Demystifying Depth in Poetry

CWC Takeaways: Ken Babstock on Friction and Layering

Today’s post is written by Mike Rivera, our resident critic, who shares his reflections on class takeaways each month. CWC members, watch the replay of Ken Babstock’s session here.

Let’s be honest: there have been times when we have believed (or still believe) that a “good” poem comes from the deep reservoir of a complex mind that can see and connect a multitude of overlapping ideas.

We are taught early in our literary development to memorize and recognize poetic devices. We celebrate classic poems for the way that they easily weave together many of those devices. There is this image of the poet—drunk and moody—staring out the window and into their own thoughts as genius bubbles inside of them.

We also, mostly, understand that to be complete bullshit.

Still, when the idea of layering in poetry comes up, it is hard not to have that image appear and shake the foundation of our confidence as we wonder whether we are capable of imbuing our work with those layers. 

Luckily, poet Ken Babstock immediately set fire to that tired myth:

“I've always been suspicious of this notion of depth and what we mean by that. It's all attached to the idea of genius and interiority.”

I love the mention of interiority in this context. Ken challenged the idea of “depth” as a useful framework and reframed it as a sort of modernist hangover. Ken argues that the classic idea of depth is not really how we should view layering. Instead, we should consider it an accretive, external process that comes from engaging with the world around us and letting our unique perspective shine through. He looks at layering as an almost literal process and calls it “an act of assembly.” 

This shift in mindset is key. We aren’t uncovering the layers like some sort of geologist picking through soil cores. Instead, we’re watching a cake being built. I’m all over the place with these analogies, but you get me. The poet is a builder and a forager. The depth has nothing to do with profundity: it is a byproduct of the friction between the layers. 

Ken led us through this concept while looking at Karen Solie’s “Tractor,” Nick Laird’s “Glitch,” and his own poem, “Aubade From Security.” The heart of his argument is that poems are living systems, not polished statements, and that their energy lives in the materiality of the language itself. For example, in Solie’s piece, he highlights that the shift in registers (technical to abstract) creates a friction that births depth. 

His prompt was one that is worth trying on your own now:

1. Begin by writing about a landscape and situating a subjective observer into it. This setting does not have to be sublime and beautiful (in his own words, it could be the alley behind your house).

2. Then, suddenly and without explanation, transition from the landscape to your own "life world." This world consists of the facts, objects, things, knowledge, and images that belong to you. Remember, don’t explain the transition. Simply move from the landscape to the facts of your life's work. Let the depth build in the friction between the two. 

Try this out yourself, and please share any writing that emerges in the comments!

Mike

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