Finding the Rhythm of the Words

When I set out to print this Milton Acorn passage that I typeset yesterday, something felt off, and I realized that although it wasn’t a poem, it was kind of a poem, and deserved to be set such that the words found their rhythm, so I pulled apart the forme and rearranged the lines. I love it so much more.

Here’s the content for the passage (emphasis mine)

In this book, JACKPINE SONNETS, will appear a strange word — realisant. Don’t look for it in the dictionary because it’s not there. It’s a word coined in one of those discussions with Purdy. It means romantic in the real old sense… that of the original Romantic poets… not of those in the trough of the wave who fatally changed the meaning of the word ‘romantic’ as applied to poetry. Think of it as meaning ‘realistic’ but not fanatic about it — ‘flexible’. It is a combination of the Anglo-French word ‘real’ and a diminutive from some other language whose identity my friends dispute.

The Jackpine is realisant. It has a basic form, yes, but grows to any shape that suits the light, suits the winds, suits itself.

Again to those apostates’ lyingly naming their stuff ‘free verse’. Your cowardice will get you, not as you hope, nowhere; but somewhere bad. In battle it is the brave man pressing forward who is most likely to survive. It’s those who fiddle around pre-occupied with fear who most often fall. They’re thinking only of themselves — not paying attention. So, when the Yankee torturemen come, your mute betrayal of poetry won’t save you. Meanwhile it’s just possible I shall be in ambush at some secret spot dealing fearful blows.

Thus the Jackpine Sonnet came out of its cover.

Milton Acorn
May Day 1977