Time and Materials: Poems 1997-2005 Book

[...]

The gene pool threw up a wobbly stem
And the tree danced. No.
The tree capitalized.
No. There are limits to saying,
In language, what the tree did.

It is good sometimes for poetry to disenchant us.

[...]
- The Problem of Describing Trees (pg. 10)

The so-called "limits in language" are, in fact, limits in the poet's imagination. First and foremost, how many poets have described trees before, how many times have trees been described in different and nuanced ways? All beautiful, I might add. Although language undeniably has its limits, it can't be said that language reaches its limits here, in this poem. Again, I refer to a limit in the poet's imagination, for another reason... The reason being that he could not find a more accurate example to demonstrate the limits of language. I refer to the poets who came before. If the poet really wanted to lament his inability to describe something (without exposing the limits of his imagination), perhaps he should have harked on the challenge of describing something that has been described so many time already. I wouldn't know what to say about a tree - not for limit of imagination, but because so many greater writers have described trees in greater ways than I could ever hope to. Which brings me to the poet's next shortcoming: Why attempt to describe something when you know you can't describe it (be it for any of the aforementioned reasons, of for the poet's proposed reason, the limits of language). Of course the poet is not describing the tree, but describing his inability to describe the tree. If this was the poet's intention all along, it leaves a lot to be desired. Aside from being an admission of the depravity of his anachronistic form of poetry (as if the previously line about the gene pool throwing up a "wobbly" stem is an example of the possibilities of language opposite the limits of language), it is an admission of guilt, of complacency, of sterility. If we, the reader, are to accept that the poem is not a meditation on a tree but a meditation on the problem of describing trees (as the title suggests), then we must also accept that the poet is aware of the depravity of his poetic form, aware of the anachronism...

The only line in the poem that resonates is "It is good sometimes for poetry to disenchant us". This line summarizes my feelings on Time and Materials. At least the part about being disenchanted. I'm not sure about the part about it being good. Good for who?

I don't think it's good for the reader. Perhaps I'm only speaking for myself but... to feel disenchanted, and then to be told that "it is good sometimes for poetry to disenchant"... Firstly, this assumes that it is the poetry and not the poet that is to blame for disenchanting us. I don't accept this assumption, and would sooner blame the poet (be it Robert Hass or any other poet). Secondly, this assumes that the poet should decide how their poetry should affect the reading audience. I don't accept this assumption, and would rather decide for myself how poetry should affect me than leave it to the poet (especially a poet like Robert Hass, who has called his qualifications into question by failing to describe a tree).

I don't think it's good for the poet. Although he has succeeded in shifting the attention away from the tree he cannot describe, onto the act of describing the tree, he has failed to create a strong case for the so-called "limits in language". The reader cannot help but suspect that it is not the limits of language but the limits of the poet's imagination that prevent him from describing the tree. Likewise, the reader suspects that it is not poetry that has disenchanted us but the poet himself. Ultimately, the poet's "slight-of-hand" has failed. Informing us that "it is good sometimes for slight-of-hand to disenchant us" does not diminish the failure.

I'm sure I had something to say about the other poems in this collection. Unfortunately they have been overshadowed by the monumental failure that is Robert Hass's problem of describing trees... Not to mention his problem of crafting a poem around the problem of describing trees.