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Most of us have written poems addressed to a loosely identified ‘you.’ I’d written a whole bunch of these during National Poetry Writing Month this year, so it was something of a surprise to hear that ‘you’ poems have a bad reputation in certain circles. At a workshop one person described it as ‘weak and contrived’ and you have to wonder why.
According to Andrew Philips, author of The Ambulance Box. ‘… you pretends to generalise a particular experience; it tells the reader "you do/see/think this" when, in fact, they don't and quite possibly wouldn't or couldn't for any number of reasons. It attempts to steer around the ambiguities and problems of the poetic I; it neither steams ahead with the first person nor engages with postmodern games and doubts about the self. It can't decide whether it wants distance or intimacy and, instead, opts for something that purports to provide both.’
In simple words, ‘you’ is often used as a replacement for ‘I.’ Like saying ‘Imagine: you’re walking down a lonely street and this man comes up to you…’ without the ‘imagine’ part. In this case, the speaker is describing something that happened to herself, but draws her listener in by saying ‘you.’ It works quite well when you’re telling an anecdote, but many, including Shields, feel that the second person as a stand-in for the first in poetry is ‘an affectation’ and to be avoided.
Feel free to disagree with him (with good reason). At the same time, take note of this: ‘it seems to me that you would be best reserved for instances in which there is a clear addressee – a named dedicatee or one unnamed but obvious – or for use as an impersonal pronoun where standard grammar would require one.’
With that as a background, let me launch into my workshop. I want you to write a poem in the second person. You may choose any form you like, except Japanese styles, which are beautiful, but demand a completely different kind of workshop and an experienced haijin as host. You may write about anything you like, to anyone you like. Bu first:
Familiarise yourself with a few second person poems. I’ve left some links for you at the end of this post, but do your own research as well.
Make conscious decisions about how you want to approach this poem. This includes defining or deliberately not defining 'you,' deciding on the tone of the speaker (reflective, nostalgic, commanding, dominating, etc), and the kind of language she or he will use (simple, ornate, scientific, etc).
Your use of the second person should also be deliberate – after-thoughts are unwelcome here. Your intent won’t be immediately clear to you, but after the first couple of drafts, you should know what you’re doing.
Broadly, you can have narrative and instructional second person poems. The former seems to pose more problems than the latter. One rarely finds a novel or short story written in second person. (Calvino’s If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller is a notable exception.) And it’s clear why: how do you define ‘you’ as a character when ‘you’ is also the reader and you have no idea who that person is? You may have to decide on an identity and then force it upon the reader.
You could also try a variation of the dramatic monologue, in which the poet persona addresses a specific person about a specific subject or event. Dalgit Nagra hosted an excellent workshop on this form and I recommend you read it. He says, among other things, that ‘a dramatic monologue involves four different people – the speaker, the listener, the subject and the reader (who has to decide where their allegiance lies).’ The variation could be that you have more ‘you,’ less ‘I.’
The instructional poem is what I’ve been playing with, and it’s great fun. Although you can address a specific ‘you,’ it’s not necessary. I will borrow the words of yet another workshopper, who said, ‘I think the second person has great comic potential if it's a generic, broad address, because the first sweeping misstep raises suspicions about the narrator. There's fun to be had juggling statements that are accurate for a wide audience (though they're usually the result of the narrator getting a tad hyperbolic) with pronouncements that simply don't apply to anyone but the narrator ("you" as a neurotic stand-in for "I").’
You can create these poetic ‘instruction manuals’ for almost any activity, the stranger the better. Forget ‘How to make toast,’ try ‘How to make a toaster out of wood.’ Or pick something ordinary and offer not-ordinary advice on how to do it. (One of the poems I’m working on is called ‘How to walk in a park.’ )
Finally, here is a ‘you’ poem (well, ‘you and I’ poem) that I think everyone should read: ‘Boris the Manskinner’ by ~TheHungerArtist. One of the most powerful poems I’ve ever read (and not just on dA), it combines instruction with personal narrative in language that is clear and evocative. It begins:
When you skin a man you’ll find
he peels like ripening fruit.
He will scream when he has nothing
to confess; pay no mind
when you hear him. If
he speaks, his words
do not equal our words.
‘ Poem Not to Be Read at Your Wedding’ by Beth Ann Fennelly
‘How To Tame a Pair of Chappals’ by Gopal Honnalgere
‘A blade of grass’ by Brian Patten
‘The Lung Wash’ by Michael Symmons Roberts
Use the first week of this workshop to research, read, and put down ideas. You may want do a couple of trial poems or early drafts of what you will finally submit to the workshop. From December 19 to 26 you can submit your poems (details here). Try not to go over thirty or forty lines. Then you have a week to critique each other. Be civil, sincere and committed when you decide to spend time with someone's poem. I will post a brief summary on January 2.
If you have any, feel free to note me at `lovetodeviate or via the workshop. Happy workshopping.

