"Papo's Ars Poetica": Beyond Betrayal

In class, we were given the poem "Papo's Ars Poetica", and told to comment on the significance of a line in “Papo’s Ars Poetica”. Once, a professor specializing in Asian American race studies told me, "no one should ever feel obliged to bear the burden of representation". I agree that no one should feel obliged to bear the burden of representation, but this does not stop each of us being representational symbols - whether we like it or not. We do bear the burden of representation. We live in a world where we operate by signs. Every act is a sign pregnant with political and social meanings. And when any poet makes himself visible, it's important he is aware of the implications of what his art represents. I think Willie Perdomo's poems, despite giving the illusion of compulsive emotion without thought, is laced with this sense of self-awareness.

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- I’m home

In the streets of this poem
Where I’m stuck (Smoking Lovely, “Papo’s Ars Poetica”, 26-9)

In the final lines of Willie Perdomo’s “Papo’s Ars Poetica”, the speaker describes himself “in the street of this poem / Where I’m stuck” (27-9). These lines articulate the speaker’s romantic and cultural attachment to Spanish Harlem while hinting at a sense of anxiety over the fact that his art draws inspiration from and could have the propensity to reinforce his place within the socio-economic realities of Harlem. The tension within the line throws up the poet’s ambivalent feelings on the problems and implications of his poetic representations of Harlem.

“The street of this poem” refers to Harlem. “Home” is a loaded metaphor, suggesting a sense of cultural belonging. The lack of punctuation or enjambment in the lines inhibit a sense of closure, suggests unresolved yearning and nostalgia, and points to the poet’s desire to linger. “I’m home” placed in one stanza, holds greater resonance and immediacy. But cultural identity and art converge in this poem. “In the street of this poem / Where I’m stuck” is a statement on how the speaker’s art invariably refers back to or draws inspiration from Harlem. Collectively, the lines are an expression of how the speaker’s identity and art is inextricably intertwined with Harlem. Harlem is the source of artistic inspiration as well as the place where he reclaims his sense of identity.

Yet the word “stuck” undermines the rich longing and sentimentality for Harlem. It points to a sense of confinement, entrapment and claustrophobia. Despite its romanticization of Harlem, the poem is also recognition of Harlem as a site of violence, poverty and grief. “I’m stuck in the street of this poem” portrays that the writer’s fear of being entrapped within the socio-economic realities of Harlem. The poem is not a statement of blind idealization, but depicts an awareness of the tension between a romanticized fiction and realization of place. The speaker’s attachment to Harlem both rejuvenates the speaker’s art while it threatens to marginalize him in society.

“The streets of Harlem” thus reflects the writer’s ambivalent feelings of his own art being so intertwined with Harlem. Its harsh k-sounds stand in contrast to the gentler words surrounding it and suggest a sense of panic. In Perdomo’s piece, it is the spaces between words that speak as loud as the words. The stanza breaks and absence of punctuation point to his powerful and unresolved feelings. We can guess at Perdomo’s questions towards his art: Are my poetic idealizations reinforcing my sense of attachment to Harlem and reinforcing my social position from being tied to this place? If a poor and dangerous Harlem is the object of poetry, am I turning the suffering of others within Harlem into an aesthetic object? Should I be guilty that my poetry profits from the suffering of others?

The unspoken questions that arise from the tensions between the words, “home”, and “stuck”, suggest the poet’s awareness of the implications of his art. The line “I’m home” is singularly placed rather than seamlessly integrated into the piece, and despite its pretensions of articulating a sense of affinity with Harlem, could suggest detachment rather than intimate and sentimental self-identification. Although these lines reflect the speaker’s romantic desire to celebrate Harlem in all its grit and suffering, his poetic aspirations are undermined his own sense of awareness.

The poetic project in “Papo’s Ars Poetica” is undercut by the speaker’s realization of the realities of place and implications of his art. The tensions within the final lines of the poem illustrate this duality and conflict, and illustrate that the poet’s view of “Ars Poetica” or the art of poetry, is that it should produce an art that does not betray reality at the expense of lyrical beauty.

Fabulous Faith, Bouncy Bianca, Joyful Julia

Today I met Bouncy Bianca, Erratic Eric, Joyful Julia, Merry Mei and a host of other people who’d just stepped out of a rather twee little storybook for children. We went around a circle in class, giving our names alliterative adjectives, and then valiantly tried to recite one another’s names.

Of course, we weren’t really remembering one another’s names. We were remembering caricatures of one another’s names; we were remembering violent juxtapositions of the prosaic and hyperbolic. There was humor and irony in how we fumbled for an alliterating adjective, before quickly declaring a completely uncharacteristic one. We got to see how a strong adjective overshadows its accompanying noun (“uh…sorry, Jubilant…what?”), how assonant words reinforce one another (everyone remembered Erratic Eric). When you bring words out of the confines of the page, the mechanisms of poetry become amplified. The addition of one word creates a subtle and profound significance. We became different persons for a few minutes of our lives.