The first “themed” issue of Unlikely 2.0 was the July 4th Satire Issue, and was done hurriedly and largely on a whim, and included several pieces that had nothing to do with the theme, since we had been planning to do an unthemed issue on June 26th. This time around, we were much more methodical. We secured the rights to Gene Keller’s music almost before the July issue was finished, and began soliciting our writers and subscribers for election-themed submissions in August.
Knowing that creative writers are almost always procrastinators, I wasn’t terribly concerned when the submissions failed to pour in. As October approached, I became more concerned, and sent out roughly 150 solicitations. When our art director was hospitalized for a kidney infection (she’s out now) and I was left scrambling for a movie and selection of paintings, I had the opportunity to remember the basic fact of a magazine editor’s life: no matter how much you prepare, the week before a release will always suck ass.
I am very pleased with every article in this issue. I asked the basic question, “What will you be doing on election day?” Some writers answered it literally, and many went off on wild tangents. Several ignored the question; we decided not to publish articles about politics in general in this issue, but those articles, poems, and stories which were specific to the upcoming election were accepted. I managed to find excellent and relevant visual art, due less to an understanding of the forms and more to a lack of Circadian rhythm. We’ve got some incredible, creative work here, and it’s intriguing how people who’ve often come to the same conclusions can express their logic in such radically different ways.
To be honest, though, I expected this issue to be thicker. Christ, 150 solicitations and less than 25 responses. Now, part of that can probably be attributed to my shitty personality (don’t worry, the other staff members here are all a bunch of charming little fuckers), but I guarantee you that if I sent out 150 solicitations for poetry bitching about ex-lovers, 140 people would answer, and they’d bring 100 friends. And frankly, I thought Americans loved to argue about politics. Granted, most do so with angry grunts and a dozen multisyllabic words they learned from Dr. Laura, but I assumed the love of the game of politics extended to the literate, as well. Repeatedly, though, I got the reply, over e-mail, telephone, and presumably the silence: “I don’t mix poetry and politics.”
Poets shouldn’t keep the same opinions throughout their lifetimes. Philosophers and pundits become boxed in; they often, hopefully inaccurately, believe that a serious shift in opinion will be taken as betrayal by their fans. Poets are allegedly wordsmiths. A poet’s fans might appreciate his thoughts, but rarely consider it important to agree with the poetry they read. This is one reason that the great thinking patterns of civilization usually appear in poetry before prose: the poet doesn’t have to worry about being wrong, any more than he has to worry about proving his opinions.
But since we are so far out on the cutting edge, everything that a poet says is and should be suspect. Right now, I’m about to say that refusing to mix poetry and politics is a load of horse shit, and that statement should be taken with a good bit of salt. After all, I once believed otherwise. I believed that, especially for young poets (and I must be young, I still pluck the gray out of my beard), poetry should focus on new ways to express what’s in the heart, since anything happening in the head can probably be said better by someone more educated and older. I believed that when I was sixteen. Now, I’m telling you that refusing to mix politics and poetry is a load of horse shit.
Far be it from me to tell you how to define the word “poet,” but since every literate human has at least one poem buried in their sock drawer (unless they don’t own a sock drawer, in which case they keep it elsewhere), it’s clear that we have to narrow the word down from simply “those who write poetry.” I use what I consider to be a pretty non-controversial definition: “those who are serious about improving their artistry and craftsmanship when they write poetry.” I think the operative word is “serious,” and if you are serious about poetry, you are constantly examining how your poetry relates to everything you do and do not do. There is no subject unfit for poetics. It is one thing to say, “I haven’t figured out how to put politics into my poetry.” It is another thing to say that your life as a poet doesn’t apply to the political aspects of your life. If your life as a poet does not apply to some aspect of your life, then you do not have a life as a poet. If you really care about poetry, poetry infests everything.
Politics, on the other hand, infests everything whether you care about it or not. To claim to be “apolitical” is to misunderstand the meaning of the word “politics:” there is no such thing as an apolitical human. The word “atheist” is a counter to the word “theist,” meaning one that does not believe in God. How does one not believe in politics? I might be a poet, unaccustomed to proving my logic, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say that there is ample evidence that politics exist. Mirriam-Webster offers two relevant definitions for “apolitical:” having no interest or involvement in political affairs, and having an aversion to political affairs. The second definition is a political stance, one that several writers in this issue hold to. The first definition simply doesn’t exist in the real world, and many of the people claiming to it will turn around and be absolutely cutthroat in office or literary politics.
Mirriam-Webster has ten definitions for the word politics, and I’m sure we can find many more. (Your local bookstore might have a short book or two dedicated to the subject.) My favorite of these short definitions is 5a at www.m-w.com: the total complex of relations between people living in society.
George W. Bush and John Kerry have little to no contact with actual people living in society. To say that they are not relevant to politics is one possible political stance. To claim to have no opinion on them at all (no one actually did) is disingenuous. To feel that you cannot express your opinion satisfactorily is fine, but to claim that your opinions have nothing to do with poetry… horse shit. Politics is not the study of the campaign trail, but of the human relationships the campaigns try so hard to emulate. I defy anyone to tell me that human relationships are an unfit subject for poetics.
At its worst, politics is the drive for power. At its best, politics is the way we learn to deal with other human beings in a way that helps more than it hurts. If poetry is the journey of the poet’s interior, politics is the reflection of our souls upon the outside world. They are inseparable. Neither can stand without the other.
Anyway, it wouldn’t be correct to call this issue thin. We’ve got plenty of food for election-day thought. If you find the essays listed on our home page too much to sift through, check out our index of politics and culture, where you can read a snippet from each. Don’t forget to check out the poetry, fiction, music, and visual art. This month’s movie is a 10 meg QuickTime file, which’ll be seriously slow over dial-up. If you don’t have broadband, you might have to resist the impulse to see the music video for Keep Your Jesus Off My Penis. Good luck, ya perverts.
In closing, if anyone knows why all my glassware smells like petroleum jelly tonight, please drop me a line. I’m a little upset about it. If you have some other response to this editorial, I suggest the message board. I promise to reply there.
CONTENTS:
Citizenship by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
Why I Won't Be Submitting to Jonathan's U.S. Elections Issue by Tom Bradley
Election 2004: They All Want Our Fear So Be Fearless by Luke Buckham
Election Day Predictions by Greg Cannon
Beached 2: Poetry by Steve Dalachinsky
The Psychology of Patriotic Denial by Tova Gabrielle
W is for Wiley by Danielle Grilli
On Why I Won't Be Voting for John Kerry, or Why John Kerry Looks Like a Pencil, or Why John Edwards Just Wants Pussy by Shane Jones
Beyond Belief: Notes from the Trough of a Late-Night, Pre-Election Funk by Ann Keller
Three Songs by Gene Keller
Election Day Beheading by Peter Magliocco
Maria/Sophia by John Palcewski
Against My Better Judgment by Gabriel Ricard
Eight Paintings by John Robertson
What I'll Be Doin' on Election Day by Randall Karlen Rogers
Psychology Experiment One and Two: Poetry by Ernie Roman
The Mule and the Elephant: Fiction by Rob Rosen
Keep Your Jesus off My Penis: A Short Film by Eric Schwartz
The Getaway: Poetry by Ron Spurga
Dancing With the Beast in a Slow Year: What I will do on election day by C. Derick Varn
Jonathan Penton is the Editor-in-chief of Unlikely 2.0. Check out his bio page.