Read my latest flash, Venison, at 52|250.

It’s difficult to admit this even now, but I had gone for so long without having a poem leave me shivering with electric life that I was beginning to think I had lost my ability to be a conductor. I was beginning to question if I should continue to write poems because if I couldn’t be open to other people’s poetry, how could I bring any of mine  into the world with flash and ecstasy?

Then, the other night, after starting on my customary glass of red wine, I picked up (finally!) Diane Di Prima’s Loba. A few of the poems within affected me in isolation, but most powerful of all was how each piece, each line, contributed to the overall sweep. She had me from the early echoes and repetitions.

I’m not in a place in my relationship to the work to provide a detailed analysis, however. I’ll get to reading like a writer and/or critic later. For now I’m reading like fan and glad (so glad!) that I can.

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