Friday, December 17, 2004

New Poker, only browsing. First, the Spicer poems, which are gorgeous; they show him entirely willing to be beautiful; especially the first, [the third man], which motions are--I'm trying to avoid cliche superlatives here, failing--lets just say breathtakingly intimate. Fun, lovely. I'm not succeeding in avoiding cliche superlatives. At least I didn't say 'rollercoaster hairpin,' i.e. unexpected juxtaposition & simultaneous continuity. Ugh, I'm all verbal thumbs tonite, ugly. I suggest you just read the poems yourself, enjoy.

Question: is it just my biased ear, or is Spicer obsessed with Stevens? I find myself doubletaking frequently when reading Spicer, at echoes of Stevens coming out of some direction the poem takes, moreso than with very many poets. Maybe because I don't expect the two to meet, though maybe I shouldn't be so surprised, Spicer has his Platonist preoccupations too. Strangely enough, I also find Creeley, sometimes, maybe most so when he hazards images, fairly Stevens-esque.

And the first Kaia Sand poem is funny, like laugh-out-loud funny.

Someone once told me that Spicer said that Stevens is a poet for people who don't like poetry. I trust him. He has work forthcoming on Spicer in the next Octopus.

But I think I agree with you too.

Like me bitchin' and moanin' about Anne Sexton and finding her in myself at every turn.

I'm trying hard to become more like Levertov.
I'm not surprised Spicer would say something like that, though it is a pretty stupid thing to say.

Sexton I've never really 'gotten.' Levertov I like, she's worth trying to be more like, I think. A lot of different kinds of poets 'claim' her; from Galway Kinnell to Robert Creeley to &c. She's good.
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