While daydreaming today I recalled a poem I had appreciated during my college years. William Stafford had visited my university and I went to hear him speak and read a few of his poems. The one that stuck with me is this one.
Traveling through the Dark
BY WILLIAM E. STAFFORD
Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.
By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.
My fingers touching her side brought me the reason—
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated.
The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.
I thought hard for us all—my only swerving—,
then pushed her over the edge into the river.
I won’t attempt to explain or analyze the poem. There are plenty of sources for such exegesis. Instead I want to relate an interesting story from his talk. He told us of an experience where he sent two new poems in to two separate prestigious literary magazines. Both rejected his new poems. He received these rejections in the mail (snail mail then) on the same day. He mischievously decided to cross submit the poems again. So he sent one rejected poem to the other periodical and the second to the first. And, he told us that before leaving home on his reading and lecture tour he had received an acceptance from one of the two periodicals. He was then waiting to learn whether the second poem had been accepted as well.
This story provides an introduction to the next theme I want to address. What is it that distinguishes good from mediocre to poor quality artistic expression? The subject here is the theory of aesthetics. It is an aged philosophical question that has complex and varied perspectives. The common response that it is merely a matter of personal taste is just that, common. That view is simplistic and fundamentally flawed. Still, there is no single theory or answer that successfully addresses the multitude of perceptions regarding beauty, elegance or depth of meaning.
William Stafford confronted the problem decisively. He challenged the editors of two separate literary magazines and demonstrated that there was no unified consensus on his new poems. His poem here is another example of the disparity regarding a theory of aesthetics. Stafford’s style is deceptively simple. It is conversational as though a casual discourse, though packed with a deep punch to the gut. This style had been abandoned by modern poetic movements. Poets had decades earlier embraced the emerging styles of modern painting with distorted perspectives and collages of images. (Think of Picasso’s paintings.) There was a conscious attempt to emulate such paintings and to express ideas through verses encompassing a complex weave of dreamlike images and shifting scenes. I don’t mean to say that modern poetry is less meaningful or elegant than more traditional poetry. Rather the point is that varying styles are simultaneously taken as successful art forms. Stafford’s poems survive as do T.S. Eliot’s and Homer’s and we cherish them all.
The central determinant is not style, but rather how the message resonates and whether the language and images provide sufficient power to support the resonance. Stafford submitted two poems to two respected editors. Both rejected his poems. But then, one editor, and possibly both, accepted the poem rejected by the previous editor. I have no way to research this hapoenstance further. It is a detail that is lost to history’s broader course. Yet, the hapoenstance was and remains instructive and significant.
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