When it’s not raining . . . read Young? From Issue 5 of A Public Space — “I Don’t Burn” by Kevin Young:
Dear Darkness — consider this
my last attempt
to reach you. My previous
few missives
having boomeranged back
unread, postmarks blurred
Thank God Almighty, color management in Firefox at last. One little preferences tweak, and the world is a greener, more saturated place. Doooooo it.
Not to be one of those people that talks about pansy writer’s block all the time/ever again — or one of those people that has just discovered a song that came out in 2004 — but seriously. Is this amazing? Yes.
Writers Block - Fatlip
I’ve briefly mentioned this before, but I’ll say it again: I think if there’s one, immediately irksome subject for a poem to tackle, it’s writing poetry — describing the writing process, the agony of writer’s block, the expectation from an imaginary audience. Such poems are inaccessible to people who have no interest in writing poetry. [...]
The problem with older, more established poets is that they can’t seem to stop writing about what a bitch writing is. If they’re feeling especially sprightly, they’ll reference the very poem you are reading at that moment in time. This poem! they’ll cry, Christ, if you could only understand what I went through!
Dear old people: [...]