No Longer Naming Names

As most people familiar with my poetry know, I often write love poems about my experiences with men: my husband (we have an open relationship), flings, even occasional brief hook ups. A few times, I have included the first name of the person I’m thinking of; I’ve sort of thought that doing this was border-line political, in that plenty of women have poems written about them and their first name (see also the Family Guy joke about songs named after a woman’s first name).

I think a few of the guys I’ve written about did indeed appreciate the notion, for what it’s worth at least. One younger man, though–I won’t name him, but he’s in the “Blue Spectra” poems–got a little worried. I met him through an app; he was 19, in the closet, and in junior college. We had a really fun time, though it was both exhausting to keep up with his energy, and exhausting to help him evade his parents. Eventually, he came out by default when he met a boyfriend and moved from home.

When I mentioned to this guy that one of my poems is about him, he got a little worried about what his boyfriend would think. Continue reading “No Longer Naming Names”

New Life Goal…

…who I am as a poet, as an intellectual, as a person:

  • Get on Trump’s enemies list.


Trying On Different Masks

I began writing poetry with a very specific idea of who I am and who I want to be as a writer—or, so I thought. Really, though, my poetic musings about rock’n’roll have been deeper than my attempts to “directly address” Western Civilization, or whatever. Indeed, it has only been as my voice has matured that I realize the true influence of the past (and my debt to writers like Rich).

Recognizing your limits remains, of course, the first step to growing beyond them; because I’ve learned to accept the narrow or thin parts of my voice, I’ve been able to let go of ego and learn other ways. Continue reading “Trying On Different Masks”