by Maria DeBlassie
Daily Lobo
Billy Collins has no trouble writing poetry.
This former poet laureate of the United States has just come out with his fifth book of verse, The Trouble with Poetry.
He once again proves to be the common man's snob. It is this contradiction of wanting to make poetry accessible and at the same time being an esoteric poet that makes him so appealing. His poems are flowered with normal common-man things like coffee, flannel shirts and pens.
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But he also makes a point of throwing in references to Yeats, Balakirev and books on 17th-century poetry. He even titles one of his poems "Freud" and proceeds to wonder what the father of psychology would say about a dream he had, spinning it into a poem possibly only understood if one knows who Freud was.
Rather than detract from his work, this irony enhances it, if only because he is aware of the duality of his poetry.
In "The Introduction," he plays with the idea of letting a poem speak for itself and then proceeds to read between the lines of his poems, poking fun at hyper-intellectuals everywhere.
Like any good poet, he breaks all the rules and points out that he's doing it.
His poem "The Student" will make any creative writing major smile. He points out the rules and regulations of poetry - don't use words like vortex or velvety, and when one doesn't know how to end a poem, one should have brown hens standing in the rain. In these two stanzas, he effectively undermines the poetic ideal of being deep and inner and shows the reality of poetry - the writing and rewritings, the thinking and rethinking and the paradox of wanting to be revered as the greatest poet in history and the need to please no one.
The theme of this book seems to be the duality of things. Collins wastes no time exploring all those in-between places, those awkward moments, those mixed feelings. He draws readers in right away by talking about the subject everyone loves best: themselves.
In "You, Reader" he tackles the tricky intimacy between writer and audience. He wonders if the salt and pepper shakers on his table had become friends or are like the reader and the writer that both know each other and are isolated from one another at the same time.
Collins also tells readers not to feel bad that he wrote the poem before they did.
There are things that are quintessentially poetic in Collins' work, such as the repeated image of the window and the idea that all poets can be found with cigarettes, tea and flannel shirts.
In his funniest poem, "Genius," Collins toys with what a genius is.
"Genius was what they called you in high school if you tripped on a shoelace in the hall and all your books went flying," he said.
But in an instant, his humorous images turn - at the risk of sounding snotty - profound, as he finds true genius is learning how to be beautiful and brutal.
One of the last poems, with the same title as the book, sums up everything a reader needs to know about Collins. He states the trouble with poetry is that it makes him want to write more poetry.
