems that an indeterminancy
originally restricted to the polysemic domain becomes
transformed into literary indeterminacy, which can then be
isolated and reproved via close reading. That invites us to
discursively reject as invalid a "blurred poetics" as being
devoid of meaningful content. In itself, however, this poem
would not embody anything unclear or meaningless, for
each reading contains within itself a logical structure
geared toward a given end. Hence, there is a difference
between a shaky or out-of-focus poem and a poetic
device which creates an invigorating mind-fuck. The
question remains: is such a practice meaningful, and if
so, what is the meaning of meaning?
MEANING
At first this sounded like the dribble from the pen of whoever edits the boring poems in the New Yorker (my favotire magazine, except for its usually lame poetry). Then, I thought, yeah, it's an invigorating midfuck. The meaning IS the meaning. When the reader gets a differnt meaning than the poet intended, it's just as meaningful. Perception is in the eye of the perceiver. Anyway, we poets know that nobody really understands us.
David Allen
Okinawa, Japan
well, Schrödinger's cat was
well, Schrödinger's cat was never a real cat, and this is clearly not a poem, let alone a high-fallutin' New Yorker poem. More of a proposition that I was never able to make into a clearly self-demonstrating proposition. As far as lame poetry goes, I've never understood why mags like the New Yorker or Atlantic Monthly completely disregard anything with a sense of poetic adventure. So, I never read poetry in the New Yorker. And the Atlantic Monthly was always best for its letters to the editor. There's better places to find good poetry.