That's the way it is with poetry: When it is incomprehensible it
That's the way it is with poetry: When it is incomprehensible it seems profound, and when you understand it, it is only ridiculous.
Hear the ironic yet piercing words of Galway Kinnell, who declared: “That’s the way it is with poetry: When it is incomprehensible it seems profound, and when you understand it, it is only ridiculous.” At first, his saying stings, as though he mocks the very art to which he devoted his life. Yet beneath the jest lies wisdom. Kinnell points to the paradox of poetry’s reception: that mystery often makes us bow in reverence, while clarity sometimes strips away the illusion of greatness. He reveals both the danger and the wonder of the poetic craft—that its power lies not in confusion nor in plainness, but in the delicate balance between the two.
The meaning is this: human beings are drawn to mystery. When a poem is veiled, when its words shimmer with obscurity, we lean in, imagining hidden depths. We think, Surely this must be profound, for I cannot understand it. But when the veil is lifted and the meaning is plain, we sometimes laugh, for the mystery has dissolved and left only simplicity behind. Thus Kinnell warns us: do not mistake obscurity for greatness, nor clarity for triviality. True poetry lives not in either extreme, but in the way it makes us feel more alive, whether or not we fully comprehend it.
History gives us many examples. Consider the French symbolist poets—Mallarmé, Verlaine—whose verses were so elusive that readers often declared them profound, even when they could not explain why. Their obscurity invited reverence. On the other hand, think of William Carlos Williams and his famous line, “So much depends upon a red wheelbarrow glazed with rainwater beside the white chickens.” To some, once understood, it seems almost laughably plain. Yet in its simplicity lies its power—the transformation of the ordinary into something eternal. Here we see Kinnell’s paradox alive: incomprehension may seem deep, comprehension may seem shallow, yet both may conceal or reveal truth depending on the heart of the reader.
Kinnell himself was not mocking poetry, but the way people respond to it. Too often, readers worship what they cannot explain, and dismiss what they can. Yet this is folly. For mystery without meaning is emptiness, and clarity without resonance is mere prose. The true poet does not aim to confuse, nor to simplify, but to awaken. Sometimes this awakening comes through obscurity, sometimes through directness—but always through the living force of words that strike at the soul.
The lesson here is both humbling and empowering. It reminds us that we must not be lazy in reading poetry. We must not bow before obscurity as though it is automatically divine, nor scorn simplicity as though it is automatically foolish. Instead, we must engage, wrestle, reflect, and feel. The greatness of a poem lies not in how much we “understand,” but in how much it stirs the spirit, how deeply it lingers, how fiercely it connects us to life.
So too in life itself. How often do we treat the incomprehensible as sacred, and the obvious as worthless? We marvel at mysteries but ignore the everyday miracles. Yet perhaps the deepest wisdom is hidden in the simplest truths, waiting for us to recognize them without laughter. The challenge is to see with new eyes—to let clarity be wondrous, and mystery be approached with patience.
Practical steps follow. When you read a poem, do not rush to understand or dismiss. Sit with it. If it is obscure, let it work upon your heart without forcing meaning. If it is simple, resist the urge to laugh it off; instead, ask what truth hides in its plainness. Write with honesty, not seeking to confuse nor to over-simplify, but to reveal the truth that stirs within you. Above all, remember that the power of poetry is not in the cleverness of words, but in their ability to awaken the soul.
Thus Kinnell’s words endure: “When it is incomprehensible it seems profound, and when you understand it, it is only ridiculous.” Let them not turn us away from poetry, but deeper into it. Let them remind us that true art lies beyond both confusion and simplicity, in the place where words become spirit and awaken life. There, mystery and clarity walk hand in hand, and the reader discovers not profundity or ridicule, but truth.
KHKhanh Huyen
This quote challenges the way we read poetry altogether. It’s almost a warning about pretension—how easily we turn confusion into reverence. Yet, I can’t help thinking that some poems genuinely become less impressive when overanalyzed. Maybe poetry isn’t meant to be fully understood but felt instead. What if our need to interpret everything is what makes art lose its beauty in the first place?
LlINH
Kinnell’s words feel a bit cynical, but there’s truth in them. It’s amazing how often we equate difficulty with brilliance, especially in art. Maybe we’re afraid to admit when we don’t ‘get’ something, so we call it deep instead. But isn’t simplicity sometimes more profound? I wonder if the real test of poetry is whether it still moves us once we understand it fully.
GDGold D.dragon
I find this observation both funny and unsettling. It makes me wonder whether poetry depends on ambiguity to feel significant. When we finally decode a poem, it can lose its magic, like explaining a joke. But maybe that’s just part of its power—the tension between what we understand and what remains unsaid. Does this mean the best poetry is meant to stay slightly beyond comprehension?
AAAm Aaasss
This quote made me laugh because it’s so brutally honest. I think Kinnell is pointing out how people sometimes mistake confusion for depth. It’s true—if a poem is obscure, we assume it must be profound. But when meaning becomes clear, we’re disappointed. Maybe that says more about our expectations as readers than about poetry itself. Do you think mystery is essential to keeping art interesting, or is clarity underrated?