Where does a poet begin? Without a shadow of a doubt, with copyng. There is no poetry without copying, and any poet who claims she has not copied is either a liar, not worth a damn, or both. For poetry abhors a vacuum, and so it is impossible to craft an Urtext without stepping beyond alluding, merely making reference or deference, or responding to that which has come before. Pastiche is an art of growth by means of appropriation.
The first copying is done tentatively, as with the trembling hand of a thief. It is innocent, wishing merely to ask “Do I dare / Disturb the universe?” After this initial question of license is satisfied, one is wont to proceed to more systematic copying, while trying one’s hand at various poetic forms. (This brings to mind the infamous practice by Hunter S. Thompson of retyping broad swaths of Fitzgerald, Mailer, and Hemingway just to see what writing a great book felt like.) At long last, one copies for the sheer joy of it—tribute commingled with pleasure.
The following is a growing list of my various attempts at pastiche.
