How does a poet know how to phrase writing? How does a dancer know how to phrase movement? In a turning point of enjambment the phrase hangs in mid-air…this sounds like dance, and this is poetry. The poetic term enjambment comes from the French “jambe” for “leg”. Lines have legs. They reach and extend.
If you’re beginning to experience a blurring of poetry and dance, this is my intention. The vocabulary of both includes: line, phrase, rhythm, sequence, punctuation, spacing, form, narrative, and so on. There’s the blank page and the empty stage. The oft quoted “dance is poetry in motion” could be inverted as “poetry is dance motioned into word”.
As for those opening questions, they aren’t exactly rhetorical but they are akin to trying to solve a mystery. The best answer I can give is: attention to timing and artistry of creating suspense. Other poets have taught me, by their example, the brilliance of a line without an end stop, a comma or period. And choreographers have demonstrated during rehearsals, calling out, “no stopping, don’t let it stop”. The feeling of sustainment as a dancer is sublime––it’s like the breath that hovers around a dangling phrase of a poem, until continuation allows the exhalation of completion. When you watch the great ballet dancer Nureyev on archival footage (I did see him once live, near the end of his career), you will see that his phrasing is relaxed within the demands of his craft, and full of surprise.
Great song expertly rendered by Mr Nat King Cole. A musicologist tells me that the song seems to derive from a Judaic melody. Thank you for the dance.-- DL
Posted by: The Best American Poetry | January 15, 2018 at 05:14 PM
It's a haunting melody. And seeing these movements out of the context of the classical music (and story) they're usually paired with is so interesting––it works.
Posted by: Charise M. Hoge | January 15, 2018 at 09:05 PM
I have so much to say about this! Years ago I sat next to a young dancer from the Miami City Ballet. (I had turned in an extra tkt a he got it.) Although I've been a ballet fan for decades, I'm not a trained dancer so I asked him during an intermission to tell me what he observed about the dancers. He pointed out the way certain dancers held back from the beat. "That's classic Edward Villela," he said. You hang back and that creates tension. Certain dancers seem to stay airborne or on point for a nano-second longer than expected and the observers can feel this in their own bodies. I agree it is similar to what might happen in a poem (Emily Dickinson comes to mind) when a word or a line is a complete surprise and yet precisely correct. The tension is resolved. Once upon a time in summer both Nureyev and Baryshnikov were dancing at Lincoln Center though with different companies, Nureyev and the Metropolitan Opera House and Baryshnikov at the NYS Theater (now the Koch theater). I went up there for single seat and opted for Baryshnikov (most likely b/c it was the less expensive of the tkts.). While I don't regret my choice (how could I?) I do wish I had seen Rudy. I had visited both theaters before making my choice and the tkt seller at the Met almost talked me into seeing Rudy in Romeo and Juliet. "He kisses her," she said. "It's gorgeous." Thank you for this terrific post Charise. Two of my favorite subjects, ballet and poetry. -- Stacey
Posted by: The Best American Poetry | January 16, 2018 at 09:27 AM
Well said! Yes, spectators have a mirror experience of the dancer they are watching (sometimes referred to as kinesthetic empathy) in their own bodies. Same must be true for the audience of a poem. Nureyev or Baryshnikov––what an impossible choice!
Posted by: Charise M. Hoge | January 16, 2018 at 02:02 PM
Charise,
Very much enjoyed your posts on dance, the body, and poetry this week; thanks for being.
My best,
Kathleen
Posted by: KH | January 20, 2018 at 08:50 AM
Thanks for letting me know, Kathleen. At times I felt I was going out on a limb (no pun intended, but there's that language of the body creeping in), so it's good to hear how much you enjoyed these posts.
Best,
Charise
Posted by: Charise M. Hoge | January 20, 2018 at 04:25 PM