Driving is my place to listen to podcasts. Storytellers, informative pieces and poetry.
Yesterday, I heard Paul Muldoon, the poetry editor for The New Yorker interviewed by Krista Tippett. It’s well worth a listen.
This stuck with me.
I think it’s often most useful not to think of it as being all that distinct. I think one of the problems with the general perception of poetry is that we think it’s special. And if anything, I think we’d be better served if we thought it was much more like prose fiction. Much more like theater criticism or film criticism than occupying this kind of special realm, Poetryland, you know?
…just a new way of looking at something that one hasn’t quite seen before. A way of looking at a wheelbarrow, a way of looking at a plum in an icebox, some modest little shift in the world, but a shift, a revelation. And, basically, if there isn’t some kind of revelation, it hasn’t been worth one’s while to be in there.
The writer’s view of the world informs.
In that spirit, I come to Poetry Friday. Looking to learn from others.
In the half awake time, the world makes sense. Energized by clear purpose, I run through layers in my mind.
Until darkness wraps me up
and I drift back.
Too soon a cold consciousness and the day’s happenings bury my thoughts.
The end and middle obscured.
The beginning waits.