When this English poetry thing got under full steam, a poet in my Back Nine wrote "A Defense of Poesie." Ever since then, we've felt the need to defend our right to write, in every way possible.
I don't know why that is, really. I suppose our shared Anglo-Australo-American culture (is "Australo" right?) is so driven by its work-ethic that poetry looks like a waste of time. We know it's the opposite, but it seems sometimes that we're the only ones.
We also know poetry is hard work, even if it's of the "spontaneous bop prosody" type. Especially that one, since its inspiration/criticism vector is calculated simultaneously, rather than measured continuously. (I'm a math idiot, so the preceding metaphor is equally idiotic. Sorry.)
Here in the States, pragmatism is the one philosophic movement originally ascribed to our country, at least as I learned it. And in this country, nothing looks less pragmatic than poetry. Why on Earth would anyone do it, other than as a way for the non-musical to sing the blues? (Actually, not a bad purpose, come to think of it. The blues also use pathos, humor and metaphor to try and bury death, as well as uncover transformation.)
Nothing is less pragmatic than poetry? Perhaps. Nothing human is surely more powerful. What social, political, economic movement has lasted as long as anything on The Top Ten, for instance? The problem is that time tests the quality of our work -- there's really no way around that fact. Some really good poetry grabs people from the start, other works take longer -- much longer, for more than a few. However, this fact should not deter us. In fact, it should do the opposite. Poetry is the polarity, the paradox, the unknown we alone know. And we are its proof.
We sit at the intersection of time and space, alone and aware of the oncoming traffic. We can either get it in gear or get clobbered. The poetry is how we go further.
That's how it should be. For us, nothing less than the best will do.
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