My inquisitive interest has been space in line for a long time. Each time I attend a workshop, I have asked about the meaning of individual space in a poem. I remember that white space is critical as well as black space as a comment of a poet and tutor in the workshop of A Casa dos Poetas in Portugal. In this viewpoint, I choose the poem. An American poet Linda Gregerson has written poems in a sinuous tercet form that is a formal vehicle for her. Every stanza is a left-justified block with an indented line called a “pivot line” by her. Of course, the meaning of space is varied depending on poets and poems.
I like her poems based on her thoroughgoing research.
Eyes Like Leeks by Linda Gregerson
It had almost nothing to do with sex.
in his corset and farthingale, his head-
voice and his smooth-for-the-duration chin
and never had been simply in our pay. Or
was it some lost logic the regional accent
A young Welsh actor may play a reluctant
laborer playing Thisby botching
and stop our hearts with wonder. My young friend
he’s seven—touched his mother’s face last night
and said It’s
wet and, making the connection he has had
to learn by rote, You’re sad.
not like this for him. As if,
the adolescents mouth wherever California spills
vernacular. As if, until
the gesture holds, or passes. Let’s just
we’ll live here for a while. O
habitus. O wall. O moon. For my young
it’s never not some labored
simulacrum, every tone of voice, each
take is wrested from an unrelenting social
dark. There’s so much dark to go around (how
to be this and no other and, like all
the others, marked for death), it’s a wonder
for locals at all. Take Thisby for instance:
minutes ago she was fretting for lack of a beard
she weeps for a lover slain by a minute’s
misreading. Reader, it’s
as the lion’s tooth. Who takes
the weeping away now takes delight as well,
for all the world like honest
work. They’ve never worked with mind before,
man says. But moonlight says, With flesh.