TOP79-DES76
This Old Poem #79:
Gary Soto’s How
Things Work
Copyright © by Dan Schneider, 1/2/04
Gary Soto does not know what poetry is. He thinks it is putting one word after another in a bland left-margined column down a sheet of blank paper. Things such as music, interesting turns of phrases, & memorable images mean nothing to GS. He is the Dean of the Left Margin Academy. He’s not the worst poetaster that’s ever written (if we deign to grant him that meager rank), but he’s probably the least adventurous published poet that ever lived. You lie, Dan! Drop dead, then take a look- or do that in the reverse order!
Mission Tire Factory, 1969
All
through lunch Peter pinched at his crotch,
See what I mean? This is not larded with clichés- but there is almost nothing inherently poetic about it. It’s just not poetry, in any sense of the term. It might be better off being seen as a paragraph- they even have zines devoted to that odd little prose form. See:
Mission Tire Factory, 1969
Better as a paragraph than as a poem- but still a total yawner striving
to seem relevant or ‘deep’. Let’s go a little bit ‘in depth’ on GS,
himself:
Gary Soto was born in Fresno, California, in 1952. He is the author of
numerous books of poetry, including New and Selected Poems (Chronicle
Books, 1995), which was a National Book Award finalist; Canto
Familiar/Familiar Song (1994); Neighborhood Odes (1992); Home
Course in Religion (1991); Who Will Know Us? (1990); Black Hair
(1985); Where Sparrows Work Hard (1981); The Tale of Sunlight
(1978); and The Elements of San Joaquin (1977). Soto has also written two
novels, Poetry Lover (University of New Mexico Press, 2001) and Nickel
and Dime (2000); the memoir Living Up the Street (1985), for which he
received an American Book Award; numerous young adult and children's books; and
edited three anthologies: Pieces of Heart (1993), California Childhood
(1988), and Entrance: Four Latino Poets (1976). His honors include the
Andrew Carnegie Medal, the United States Award of the International Poetry
Forum, and the Bess Hokin Prize and the Levinson Award from Poetry,
the Discovery-The Nation Prize, the U.S. Award of the International
Poetry Forum, The California Library Association's John and Patricia Beatty
Award [twice], a Recognition of Merit from the Claremont Graduate School for
Baseball in April, the Silver Medal from The Commonwealth Club of
California, and the Tomás Rivera Prize, in addition to fellowships
from the Guggenheim Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts (twice), and
the California Arts Council. He is one of the youngest poets to appear in The
Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry. He serves as Young People's Ambassador
for the California Rural Legal Assistance (CRLA) and the United Farm Workers of
America (UFW). He lives in Berkeley, CA.
Shame on this biographer- (s)he forgot to mention GS’s own website: http://www.garysoto.com/. Note how all the non-poetic stuff is designed to let you know that GS, like all poets should (chuckle), supports political activism in the arts. His writing kids books shows he’s also a good person. But it also explains why he dumbs everything he writes down to an 8 year old’s reading level. There’s a Gary Soto fan club that actually publishes this level of discourse online:
My
favorite poem by Gary Soto is "The Ring." The reason why I like this
poem is because when it said, "who danced alone, went home alone and kissed
his arm goodnight?" That meant to me that he had someone and lost her. I
related to that by my ex-girlfriend leaving me.
My second favorite poem by him is
"Her." I like this poem because it got me thinking of the times my
ex-girlfriend left me and we crossed a few years later. It got me thinking about
when his poem said: "First I forgot your voice, and then the poto (sic) you
gave me. When a leaf fell no longer. Thought of you, shy and wordless, in a
raked yard." When I read that part of the poem it got me thinking of all
the times when I was with her and how I felt lonely when I wasn't with her.
I swear I’m not making
this up- but I won’t give you the embarrassing URL- go find it yourself! On to
the titular (I like that word- don’t you?) dreck!
How Things Work
Today it's going to cost us twenty
dollars
To live. Five for a softball. Four for a book,
A handful of ones for coffee and two sweet rolls,
Bus fare, rosin for your mother's violin.
We're completing our task. The tip I left
For the waitress filters down
Like rain, wetting the new roots of a child
Perhaps, a belligerent cat that won't let go
Of a balled sock until there's chicken to eat.
As far as I can tell, daughter, it works like this:
You buy bread from a grocery, a bag of apples
From a fruit stand, and what coins
Are passed on helps others buy pencils, glue,
Tickets to a movie in which laughter
Is thrown into their faces.
If we buy goldfish, someone tries on a hat.
If we buy crayons, someone walks home with a broom.
A tip. A small purchase here and there,
And things just keep going. I guess.
This is 1 of those damnable poems that I really cannot do alot with, because it is so dull that to invigorate it would require me Schneiderizing the poem too much. Alack, all I can do is stem the boredom with concision:
How Things Work
The tip I left for the waitress filters down
Like a belligerent cat that won't let go
Of a balled sock. As far as I can tell it works like this:
You buy bread from a grocery, a bag of apples
From a fruit stand, and what coins
Are passed on helps others buy pencils, glue,
Tickets to a movie in which laughter
Is thrown into their faces.
A small purchase here and there,
And things just keep going. I guess.
At least I axed the ‘roots of a child’ trope. The smaller version also flows a bit more, & starts in right away with the motion of things. It’s a passable workshop poem now. No, there’s not a grand revelation- but, hey- IT’S GARY “FUCKIN’” SOTO! Enough!
Final Score: (1-100):
Gary Soto’s How
Things Work: 55
TOP’s
How Things Work: 65
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