A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Forty-Four

I have been reading a lot of poetry recently.  In particular, I read a whole bunch of Eileen Myles work, which I have found very impactful.  It is not easy to explain just what I am finding in their work, but I know it is to do with the specificity of it, and with the kind of linguistic play, and with the willingness to allow certain kinds of imperfection, to be human in the work, I suppose, even in how it reveals its own flaws.  It is also the diction of the work, the way that it remains so understated and kind of everyday, which would maybe seem like it should be an insult, but is not at all.  Rather I mean the way that Myles is able to capture so much in a voice that feels so real and lived in and part of the ordinary world.  It is hard for me to pinpoint just what it is in that work that I find so exciting and energizing, but I suppose that is kind of an essential characteristic of the magic of great poetry.

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