James Matthew Wilson Examines the History of Expansive Poetry
by Ernie on 19/09/07 at 9:37 am
In this month’s issue of the Contemporary Poetry Review, young critic James Matthew Wilson continues his controversial series on poetry and the academy with a look back at the history of the Expansive Poetry movement in the United States (“expansive poetry” is the more obscure, but more accurate, term for what is generally known as “New Formalism”).
Wilson writes: “Kim Addonizio’s poetry frequently relies on a kind of ‘shock’ to the sensibility that has become the most typical convention of the conventional verse of Sharon Olds and other more daring ‘confessionalists.’ Most confessional poets, like the realist fiction writers of early twentieth century, offer in their work that mild frisson most contemporary persons have come to identify as the controversial power of ‘progressive’ minded art (a history of modern art lies hidden in the curious fact that pornographic movies used to be called ‘art films’). When we read details of some sexually abusive midget uncle on whose life a poet�s eyes have lingered for a free verse strophe, we are intended to experience both indignation, uncomfortable arousal, and finally a warm sense of self-congratulation that we can stomach the ‘great art’ of a tortured modern genius. 
Addonizio complicates this slightly by throwing in the bonus shocks of, first, frequently writing in form, and, second, frequently adding in metrical substitutions that ‘subvert’ that form. My complaint here is not chiefly that Addonizio�s poetry is bad; it at times is much more interesting than that of other confessional poets, and even good in its own right. Rather, this complacent rehashing of the kind of poetic ‘shock’ tactics that have become so familiar and unshocking over the last few decades is surely far less significant, artistically and historically, than were the bold ambitions of expansive verse.”
Read the article for free at The Contemporary Poetry Review.
And here is a poem by Ms. Addonizio:
Mermaid Song
Kim Addonizio
for Aya at fifteen
Damp-haired from the bath, you drape yourself
upside down across the sofa, reading,
one hand idly sunk into a bowl
of crackers, goldfish with smiles stamped on.
I think they are growing gills, swimming
up the sweet air to reach you. Small girl,
my slim miracle, they multiply.
In the black hours when I lie sleepless,
near drowning, dread-heavy, your face
is the bright lure I look for, love’s hook
piercing me, hauling me cleanly up.
From Tell Me by Kim Addonizio. Buy it here.
