Poets that Light Your Creative Fire | Pivotal poets by Bill Shively

APRIL 1997
T H E RAVEN C H R O N I C L E S

`contents`

Pivotal poets

by Bill Shively

Two pivotal poets appeared in my career roughly ten years apart. In many ways they are opposites; in many ways they came at optimum times in my personal development.
In 1974 and '75 I lived in San Francisco. I was fully aware of its poetic mystic and heritage and I was chomping the bit to connect with it. I told people of my desires and fledgling efforts; I read widely, drank hugely and hung out in North Beach. On the bulletin board to the basement of City Lights was a handwritten notice on the flap of an envelope: Word Liberation with Harold Norse. The timing as I say was perfect. His writing style, his life style, his workshop style were all inspirational.

An overlooked beat poet, his work is imbued with music and sex, clearly committed to observation and creative juxtaposition. His cynicism is clear and restrained. Open and honest, he taught automatic writing and serious,studied, self-editing. They were heady times, those weekly meetings in his cold water walk-up. Ken Wanio, Neeli Cherkovski, David Moe, Jack Hirschman and others slamming me up and down, sideways, and then going out for burgers and beer after...

Any time I find writers that are willing to talk critically about each others' work over beer I am enthralled.

However, another pivotal poet, kept to himself, drank little, and broached no critique of his work. What he provided was an even more dramatic and effective demonstration of the value of self editing. In the mid '80's I lived in Kyoto. Cid Corman had been there for twenty some, thirty, years. He wrote daily, prolifically. His work comprehensive and compressed. Long poems were eight, ten, fifteen lines.

It was a rough beginning. I resented his aloof, elite attitude. In a group where I was working with others building community, he seemed to be doing little than advertising his presence, his books, his superiority. Unbidden,I delivered unto him fifty or sixty of my recent poems. I pestered him until he consented to read and discuss his response.
I brought a bottle of wine.

His critique of my work was brief, but he agreed to discuss poetics: his poetics. So, we set up pattern. I would arrive; he would hold forth, answering questions as I brought them forward; and then I would ask if he had any other books to sell (he was not working, and, though his wife's cake shop was doing well, there was little poetry income other than the Basho day celebrations, for which I am sure he was paid something). I learned from Cid that the essence of imagist poetry is in most of my best work. I also realized that I could never aspire to be like someone else-- I needed to get my own line, my own attack, my own rhythm. We agreed finally in this: to be great at what one writes is more than not making the mistakes of others. Being great is more than replicating the success of others.

While Cid Corman is exponentially different from Harold Norse, they both hold to this same truth.

© The Raven Chronicles 1997

APRIL 1997		T H E RAVEN C H R O N I C L E S

`contents`		Pivotal poets by Bill Shively Two pivotal poets appeared in my career roughly ten years apart. In many ways they are opposites; in many ways they came at optimum times in my personal development. In 1974 and '75 I lived in San Francisco. I was fully aware of its poetic mystic and heritage and I was chomping the bit to connect with it. I told people of my desires and fledgling efforts; I read widely, drank hugely and hung out in North Beach. On the bulletin board to the basement of City Lights was a handwritten notice on the flap of an envelope: Word Liberation with Harold Norse. The timing as I say was perfect. His writing style, his life style, his workshop style were all inspirational. An overlooked beat poet, his work is imbued with music and sex, clearly committed to observation and creative juxtaposition. His cynicism is clear and restrained. Open and honest, he taught automatic writing and serious,studied, self-editing. They were heady times, those weekly meetings in his cold water walk-up. Ken Wanio, Neeli Cherkovski, David Moe, Jack Hirschman and others slamming me up and down, sideways, and then going out for burgers and beer after... Any time I find writers that are willing to talk critically about each others' work over beer I am enthralled. However, another pivotal poet, kept to himself, drank little, and broached no critique of his work. What he provided was an even more dramatic and effective demonstration of the value of self editing. In the mid '80's I lived in Kyoto. Cid Corman had been there for twenty some, thirty, years. He wrote daily, prolifically. His work comprehensive and compressed. Long poems were eight, ten, fifteen lines. It was a rough beginning. I resented his aloof, elite attitude. In a group where I was working with others building community, he seemed to be doing little than advertising his presence, his books, his superiority. Unbidden,I delivered unto him fifty or sixty of my recent poems. I pestered him until he consented to read and discuss his response. I brought a bottle of wine. His critique of my work was brief, but he agreed to discuss poetics: his poetics. So, we set up pattern. I would arrive; he would hold forth, answering questions as I brought them forward; and then I would ask if he had any other books to sell (he was not working, and, though his wife's cake shop was doing well, there was little poetry income other than the Basho day celebrations, for which I am sure he was paid something). I learned from Cid that the essence of imagist poetry is in most of my best work. I also realized that I could never aspire to be like someone else-- I needed to get my own line, my own attack, my own rhythm. We agreed finally in this: to be great at what one writes is more than not making the mistakes of others. Being great is more than replicating the success of others. While Cid Corman is exponentially different from Harold Norse, they both hold to this same truth.
		© The Raven Chronicles 1997