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Daily Notes on Poetry
4 June 2004.
The Visitor
Back door's
minutely-rained-into step-dreams
pursue Poem into
a woman's red chores.
The winded mud
seems peculiarly southern when Poem returns
over a decade later,
eager to explain himself to Criticism,
finally visiting or
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Here my attempt to make a longer single poem out of the three early efforts I didn't like stopped. I bother posting it because I may have done something often done by writers that is nonetheless a possible Major Breakthrough for me: I've brought a second character into my series. Conversation may be next! Thirty poems and I never realized there was no conversation in any of them, nor interaction between Poem and anyone else. I find it ever-amazing how long it can sometimes take even a "creative" person like me to make--no, merely think of making--the simplest changes. To anything.
That my new character is to literary criticism what Poem is to poetry, on the other hand, is clever, I think. It ought to yield Great Dividends, but it's deep in thunkland, right now. (I think of how comicbook super-heroes so often begin alone, but nearly always end in Justice Leagues of some sort. . . .
I now want to give Criticism an origin poem, but he's mighty hazy to me, at the moment.)
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