Friday, March 6, 2015

In-between Poetic Tracts


As the words retract, 
The gaps keep stretching 

Out longer, till one day 
Down in the lower 40 

Of your mind, 
There’s just one 

Endless gap left,
Tilling away. 

2 comments:

  1. I like poems like this very much. It puzzles me that more poets don’t write about poetry. I think it’s a fascinating subject from beginning to end. Poems about poems are like selfies. And I know that selfies get slagged off a lot these days too but self-portraits go back centuries. It’s not enough to be. We look and we wonder. And it’s not enough to do (poetry I mean). What am I doing and why and I doing it and what’s happening whilst I’m in the process of doing whatever it is I’m doing and what’s going to happen to what I’ve done once I’m done with it? All valid questions.

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  2. You do ask some valid questions re poems about poems--why some poets and/or critics look down on such poems is beyond me. Case in point: A few years back, a good friend of mine and wonderful poet had his latest book of poetry reviewed very negatively mainly because in the reviewer's words "He is far too inclined to write poems about writing poems." Really? And what are poems supposed to be about? We all know they can be about anything, including poetry. However, I admit to being somewhat biased on this point, as a good many of my own poems are about poetry and I shall do my best to mend my ways in my next life, just in case I come face-to-face with any reviewer who hates poems about poems.

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