Poetry, reading it and writing it, makes the world more visible. It shines light on things unnoticed; it makes music from empty hollows. But the trigger for me, the thing that fires off inside me, is that poems, really good ones, say what is absolutely unsayable.
Somehow, this quiet and atavistic art lives on a page but it also sings on stages and streetcorners. I've spent my life in transit between these worlds: from the hermitage where poems are shaped, into the theater of public space where poems reach other people.
Weird post. Literary Shenanigans.! Check out the guest blog for Ooligan Press here. I'm interviewing one of the "fleas a dog can't reach," as Yeats said.