And out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof.

There are many ways to settle in to a new place. One is to give them names of one’s own. Inspired by parodies giving alternate names to tube stations in London, I have produced a map whose stations take into account the poetic landscape. This is not intended to be the poet’s tube map, but rather a poet’s tube map–mine, representing my own thoughts and experiences at the intersection between London and the lyre.

Click to view the map.

Yet rejection is a natural and necessary (albeit sometimes painful) part of the writing business. Asking what you can get out of the experience is just plain smart. So, in that spirit, I have done my best to serve up fairly simple, practical advice with a dash of humor and a healthy side of encouragement.

I hope you enjoy it!

Care to help me out? You don’t have to know a thing about poetry to participate. For each title in bold, simply click “poetry” if you think it sounds like the title of a poetry book, or “prose” if you think it sounds like a prose book’s title.

Ready? Here we go.

Are the following book titles prose or poetry?

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The results you see after clicking an answer, above, are the tally of votes. Here are the answers as to which book is which:

Poetry

Best-Selling Jewish Porn Films by Wayne Koestenbaum
Carnivorous Boy, Carnivorous Bird edited by Anna Skucińska
The Anger Scale by Katie Degentesh
The Myth of the Simple Machines by Laurel Snyder

Prose

A Short History of Tractors in Ukranian by Marina Lewycka
Fast Beauty by Rona Berg
How to Survive a Robot Uprising by Daniel H. Wilson
People Who Don’t Know They’re Dead by Gary Leon Hill
Pocket Guide to Emergency Bicycle Repair by Ron Cordes
The Essential Beginner’s Guide To Raising Swans by Andrew Gray (e-book)

How did you do? Any surprises about which books were which? Any surprises about the poll results, above?

Related Post:

The Death of Loftiness in Poetry (an analysis of this poll)

Owing to its frequency, it gets old. But apart from that, the response also intrigues me. It is different than the response comedians complain about, where, upon learning of their peculiar profession, new acquaintances will fold their arms and scowl, “Oh yeah? Then say something funny.” Instead, the “you should write…” remark is approving, a kind of conspiratorial wink-and-nudge. It is as if, through our conversation, they have stumbled momentarily in to the head-space where I, as a poet, must constantly reside–a land tinkling with musical profundity and linguistic charm. Alas, that ain’t always where I’m at.

Yet this reflex exclamation indicates some interesting points about the universality of poetry. First is that people from all walks of life seem to have a poetry alarm inside their brain. They recognize linguistic pleasure, interest, curiosity, or creative drive–whatever it is that causes them to want me to expound upon this experience for them, increasing the siren’s sound. Second is that they assume I could, nay should, do such a thing. In fact, taking up a single theme, and especially a clever one, is typically at best a point of departure in my writing process–and someone suggesting that I write about this or that specifically can feel as inhibiting as demanding that a comedian “be funny” on the spot.

For all these reasons, I want to fire back, “No, actually, you should write a poem about it. You thought of it. You recognized its potential. Have at it! All yours.” Instead, I smile–first at what a revelation this, my four-hundredth hearing of this phrase, seems to them. But what is even more amusing, and strange, is that this is only the second most common phrase I hear when people discover that I write poetry. The first is, of course, “I don’t really get poetry,” or one of its variants, like, “When it comes to contemporary poetry, how do you really know what is good or bad anymore?”

And so, the paradox: the same people who claim to not understand the subjectivity of contemporary poetry, when confronted with a living poet and some lively conversation, have their own poetic urges piqued, and, on impulse, project the responsibility for carrying out this burst of inspiration upon the official, sanctioned poet before them. It seems that the average person’s relationship to word-art is both inherent and foreign, immediate and distant, at once as intimate as their own deep thoughts, and a strange high altar mere mortals dare not approach.

How have we been so duped into rejecting our own instincts when it comes to art? Writing poetry, to me, is as strange as being alive, and as natural. Perhaps the only difference between me and those who believe that someone else, someone somehow qualified, should follow their own unusual inklings toward poetry–is that I have made it a habit of listening, and following, the alarm bells in my brain.

• Receiving two rejection slips on the same day.
• Being asked to participate in a stimulating round-table discussion about the art of words for a local lifestyle magazine with a travel writer and a painter who incorporates words into her work. (Fascinating people!)
• Having three poems appear online.
• Giving a local reading to a highly receptive, standing-room-only crowd.
• Getting a request to conduct a poetry workshop for local teens. (Sadly, I had to decline.)
• Getting a request from someone organizing a conference on immigration and human rights at a respected law school, who wants to print my poem, “Road Sign on Interstate 5″, on the back of the program. (“Yes, of course!”)
• Having a conversation with a reporter for a fascinating new segment on KFCC about how technology shapes our lives. We spoke about the relationship between poetry and new media. (I’m not sure where it will go in terms of the radio show, but it was a fun conversation.)
• Being asked to respond to questions by email for an alumni magazine article [an article for Poets & Writers] about Marvin Bell, one of my MFA mentors.
• Significantly revising my manuscript this weekend to send out to first book competitions.

Phew! Time to get back to my day job, so I can get some rest.

When frames were in vogue,
my address bar remained constant.
When full-page graphics were in,
you could see my big head for miles.
I never used a black background,
I made trendiness my enemy.
When blogs were in fashion,
my thoughts became chronological.
I do not own an island in Second Life,
I make imagination my island.
When no-one hits my website,
detachment is my unique visitor.

Thank you, Doctor Fry.