Julia Lewis
Breaking into the reader’s mind is the beginning of any piece of writing. It might be as violent as a rock through a window or as subtle as habituation to an alarm clock. The form of writing that specializes in breaking is poetry. At least, that is what I, a poet, would like to argue. In this essay, I’m going to talk generally about the role of breaking in poetry and specifically about my own breaking problem.
Poetry is a study in the art of breaking at several levels. Words are cut at their joints to make the prescribed syllable counts in forms such as haiku. Other times, words are spliced into one another, my favorite example of poetic license. (Do you know what a syllaship is?) Line breaks complicate meaning at the sentence level- raising the question is a sentence equal in meaning to the phrases set together in a line? More dramatically, what happens when a sentence is stretched over two stanzas? Breaking creates the fearful space in a poem, the not entirely empty white page. The way words and phrases in poetry break away from the reader is probably why poetry is so difficult to read. Poems are unstable beneath the reader’s eye. In his poem, Introduction to Poetry, Billy Collins addresses readers’ desire for stability in poetry.
“But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.”