Tuesday, March 28, 2006
It Would Be Easy
My poetry could be like everyone else's. I can complain about politics using no facts, no evidence, and no burden of truth. Instead of my art striving for this garbage, I strive for appeal outside the typical poetry crowd. All they want is a way to feel better than everyone else because they read a few poems that are obsolete and deadpan before the ink is dry. I don't care how many teenagers and wannabe, 37 year old teenagers at heart want a different man in office, and a different woman on the supreme court. In ten years, all that self-serving, masturbatory political trash will be over, done with and unread. Sure, Dante put Popes in hell, but he did it with style. Most poets I meet these days don't even know terza rima, and can't write a proper sonnet if their art's life depended on it (and often it does). Does anyone write poems about Benjamin Disraeli anymore? His novels are probably more popular than any of the crap poets dumped on his doorstep. I could be part of the crowd, and sell a chapbook primarily concerned with how much print I can make off other people's suffering and sacrifices, but that would be selling out. Someone is going to have to not ride the G.W. Bush bashwagon to save all our work from irrelevancy in 2008. I don't care what side of the fence any poet decides to make his home; I wish we could all just move on from move on and realize that putting ourselves in a litte box with only one open side facing the east leaves us with nothing to write about at sunset.