Edgar Poe talked of two kinds of writing:
One discloses what we ourselves had thought before.
The other seems to us wholly original.
Either one gains our approval, though in the case of the former, we may remark to ourselves, “how could it be that no one has observed this before?”
So it is with this lovely line by Natalie Scenters-Zapico:
apartments that feel like they are by the sea, but out the window there is only freeway
One could listen to this line all day, and one can see all sorts of things in it (man vs. nature, etc) as one listens to it.
Andrew Kozma’s line is more complex because it does not have the easily recognizable, profound clarity of his opponent’s line:
what lies we tell. I love the living, and you, the dead.
This line has several parts: We have “lies” between two people, separated by love of the “living” and love of the “dead.” There is a delicious ambiguity which intoxicates us—due to a misty evocation of that border line between life and death, and the love which can attend on both.
The implication is that these are powerful lies (“what lies we tell”) and the stark contrast maintains its delightful ambiguity in the context of these two must be lovers.
Is the poet boasting that he loves the “living,” whereas his poor, sorry lover merely loves the “dead?” This is one possible reading, and if this was all the line was saying, it would be weak. But the ghosts of the “dead” will not be turned away from this line, and its mysteries, and this doubt makes the line very powerful.
Poor poetry must use doubts to be strong.
Be strong, Andrew.
You might still win this thing.
