My turn.





I H(ate)eart Poetry




Poetry is like having massive head trauma from being run over by a car. Everything starts out okay, the birds are chirping and shit, then I wake up in a hospital with a fat nurse with a hairy mole hovering over me.
My view of what poetry is and isn’t has been drastically altered in the past six months or so. I used to think poetry was something people did when they were drunk and confused. Now I know it is something people do when they are sober and confusing.
Lately, I’ve been writing poems that poke fun at things, and I try to keep the reason for my poking fun at things confusing. If I come across as a complete asshole with no heart in my poems where I make fun of people, then I fail.
I think the only positive way to look at ourselves and others is critically. Being critical is important if we hope to move forward. However, there is a difference between being critical, and being mean. I don’t like to be mean in my poetry, however I don’t think being politically correct all the time (if any of the time) is any fun.
People should be able to read my poems and grin. I find joy in producing grins, and the grinner must enjoy it doubly. This is crucial: I don’t ever want to write poetry like the poems in the current issue of boxcarpoetry.com. I hope this is not what an MFA does to me. I will fight it in court.
I want words to power our cities. We should run off of words and language instead of coal. This would be much more fun, and environmentally friendly. I am all for this. I will do a research paper showing the efficiency of language vs. fossil fuels in accomplishing things.