I think I got accused once of writing cat and cuddling poems, or some such thing that tried to relegate me and my relevancy to a weird nether-region of the literary landscape where writers of doggerel and greetings cards laugh at the profundity of fortune cookies.
I feel like my poetry is influenced by two strands of poetry, and each of them is as valid as the other. There is the lyrical flight of fantasy strewn with post-modern ideology and pop culture references, that came to me via Ginsberg, and originally TS Eliot; and then there is the more domestic flow which was inspired in equal parts by William Carlos Williams and Seamus Heaney, which rooted the words in the familiar.
Most of the things that I write on my Day Event Pomes blog falls more squarely into the second category, because it is driven by what I experienced throughout the day, and is therefore my diaristic in nature.
The poetry I write here can pull more freely from anything that comes into my head. Why? Because I am trying to do different things in the different communications.
You can narrow down your view of poetry to one thing, and you can really limit what is available for you, and it is not a good idea. To be the best poet you need to learn everything you can, and there are many masters out there.
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