Saturday, March 12, 2005

Playing With Words

You see, I never read anymore, not even Stephen King, whom I adore.
You see, I have never been a reader of poetry, other than on the web.
I know this is a failing. I can't write poetry without first reading it. I preach it, but I don't practice it, but at least I don't pretend to. I just sit around feeling bad for not doing it.

I've been writing a sort of handbook to the internet poetry poster lately. I don't even know how I got started, boredom I suppose. I post a tip each day, and I feel so arrogant doing it, preaching the ways to be a good poet when I have never laid eyes on the words of Jack Kerouac or Charles Bukowski.

Tonight I made an effort to change that and discovered a few things:
A.) I don't like Bukowski.
B.) I'm not all that big on Kerouac.
C.) I was right to fear that if I read the contemporary poets it would threaten whatever "style" it is I have now. After just a few hours of reading, I am re-evaluating everything I considered 'right' for my poetry.
D.) Aside from all of the above, poetry is a good place to hide from marital discord, even poetry you don't like.

So. It looks like I'll be playing with words again, assuming I can find any to play with.

I wonder if I can find a woman named "Words" and just play with her instead?

4 comments:

  1. Just say when and where. ;)

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  2. Hmmmm.... your place, July 4th (my b-day) in the kiddie pool!

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  3. Sounds good to me! ;) I'll bring the beans!

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  4. Wooo hooo! finally, a birthday without fireworks -- or not ;)

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