Kim Addonizio knocks my socks off in June when she writes "Whack Report":
A woman at the gym today said to her friend, Most people are whack.
Whack meaning crazy, displeasing, undesirable, stupid, of poor quality,
appalling, masturbatory, laid off, weird, or dead.
Most poets, as it turns out, are generally pretty whack
as in mentally ill. Anne Sexton, for example. Robert Lowell, also quite whack.
I myself am whack about sixty-seven percent of the time...
Great stuff! Maybe poets are narcissists, in love with looking into our own reflection in other people's mirrors. Or maybe we love language, which is what I think Kim's poem is really about. Either way, I hope you'll check out Poetry Daily in June. "The Long View" by Rachel Boast is also quite good. And a good poem like a good cup of coffee...well, you know what I mean. Mmmmmm.
What about you? Where do the poems in your life come from?
