“The purpose of poetry is to remind us
how difficult it is to remain just one person,
for our house is open, there are no keys in the doors,
and invisible guests come in and out at will.”
Czeslaw Milosz
Ars Poetica
Poets favor complexity. Even apparently simple poems are a multiplex of sense, sensation, and metaphor. Poems deliver many-layered experience. The complexity of poetry is appealing because we are complex. We are brilliant and messy contradictions. We are always almost somebody else. In life’s theater we present ourselves as one. But backstage we hear voices, behind the scenes actors wait, vying for their moment in the spotlight. With our inner ear we eavesdrop on the last two millennium of human conversation echoing in our heads and think we are listening to ourselves. We are a mosaic, a patchwork quilt, bits and pieces forming a pattern. SELF – a pattern made of pieces. A unity forged from multiplicity. E pluribus unum. Out of many, one.
We put great effort into consistent self-presentation, making sure the self we put before the public will be recognized by others. Imagine how impossibly confusing life would be if each one of us showed up differently each day, 365 selves each year.
In the poem quoted above the Polish poet Czeslaw Milosz (1911-2004) tells us that the house of the self is open. There are no keys to lock anyone out and many come and go. We are fundamentally porous and fluid. Because of this Milosz recognized the difficulty of consistent self-presentation. Each choice we make concentrates a certain characteristic and eliminates others. We can’t be/do everything. We hone the self into a sharp presentable point. Characteristics are formed into character. Yet the rejected characters linger, waiting in the green room for a chance to perform in the today show of the self.
Literature respects the multiplicity of voices held in one voice. Think of the humanity lurking in William Shakespeare, many characters waiting for a chance to break onto the stage of the Globe Theater. Poets are fascinated by diversity, the endless array of ways we can be present in the world and the world can be present in us. Something catches the attention, material arrives in the mind of the poet, then choices are made, what to say, what not to say, crafting the shape and content of a poem.
You do not need to write poetry to live a poetic life.
Writing is one way to live a poetic life. But any activity that allows you to rearrange some of the pieces of your life will do. The wellspring of multiplicity is deep within each one of us. Material comes. By a process of elimination, we pick and choose what will be us. But behind each choice the unchosen remains, looking for its own expression, its own opportunity to strut upon the stage. How do we incorporate our unlived lives into the character we become?
The old television quiz show To Tell the Truth presented three contestants to a panel of celebrity judges. Something unique about one contestant was revealed to the television audience. Two contestants were imposters, one was the real deal. The judges had to discover which contestant was telling the truth. Each segment of the show ended with the host saying to the three contestants, “Will the real . . [person’s name] . . please stand up.” The three contestants shift in their chairs, then the one telling the truth stands up.
When the ‘real’ you stands up, other possible versions of yourself remain seated.
Poetry offers both the writer and the reader the opportunity to visit new versions of the self.