Introduction to Poetry (And Naming)

In 1988 poet Billy Collins wrote Introduction to Poetry which was included in his collection of poems titled The Apple that Astonished Paris. It goes:

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

To me this poem is about the hardship of teaching poetry. More specifically, it is about the difficulty of teaching poetry to students who solely want to cold-bloodedly dissect a piece of writing rather than experience it. 

I used the word experience deliberately. Collins engages all the senses throughout the poem alluding to sight, sound, and sensation rather than intellect or cognitive understanding. He says to “hold [the poem] up to the light” and “press an ear” against it—all in an attempt to connect with the poem in a sensorial and less intellectual way. 

I think the most beautiful stanza of the poem—and the portion most relevant to us in naming—happens on the water. Collins says:

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

Collins is offering an alternative to the intellectualization of poetry (and branding). He describes skimming across the surface of the water, never getting too deep, and throwing a friendly and simple wave to the poem’s author on the shore. I find this imagery so lighthearted and pleasant. 

So what does this have to do with naming?

As creatives who spend so much time thinking about names and words, we forget that the audience is often only skimming past on a fast-moving jetski. Our time with them is short. They can’t go deeper into the subtle etymology or plosives of a name. People experience a brand as Collins hopes his students experience a poem. 

The hard truth is only creatives and clients care about the minutiae of branding. 

Clients want to ensure that their name will do the most work—attract the most attention and sell the most products. They believe maximizing equals success. 

They often convince themselves that if a name has some impressive definition or specific combination of letters that it will get their audience closer to understanding the brand. This is why companies do testing on nearly everything. They want to know they are making the right choice and have some objective facts to support their decision. They want to tie a name to a “chair with rope / and torture a confession out of it.” 

It seems that poetry students and clients are often left desperately asking the wrong question. Rather than what does this really mean? They should be asking how does this make me feel?