i was hungry and it was your world
Awhile ago I alleged that I was going to do a series of short pieces based on things posted at The Page, which is a compilation of one-line excerpts from prominent poetry reviews. The problem I've run into-- apart from being short on time, which is the perpetual problem-- is that these excerpts have been more analytical and less poem-triggering
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i agree that a lot of contemporary *fiction* is too crowded, but i think there's a fair amount of poetry out there that is deeply intersubjective without reproducing the same kind of mob scenes. one of my favorite book-length examples is rosmarie waldrop's reluctant gravities, which is an extended poetic conversation between a "he" and a "she." her previous book, reproduction of profiles, is an extended address from an "i" to a "you." in both cases we can see the frustrations and unexpected successes of communicating in metaphor, but in the i/you book the result is more like loneliness because we never quite know what the "you" makes of all of this. (it's been awhile since i read it, but i don't think it's one of those cases where the "you" could very plausibly be the reader him/herself.)
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