I revised a poem ending based on the advice of a Trusted Advisor, but in my mind, the change never "took," and ever after if I encounter my own poem in my own book, I'm surprised that it ends the way it does, and if I read it at a reading, I read the original version.
Several years ago I attended a workshop lead by Eamon Grennan. He handed out one of his poems, a poem that had been published in The New Yorker a few months earlier. The poem was different than I remembered. When I made an inquiry about the poem, he said he was not satisfied with it and continued to work on it. After it was published in The New Yorker. I was completely flummoxed, but after reading your comments, I’m beginning to understand.
Sometimes I've returned to an original and found that, after years of revising, I haven't really taken it that far. Or I took it far and then I brought it back. I rarely regret it though-- I love spending time with all the possibilities of a poem.
"Relentless revision..." just means it's a process, like Life itself.
So true! I feel that I've rewritten myself a hundred times, and I'm still a rough draft. :)
I revised a poem ending based on the advice of a Trusted Advisor, but in my mind, the change never "took," and ever after if I encounter my own poem in my own book, I'm surprised that it ends the way it does, and if I read it at a reading, I read the original version.
Beware the Trusted Advisors! I've done this, too. Some poems I really wish I had followed my own instincts.
John Steinbeck said, "Beware of advice -- even this."
Several years ago I attended a workshop lead by Eamon Grennan. He handed out one of his poems, a poem that had been published in The New Yorker a few months earlier. The poem was different than I remembered. When I made an inquiry about the poem, he said he was not satisfied with it and continued to work on it. After it was published in The New Yorker. I was completely flummoxed, but after reading your comments, I’m beginning to understand.
Flummoxed is the word! If I had a poem in The New Yorker, I'd be so dazzled I'd be afraid to touch it. But the compulsion to revise is strong...
Ah well, these aren't high stakes gambles...
Sometimes I've returned to an original and found that, after years of revising, I haven't really taken it that far. Or I took it far and then I brought it back. I rarely regret it though-- I love spending time with all the possibilities of a poem.