On 29 Sep 2006 at 23:17,
           editorblowbackmagazine wrote:
     
      
      I don't know what to make of you. You obviously have some
abilities, but you seem also a little
scary to me reading some of these poems. I can't help but feel like
you fantasize being a killer or something evil. Explain to me why i'm
wrong about this.
      
Robert Bohm replies


     Robert Bohm wrote:
     Hello,
    
     I assume your note below is a serious one, so I'll respond
accordingly. You wrote that you "don't know what to make of" me
and that although I  "obviously have some abilities" you find me
and/or my work “scary" and that you feel I spend a lot of time
"fantasizing being a killer or something evil."
   
     First of all -- yes, I have abilities but, no, I'm not on a mission to
either
     become or promote evil. However, the problem of evil (not as a
theological
     hypothesis but as human action) does exist and I do deal with it
in my work
     (sometimes at a political level, sometimes in other ways) as well
as with the
     violence that often accompanies it. I also focus on another type
of
     violence, the violence of trying to extricate oneself from
conditioned
     consciousness in order to see things more clearly. All of these
concerns,
     as well as aspects of my personal history -- e.g., I'm an army vet
from the   Vietnam period -- have led me to write a certain type of
poetry, one that is
     both visceral and philosophical and that possesses little respect
for the
     thought products (what is and isn't "good," what is and isn't
beautiful, etc.)
     of many institutions -- e.g., arts bureaucracies, political think
tanks,   corporate r&d labs, etc.       
     I obviously could be wrong but I think the poems I submitted
give more
     evidence of the concerns I've just mentioned than they do of how
I, in your
     words, fantasize being a killer or something evil.
     
     Take "Befriending Jeremy" as an example. It's basically an
exploration of
     clarity that focuses on a meeting between a hippie-style college
dropout
     and a war vet whose realism verges on dysfunction. Maybe I
didn't write
     the poem as well as it could have been written, but I
nonetheless remain
     comfortable taking responsibility for it and acknowledging that it
expresses
     part of my vision, which I do not see as a sick vision but rather
as one that
     gropes toward comprehension. I guess it could be argued that in
my
     attempt not to prettify the vet/young man encounter I end up
     melodramatizing the emotional violence that's built into the
situation. But I
     don't see it that way. I see it as the only way to honestly portray
the event.
     
     Of course, the underlying problem in "Befriending Jeremy" as
well as in
     much of my other poetry is the choices I've made over the years
about how
     to make literature. My work is premised on the notion that
meaningful
     communiqués can be constructed from society's "garbage" -- i.e.,
     marginalized people, repressed histories, blighted urban
landscapes, the
     unconscious, etc. Because I pursue this approach without
worrying about
     what readers might conclude about who I am as a person, I tend
to make
     excursions into some places that many (but not all) poets choose
not to go.
     Nonetheless, I recognize that there's no social or literary rule
that others
     must view my writing techniques the same way I do;
consequently, there
     are definitely readers who view my work as repugnant or
senseless.
     Although I'd like to convince them otherwise, ultimately what
other people
     think about my writing is beyond my control except (possibly)
through the
     creation of a large enough body of work that as a result of its
size and
     variety might encourage at least some dislikers to rethink their
initial
     impressions. So I keep writing. And as I do so I remain
committed to the
     notion that I alluded to in the Vallejo poem regarding how there
is a real,
     although usually ignored, dignity of life and _expression in the
various
     outsider cultures all around us.
     
     Even in some of my poems which might seem simply maniacal, I
don't think
     they are. The Penn View Hotel poem, for instance, is, among
other things,
     about the potential megalomania of the prophetic voice. At the
tail-end of a
     50 year period when much U.S. political poetry (from Ginsberg to
     Doubiago) has employed the device of the Judeo-Christian
"prophetic
     voice" to indict crimes against humanity, I think it's important to
show that
     not only does such a tone have its virtues but that it also can
take the form
     of grandiose self-delusion. I say this not as a hater of the
prophetic voice
     but as one who sometimes uses it but nonetheless wants to view
it
     realistically. Consequently I'm not afraid to evoke, as I did at the
end of the
     Penn View poem, the potentially self-serving/evangelical ways in
which this
     particular tone can be employed --
     
     Enraged, I kick the toppled clerk in the head, stomach, back.
     Nostalgia's blood
     leaks between his lips
     as, on the floor, the Red Sea parts
     and I walk through triumphantly --
     I'm God's prophet. Don't you
     dare mess with me.
     
     One more thing. At the beginning of this note I mentioned that
the one of
     my thematic interests is the violence of trying to transcend
conditioned
     consciousness but I didn't give any examples. One example can
be found
     at the end of the Bykov poem where the woman in the photo is
described
     as having taught Jesus that his divinity began not at the level of
an
     otherworldly or spiritual abstraction but rather in the flesh --
     
     And in the foreground the woman
     with knuckles the size of a horse's anklebones,
     she's the succubus
     who showed Jesus where the god in him began.
     
     The way the woman is depicted -- big-knuckled hands, the fact
that she's
     succubus-like (traditionally a night demonness semen-stealer, a
wetdream
     stimulator, a male-strength robber) -- illustrates for me how the
truthteller
     often is at first perceived as ugly/disruptive/evil whereas in fact
this
     apparent negativity is only our projection onto it of our own fear
-- a fear
     reinforced if not entirely produced by status quo values that have
been
     manufactured in order to curtail our range of thought and action.
From my
     perspective, overcoming such conditioning requires a violent
wrenching-
     free from traditional ways of seeing. Then, when we finally
adjust to our
     new way of seeing, our adjustment  backfires in at least one
way: it
     leaves us alienated from others who reject our new way of
seeing in much
     the same way that both the power elites and the masses in the
western
     world initially rejected the Copernican revolution because they
saw it as
     unleashing the chaos of a non-God-ordered universe. At any rate,
in the
     Bykov poem's concluding imagery, another important thing is the
class
     character of the 3 people in the photo -- not just the large-handed
woman
     but also the guy with the battered toolbox and the fellow pining
for Buddy
     Holly. There's nothing in the description of these folks that
makes them
     seem like typical dispensers of wisdom, yet it's precisely from
this
     lower/working-class-looking group that one of the poem's key
insights
     comes -- i.e., in how the woman "showed Jesus where the god in
him
     began," in the flesh, in the material world, in history as opposed
to outside
     of history . . . All these aspects of the poem's conclusion are
part of the
     violence of a consciousness throwing off its conditioning.
     
     We both know that if a person doesn't like a writer's work, the
writer isn't
     likely to change her/his mind through argument. Still, if people
approach  each other honestly without trying to get over on each
other, I think there's definitely the possibility of deepened
understanding. That's all I've tried to  do in this email. When I read
your note, you seemed to me honestly  interested in getting an
answer about what I'm up to in my work, so I've  tried to give you
one, a short one but a nonetheless (hopefully) meaningful
     one.
     
     Robert



1 Oct 2006 at 23:59,
editorblowbackmagazine wrote:

     
When I wrote this question to you it was certainly out of curiosity,
but I never expressed any certainty as to what was really going
through your mind. the poem actually that kind of bothered me was
the Penn Hotel one and I just couldn't help but wondering having
read that  one  and the Jeremy one being a little confused as to what
actually was the "thought" behind it.
perhaps its my fault. lacking perception, but also sometimes writers
know what they think but is gets lost to others. I in no way believe
in didactic aesthetics, but theoretically you could have a rapist or  
murderer write an amazing poem in terms of what makes poetry
great, and do it from the point of  view that rape is  good and
desirable. while I might be fascinated by the insights of an evil mind
and admire the language, I would never feel comfortable advancing
or posting such a poem should I ever get one from a penitentiary or
wherever. in the Penn poem, I couldn't help but get the feeling I was
reading it from a first person's point of view, and then I couldn't help
but ask myself "what kind of person am I dealing with here?" I take
your word that you are not a killer nor fantasize being one.
     I would like to post the poems with a sidebar of our little
correspondence on this issue.  blowback obviously, has a very
"open" point of view about poetry content and form, but I get a lot of
people submitting that think writing something pornographic, or
violent, or "badass" will appeal to me and they couldn't be more
wrong. something about the poem has to jump out at me regarding
words and all the various attributes of poetry that make something
accomplished. as much as I like dark edged content, I am just as
happy to post a poem about all the joys and happiness in life,
provided that it too meets my criteria of what a significant poem
should be. Thanks for your explanation. I feel more satisfied having
read it.


Robert Bohm reply:

    Thanks for your detailed response. And yes to your offer -- i.e., "I
would like to post the
    poems with a sidebar of our little correspondence on this issue."
When will you post
    them?

    One comment. You wrote: "I in no way believe in didactic
aesthetics, but theoretically you
    could have a rapist or murderer write an amazing poem in terms
of what makes poetry
    great, and do it from the point of view that rape is good and
desirable. while I might be
    fascinated by the insights of an evil mind and admire the
language, I would never feel
    comfortable advancing or posting such a poem should I ever get
one" . . . I understand and
    agree with the thrust of what you say but am less certain than
you in our ability to identify
    the poem that's a Trojan horse for murderous consequences. The
imprisoned
    murderer/rapist/kidnapper who glamorizes his/her crime in a
submission with a penitentiary
    postmark is easy enough to spot, but what about the "sensitive"
poet who bemoans
    violence but whose bemoaning is a form of social inertia that
celebrates its own
    emotionalism but that cringes from the alleged stridency of
actually organizing against
    violence (for instance, the violence of the current war) through
mass action and/or the
    writing of full-out socially conscious poems? To me, such artists
also -- but not at all
    obviously so -- promote a message that ultimately weakens our
self-protection abilities and
    therefore has dangerous, even murderous, consequences for
others and for us. I'm not
    trying to go off the deep end here but am merely trying to make
the point that while I agree
    with much of what you wrote I feel the fullness of the problem (of
violence against the
    other) weighs on us in multiple ways that make it far more
complicated to fight against or
    summarize than we'd like.

    At any rate, thanks again for your reply and please let me know
when you plan to post the
    poems.

    Robert


On 2 Oct 2006 at 20:34,
editorblowbackmagazine wrote:


Unless I do not understand you you seem to be saying that if an
artist does not participate in political  
Activism in whatever manifestation, or does something socially
conscious, he is hence "part of the
problem". I do not feel any artist has any obligation at all to
participate in any activism at all. If
one chooses to do that, that's fine. It’s all a question of what kind of
personality you have and the
life you want to live. That's democracy by its very nature.  I
personally admire some artists
activism and then think others is absolutely pitiful or even
counterproductive. Many artists think
that just because they are an "artist" or "famous" this makes them
have some kind of validity on
something many times they know little about. Jane Fonda in a North
Vietnamese pit giggling at
anti -aircraft batteries trying to kill Americans is one example that
jumps to mind. (I dig Jane by the
way) Even if the Vietnam War was asinine and a waste, (it was) that
is beyond the pale to show
camaraderie with people trying to kill your own citizens, often
pawns themselves in some larger
struggle. Many artists are embarrassingly ignorant, speaking about
politics and any number of
other things. Its shameful egotism in my mind. As for their right to
do it I don't challenge, it’s what
they do and say as to whether I approve or not.
 As far as socially conscious poetry, if one wants to write it that's
great. But I feel a lot of socially
conscious poetry is awful beyond belief. I saw a website not long
ago, (name will go unmentioned)
that specializes in this and while I did not read every poem, I did
read enough as to think the site
was more like an outhouse than an art museum. It was mostly bad
stuff, masquerading with
pretension, perhaps good intentions, but that never in itself
constitutes accomplished poetry.
There are so many ways of writing a poem, that have really little
chance of really being socially
conscious, and are much greater because of it. Blowback certainly,
has many socially conscious
poems, but I did not select them at all for that reason. They just
happened to be excellent poems
in my mind. That's why they are there.

Robert Bohm reply:
Well, I'll just say this in response:  I oversimplified my argument and
so I can understand why you wrote what you wrote below.  There are
more nuances and aspects to all this than I acknowledged and that
makes a big difference. As you pointed out, there are factors --
psychological makeup, the need not to throw the baby (the art, the
musicality, the whatever) out with the bathwater, and so on --  that
influence how one writes, and these things can never be entirely
ignored.  Nonetheless, I'd like to see more socially consciousness
poetry not because I think there's a rule which mandates that poets
should be more socially conscious but because I think the paltry
amount of decent socially conscious poetry in the U.S. is indicative
not just of people's individual psychological leanings or
philosophical/cultural interests but of something more widespread,
socially rooted and murkier -- the arts' industrialization and mass
commodification by arts bureaucracies, university fine arts
programs, etc.  What's really missing from a lot of writing these days
isn't politics but rather a relentless flailing-around in an effort to
come to grips with the world in all its amazing -- and sometimes
deadly and sometimes inspiring -- messiness.  One of the reasons I
took your note seriously the other day was because blowback seems
to me to have some similar interests while simultaneously
recognizing that going nuts and breaking all the rules aren't in
themselves enough to produce good writing -- although breaking
loose from status quo expectations can indeed be artistically
liberating if handled correctly.  My own take on such breaking loose,
though, is that it usually doesn't happen as the result of a simple
decision-making process, but rather comes about, if it does come
about, as the consequence of a bunch of life-experiences that for
one reason or another traumatize the person and, in doing so, push
her/him beyond the standard (i.e., accepted) ways of responding to
he world.   Of course, even if this happens, it's still a toss-up
concerning how well the person will handle the situation.  

My mind's beginning to wind down.  Or maybe it began wound down
and has been winding backwards for hours.  Have been writing all
day, it's almost 1 a.m., time to slow down for the night.

I look forward to seeing the poems at blowback.  

Robert