I admire poets. That wasn’t always the case. I attended college in the late sixties and was forced to read the likes of Chaucer, Spenser, Milton, Yeatts, Pope, and others, and pretend like I had some idea what they were talking about. I learned to loathe the classroom process of dissecting every line of verse, stripping the work bare, and ruthlessly exposing the literary intent of the long dead author. It was a sterile, almost clinical approach, that seemed like an odd way to study such creative literary work.

I read a bit of poetry now and even wish I had the ability to write it; it’s an interesting and compelling form. I enjoy some Poe, Wallace Stevens, and Rod McKuen (I know; don’t laugh). I also like some of the contemporary poetry I see on Facebook and other places.

As for Chaucer, Spenser, et al? No thanks.

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