Buggeryville

We write poetry, typically, for people who speak the same language we do. We write as native speakers of our languages for people who are also native speakers of our language. We take advantage of this native mastery of the language, which allows us to be subtle and allusive, and still feel secure that at least some of our readers will get similar meanings out of our language as we do. The writer's contract with the reader states that the writer has devised a text that appeals to their sense of the language, and that the reader will find the text appealing to their similar sense of the language.

What would our poetry be like if we wrote under the assumption that our texts would be read by people who were not native speakers of our language, perhaps not even fluent?

Or,

What would our poetry be like if we read under the assumption that our texts were written by people who were not native speakers of our language, perhaps not even fluent?

Or,

What would our poetry be like if our standard model went something like: A writer who is a native speaker of language A writes poetry in language B for a reader who is a native speaker of language C?

Or is poetry always already like this, exploiting one of these models? Could one of them serve as a makeshift definition of poetry? And would any of these strategies promote certain genres of poetry and discourage other genres? Obviously this would depend on the sociopolitical status of the various languages. But perhaps not entirely.

When I am feeling rambunctious, I say that we can only read poetry in languages that we aren't fluent in. But now I'm wondering what kind of strategy it would be, to write for readers who are not native to or fluent in our language.

In the early 1980s Pål Waaktaar wrote the following lyrics:

Take on me.
Take me on.