I think you miss the point of a great deal of twentieth century poetry which is precisely to rid itself of "Poetic" pretense and diction (with a capital "p") and write more precisely about the truths closest to our bones.

Whatever Poetic pretense and diction are, I agree that it seems a worthwhile task to rid poetry of them. Pretense of any kind is, in my opinion, a riddable offense. However, the idea that poetic conventions themselves are an obstacle to “writing more precisely about the truths closest to our bones” seems an odd one, and, from the context of your letter, this seems to be what you are saying. If we consider poetry to be a specialized field—like medicine, or science or carpentry—and its avowed purpose to be, as you say, to express those truths closest to our bones, then it follows that poetry, like other disciplines, would use the language and conventions developed for it in order to achieve this purpose. Poets themselves created poetic devices in order to do things with the language prose conventions did not allow. The argument that poetry is best served by ridding itself of poetic conventions is analogous to saying science is best served by ridding itself of the scientific method because some scientists use it to obscure, not clarify. Doesn’t it make more sense to build on the discipline’s conventions, modifying them for current usage? It seems pointless to me to throw away all your tools because
some carpenters use them wrongly. It’s not the fault of the tools.

These are two different sensibilities that I hope can exist side by side in the world, but your essay doesn't seem to think so.

The “two different sensibilities” you refer to here already exist side by side in the world and have for some time. They are the poetic and prose sensibilities. They even exist side by side in the same poems—prose poems, narrative poems, epics, dramatic monologues—or in the same piece of prose (most well-written prose uses poetic conventions).

I don't think there are some abstract qualities that define a poem, but rather a sense of exactness about the emotional truth conveyed in it.

Here the question becomes whose “sense of exactness..etc.” The reader’s? The poet’s? If the reader’s, which reader(s)? While I agree that it is basically impossible to successfully and fully define a poem, I maintain that it is possible to define a non-poem—by its lack of poetic conventions.

Marianne Moore used to say she could recognize a poem because the hairs on the back of her neck stood up when she read one. This definition is not likely to please readers who want a list of qualities that define poetry.

Bad horror films also make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The definition is unsatisfactory, but not because it isn’t a list of defining qualities.

Each generation defines it anew in its own language and by its own practice.

I think what you’re saying here is that because the definition of a poem is so ephemeral, or ineffable, it is up to each generation to construct, from the ground up, a new set of poetic conventions (“its own language..”) and to promulgate these new conventions through their poems (“..by its own practice.”). I think instead, each generation modifies the same set of poetic conventions, updating them, re-using them with different content, style, diction, etc. The idea that dispensing with their use makes a new definition of a poem would mean that contemporary American poets are making non-poems and redefining them as poems. As a matter of fact, this is exactly what’s happening.

I think "The Best Poems of 1999" is the best of the "Best" collections so far--and I've read all of them--precisely because of Bly's ability to recognize poetry beyond simply meter and poetic conventions. I also think his introduction is a little gem.

I liked a lot of what Bly said in the introduction; for example, his use of “heat” as a desirable quality in a poem. And, I expected to like it. But what he said in his introduction did not correspond to the selections he made for the collection. Not much heat, and lots of ash. As far as his “ability to recognize poetry beyond simply meter and poetic conventions”—that ability was established many years ago in his book of groundbreaking essays (American Poetry) in the 80s, especially with his advocacy of the intuitive, or “leaping,” in poetry ("Looking for Dragon Smoke"). Sadly, that ability was not in evidence here—but maybe it’s not Bly, maybe the continuing lapse of American poetry into prose has drastically reduced the pool of selections from which he could draw.

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