ont he t reet o p
the inexplicably erratic spacing of which distracts my mind from any developing meaning of the poem by forcibly switching on my analytical mode to enquire 'what the hell's going on here with the typography?' That's an extreme example, but I recall a poem found online that was formatted on the page into the silhouette of a swan – a significant part of which was a sinuous trace down the page (mostly one word per line) representing the swan's neck. It certainly attracted my immediate attention, but it proved disappointing. For the life of me I can't remember anything about the poem other than its shape on the page (not its author, not what it was about, nor even how to find it again) as my mind became totally absorbed in the physical effort of trying to follow the text as it meandered down the page. These comments don't imply negative aesthetic criticism, they're merely objective observations of a potential hazard – creation of a conflict between the intuitive and the logical, leading to confusion. There are two fundamental ways poetry (or anything else for that matter) is read – with the left (analytical) brain or with the right (intuitive) one dominating. The left brain is ideal for reading flat pack assembly instructions and rhetorical writing, but is a poor substitute for the right brain when reading works intended to contact our emotions. So if one's poetry has that aim – and that includes all intuitive (inspirational) poetry whether the author's aware of it or not – it's essential not to present it in a manner that forces the left brain of the reader to take control. However neat, cunning or 'original' a presentational trick might seem to us, we must make sure it doesn't interfere with transmission. This is a necessary part of our craft and a duty to our public if we want out poems to be read, regardless of the merit of our messages. [1] The Surface Area of a Nightmare in the Shearsman 141-142 sampler [ 2] the exact variable spacings were impracticable to reproduce