Poetry

[tanaise]

Tonight feels like a poetry night--I think Phosphorescent (for Diana) and The Inside Of A Tree, my latest Greek mythology poems, are nearly done. And it drives me crazy cause they're good, I know they are. But I don't know that they're at all publishable. Or where. I've got two Apollos, a Diana, and a Persephone. (Persephone, incidentally is at strange horizons for...the 11th day. I swear time moves differently when something is subbed somewhere.) It's amazing how little I can do, writingwise, and still consider myself to have worked on my poems. I think it's cause they're all so small to begin with, even if all I do is change something about how they look--put in a blank line to make separate stanzas, pick a slightly different word to use--it can make a big difference in the poem. Well, big's a relative term. Big to me. Invisible to everyone else.

But such is life, after all. And more importantly, such is writing--you're always your worst critic, and I always find something to tweek, even if it's just a word, when I go over a poem.