With Hekaton Day (10/10) approaching, we have asked Peter Junker, author of the Kudzu Leaf Press poetry collection Things Will Get Worse, to talk about what a hekaton is, how he started to write in that form, and why he continues to write most of his poems as hekatons.
Hekaton is the Greek word for one hundred. The hekaton has 10 lines of 10 syllables each. It differs from other 10-syllable, 10-line poems because of its 4-4-2 stanza structure (two four-line stanzas followed by a couplet). There are no rhyming or metrical conventions.
The hekaton’s yoke is easy. Master poets might find it unsophisticated, as any piece of writing, including something that begins as the simplest prose, qualifies as a hekaton if it meets the syllabic and stanza requirements. This, and its compactness, make it a great form for poetry instruction and, I can attest, for breaking writer’s block.
I think the hekaton is basically a creativity seed. Its requirements are enough to force a writer to make conscious creative decisions about sentence structure, vocabulary, meter, and diction. Those decisions often lead to opportunities to reimagine things in the lines that follow, which in turn can lead to revisions to earlier lines. Because it consists of defined lines and stanzas, the subtleties of enjambment and stanza composition can be explored. Because it is short, the effects of experimentation are more easily apprehended and exploited. If nothing else, the shape alone can make a poem more interesting.
In the hekatons I write, the opening stanza often sets up ideas or images that are resolved, expanded, reinterpreted, or otherwise addressed in the final couplet. That’s a very loose application of something stolen from Shakespearean sonnets, poems that require a lot more mastery and time to pull off. It’s not necessary for another poet to write hekatons the same way I do. Each writer’s creative decisions are reflections of their singular imagination.
The form took shape while I was commuting to the Chicago Loop during a period when I was a new father, working a challenging new job. I didn’t have much time to concentrate on poetry. Brevity became essential. I set a goal of getting out a couple 100-syllable poems a week while riding the train. The 4-4-2 structure came later. I published the first poems I would come to call hekatons in 1999. The name was suggested by a poet I admire, shortly before the publication of Things Will Get Worse. Not every poem I write is a hekaton, but every hekaton I write is a fruitful experience. I have yet to stop discovering varieties of poetic expression manifest in this simple form.
