One of the beautiful things about poetry,
to me anyway, is the fact that it
can make use of so many materials, discoveries,
accidents, happenings, and things
which are just lying around in our culture.
And I think it's one of the beautiful things
that poetry accomplishes today.
That is, it calls attention to the underside
of the American soul, but that converts it into poetry.
I've always been rather interested
in accidental poetry, found poetry.
And I thought I'd start the reading this evening
by reading a few horrendous examples of found poetry,
from a book that I put together with Robert Peters
from the University of California at Irvine two
or three years ago, called Pioneers of Modern Poetry.
We were having fun looking for non-poetry, which in a way
resembled many of the currents or tendencies
in contemporary poetry, and we came up with stuff
that I think are pretty good.
The material in every case here is not
invented by either Bob Peters or by myself.
We discovered it.
The poems I'm going to read to you,
I personally was responsible for the selection, the editing,
the elations and the like that went into making them,
but nothing was invented.
I'll start by reading a poem from an early master of poetry
who was hitherto been unrecognized.
F.W. Woll.
W-O-L-L. The author of a monumental treatise called The
Silo, in California.
Published in 1915 by the California State Agricultural
Department of Vegetation.
[LAUGHTER]
The Silo.
The silo must be deep.
The walls of a silo must be rigid and strong.
The stave silo is easily built, but suffers
from splitting along the seams.
Brick or stone is preferred.
Once sealed in the silo, silage will keep indefinitely.
Keep silage in the silo level, then silage
will improve as the silo is emptied.
[LAUGHTER]
Beet tops are siloed in Europe.
Other material mentioned as cow peas, veggies, apple, pumice,
sorghum, bagasse, sugar cane tops,
off vine shucked corn and Hungarian grass.
[LAUGHTER]
The long saccharin, sorghums, coffee,
Milo, Federica, et cetera.
[LAUGHTER]