“To Yes:” Kenneth Koch Affirms What is Good in the World

Kenneth Koch’s book New Addresses follows a fresh blueprint, a road that is rarely followed in the world of poetry.  His book’s memorable organizational style emphasizes the distinctive poem that it contains. As the reader catches on to the repetitive style of the letter poems in New Addresses, the beauty of the work exposes itself – as can be clearly seen in the complexity of the poem “To Yes.” 

            To begin, “To Yes” reveals some of itself only if the reader digs deep into the poem.  When reading the poem, the reader may experience varied feelings, including confusion, along with considering new concepts. However, if the poem is broken down, the unfathomable can be partially converted into the fathomable.   “To Yes,” the first poem in the book, is a letter poem.  This poem is an apostrophe, addressed and written to the concept of “yes,” which is personified in the process.  The poem is one stanza and is written in free verse.  It is far from prose, however.  It begins directly addressing the concept of “yes” in the second person, but digresses from this.  What follows is a long middle section that explores the many uses of the word yes, and comes full circle in the end by addressing the concept “yes” personally once again.  The central theme of the poem appears through questions, emerging eventually as a celebration of the affirmation and mystery of “yes.” 

            The poem begins with a description of the word yes, and adds question that can be answered with a yes or no.  Throughout the poem, first and second person is used.  This mode of address adds a feeling of familiarity with the reader, since it almost seems to put the reader into the shoes of the personified “yes.”  The poem consists of 27 lines, and while it is not the longest poem in the book, it is convoluted yet elegant.  The rapid-fire questions with unexpected answers keep the reader off-balance and searching for more explanation.  For example, the line “Are you a Buddist? Maybe.  A monsoon? Yes.” leaves one puzzled but enjoying the music of the language. 

            Linguistic devices help energize the poem.  Though it is written in free verse, the poem still has rhythm incorporated.  In the lines “Pamela bending before the grate/…I will meet you in Boston/At five after nine,” a distinct hint of anapest rhythm comes through.  The repetition of “yes” throughout the poem, besides contributing to rhythm, adds a sense of expectation, of waiting for the positive response to the multiple questions posed.  There is also a hint of rhyme, as “guess” and “yes” finish lines close to one another.

            The personification of the word “yes” seems at once to bring the poem within reach, and yet take some things out of the realm of comprehension.  The speaker of the poem even asks, “But what, Pamela, does that mean? Am I a yes/To be posed in the face of a negative alternative?”  The mystery of the poem deepens through the search of the speaker for truth.

Kenneth Koch again

I picked up Kenneth Koch's book New Addresses from my teacher, and I was so glad she helped me to discover his work!  I really enjoyed reading it.

a young Kenneth Koch

Kenneth Koch writes a letter to "Scrimping"

In his poem “To Scrimping,” Kenneth Koch creatively personifies a problem that many people can relat to: tightfistedness.  As the reader is immersed in the imagery of the poem, an auto-biographical situation, a battle with the self, emerges.

            New Addresses, the volume of poems in which “To Scrimping” appears, utilizes the style of apostrophe, or letter poems.  All the poems in this book are addresses to either physical objects or abstract ideas, such as scrimping.  As a result, all of the addressees of these letters are personified concepts.  In the volume, Koch chooses to write in first person, as he does in all of the poems that appear in this book New Addresses.  This gives a sense of intimacy to the reader, and helps to create the illusion that the speaker is conversing with the reader.  While multiple stanzas are absent in this poem, the chunk of text still has a very intentional structure.  Koch uses line lengths and enjambment to subtle but discernible ends.  The shorter line lengths communicate strong emotion, as the reader’s eyes jump to the next line quickly.  For example, the lines “I need to have engraved in my cerebrum/as in a library wall” communicate frustration.  As the speaker states, “I have my eye on you,” the short line length draw the eye, signaling the wariness of the speaker.  Enjambment also plays a part in this poem, as many of the sentences are fairly long.  The sentences take up between two and four lines, as Koch expertly varies the pace and the mood of the poem.  The enjambed line “I am a tire with my wheel dependent on you, Scrimping,/Then.” highlights the time qualifier “then” to show that the speaker intends to resort to Scrimping only in his most desperate times. 

            The formal elements of this poem were fairly subtle but contributed much to the overall effect of the poem.  While this poem was written without a regular meter, rhyme weasels its way into the poem.  The last four lines, wrapping up the poem, have an aabb rhyme scheme, with “all,” “wall,” “way,” and “away.” The author also includes slant rhyme, with “sod” and “not.”  Lines four through seven display an abcb rhyme pattern, with the rhyme appearing in the pair “law” and “wall.” As the poem transitions into a more solid rhyme scheme, it reaches for resolution.  There is one instance of clear alliteration, as Koch writes “emotionally exhausted,” which rings nicely in the ear.  All of these devices give the free verse energy and makes it a delight to read.

            Linguistically, besides structuring the poem around a drawn-out personification of stinginess, Koch also implements a metaphor in line 11. Introducing it in the line before with “completely blown out,” the speaker compares himself to a tire dependent on Scrimping to avoid a complete crash.  Imagery drives the poem, as one envisions the speaker dragging Scrimping along shopping, the speaker directing a law to be engraved inside of his skull, and the speaker attempting to shake Scrimping off of “My hand, my chest, my wrist.”  The most striking image is that of the speaker being walled up with Scrimping and left to die. 

            As I read this poem first for enjoyment, then critically, I discovered more ideas that spoke to me.  I picked this poem because scrimping is a relevant issue to me.  Monetarily, I tend to scrimp because I learned this habit form by parents as they tried to get by.  I also tend to scrimp with my time, often devoting more time to myself then I should.  I would like to change this habit and shake off scrimping for the most part, so that I may give most of my time to other people.  I could feel how the speaker struggled with Scrimping and the joy the speaker would experience by dying when he had given everything he had to give.  Reading this, I too wanted to strive to give everything I can.

The Ilustrious Life of Kenneth Koch

Brianna Brubaker

Ann Hostetler – Intro to Literature

Biography Sketch of Kenneth Koch



Kenneth Koch



            Kenneth Koch, and American writer, was born on February 27, 1925 in Cincinnati, Ohio.  Raised in a middle-class family, Koch was a talented student.  Despite his poor eyesight, the military conscripted him in 1943, leading to Koch’s service in the Philippines until 1945. Returning to the U.S., he attended Harvard University and graduated in 1948 with an A.B.

            Koch then moved to New York City, where he developed a style of writing that came to be categorized under the New York School of Poets.  This distinction also included his friend John Ashberry, along with the poets Frank O’ Hara and James Schuyler.  His first book of poems, Poems, was published in 1953.  According to The Scribner Encyclopedia of American Lives, “his mix of surreal imagery, slapstick humor, wide-ranging cultural allusiveness, and graceful lyricism revolted against the prevailing literary formalism of the day.” His time spent in France in the early 1950s resulted in poems mimicking the confusing wash of language he experienced there.

            Many of Koch’s early works were humorous and poked fun at more traditional and formal poetry.  His mock epic, Ko; or, A Season on Earth, was loosely modeled on the work Don Juan, and traced the path of a Japanese student pitching for the Dodgers.  Demonstrating further irreverence, Koch imitated one of William Carlos William’s most famous poems, “This is Just to Say,” creating a delightfully funny poem for his readers.

            Branching out from the world of poetry, Koch had been writing plays with some consistency throughout his carrier, and they began to receive national recognition.  Some plays appeared on Broadway, including the play One-Thousand Avant-Garde Plays.  This collection poked fun at the avant-garde plays that often appear on Broadway.  Next, he taught both children and older adults how to write poetry, resulting in two books:  Rose, How Did You Get the Red and I Never Told Anybody: Teaching Poetry Writing to Old People.  Koch experienced more critical acclaim and affirmation towards the end of this life.  His book  New Addresses was a finalist for the National Book Award.  Koch died in 2002 of leukemia. 

            New Addresses contains a style that is both humorous and serious.  By using the form of a letter throughout the book, Koch opens up new ground for himself.  Although he explores  topics he has already covered in other books, such as sexuality, he also brings his childhood into the light, which does not appear in his other books.  He also dealt with another untouched part of his life, his service in the military. As Koch said in an interview, “I was very surprised to find myself writing about these subjects. I was happy to find a way to write them” (“New Addresses”).  Koch may have sensed that his life was coming to its later days, as two of his pomes allude to the end of life, “To Breath” and “To Old Age.”  “To Breath” is especially poignant, as it entreats Breath to remain with the author until he has completed all the work that he wants to share with the world.  This book is considered one of his most complex and prestigious works, and it interacts with the reader on a deep level.

Koch’s Books of Poetry

1953: Poems

1959: Ko, or, A Season on Earth

1961: Permanently

1962: Thank You and Other Poems

1968: Poems From 1952 and 1953

1969: The Pleasures of Peace and Other Poems, Sleeping With Women, When the Sun Tries to Go On

1975: The Art of Love

1979: From the Air, The Burning Mystery of Anna in 1951

1982: Days and Nights

1986: On the Edge

1987: Seasons on Earth

1994:  On the Great Atlantic Railway: Selected Poems 1950-88, One Train

2000: New Addresses

Works Cited

“Kenneth Koch.”  The Scribner Encyclopedia of American Lives. Charles Schribner’s Sons, 2004. Gale Biography In Context.  Web. 16 Nov. 2011.

Leddy, Michael.  “New Addresses.”  World Literature Today 74.4 (2000): 819. Gale Biography in Context. Web. 16 Nov. 2011.

“NEW ADDRESSES.” Publishers Weekly 27 Mar. 200: 71. Gale Biography In Context. Web. 16 Nov. 2011.

“Selected Websites on Kenneth Koch’s Life and Works.”  Gale Biography in Context.  Detroit: Gale, 2008.  Gale Biography In Context. Web. 16 Nov. 2011.

Peter Fallon at the not-so-emerald isle of Goshen

I enjoyed the time that I got to spend listening to Peter Fallon, but I especially appreciated his poetry reading.  His poem selections were thought-provoking and based in his every-day experiences, which I found meaningful.  One thing that he said during his poetry reading that stuck with me was that poems are compositions, leading to composure in the poet and the world around him.  I especially enjoying his humorous poem that wrapped up the night, featuring a scene with the police and some people who had overstayed their welcome at the bar.  The dry wit was really refreshing.

I also enjoyed the intimate experience of having him in our classroom.  He read the poem "A Will,"  which discussed a tree growing on a rock and a fence post sprouting new growth, and related these images back to our population of 7 billion people.

A few quotes that stuck out to me:

 "Learn how to write the poem you're working on, and learn how to start again."

"Could I imaging my life without poems at the center of it?"

"Writing is a tension between the mysterious and the mundane."

"Do I trust that poem?"

"Behind Bars" in a Time of Turmoil

A Perspective on Fadwa Tuqan's poem "Behind Bars"

         At the beginning of the twentieth century, Palestine was part of the Ottoman Empire.  After World War I, it became its own country, only to be divided in two after World War II.  Fadwa Tuqan was born into a prominent Palestinian family in this volatile situation, and her poetry grew out of struggles with identity.  One of Tuqan’s lesser known poems, “Behind Bars,” deals with her feelings toward her mother but alludes to other layers of meaning.  Tuqan’s poem skillfully weaves together linguistic elements to create a vivid and unique image that details one person’s life experience within the larger conflicts in her homeland, still universally fascinating readers through giving a glimpse of human emotion, allowing us to see how Tuqan uses poetry in her life.

To begin, Tuqan attempts to deal with and act on some traumatic events that have happened to her by detailing them in poetry, in the process creating a very unique work. Written in first person, the poem describes the speaker's experience in prison as she visualizes her mother.   In the Against Forgetting Anthology, the speaker references the time before her arrest, saying "and my mother was near me,/ blessing my painting" (Forche 541).  The speaker then describes what she believes her mother is experiencing, such as "I see here/on her face silence and loneliness now" (Forche 541).  Probably expressing what Tuqan is feeling, the speaker yearns to escape her prison and run to her mother.     Not only does Tuqan set her poem in an unusual experience,  she does so with very startling imagery.  The poem begins with her mother’s phantom hovering before her, combining a mother, an intrinsically comforting image, with a ghost, something that tends to disturb people from any culture and may serve to shake up the reader.  Tuqan’s skillful figurative language also demonstrates the unique way her mind works as a poet.  She compares her mother's forehead, the seat of the intellect, to the light of stars, something that tends to be thought of very romantically.   This metaphor adds a tone of reverence to the poem.  Another surprising addition to the poem was the metaphor of “roses/grown with blood,”  changing the tone yet again as the author refers to her arrest.  Not many poets would talk about roses as nurtured in blood, and this ambiguous image gives Tuqan’s poetry mystery and distinction.  As a reader, one may have trouble understanding why the poet chose the phrase she did, or why the speaker’s mother blessed the painting.  In the very end of the poem as translated in Against Forgetting, Tuqan surprises the reader by yearning for not her mother's face, but the touch of "her arms and the face of day."  These hidden meanings are left to the interpretation of the reader, who will draw on personal life experience and knowledge to fill in the blanks. 

On another note, Tuqan’s poetry breaks many barriers in the Arab world, especially in the way she utilizes language. Not only is she a female poet, which is not often heard of or accepted, but according to the Encyclopedia of the Modern Middle East, she also writes in free verse in Arabic.  This violates the traditional form of Arab poetry, which, according to an article on Arab Poetry in AL-Bab: An Open Door to the Arab World, is normally composed within strict forms of rhyme and rhythm.  Her experimentation creates a new and fresh form of her art.  Fadwa Tuqan’s poetry is unique not only for the unusual personal situation she is describing, presumably from jail, but also individual because of the trailblazing way she manipulates language.

Next, Tuqan witnessed a tumultuous era of her land. Born on March 1, 1917, she lived to see her country taken over by outsiders and the state of Israel created in 1948.  A rapidly changing reality was part of Tuqan’s growing up years, as disputes abounded between Arabs and Israelis on land claims. With these circumstances, Contemporary Authors online suggests that it would be natural for Tuqan’s poems “trace the development of the Palestinian people, from despair to steadfastness to resistance” (“Fadwa Tuqan”).  A time of severe political oppression in Palestine appeared in many of Tuqan’s works, as she responded to and pushed back against the dictates of foreign powers.  She lived through the Arab revolt of 1936-1939, as militants directed attacks toward the British establishment and Jewish settlements. While the reader of "Behind Bars" may not know all the details of the unrest that Tuqan experienced, she may get a sense of turmoil as Tuqan connects her written "letters in a book" to her arrest.   Tuqan’s first volume of poetry was published  in 1952, titled Wahdi ma al-Ayyam, or Along with the Days. As more wars broke out, Fadwa responded to the injustice and complexities of the Six-Days War and the Yom Kippur War, as Jewish people took more and more Palestinian land away.  Her memoir, published 1985 as Rihlah Sa’bah, Rihlah Jabaliyah, records some of this, as well as the repression she felt from her family.  Her memoir was her first work to be translated into English, as A Mountainous Journey.  The larger context of Fadwa Tuqan’s works lead to the rich and varied poetry that she produced, especially evident as her poem “Behind Bars”  showcases her control of imagery and metaphor.  She experienced more severe discouragement both in her home and in the political atmosphere than most people ever experience, and this combined with her creative spirit to explode into masterful and powerful works.  

Finally, Tuqan’s poetry is intensely emotional, touching many readers through the use of her style elements and personal life.  The imagery of the satchel and old uniform, gathering dust, draw the reader more fully into the poem.  In “Behind Bars,”  Tuqan’s mother is central to the poem just as almost all mothers are central to their children’s lives.  Drawing on shared experiences of being separated from people we love, mothers especially, Tuqan lays out a very simple but heart-wrenching experience.  As a reader, the repetition of the phrase  “silence and loneliness”  harbors an acute sense of the pain of separation.  The repetition of the phrase makes it seem like the ringing of a question asked to the hollow air in an empty building.  One can almost feel Tuqan’s longing for her mother:  that emptiness that can only be filled by a loved one.  Helplessness also preys on the reader, as one feels the constriction of being under arrest and no longer making choices for oneself. However, there is little literature on this particular poem, and the reader may feel lost when faced with the emotional burden of roses grown from blood and no explanation for these carnivorous flowers.  Tuqan’s arrest is also shrouded in mystery, laying down more questions.  However, these questions draw the reader back again and again, feeling the raw emotional power resonate with the unanswerable inquiries.  Perhaps this marriage of emotion and curiosity is what makes the poem so powerful.

          In conclusion, Tuqan’s artfully developed poetry and personal images combine with the unique situation of her homeland, creating an emotional atmosphere that touches a wide range of readers. Her unique free verse and feminist themes emerged as a cry against the restricting society in which she was raised, calling for room for change and creativity.  She pushed boundaries with innovation, challenging injustice where she saw it by responding with art.  Her poems could never be shot down like an enemy, and indeed, the former Israeli defense minister commented that “reading one of Tuqan's poems was like facing twenty enemy commandos” (“Fadwa Tuqan”).  The art of words performed an action more sacred and insidious than the violence of  a fighter:  instead of killing people, it changed their minds.  These poems, written for their own sake, added beauty and truth to the world, which always hungers for beauty and truth.  As Contemporary Authors Online explains it, “In the face of anger, despair, and occupation, she held out hope and determination.”  This is what gives Tuqan's poem "Behind Bars" its meaning in a context of death and violence:  it becomes a way to healing and life.

Works Cited

Amawi, Abla M. "Fadwa Tuqan." Encyclopedia of the Modern Middle East. Gale, 2004. Gale Biography In Context. Web. 31 Oct. 2011.

"Arabic Poetry." AL-BAB: an Open Door to the Arab World. 18 June 2009. Web. 06 Dec. 2011. <http://www.al-bab.com/arab/literature/poetry.htm>.

"Fadwa Tuqan." Contemporary Authors Online. Detroit: Gale, 2008. Gale Biography In Context. Web. 31 Oct. 2011.

Forche, Carolyn.  "Behind Bars, Sel." Against Forgeting: Twentieth-Century Poetry of Witness.  New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc,  1993.  

My stab at sonnet writing

American Sign Language

Her fingers flying through the air with purpose,

My teacher gives us truth with practiced patience.

The class observes, in awe, her faithful service:

She guides us through the foreign world of silence.

With watchful eyes, we learn the signs for numbers,

actions, clothes, emotions; and the colors

bejewel the air with ideas unencumbered

by careless sounds, extra that tend to smother.

Excitedly we shape our hands new ways,

communicating with our child-like fingers,

And as we navigate this tricky maze,

a sense of learning and well-being lingers.

This class, who shared so little before signing,

now faces an adventurous horizon.

I used the Shakespearian sonnet form, because I remembered that it is an easier form to use in English, which has few rhymes.  I had a lot of trouble finding rhymes for the first words I picked, probably because I wanted to use multisyllabic words.  I either changed the words of the sentences or picked another word with which to end the line.  I discovered that it was easier to keep the meter going as I went along, and it was really satisfying to complete a line.

Having some feedback on this sonnet was really helpful, because I struggled with some things in it.  I tried to keep the rhyme scheme going in one of the stanzas, but then the actual line was pretty vague.  I fixed the meaning on that line, and I also altered a line so the  rhyme for silence would be closer.  After writing this, I also realized that I added an extra syllable to the words at the end of the lines, but I would basically have to rewrite the sonnet to change that, so I just left it.  Hopefully you can forgive my flawed writing!