Shake it like a polaroid picture

As a poet and a copyeditor, I spend a lot of time with language — reading it, writing it, using it, thinking about it. I am language-immersed. So it shouldn't be a surprise that I got to thinking about the difference between wiggle and jiggle. The rhyming pair, often used together, have slightly different meanings. While wiggle suggests a side-to-side movement, jiggle is a more multi-directional, up-and-down bounce. Random House Webster's (our House dictionary) captures this difference, defining jiggle as "to move up and down or to and fro with short, quick jerks" and wiggle as "to move or go with short, quick, irregular movements from side to side." Things that jiggle include Jell-O, breasts, and Etch-A-Sketch, while wiggling describes puppies, hips, and an Australian band for children.

Writing again

I didn't write anything for weeks. Not a line of poetry. Not even a blog post. A fallow period. And in the middle of it, a couple weeks ago, I started going to a weekly poetry workshop. Which meant that I had to share poems. The first week I brought in something from mid-June. But the process of going to the workshop has got me writing again. Last week, it was something about The Death of Marat. This week, I picked up where I left off months ago with the "Pythia says..." poems. I brought the first couple poems in the series to the workshop and the response was so warm, that I've started working on it again.

I find I'm writing in the car on the drive to and from San Ramon. Actually, I don't write while driving, I just repeat lines over and over until I can pull over and scribble down a stanza. I think it's affecting the rhythm of the process, hopefully for the better.

Morning Excitement

It's a holiday, and I'm sleeping late. Trying to sleep late, anyway, when Adam sits bolt upright and says, "Radio!"

Did he lose his clock radio? Does he hear one outside? What am I supposed to do with this information? I say something to this effect (Me: "Whaa??!").

"Radio the cat," he says. This is when I look over to the windows and see our downstairs neighbor's cat filling up half the screen. This is somewhat surprising, as we live in a third floor attic apartment.

After a minute or so, he leaves, and we wonder how he's going to get off the roof (the window is in a gable, so we're already at roof level).

Half an hour later, Radio is back, whimpering to get in. This time we're ready. I grab a camera and take a picture (soon to come, I hope). Adam slides back the screen, and Radio comes in. He's a big, friendly mass of gray-brown fur. I get out a piece of turkey and carefully lure him out of the apartment. Once in the central hallway, Radio has no interest in leaving by the front door, so Adam knocks on Sarah's door and brings the truant cat back to his owner.

As I'm writing this, I hear a "Meow" from the living room window. He's back, camped out now on the fire escape.

"I'm surprised he didn't do this years ago," says Adam.

If he can get up, I guess he can get down.

Should Poetry Editors Edit?

Quite the brouhaha has erupted on the Buffalo Poetics List about Listenlight magazine. Apparently, the editor has been changing poems before publishing them on the website. In some cases, it seems the editor contacted the authors prior about the changes, but in other cases it appears the poems were just published in a substantially altered state. I actually had some pieces published there a few months ago, and I never noticed any changes had been made (of course, I didn't exactly compare it word-for-word with a print-out, so I don't know).

What is even more interesting about the discussion is the general attitude that poetry editors must take poems as inviolable works, and even suggesting changes is beyond the pale. (In my capacity as editor of There, I have also followed this rule.) This is, of course, in pretty stark contrast to the actions of editors in other lines of publishing (books, magazines, most prose writing, in fact). My diurnal job of copy editor expects me to "improve" other writers' work.

It would seem, then, that a poetry editor is not expected to edit poetry, but rather to compile poetry; their role is that of anthologist, perhaps. What editing there is takes place in the choice of collection and the ordering of works.

Changing a poet's work without asking would seem pretty unethical (though I question the claims of illegality -- it would depend on what sort of contract existed). But is it wrong to suggest changes to a poem? Writers do it in workshops all the time, so there is, at least, a period of time when a poem isn't inviolable. And shouldn't a good editor be someone who encourages a writer to do her best possible work?

Of course, I see no reason to get on the wrong side of public opinion on this one. There will continue to publish poems that I already find pretty great; no need for "improvement" on my part.