Yet again Joan Houlihan has got poets running into walls without headgear. Or maybe these poets didn't have their heads or their heads didn't have gears. Maybe some poets don't recognize futility when it's slamming them with dull bricks. Maybe they give Houlihan too much credence. Duh.
Houlihan's got a "re"view of The Best American Poetry 2004 that's agitated the Poetics list and other websites. In her recent piece "The Best American Liturgy," a part of her ongoing diatribe "How Contemporary American Poets Are Denaturing the Poem," Houlihan bares her predictable barbs, supported by but two samplings -- a mere two selections of over dozens of poems in the anthology (she's a master of reduction, ala Karl Rove), that for the anthology's editor Lyn Hejinian there are deficient standards of craft, that "[Hejinian's] standards can only be known by other members of the church of new writing," and "[Hejinian] doesn't believe in standards because there is no “best”—one poem cannot be better than another."
For one, Houlihan has not convinced me that she has read more than a smattering of writing outside her comfort zone (though, surely, more than Karl Rove and his protege George Bush). She hasn't convinced me she understands the kind of craft that carries a poem beyond its generation. She has not convinced me in this series that she is reading and writing about her reading without a predetermined agenda.
I ask one question tonight: how do poets write today to be read today and tomorrow?
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