Passion and the Creative Process, Part III

Poet Louise Gluck won the Nobel Prize in literature this week.

From her poem, The Untrustworthy Speaker:

Don’t listen to me; my heart’s been broken.

I don’t see anything objectively.

 

I know myself; I’ve learned to hear like a psychiatrist.

When I speak passionately,

that’s when I’m least to be trusted.

 

It’s very sad, really: all my life, I’ve been praised

for my intelligence, my powers of language, of insight.

In the end, they’re wasted—

 

I never see myself,

standing on the front steps, holding my sister’s hand.

That’s why I can’t account

for the bruises on her arm, where the sleeve ends.

 

In my own mind, I’m invisible: that’s why I’m dangerous.

People like me, who seem selfless,

we’re the cripples, the liars;

we’re the ones who should be factored out

in the interest of truth.

 

When I’m quiet, that’s when the truth emerges.

A clear sky, the clouds like white fibers.

Underneath, a little gray house, the azaleas

red and bright pink.

 

If you want the truth, you have to close yourself

to the older daughter, block her out:

when a living thing is hurt like that,

in its deepest workings,

all function is altered.

 

That’s why I’m not to be trusted.

Because a wound to the heart

is also a wound to the mind.   

In Part I of this series of posts, I suggested 7 reading tips for actors. Here are 4 additional questions.

1. Who is the protagonist?

2. To whom is she speaking?

3. Where is she coming from?

4. What does she want?