I am in Austin, Texas for work, so we’re going to feature the poet Carrie Fountain today — who is the 2019 Poet Laureate of Texas, resides in Austin, and received her MFA from the amazing program at UT Austin.
This is not actually a particularly Texas poem, just a favorite of mine by Fountain.
One thing to think about when reading any poem — but which may be particularly pronounced when the poet has chosen couplets (groups of two lines each) — is how the line breaks and stanza breaks affect the flow and meaning of the poem as it is read. It may also be helpful to remember that poetry’s origins are oral, not written, so line breaks can be about how a poem sounds when it’s read as much as what it looks like on a page.
The Student
I wish I were as talented
at anything as he is
at pulling Derrida into
a conversation, any
conversation, no matter
what we’re discussing:
Derrida. Even once
when he was telling me
why he didn’t have
the assignment, even then
after a long and aerobic
journey we arrived
at Derrida, his white
hair and elegant European
ideas, and it felt good—
I admit in felt good to finally
arrive there—ah bonjour
Monsieur Derrida!—
because at least I knew
then where I was, even
if it wasn’t where
I wanted to be. To pretend,
Derrida said, I actually
do the thing: I have therefore
only pretended to pretend.
I pretend sometimes. Other
times all I do is pretend.
I’ve created gods this way
and on occasion I’ve tied
those gods together
like they do bed sheets
in a movie, and I’ve escaped
the high tower of myself
this way, I’ve made it
to solid ground this way,
landed on the earth.
And each time I’ve been sure
I’ve actually done the thing,
but then I look up
and the gods are gone.
■
I wish I were as talented
at anything as he is
at pulling Derrida into
a conversation, any
conversation, no matter
what we’re discussing:
Derrida. Even once
when he was telling me
why he didn’t have
the assignment, even then
after a long and aerobic
journey we arrived
at Derrida, his white
hair and elegant European
ideas, and it felt good—
I admit in felt good to finally
arrive there—ah bonjour
Monsieur Derrida!—
because at least I knew
then where I was, even
if it wasn’t where
I wanted to be. To pretend,
Derrida said, I actually
do the thing: I have therefore
only pretended to pretend.
I pretend sometimes. Other
times all I do is pretend.
I’ve created gods this way
and on occasion I’ve tied
those gods together
like they do bed sheets
in a movie, and I’ve escaped
the high tower of myself
this way, I’ve made it
to solid ground this way,
landed on the earth.
And each time I’ve been sure
I’ve actually done the thing,
but then I look up
and the gods are gone.
■
If you’re interested in a deeper dive on line breaks, check out an excerpt by the poet Alberto Ríos from A Broken Thing: Poets on the Line (2011) here.
A special shout-out to all the teachers out there who have dealt with this student, and a Happy Tuesday to all!
— Ellen
P.S. You may have noticed today’s poem-a-day came from ellen@meetmein811.org instead of meetmein811@gmail.com. It’s still me, I promise! I’m just having a little email deliverability problem, and MailChimp strongly prefers non-Gmail type domains for “from” email addresses, so I’ve upgraded to an email address on the domain I already own for the poem-a-day blog. That is all!