"He was a lonely ghost uttering a truth that nobody would ever hear.
But so long as he uttered it, in some obscure way the continuity was not broken.
It was not by making yourself heard but by staying sane that you carried on the human heritage.
He went back to the table, dipped his pen, and wrote:"
Monday, May 31, 2010
An epiphany
I've been out of touch with poetry for waaay too long. I'm gonna start reading some fucking poetry--a fucking lot more poetry; starting with Adrian Blevins' new book, Live From the Homesick Jamboree. Then I'm gonna write some fucking poetry. I'm fucking tired of poetry being something I "did," rather than something I "do." That shit's gonna change. I'm blogging this via iPhone, so that's all for now. Seacrest out.
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poetry
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2 comments:
You know, certainly not to take away from the Paul Guest poem you posted, but when I read that it was the first piece to make you weep in four years, I thought, "Clearly he's not reading enough poetry."
Welcome back.
That's the exact epiphany I had when I decided to start my poetry blog a couple months ago. I've found that the best way to get back in it is to just jump right in. :-)
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