Wednesday, April 8, 2009

An excuse

The excuse this month is that I'm writing a poem a day:

The exercise fills me with a certain dread and a sense of futility and the notion that I really need to start reading English-language poetry. The language is not an issue any longer, now it's just about the time and the methods of reading. Of course, also about my deeply buried belief that poetry has to do with the sublime, the kind of sublime that by definition is denied to me.

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