Do we choose poetry, or does poetry choose us? I'm inclined to the latter. But what difference does its original impetus make when we are intensely engaged in it and cannot stop? The phrase PERPETUAL SELF-CONFESSION is so precise: some might think this is egoistic; it's not - it's altruistic! I'm reminded of the composer Wolfgang Rihm who said I WRITE WITH A PEN AND MY NAKED NERVES. Amen to that. This poem is truth-telling, pure and simple. You don't distract from this truth by joking about it or treating it lightly. You cast what Yeats called A COLD EYE so there can be no misunderstanding. You speak for all of us, Sandra.
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Do we choose poetry, or does poetry choose us? I'm inclined to the latter. But what difference does its original impetus make when we are intensely engaged in it and cannot stop? The phrase PERPETUAL SELF-CONFESSION is so precise: some might think this is egoistic; it's not - it's altruistic! I'm reminded of the composer Wolfgang Rihm who said I WRITE WITH A PEN AND MY NAKED NERVES. Amen to that. This poem is truth-telling, pure and simple. You don't distract from this truth by joking about it or treating it lightly. You cast what Yeats called A COLD EYE so there can be no misunderstanding. You speak for all of us, Sandra.