Below the Beltway

Gene Weingarten
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, July 7, 2002 9:34 PM

Ordinary persons such as you probably don't realize it, but famous literary figures such as myself and the poet laureate of the United States often get together to discuss eternal verities. Recently, Poet Laureate Billy Collins and I traded insights about the human experience.

Me: Isn't Billy a stupid name for the poet laureate? Shouldn't you have a more dignified name, like Heathcliffe?

PLOTUS: Well, it's an anti-literary name. Literary names tend to use initials, like T.S. Eliot. Eliot didn't say, but it is clear to me that the "J" in "J. Alfred Prufrock" stands for "John." He was trying to hide the fact that he had a plain first name. I am the opposite. I would be Johnny Prufrock. Or better, Jon-Boy Prufrock.

Me: Most of us are first exposed to poetry in fourth grade when we are encouraged to recite this, in the following manner: "IthinkthatIshallneversee apoemlovelyasatree atreewhosehungrymouthispressed against theEarth'ssweetflowingbreast . . . "

Now, aside from the bosom theme, can we agree that this is without merit, a total hack job?

PLOTUS: It's pretty dreadful. One of those poems that give poetry a bad name.

Me: So should we shoot all fourth-grade teachers?

PLOTUS: Many people hate poetry, and many of them teach English. You know, we're born as poets. The heartbeat you hear in the womb is iambic-dah-DUM, dah-DUM. So we've already taken a course in meter when we come out of the womb. Then we have the poetry beaten out of us by teachers.

Me: Your poetry seems shockingly straightforward and understandable and funny. Why haven't you been drummed out of the Society of Pretentious-Snot Poets?

PLOTUS: I used to be a member! I am a lapsed obscure poet. I committed acts of literature resulting in poems so obscure even I had no idea what they were about. One was titled "Before the Words of Yearning Waned, Yearning Waned."

Me: Wow.

PLOTUS: Yeah.

Me: Highly sophisticated literary persons such as you and I of course celebrate the liberation of poetry from the tedious confines of rhyme. But in a way wasn't it better before any moron could write some lowercase words with arbitrary punctuation and random line spacing, and call himself a poet?

PLOTUS: Yes, the good news is that we have put away the metronome. The bad news is that it has let loose on the world a vast number of people with no skill. Maybe we should have a poetry school, and it should be illegal to write poetry unless you've been issued a poetic license. This is a new use of the term, and I just invented it.

Me: Who would issue the licenses?

PLOTUS: The poet laureate of the United States.

Me: What is the best poem you ever saw on a bathroom wall?

PLOTUS: The best was in a bathroom in Ireland, when Miles Davis was still alive. It said, "Just remember that when Miles Davis dies, we all move up a step."

Me: What advice would you give a young American kid who really, really wants to become a big-shot poet so he can score with the chicks?

PLOTUS: Learn the guitar.

Me: Is there any subject inappropriate for poetry? Could you write a poem about, say, one of those cotton thingies women put in dresses to prevent underarm stain?

PLOTUS: The fact is, when poets write about things that are inappropriate, poetry moves forward. In the mid-19th century, you were not supposed to write about machines, only nature. Then Whitman wrote about a locomotive in winter. It was an anti-daffodil poem. It moved poetry forward.

Me: So, you could write about the underarm thingie?

PLOTUS: I gave you a long answer to avoid that short answer. But I suppose so.

Me: Say something poetic about the Treaty of Versailles.

PLOTUS: Well, to me, when you say that, I hear the word "sigh" at the end of it.

Me: That's really good!

PLOTUS: You have to have a poetic ear.

Me: How about spanakopita, that bitter Greek spinach pie?

PLOTUS: "Bitter Greek spinach pie" has a poetic beat. It is sort of lovely. If you say it 10 times in a restaurant, you'd have more than you could eat.

Me: Is it possible to accidentally write poetry? This column that we are creating together, might it be poetry?

PLOTUS: No.

Me: Why not?

PLOTUS: Because you'll go to the edge of the page. That's your mistake. We poets leave raggedy edges on our lines.

Me: That's the secret?

PLOTUS: That's it.

Gene Weingarten's e-mail address is weingarten@washpost.com