say "i" in the big name of everyone

the following is a thorough examination of a book by poet john ciardi, completely largely thanks to research that was needed for the other shorter essays about his work.

John Ciardi’s, In the Stoneworks:
Say “I” in the Big Name of Everyone

In the Stoneworks (1961), a book made up of three distinct sections, is John Ciardi’s eighth published book of poetry. He wrote 24 books of verse in his lifetime, although he was not confined to the brand, “poet.” In fact, according to the Encyclopedia of American poetry, he “lived a life almost completely devoted to language,” translating works by Dante, lecturing at Harvard, writing and editing articles for The Saturday Review of Literature as well as speaking on regular NPR segments. Ciardi’s literary tendency was to follow a, “disciplined, erudite tradition,” (Encyclopedia of American poetry, 2001) of poetry which aired on the side of formality in comparison to his 1960s contemporaries. His experience as an editor, critic, professor and even tail gunner in World War II shaped him to be a tremendously well-rounded writer, capable of producing clear and highly personal poetry that is by no means exclusive. Ciardi’s poetry from In the Stoneworks builds upon the idea that poetry is effective when made accessible to the common reader rather than existing for the poet’s personal sake.

“In the Garden of the Hurricane’s Eye” is the longest poem in the book. It consists of three parts, similar to the book of poetry as a whole. This poem is located in the first section, the poems of which display an immense array of structures, lengths and tones. Ciardi’s experience as an academic is displayed plainly in his examination of the flawed relationships that Adam and Eve share with one another and with God. Based on the title, one might deduce that the poem involves the biblical story of the Garden of Eden; there is mention of not only a garden but also a storm that occurs in and around it – perhaps here Ciardi references the first sin. Each of the three sections of “In the Garden of the Hurricane’s Eye,” is made up of five stanzas and concludes with a single line. There is no definite or direct rhyme scheme, but Ciardi sets up a type of structure which strays slightly from blank verse: each line is contained in 10 to 12 syllables, but there is no pattern to the order of these lines. For this reason, the poem is riddled with enjambments to give the appearance of symmetry, much like the garden at first gives the appearance of being at peace. He also makes notable use of the hyphen to create new compound word; he then repeats them to validate their authority within the poem (a few examples include blood-music, sky-top, sword-smile and fern-edge).

Throughout “In the Garden of the Hurricane’s Eye,” John Ciardi intensely, though simply, illustrates the first intimate interaction in human history by incorporating a similar relationship between Adam, Eve and the earth. At every chance possible, a motion of the human body is depicted as if nature itself commits the act: “His flung arm grew around her. Silently she swelled upon it as upon the wood of which she was the leaf, the fruit, and pod” (47-49). In the second section of the poem, the man [Adam] slips on the beach and cuts his arm, leaving a blood stain on the jib of the angel’s boat: “And all the weathers of Heaven could not bleach it” (89). This line is an example of a way in which Ciardi layers meanings on top of one another; “jib” is a technical term for a certain boat sail, but it also means, “to move resistively or backward instead of forward.” This wordplay allows the reader to predict what the man’s behavior will be and how the poem will unfold. In the third and final section of this poem, a parallelism is made between the Garden and the center of a man’s mind; storms rage around them both, but ultimately God is at their center. Ciardi constructs yet another play on words at the very end of the poem when Adam refuses to leave with the angels and is handed a burning branch; the final sentence of the poem is, “And the brand burned” (166). Although “brand” literally means “a partly burnt piece of wood,” it also stands for the passing of a torch as well as the branding of a people. This poem, despite its lack of rhyme scheme and obvious structure, truly and creatively explores a theme that all people can relate to: the falling away from God and the option to return to Him in time.

The second section of In the Stoneworks is equally as diverse as the first, displaying a number of structures, literary strategies and general subjects. Despite all discrepancies, Ciardi still maintains a sense of authentic, “loving humanism in poetry” (Encyclopedia of American Poetry, 2001), always emphasizing the significance of reconciliation between one’s experiences and the language used to describe the experience. One poem in particular deeply examines the ways in which a sensitively personal situation can be made empathetic. “Divorced, Husband Demolishes House,” is the account of exactly what the title says: 22 lines of man speaking to his ex (or soon-to-be ex)-wife. There is no rhyme scheme or order to the length of lines, although there is a sense of purposefulness with the ends of the very first and very last line. In fact, those are the only two places in which one might observe a connection in terms of the sound of a word; it begins with “house” and ends with “down.” The internal vowels create a consistency which reconciles the jagged messiness of the middle, much like a failed marriage. The repetition of the question, “What shall I say to you?” (2, 11-12, 18) indicates that the man might be tearing this house down in an effort to achieve catharsis; similarly, it makes subliminal note of the fact that by the time a marriage has failed, the only thing that is left to demolish is retrospect. Ciardi’s knack for poetic craftsmanship and employing of, “vivid, colloquial language,” (Continuum Encyclopedia of American Literature, 2005) allows for him to create a sense of empathy despite his lack of experience as a divorcee.

In the final section of In the Stoneworks, John Ciardi makes enormous use of a very short poem. “Returning Home,” is a meager five lines in length, yet depicts the instant in which one realizes how to own happiness. Per the usual, the language is very plain and flows easily as one line of text. The work itself has very little time to develop as a narrative, so instead it is used as more of a directive, as a statement through which the reader may see themselves, the world, or those they love in new light: “They admired you and I was proud. They are good men who are made happy by happiness,” (Ciardi, 1961). Thanks to Ciardi’s experience with etymology, there is vast depth to his word choice despite its outward simplicity. In truth, this provides Ciardi a great deal more flexibility than iambic pentameter or rhyming couplets might have. The hard “I” sound in “admired” and “I” as well as the hard “a” sound in “they” and “made” are repeated internal vowels that contribute to the smoothness of the poem as a whole. What makes the theme of this poem particularly clear is the use of the words “happy” and “happiness.” This repetition both supports and makes sense of the established meter (or lack thereof). To commit a single word to paper more than once in a poem that is only seventeen words long must be paid very close attention.

What gives this theme purpose, however, is its technical structure. The five lines are broken down individually into either five or four line syllables. This evenness gives the poem an almost box-like aesthetic. Boxes are consistent; they have exact, equal dimensions. They are stable. These are the rules about boxes, about squares, about cubes that will never, ever change. Happiness is the same way. There will always be a sense of security in ideas that are recognized as universal; ideas like boxes and happiness and the exact dimensions of them. Consistencies like these feel safe, familiar; like learning, finally, of happiness, whether it be yours or someone else’s.

John Ciardi was a man who kept himself occupied in an exceptionally unique number of ways, both in terms of career paths as well as within his poetry. Though he strayed from the traditions of confessional poets and the scattered jazz of new Beat poets, his writing is nonetheless pertinent to the lives and interests of common readers. Both his professional and personal experiences were melded together to create a style of poetry saturated with familiarity and inclusiveness. Because of this, Ciardi’s poetry effectively impacts readers by addressing the universal human spirit and the collective human heart.


works cited
Ciardi, John. In the Stoneworks; [poems]. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers UP, 1961. Print.
John Ciardi 1916-86. (2001). In Encyclopedia of American Poetry: The Twentieth Century. Retrieved from http://www.credoreference.com/entry/routampoetry/john_ciardi_1916_86
Ciardi, John [Anthony]. (2005). In Continuum Encyclopedia of American Literature. Retrieved from http://www.credoreference.com/entry/amlit/ciardi_john_anthony