Willfully Ignorant

July 24, 2005

The funny thing about being accused of being “willfully ignorant” in my reading of contemporary poetry is that if my email antagonists knew anything about me at all, they’d know that this is perhaps the most unjust accusation possible. At this particular point in my life, of all times, I have looked harder and more honestly for the sustenance I used to find in poetry than ever before.

If anything, my attempt– my obsession– over the last few years to go beyond the mainstream has been driven by a desire to find a poetry that could move me the way so much of it used to. As time has passed, I’ve become desperate to rediscover that emotional connection. If ever I could use it– if ever I have sought it– it is now.

Sorry to disappoint you, but my ignorance isn’t willful. I come by it through honest hard work.

Most post-avant poetry feeds my head– and rewards scrutiny intellectually– but it doesn’t feed my heart, and that’s what I most want… what I most need from poetry. I’m sure you know the old Williams’ saw that you won’t find the news in poetry, “yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.” I’m just trying to keep ahead of the dying side of me.

Tags: Poetry and Poetics