Grovestream

My thoughts say that I don’t like poetry, but my words say that I do — at least limited forms of it.

I tried my hardest, at times, to despise poetry. I’d show up at readings, sit through as much of them as I could while taking note of the names of the poets whom I found most interesting, so that later I could track them down and send them emails challenging the pragmatics of poems.

I couldn’t shake it, though. Three poets, namely Jorie Graham (Erosion, Swarm), Michael Palmer (Codes Appearing, The Promises of Glass) and Peter Richards (Oubliette, Nude Siren) kept me re-borrowing poetry books from the library or buying  books used off the Internet.

I’d write poetry, too. Then I’d throw it away. And then I’d repeat that same binary cycle as I ran a bipolar marathon to the back of the sanity line, only to fall down. But then I got up, and ran back, and ran straight.

This story is now told in two small poetry volumes. The first, Walking Mono As She Painted, comes from the time when I indulged in thoughts and poems the way an addict does drugs. The second, Leave Pica When Breathe, was inspired by the time when I began to wade out of what I called literati narcosis.

Both volumes are available in PDF form an can be ordered here: Povera Press.