There will probably always be a conflict between obscurantism and populism in American poetry. The more obscure poets can in some cases claim inheritance from modernism. Their poems are toppled columns of a former empire. More reader-friendly poetry has a long tradition in the twentieth century that continued unabated directly beneath the grand experiments of modernism. There are those who still prefer the poetry of Rudyard Kipling to anything written after. If poetry has fallen out of favor with the general public, at least to the extent that it held with poets like Edwin Arlington Robinson or Walt Whitman, it is generally because of its purported difficulty. “I don’t get poetry” is a refrain often asserted even by avid readers. In the conflict between obscurantism and populism, populism would seem the way to the hearts of the many.

ERNEST HILBERT:  Contemporary Poetry Review

[…] it is the case that poetry lists are show horses. One would never yoke them to draw plow through field. In other words, they are kept. They must be subsidized. If not, publishers look immediately to them when mulling over poor annual returns. A recent example is Oxford University Press, which made the controversial decision to unload its poetry list for financial reasons. Not only did the list fail to make a profit, it was a white elephant. The ensuing clamor produced certain facts both instructional and a little obscene to the public. Jon Stallworthy, the very image of a literary gentleman, pointed out during the fray that such poets as Gerard Manley Hopkins failed to sire a great deal of profit for many years but are now canonical (thus very profitable to the farsighted editor). On the other hand, it became public knowledge that some of the poets on the Oxford Poets series had sold fewer than ten copies of their books. This was embarrassing for all involved.

  Ernest Hilbert at Contemporary Poetry Review

Rumors of White Supremacy.
In that row, your column’s number…
Coining new terms in secrecy:
“Boing” (boring minus R) is dumber.

Coiled, then boing like a prompted spring,
Primitive poetic action;
Apes with crayons, coloring;
Hooting in dissatisfaction.

Leaves leave a taste like baseless fears,
Primitive prompts in lyric night.
BOING!  The Jack-in-the-Box appears—
Laughing at your illiberal fright…

PROMPT #6 :  Find the row with your number. Then, write a poem describing the taste of the item in Column A, using the words that appear in that row in Column B and C. For bonus points, give your poem the title of the word that appears in Column A for your row, but don’t use that word in the poem itself.

Column A:  MINT         

Column B:  BOING         

Column C:  PRIMITIVE

☻ P L A C E B O I N G ☻

PROMPT #5:    First, pick a notation from the first column below.
Then, pick a musical genre from the second column. Finally, pick at least one word from the third column. Now write a poem that takes inspiration from your musical genre and notation, and uses the word or words you picked from the third column.

I’m off to Bermuda
While you’re up the creek!
I cruise like old money;
You float like a freak.

As you steer between rocks
In that vulgar canoe,
You’re a maritime nuisance
Obstructing the view.

My luxury vessel
Steers clear of the sharks;
You paddle and fulminate,
Studying Marx.

Your dugout is leaking;
I’m greasing the skids.
The dividends pay out
to bankroll my kids.

My profits accrue
While you seethe at your bosses.
You rail at the system—
I minimize losses.

I cruise into port.
Our hotel is reserved…
Your bitter resentment
is not unobserved.

Departures are blissful;
We glide into harbors
And dine amidst hollyhocks
Under the arbors.

The banquet is served:
An idyllic location—
But you merely murmur
In disapprobation.

So scratch my maid’s Tesla
(or blow up a dealership…)
Rattle your chains
While insulting my captainship.

I’m by the pool—
You can splash in your gutter.
I’ll leave you a tip
For some bread with your butter.