An announcement and some aphorisms.
Barbara Jane has some news!
I'm feeling philosophical
This has been the summer of pedagogy essays. I've had multiple requests for essays on craft/essays on poetry/essays on the teaching of poetry.
I have this much to say--there are many things that I cannot teach. I can only hope to inspire.
Sometimes, writing while assisting in the care of an infant feels like having to mow the lawn or do the dishes. Yes, a chore.
Personally, when it comes to making a choice between creating art and being a father, I'll choose being a father.
Narratives tire me. I really hate listening to what I say. If I ever want to go to sleep I talk to myself.
When I put together a book of poems, I look for two things--tonal consistency and tonal dissonance. If a book is tonally consistent, I strive for a movement to disrupt the music. If a book is tonally dissonant, I impose an order, which may for a time be arbitrary.
Both requests are my downfall.
An artist should always strive to surround themselves with art--which is justification for my gigantic music and book collection.
In this summer of comic books to big screen, it's funny to see the marriage between so many films and comics become such a leading story in arts and entertainment circles--I've always recognized there was a relationship there: from the storyboarding process of comics to the storyboarding process of film. Both traditions are wedded so overtly and I see it happening in the poetic line as well.
People wonder why is it that I talk about so little poetry on my blog--the answer is that I blog the most when I'm teaching (during office hours). The last thing I want to do is talk about more poetry. Yes, I love poetry, but sometimes I get tired of hearing myself talk.
Summers, of course, I start to miss the discussions. I also have the luxury of reading during the summer.
I just finished Insomniac Liar of Topo by Norman Dubie--one of my teachers at ASU. I love the man's work, though this book felt the most ethereal to me. My attention was stuttering, and I think that's mostly due to having one ear craning towards my son's co-sleeper.
I see myself gearing up for the poem a day exercise that I do every August . . . my mind is spinning.