Maybe I owe an explanation. I hate to use the word "anthology" for my book-yes, I use the plural: I have five or six unpublished sold to the bidder best, just like most of you, so do not look at me as if he were stoned , on the other hand, I am, because I think that when I collect texts that deal is global in some way, consistent, and basting, more than a mere collection. But when a few months ago I got to review a hundred poems that I wrote in the last five or six years, several of which have been hanging around here the last few days, and I will still hang: this is what I wanted to explain- to show to a publisher as a business card, I realized there was not much in common between them either in theme or style, beyond a certain, I do not know how to call it, ad nauseam twisted bad milk, and jokes recurrent tontísimos on straw to give the reason Gil de Biedermann. And I think to some extent so to speak, in recent years I have been "falling apart" as a poet, which is not without its funny because I think at this time I found something like a "voice", which is what I was looking at the bottom . Although I only like me and only I understand this witness that I will continue to plant around here, but surely whichever you prefer to read other things, also to agree with Gil de Biedermann.
0 comments:
Post a Comment