CREEK ROAD GANG
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Notes on the Poetry of Kay Ryan
An Essay by Joe Quintoncopyright 2011
Driving west from Arizona along I-10, you enter a section of California that is different from what you usually see in the movies. The ground is dry, desert like, a moonscape. In this country Kay Ryan grew up.
In the poem "A Certain Meanness of Culture," Ryan almost apologizes for the desert life: “what else can we do/born on deserts” ending with a description, which might be autobiographical, of the result for the desert dweller “you like winches and pulleys, picks and khakis, / and the rare sweet grass you can/find for your donkey." This is a precise summing of her life and poetry.
Ryan, National Poet Laureate 2009-2010, and winner of the Pulitzer Prize for poetry 2011, has been acknowledged as one of the greats in American poetry, yet her first published work was only made possible by the gifts of friends. Since then she has published seven books of poetry, most recently the one that won her the Pulitzer Prize, The Best of It: New and Selected Poems.
This is a bountiful collection of Ryan’s work. It contains most of the poems from her previous four books as well as new poems. Unfortunately, her earliest poems are not here, making it difficult to trace her growth.
Reading her poems, one is struck by their sparseness. The lines are short, sometimes only two or three syllables. Her poems’ lengths are similarly slight rarely going over a page. She manages to contain much thought in this meager space so the reader is required to study the intricacies of her words in order to obtain in full the richness they contain.
Her style makes one think of the artist Joseph Cornell who devised works in boxes from found material. She alludes to this in her poem "The Material": “we must extract parts/to do our work” “whatever is done leaves a hole in the possible.” Her poems seem made, pieced together like Cornell’s boxes. You have the feeling she is like a jeweler looking at many rare gems and cautiously examining each stone for the appropriateness of it for her work before polishing and inserting it in the poem.
There are many who compare of Ryan’s work to that of other poets. One such poet is Emily Dickinson, who might be cited for the similar shortness of her verse. These comparisons work on the surface, but Ryan’s tone is rougher, more reflective of the landscape she grew up in. In "Desert Reservoirs," “beachless basins…unnatural bodies of water” call to mind the ruggedness of her part of the state.
The human element is scant and where present has to be winkled out. In "Ideal Audience," she lists lines of those not the titled group before ending on the personal note “that only we two/ever found this room.” This is a familiar pattern, lines of negative thoughts, ending with the personal note she wants to make. In "Polish and Balm," again she lists some negatives before ”we know she loved them/ but not what love means.”
There is a sly humor to many of her poems. In "Masterworks of Ming," she speaks of the loveliness of Ming pottery then switches to washing a daughter in the bowl “first you/would put/one then/the other/end in”. This quirky switching is one of her hallmarks, ever keeping you alert to what is the true thought behind each piece. The lines also are an example of Ryan’s ability to rhyme on you when you aren’t looking.
The title for the collection is taken from a poem in her previous collection, Niagara River. “However carved up/or pared down we get, /we keep on making /the best of it…” ending with “and we’d rejoice if/it flourishes, as/though one bean/could nourish us.”
These lines sum up her poetry, which steers clear of the polished and affable. She celebrates life, yet sees no reason to make it any smoother than it actually is. Her poems are a quick read, yet they linger and one wants to return and reread.
In the poem "A Certain Meanness of Culture," Ryan almost apologizes for the desert life: “what else can we do/born on deserts” ending with a description, which might be autobiographical, of the result for the desert dweller “you like winches and pulleys, picks and khakis, / and the rare sweet grass you can/find for your donkey." This is a precise summing of her life and poetry.
Ryan, National Poet Laureate 2009-2010, and winner of the Pulitzer Prize for poetry 2011, has been acknowledged as one of the greats in American poetry, yet her first published work was only made possible by the gifts of friends. Since then she has published seven books of poetry, most recently the one that won her the Pulitzer Prize, The Best of It: New and Selected Poems.
This is a bountiful collection of Ryan’s work. It contains most of the poems from her previous four books as well as new poems. Unfortunately, her earliest poems are not here, making it difficult to trace her growth.
Reading her poems, one is struck by their sparseness. The lines are short, sometimes only two or three syllables. Her poems’ lengths are similarly slight rarely going over a page. She manages to contain much thought in this meager space so the reader is required to study the intricacies of her words in order to obtain in full the richness they contain.
Her style makes one think of the artist Joseph Cornell who devised works in boxes from found material. She alludes to this in her poem "The Material": “we must extract parts/to do our work” “whatever is done leaves a hole in the possible.” Her poems seem made, pieced together like Cornell’s boxes. You have the feeling she is like a jeweler looking at many rare gems and cautiously examining each stone for the appropriateness of it for her work before polishing and inserting it in the poem.
There are many who compare of Ryan’s work to that of other poets. One such poet is Emily Dickinson, who might be cited for the similar shortness of her verse. These comparisons work on the surface, but Ryan’s tone is rougher, more reflective of the landscape she grew up in. In "Desert Reservoirs," “beachless basins…unnatural bodies of water” call to mind the ruggedness of her part of the state.
The human element is scant and where present has to be winkled out. In "Ideal Audience," she lists lines of those not the titled group before ending on the personal note “that only we two/ever found this room.” This is a familiar pattern, lines of negative thoughts, ending with the personal note she wants to make. In "Polish and Balm," again she lists some negatives before ”we know she loved them/ but not what love means.”
There is a sly humor to many of her poems. In "Masterworks of Ming," she speaks of the loveliness of Ming pottery then switches to washing a daughter in the bowl “first you/would put/one then/the other/end in”. This quirky switching is one of her hallmarks, ever keeping you alert to what is the true thought behind each piece. The lines also are an example of Ryan’s ability to rhyme on you when you aren’t looking.
The title for the collection is taken from a poem in her previous collection, Niagara River. “However carved up/or pared down we get, /we keep on making /the best of it…” ending with “and we’d rejoice if/it flourishes, as/though one bean/could nourish us.”
These lines sum up her poetry, which steers clear of the polished and affable. She celebrates life, yet sees no reason to make it any smoother than it actually is. Her poems are a quick read, yet they linger and one wants to return and reread.
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Biographical Note: Joe
Quinton settled in Chester County after various stops around the United
States. He began writing poetry from a desire to make sense of the
varied lives he has led in his eight decades. His poetry is both
autobiographical and forward looking. Joe is a regular contributor to Creek Road Gang. See also the Author Index for Poetry and Author Index for Prose L-Z to find more of his work.
